soobiebear | Mother's Day Tribute

Behind the cut for all the intrepid Danlings out there.

Title: Sandy's Story

Rating: G, with non-descript mentions of drinking, drugs,
and short reference to spousal abuse but nothing any child
would be offended at and nothing graphic.

Length: 7,379 words, a little over 13 pages before photos were added.

Warnings: None

Summary: The story of the Darkness really starts back in the late
1950's in Cheltenham, Gloust, with their mother Sandy.

Info: All dates/times/places are semi-researched, and the time
line has been messed with slightly for storytelling purposes.
Actual situations herein are fictional. Photographs come from
various web sources or have been scanned from my own personal
collection.

The Cotswolds in the late 50’s was a quiet place, full of 
small neat houses and finally covering up the last scars from the German 
bombers.  Cheltenham was no different.  Quaint, quiet, reserved…  Everything a parent
 wanted in a town for their child.  On the other hand, Sandy thought it 
was overly dull and boring.  Being the adventurous age of fourteen, she had 
already begun casting about for more ‘adult’ forms of entertainment and friends, 
much to her parent’s dismay.  She was already a fixture at Two Pigs on Church 
Street, her older friends keeping her readily supplied with cheap beer.  She’d 
be there, every Saturday night listening to the jazz bands play, sipping on her 
flat beer and soaking up the atmosphere.  
 
British Jazz Scene - late 1950's                           Brian (3rd from left) and Friends, courtesy of Rocks Off website
It was on a typical Saturday night that she first laid eyes 
on him.  He was older, probably seventeen or so.  She had seen him across the 
school yard a few times when he actually bothered to show up for classes.  He 
had to be in the sixth form, the way people gathered around him and teachers 
ignored him.  He smoked obsessively, she noted, and tried to remember a time she 
had seen the slim blonde figure anywhere but the smoker’s corner.  Sandy had had 
crushes before, and even a boyfriend or two lately.  Something about him today 
transfixed her.  The dark, smoky light falling on his broad shoulders, the way 
his drain pipe trousers hugged his slim legs, the little flip he did to keep his 
golden blonde hair off of his forehead.  He was gorgeous, she thought to 
herself.  And taken apparently.  There was always a circle of girls around him, 
and he seemed to enjoy the company of women.  He didn’t seem to have any one 
particular girlfriend, though.  
She watched from the back.  The way he flicked his 
ashes into the tray.  Tapped his foot in time to the music.  Heckled 
the guitarist on stage.  Pushed the pretty brunette off his lap and climbed
on the stage.  He all but unstrapped the guitar from its owner and slid it 
over his own shoulders, taking a pick from atop the small amp and changing the 
settings.  A small glass bottle was passed up from one of his friends still sitting 
down in the booth.  He slid the bottle over his ring finger, wriggling his eyebrows 
at the girls at his table and strummed a few times.
He reached back and turned the volume on the amp up.  He 
looked at the other four players left on stage, daring them to question what he 
was going to do.  The bottled finger was placed against the strings and a raw 
sound like nothing Sandy had ever heard before let loose from the amp.  It was 
loud, raunchy, undoubtedly sexual and so much different from the trad jazz she 
had been listening to.  Even with no singing or drums the music filled the pub, 
taking Sandy on a trip she had never imagined before.  He ran his fingers over 
the fret board, sliding from one note to another in a manner that should have 
been sloppy but sounded like utter perfection.
It didn’t last long.  The manager ran out and quickly 
unplugged the youngster, shouting that this was a jazz pub not a blues club and 
he’d not tolerate that ‘lascivious’ noise in his establishment.  Blondie didn’t 
seem to care, flicking his plectrum at the manager and leaning the guitar 
against the amp.  He jumped off stage, back straight and shoulders squared, 
pulling a girl in each arm outside the club.  She could hear him chuckling as he 
passed her table, utterly unconcerned with the fact he had just been kicked out 
of the hottest pub in Cheltenham.
It was Sandy’s first notice of Brian Jones, and catalyst 
for the events that would change her life.

