Phil tugged at his beard and grinned at Jim, who sat to his right cradling his Epiphone. “You know, I think I ought to stand up for this.”
“Stand up, stand up for Jebsus,” warbled Jim, “you do what’s right, Phil. Just make it good. INTRODUCING mister Phil McSnorty on the vocal banjo.”
“What’s a vocal banjo, Jim?” Greg – dark eyes and darker demeanour.
“It’s like a Jew’s Harp, only with very little harp and not much Jew.”
“Okay, are we rolling, Graham?”
Graham Jimson gave a thumbs up from the control booth.
“One, two, three, four.” Phil said, and the well-oiled machine played as they always played.
“And in the end,” Phil sang, “the love you take is equal to the love you make.”
Greg played his guitar break and the pre-recorded plagal cadence in F over C rang out, punctuating the air like a thunderclap.
Then there was silence.
“Are we done?” Greg said, packing away his Telecaster.
“We’re done,” said Graham, with another thumbs up.
“Good, because I’ve got to go shopping with Alice.”
“I’ll call you later, Greg,” Jim shouted after the disappearing figure.
Harry packed his sticks into the box next to his snare. “Are we going out later? I fancy seeing a band and having a few bevvies.”
“Call me,” replied Jim, and Harry waved a fond farewell to Jim and Phil, who stood facing each other.
“So,” said Phil, his eyes red-rimmed. “This is it.”
“Yeah, I guess so, Phyllis,” Jim replied. He too, was tearing up. “It is this. It is.”
“It’s been great,” Phil said. “You know, the last eight years especially. We’ve come a long way