On Monday after Brian had been kicked out of the pub, she 
had started her research.  She found him in his school roster, asked friends 
about him, and tried to catch his eye.  He was in the fifth form, got decent 
grades but was known to eschew wearing the school uniforms and 
anger teachers with his behaviour.
After a few weeks of teenage obsession, one of her older 
friends Jackie took her aside at lunch break.  Jackie was in the same form as 
Brian and tried to warn Sandy away from him.  There had been several girls over 
the years that had started out classes in September with the rest of the group, 
who had ‘been’ with Brian who suddenly disappeared from town and were not heard 
from again.  He was trouble with a capital T and best left alone.  Sandy 
listened intently.  Any inside information on her obsession was worth knowing.  
She promised to stay away from him and maybe even wait for a boy from her year 
to ask her out.  Jackie seemed relieved, and went back to finish her own lunch.  
Sandy knew it had been a lie though.  She had no intention of giving up on 
Brian.  
Rumor had it that he had taken up residence at Monty’s on 
St. Georges Road, so Sandy left her position at the Two Pigs for the longer walk 
to the new pub.  She went alone; didn’t trust any of her friends to let her 
follow Brian.  She sat alone, in the back in the dark where she could watch.  
Always people around him, he loved being the center of attention.  Some nights 
he would play, some nights just listen to others.  The barmaid took pity on her 
and often gave her a bittersweet smile when she refilled her half pint glass.  
The barmaid never bothered to check her age, probably knowing full well she was 
under eighteen.  Some of the guys on stage were alright, most were still 
learning.  The music was good, she had to admit.  She grew into the blues, and 
became a devout follower of Son House, Howlin’ Wolf, Sonny Boy Williamson, and 
her favourite, Elmore James.  Just hearing Brian start the opening slide into 
‘Dust My Broom’ made her heart stutter like it did the first night at Two Pigs.
He rotated clubs like he rotated his girls.  Every owner 
only seemed to tolerate his belligerent attitude for so many nights before they 
told him impolitely to move on.  Yet she followed him from one side of town to 
the other, regardless if he was playing or not.  Her grades were acceptable and 
she wasn’t getting into any trouble so her parents weren’t overly strict with 
her.  They made it perfectly clear she’d be better off with the Women’s 
Institute learning how to care for her future husband and family but aside from 
threatening they never pushed her.  
Valerie had been one of the biggest let downs in Sandy’s 
young life.  She was one of the girls that hovered around Brian and Sandy had 
become rather friendly with her over the few months they had skirted Brian’s 
outer circle.  She was two years older than Sandy, and rather pretty in a homely 
way.  Valerie showed up on Sandy’s family doorstep one day, announcing she was 
leaving and moving to Bournemouth to live with relatives.  The girls locked 
themselves in Sandy’s room and cried.  Brian had gotten her pregnant and left 
her.  He had gotten on this boat for Sweden yesterday morning with not so much 
as a goodbye.  She had begged him to marry her, but he had refused, storming out 
of her parent’s house and never looking back.  A teary few hours later, Valerie 
left on her way to Bournemouth and Sandy sat in the tea room, pondering her 
future and what life was really all about.

He came back, eventually.  When the summer ended she found 
him hanging out at a corner shop, supposedly working but mostly talking to his 
friends and smoking.  Needless to say, he was more beautiful than she 
remembered.  Lightly tanned and hair impossibly long, almost brushing his 
collar.  She clumsily pulled out ten pence for her tin of Zubes and handed it 
to him.  Their fingers brushed and he looked at her.  She felt faint, and ran 
from the shop without waiting for her change.  She ran for two blocks before 
slowing down and stopping.  She smoothed down her skirt and looked behind her. 
Of course he didn’t follow you, you great berk, she thought.  But he had looked 
great and healthy and she was already making plans in her head to start her 
tours of the local pubs again.
 
Hands up if you remember Zubes in the tin!
By the time she found him at the Royal Well Tavern, Pat 
Andrews was firmly on his arm. Pat was another nice girl from Cheltenham, fairly 
well to do, and was much too sweet to be with Brian. Sandy hung out at the back, 
dancing with the men who asked her and enjoying the scene.  The fifties faded 
away into the sixties, and Sandy began to feel a little restless with the whole 
scene.  The same songs night after night being played by the same guys (although 
Brian’s playing remained a rare treat) in the same clubs was wearing on her.   
Her parents were worried.  She was sixteen almost seventeen and still hadn’t 
found a steady boyfriend yet.  She brushed them off, saying she hasn’t found 
anyone yet but was looking.  She knew she had found him but she couldn’t tell 
anyone.  Nice girls like her didn’t associate with a school leaving rebel like 
Brian Jones.  Both Valerie and Patricia were nice girls, and Brian had chosen 
them over some of the more tarty ones that hung around.  Sandy enjoyed herself 
most nights and stuck around, figuring Brian would notice her eventually.
When Pat became pregnant, Sandy started to think maybe he 
would never notice her and see all the love she had hidden away for him.  As was 
the developing pattern, Brian had dumped Pat as soon as she found out she was 
pregnant. He had left again, rumor had it for London this time.  Sandy was 
devastated.  She managed to keep it together and finish off her schooling, 
getting a fair number of  O levels and even a few A levels.  With no boyfriend 
and no interest of college or university, she decided to move out on her own and 
find out who she was.  Her parents, her mom especially, begged her not to.  It 
simply wasn’t how things were done.  Her mulish determination had won out in the 
end, along with a tightly packed suitcase and a secretly purchased underground 
ticket to London.  She ended up staying with an old friend from school who moved 
to Richmond to study accounting.  
She found a job as a tea girl in an office and spent her nights in the developing 
London Blues and Jazz scene.  On any given night she had to choose between seeing 
Alexis Corner, Cyril Davies, Paul Jones, and of course Brian.  London life suited 
Brian extremely well.  His asthma seemed not to act up as much.  His hair 
became longer and more styled.  Gone were the drainies and winkle picker shoes, 
replaced with neatly tailored trousers and loud colorblock shirts. She would travel 
down the tube into London almost every night, sometimes venturing over to Eel Pie 
Island to watch the High Numbers or staying in Richmond to watch Brian and his new 
mates Stew and Mick. Before long another guitarist was added – an ex-acolyte and 
choirboy named Keith. New songs came up and Sandy had to admit she loved them all. 
Brian still got out his slide and played the blues, but Chuck Berry also became a 
big love. It was great, and the guys were all so good. Sandy herself had grown up 
and the men around her were starting to take notice. She brushed most of them off, 
still waiting for Brian. Brian who never noticed her. Brian who she loved more than 
anyone else in the world. 



When the boys took up a residence at Georgio Glomelsky’s club, Sandy 
decided to move further into London.  She packed up her meager 
possessions and found a flat not too far from Edith Grove and her obsession.  
She wondered if maybe she was a little crazy, trailing around after a love who 
never even noticed her.  But she loved the music, and loved the songs the new 
guys were playing with Brian.
 
102 Edith Grove, as it is currently
After a steady rotation of drummers, the boys seemed to 
find someone who actually worked well.  A steady dependable jazz drummer who 
Sandy knew was an older tea boy at her legal office.  Charlie didn’t look much 
like a drummer, but Stew didn’t looks like a Johnnie Johnson type either.  They 
picked up their bass player mostly because he had a large van for all the 
equipment.  He was older, already married, but carried the bottom end well.  He 
was nice enough, Sandy managed to talk to him once or twice between sets.  The
boys were really progressing at a fantastic rate, and soon they outgrew the Crawdaddy.  
Sandy found she now had to get on the tube to see them at the 
Marquee on Oxford Street.  It was a step up, and she was happy for them.
Then Linda showed up.
   
Marquee Club, Oxford Street, current         Linda Lawrence, mid 60's

She was tall, beautiful, vivacious, and a free spirit. Sandy had known when she first saw the two of them wrapped around each other that she had lost Brian. Linda was an absolute stunner, one capable of turning even the most devoted man’s eyes. She fit perfectly in the Mod World that was bubbling up all over London. Narrow short dresses with long straight hair and lots of makeup all suited Linda beautifully whereas they made Sandy look and feel out of place. Brian’s behaviour became even more outrageous as his popularity grew. His drinking increased and Sandy thought she saw him smoking those funny smelling cigarettes the serious jazz devotees used to smoke. When he was playing he was prefect, note for note every time and when Mick let him sing on ‘Walkin’ the Dog’ Sandy remembered all the good times of being mere feet from him back in Cheltenham.

She was still at the back most of the time, but now the back at the Marquee club was a good twenty meters away from the stage. She knew Brian was never seen in his glasses since leaving Cheltenham, and probably couldn’t see more than 3 meters past the stage. Their new manager cleaned him up a little, moving all the boys into smart Beatle-like suits and making them wash their hair. Sandy didn’t really care for any of it, but it did make Brian’s little bum look good. The crowds became larger and larger, and Brian started jumping about on stage a little bit. He was still no match for Keith who would run and jump and Mick who would gyrate like Elvis in a tornado and make the girls up front scream. Linda was there, always. Combing his hair or rolling him a straight and refilling his drinks. His eyes lit up when she was in the room. It was heartbreaking for Sandy, but she couldn’t leave him. She hoped he’d come around in time.

Posh suits for the lads, attempting to imitate the Beatles.

She could see Brian becoming frustrated. The blues covers he loved so much were being dropped from the set as they concentrated on originals penned by the rail thin singer and his cohort guitarist. Their new manager had pretty much told Stew to stay off to the side and not be seen. Shame, really. He was a talented stride player and added a lot to their sound. Brian was also upset at being replaced as manager. The young kid they hired had balls, and a lot of ideas Sandy admitted, but Brian was more organized and devoted to the band. She was starting to hate some of the non-sense going on inside the band. It was clearly making Brian unhappy as much as he tried to hide it.

It didn’t take long for Linda to fall pregnant either, and Brian continued his ‘leave ‘em’ policy. Linda had hung on for a while, she’d seen her distended belly at a few gigs off to the side of the floor but eventually she stopped coming and Sandy wondered what happened to her. She asked Bill one day but he just shrugged at her.

Their first tour of the UK was a success, Sandy saw little bits and clips on the news of the boys being chased by girls and selling out shows around the country. She couldn’t help but notice how Brian just stood there while the other guys jumped and put on a show. He looked the odd man out in his own little way. Too into the music to worry about the theatrics. That was until his next girlfriend showed up.

Brian live

Where Linda had merely been trouble, Anita had been explosive. A fashion model and drop dead stunner, Brian had become enraptured. She had a wild streak as wide as Brian’s and often pushed him into being totally outrageous and wild beyond belief when he was off stage. Their American tour did nothing to stop the train-wreck of a romance, even though Sandy hoped it would put the brakes on it. They were spotted together everywhere, in all the hippest clubs and hangouts. Sandy had been turned away from most of them, or had been left standing outside in the cold London night waiting to get inside. The boys stopped playing regular gigs and only did one-offs now and again. Their album had done ridiculously well and they could afford not to spend each night working.

Anita and Brian. Anita, later in the 60's

All of the old groups Sandy used to go and see seemed to be doing well. The High Numbers changed their name and had a hit with their newest single “Can’t Explain”. The Yardbirds lost Eric their guitarist but found another on the Eel Pie circuit and just seemed to be waiting for another hit song to come along. Four of the shortest men she had ever met had joined together and were writing their first album. She loved Stevie Marriot’s voice almost as much as Brian’s. Peter Green had joined up with the remnants of the BluesBreakers
and was still pounding out the old blues tunes that were dear to her heart, even though they hadn’t hit the big time yet. The drummer that once played with Brian (the homosexual one who always dropped his sticks) hooked up with two brothers out of Muswell Hill and had a few good songs going. It all seemed to be happening in a great big musical swirl around her. Like London had finally come alive. She was twenty years old, having the swingingest time of her life, and was utterly miserable.

The High Numbers BluesBreakers

She still saw Brian here and there, mostly just out on the street or when he went to one of the more working class pubs. He was outrageous, and Sandy could see Anita’s thumbprint all over it. There was many a time when she would walk past his flat on Courtfield Road and see him just walking back and forth trying to draw a crowd. The crushed velvet pants did look good on him, but made him look shorter than he really was. When he started in with the feather boas, all Sandy could do was shake her head and wonder where the blues playing, train spotting, devilish soul from Cheltenham had gotten lost.

Courtfield Road today

She had all of his press clippings in a large book, dating all the way back to the early 60’s. She dutifully cut out and set in the newest report of his recent arrest and trial for drug possession. She flipped back a few pages, watching as his eyes became clearer and stronger the further back she flipped. Oh, the time he had his hand in a cast. She didn’t like to think about that one. Sandy had heard he’s beaten Anita one night and messed up his wrist. Sighing, she closed the album, going over to the turntable to put on the new single ‘Mellow Yellow’. Donovan’s utterly tripe lyrics irritated her, and she took the disk off quickly. She replaced it with a Cat Stevens EP and sat in her corner, alone and lonely.

Brian outside court

She left London shortly after, deciding it was time to move on with her life. She thought briefly of moving back home with Mum, but decided against it. She was a grown woman and would do things her own way. She ended up living in Chertsey, Surrey somehow and found it a comfortable, easy going town without many rock and rollers to distract her. She went about her quiet little life, feeling her heart bleed at the loss of Brian but managing to convince herself it was for the best. If she felt the overwhelming need, she was still close enough to hop on the M3 and visit London and the boys. Most days she felt comfortable sitting in her flat and watching for them on the tele or reading the daily papers. She was drinking and smoking less, and beginning to enjoy her simple life for a change. She developed a routine that worked for her, and even went out on a few dates with some nice young men who treated her well.

It was shortly after she read that Brian had bought A.A. Milne’s old house that she met Harry. He was gentle and loving and sweet and obviously infatuated with her, although she had no idea what he saw in her. They dated seriously and had a great time together. She could tell you the title and plot of just about every single movie released in 1967. Harry was from the North was straight up about things, something that Sandy appreciated greatly. He had a very typical northern sense of humor and a keen wit. A builder by trade, he was a little rough around the edges, but it just endured him the more.

Winnie the Pooh's house, Cotchford Farm

By mid 1968 they were married in a lovely ceremony in her hometown of Cheltenham. Sandy thought the world of Harry and never would have imagined finding such a wonderful man. Her mum was there, her father having passed away a few years back. Mum was so proud of her. Getting a good man and settling down finally. Sandy finally started to feel grown up, although she still clung on to her Brian and followed him through the press. Harry was tolerant of it, knowing that she had moved on and it was just a silly quirk in her personality. He was too kind for her, really.

The household was small, something Sandy could easily manage. She found a part time job as a book keeper to fill up her days while Harry was at work. The girls were all great fun to be with, and it was so much less stressful than her previous office jobs. Someone suggested a girls night out to London and asked her to come along. She hadn’t been out in a long time, and Harry suggested it would probably be good for her to get out for a night. There was no plan, other than to head into London and hit some pubs and let their hair down.

They ended up stumbling into the Roundhouse in Camden, piss drunk and too tired to go much further. They collapsed at the far end of the massive structure, a few of the girls already passed out. The strobe lights and strange electronic noises emanating from the stage kept Sandy awake. A flash of bright pink caught her attention. She knew those shoulders, that bum. He was stumbling about, trying to remain upright in the crowd, eyes vacant and bloodshot. His once perfect blonde hair ruffled and poorly cut. Brian stood, weaving, at the center of a mass of people dancing (or what passed for dancing) his heart out, stoned out of his mind. Sandy pushed various arms and limbs off from her, untangling herself from the drunken coworkers. She got up unsteadily and walked over toward him. He turned, taught pink fabric stretching over every curve and plane, and looked at her. Her jaw dropped. He was wearing a catsuit, chest cut open down past his navel and shoulders all but hanging off his arms. He looked emaciated and hollow, large dark circles under his eyes.

Fade out, courtesy of We Are the Mods website

“Sandy?” He said vaguely, stopping the spastic dancing motions. She reached out to touch him, to comfort him and take him away from whoever had let him get like this when a large man stepped up next to him.

“Time to go, Bri.” He said as he put his hand around Brian’s upper arm and steered him away. She watched, drunk and confused while Brian was lead off to the sides by that hulk of a man and into the shadows. He looked back for her, stumbling as the man lead him forward. His eyes had said it all – he knew he was lost and had lost everything. The next second he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness of the venue. She stood there, trying to remember how to make her legs move to follow him until Cynthia came up behind her and pulled her back to the group with a fiercely whispered ‘It’s not polite to gawk, love.’

Interior view, Roundhouse, Camden, London. Currently being restored and planning to open fall 2006.

It was 3rd July later that year when she heard he drowned at home in his pool.

Saddened at the waste of a life, Sandy moved on. Harry packed up the business, his wife, and their three children and moved them to Lowestoft after falling in love with the area on a holiday trip. Her children became the light in her life and she lived for them, watching in amazement as they grew. Justin was utterly a charmer from day one, and she thanked God that he got her nose and smile and not Harry’s. The second child wasn’t as lucky, getting Harry’s nose and mulishness. Suzi was a good blend of the two of them, pretty and relaxed but quiet. Her and Harry’s house was always filled with music, everything from Sandy’s old London days, to Harry’s newfound love Queen. It wasn’t unusual for the turntable to go from St Martin in the Fields recording of Bach to Abba to Fleetwood Mac to Richard Thompson and back again.

Beautiful Lowestoft

As the boys grew they would sing along, often horribly out of tune but they were having a grand time. Sandy felt joyous that her children had taken on the early love of music. It kept the darkness she felt inside her away most of the time. She would be cleaning up after breakfast and have a Long John Baldry disk on, swinging her hips and singing along, just enjoying the little things. Justin was content to dance and sing his heart out, but when Dan asked for a drum kit so he could be like Roger Taylor she drew the line. She knew how loud those could get and she didn’t want to upset the neighbours. They compromised and Harry made Dan a drum set out of old sweet tins and various household bobs. It was actually really cute. He would play on it for hours, totally out of time and uncoordinated for an eight year old, but having such great fun it was hard not to share the enthusiasm.

She caved after Dan complained again that he wasn’t going to get anywhere playing with a kick drum made from a boxing glove. For his ninth birthday they went out and got him a real drum kit and set it up in the garage. Justin and Suzi had a fit. Their birthday presents had been nowhere near the £100 mark that Dan’s had been. A few ice creams later (and a soccer ball for Justin) and everything had been smoothed over. The drum phase lasted for a while, everyone taking their turn at it, and petered out slowly. Suzi actually showed the most promise, but showed little interest at it other than upstaging her older brothers.

Before she knew it, two of her children were already in long pants with the third a year behind. Harry’s back had started to bother him after twenty years of hard labour. One of Harry’s last construction jobs was updating the Hawkins house into something more modern for the future. Sandy finally got the indoor toilet and bath she had always wanted. Caving again to their boys requests, they turned the outside toilets into a soundproofed practice room so all their friends could come and play and not disturb the neighbours. Justin was considering technical college and seemed to know what he wanted out of life. Dan was torn between sport, farm life, and his music. Sandy could see where his heart was really at. The torn hamstring at fifteen focused his efforts into his music and his odd interest in cows faded as it became ‘uncool’ as a teenager. Suzi had taken to volunteering at the humane shelter on weekends and seemed to get on really well with animals.

They sat at the table for supper as a family one last time before Dan left for London. Sandy looked at her children. Beautiful, each of them. Justin, her outgoing fun-loving oldest, Dan the serious minded highly talented middle child, and Suzi the patient, loving, quick as a whip youngest. Harry had been her rock all these years. He was older now, as was she. He had started going bald around the time they moved to Lowestoft, but it didn’t matter one whit. Poor Justin already showed signs of the Hawkins hairline at eighteen. She felt herself tear up over her chicken tikka. Her baby, her beautiful Dan with Harry’s smile and curls was leaving home for London tomorrow.

She excused herself from the table, everyone’s eyes on her as she walked to the pantry off of the kitchen.

“Mum?” asked Dan a few moments later, pushing open the door and leaning against the jamb.

She wiped away the tears from under her glasses and sniffled. She smiled at him and he cocked his head to ask what was wrong. “Oh, nothing. Just remembering the horrible time I had in London and worrying about you. Just being a silly old mother hen, that’s all.”

“Mum,” he reached out to hug her. “I’ll be fine. I’ll make this work, you’ll see.”

Images of how London had destroyed Brian still haunted her. She had seen a photo of the pool at Cotchford Farm in the paper shortly after Brian’s death and visions of it still made her skin crawl.

“I trust you, dear. It’s just…” she paused, trying to find a way to explain it all to him. She had kept that part of her life hidden from them as children. “It’s just that rock and roll is a hard life, a dangerous life. I don’t want anything happening to my baby.”

He pulled back from her slightly and looked down into her eyes (when had he gotten taller than her?). “Mum, I’m not him. I don’t know what he did to you, but I’m not him. I’ll be alright.”

She started crying again, seeing her beautiful healthy boy floating face down in the white marble pool, hair fanned out around his head. She buried her face in his chest and held him tight.

Justin and Suzi had always been thin, but when Sandy saw Dan the last time, she had immediately set up a vacation for everyone. Dan had been living and working in London for over a year now. During the day he was at Rondor working as a receptionist, at night he played guitar with his band or various other people, and on his off days filled in with session work at various studios. Sandy wondered when he had time to sleep in all this. The bottle of Pepto next to his mattress in the apartment told her exactly what this life was doing to him. She visited as his time allowed, coming over on the long drive from Lowestoft to Camden. He seemed only to relax when a guitar was put in his hand, or when his school mate Ed was around. His roommate Frank would often join in on bass and Justin of all people would hang out and sometimes pitch in on guitar or keyboards. They called themselves ‘Empire’ and Sandy had seen their gig last night. It wasn’t too bad; Dan had a good solid voice but she didn’t really care for the material. Dark and brooding, mostly covers of Robert Smith and My Bloody Valentine. She had heard Dan write nicer things on his own and wondered why they didn’t play Dan’s songs instead. She realized it wasn’t her place to comment though.

The trip to Turkey was a disaster. Dan wouldn’t leave his work alone and ended up spending most of his time either on the phone to London, curled over his guitar, or brooding about his next move. She noticed the ever present bottle of Pepto had come with him and didn’t move far from his nightstand. Soon after arrival, it switched to an Arabic inscribed bottle, but the liquid inside was still the same colour.

They returned two weeks later mostly rested and ready to go. Dan had managed to set up several more dates for Empire while on ‘vacation’ much to Sandy’s annoyance. It was clear to her that the boy was working too hard and needed some time off. Even more stubborn that Harry had ever been, he jumped right back into the London scene as soon as the plane touched down, not bothering to even help her get the suitcases into her car. She cried on the trip home, fearing that she was losing her son the same way she had lost Brian; one bit at a time. Harry sat with her for a long time when they got home, just holding her and convincing her to let him get on with it until Christmas. They would approach him together and tell him to come home during the holidays.

The intervening months mother and son were actually well connected. Justin was finishing up at Hudderfield and spending weekends in London with Dan. They had looked for months for a singer to replace the George Michael clone they had worked with and had been unsuccessful. She heard the tension in Dan’s voice every time he called her. At least the trip to Turkey had beaten into his head that she was worried about him and he called more often now.

The phone call came one late afternoon in November. Their bass player Frank had quit and gone to Venezuela. Dan sounded despondent. His band had fallen apart despite his best efforts and hard work. Sandy felt for him, she knew the band was his life and the session work was slowly eating away at his soul. Luckily, he agreed to come home for Christmas and most of December, finally getting away from the hazardous London scene. Justin was coming home as well, and Suzi had some time off from the veterinary hospital.

The Dan who arrived on her doorstep was even thinner and worse looking that the Dan she had seen leave Gatwick. Skin sickly pale and shoulders slumped, he dropped his rucksack just inside the door and brushed the snow out of his hair. He looked like death warmed over, but Sandy had her baby back home. She wasn’t about to lose him now.

He slept for several days straight, just getting up for thin cups of tea and to use the loo. She tried to feed him at first, but quickly realized his stomach had shrunk and he could only eat small amounts at a time. She made his favourite lavender scones every day and made sure he ate one every hour or so. By Christmas time he was on the road to recovery, and Sandy was convinced it was only because she had the phone disconnected. He was smiling and laughing again, regaling his Aunts and Uncles with tales of Big Wild London and the music industry. Sandy often left the room, some things she just did not want to know about.

Justin joined them a few days prior to the holidays, and they enjoyed a few precious days together as a family again. She found she enjoyed her children as adults now, and liked the people they were turning out to be. Each was polite and respectful, if a little irrelevant in Justin’s case. Christmas was wonderful. They had the extended family together on Christmas Eve for a large feast at the house. Sandy didn’t approve of the amount of alcohol the boys were consuming, but at least they were home and wouldn’t get into trouble. She just prayed this was a special occasion and not the regular for them. Christmas morning was subdued because of hangovers all around. Seeing Justin in his old footed pajamas made her giggle as she heated the tea and made some bacon sarnies. Harry sat and watched one of the holiday specials on the tele with Suzi. Dan was absentmindedly strumming his acoustic guitar, playing with the new slide that Justin had bought him. She watched, plate of warm sarnies in hand as the clear coricidin slide made tentative runs up and down the fretboard. Thirty year old emotions surfaced as she stared at the long finger enclosed in its glass sheath. She set the sandwiches on the table and went to get Harry a refill of his tea before anyone saw her crying.

Coricidin slide, just imagine it's Dan not Duane Allman. Stolen from VH1

The lazy days of Christmas stretched out into the following week as her kids hung out at home and around the small town of Lowestoft. Justin had gone to London for a day trip, claiming he had forgotten something in his apartment and had come back later in the day with a suppressed smile and subdued attitude. Sandy knew he had been to see a girl, but also knew enough to keep out of it. Suzi’s boyfriend had come over for supper one night. He was a great boy and they seemed to like each other a lot.

As a family they decided to spend New Years at the Swan, the bar run by their Harry’s sister. Beccles was a short drive down the A12, and the five Hawkin’s clansmen plus Suzi’s boyfriend made for a tight fit in the wagon. They reached the pub well before the crowd, and spent the late afternoon with family, watching the tele and playing footie in the car park. Dinner was on the house and consisted of all Sandy’s favourite fried pub food. The fried cod was especially good she thought, helping herself to a second sandwich. Justin picked at his food, eating a little and looking like he was having stomach problems. She would have expected those looks from Dan with his acid stomach. Justin caught her looking and a little too casually popped a scallop in his mouth, failing to hide a small grimace as he swallowed. She asked if he was feeling alright, and he nodded yes. He got up from the table not too long after and headed for the loo, spending quite a lot of time in what Sandy knew was only a barely serviceable w/c. He emerged as the crowd began to turn up, looking better and Sandy wrote it down to being overprotective again.

The Swan, Gillingham, Beccles.

By half ten the place was packed. Whole families had shown up to celebrate the Millennium, even though it really happened next year Dan pointed out. The DJ at the far end of the bar had been running his karaoke machine for half an hour and already Sandy was tiring or it. Too many whiny little girl singers, she thought. From one horrible rendition of ‘Genie in a Bottle’ to a squeaky S Club Something or Another Song she wondered what had happened to music. The fact that George Harrison had been stabbed in his home two days ago made her uneasy too. Thank god her boys were there. Harry had been brave enough to go up and do a cover of ‘Ramble On’ and stir up the pot a bit.

Midnight approached and everyone was fairly well pissed. Champagne was handed out to all for the midnight toast. Sandy left her seat at the table and joined the crowd in the center of the floor. She watched the countdown on the tele, waiting for the fireworks to go off in London. Harry snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, turning her away from the tele and snogging her like a teenager all through the count of midnight. The kids swirled around and gave her hugs too after Harry had let go of her. Her hair was covered in confetti and Suzi made a valiant attempt and brushing it out for her. Suzi was captured by her boyfriend and taken back onto the dance floor for more partying. Sandy headed back towards her table at the corner until Harry caught her hand. He didn’t say anything, just pulled her onto the dance floor and whirled her around before starting in with his pogo-ing and monkey dancing. She laughed, he must be quite drunk to dance like that again. She caught sight of Dan, sitting near the bar sipping his Stella watching the crowd. Justin was working the dance floor too, chatting up several ladies at once Sandy noticed. Typical Justin. Some of the crowd with youngsters had dispersed right after midnight, leaving the truly drunken to entertain themselves until closing time. The DJ had switched to playing tracks and had given up on the karaoke. With the older crowd, he played more classics which suited Sandy fine.

She remembers it was 12:30 and she was getting sleepy. She heard the first few faint strains and piano chords of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ and just swayed slightly, leaning into Harry for support. Justin had set himself up infront of the DJ station and stolen one of the disconnected microphones. Harry turned them sideways so they could both see what Justin was up to now. He mimed the song, putting his drunken best into it, playing for the crowd. He danced around and acted like Freddie Mercury used to, turning on his charm and having a right laugh about it. The air guitar was a little painful to watch – Sandy knew he could play this on his guitar at home better than he was acting tonight. He used whatever he could grab as props, at one point ending up draped across the nearest bar stool and the big burly man who was seated in it. Three minutes into it and he was already sweating, but looked to be having the time of his life. She watched, amazed, as he played all the parts and kept with the quick change from E flat major to F minor to A major. Harry chuckled as Justin started head banging with the time change after miming a pulled testicle on the high B-flat note. The crowd was eating it up, laughing and clapping along, encouraging her son’s antics. He looked a right twit, she thought, but couldn’t help but share his enthusiasm and joy at mucking about like this. She smiled and kissed Harry with the ascending piano octaves leading back into the slower part. They watched as Justin closed the song with a floor scraping bow and received his applause. He looked like a star, she told Harry, feeling the old twinkle in her eyes light up. He just smiled happily at her and shook his head as if to ask if she would ever grow out of it.

Justin relinquished the microphone back to the DJ and headed towards Dan at the bar for another beer. In the quiet moment before the next song, she saw Dan motion for Justin to come over and heard Dan say, “We’re going to get a band together. You’ll be the singer and I’ll be the guitarist, we’ll start writing songs and we will make it work.”

And that is how Sandy Hawkins became the world’s biggest Darkness fan. The rest is history, as they say.

Ma and Pa Hawkins, lifted from the BBC.

Mother's Day Tribute - Sandy's Story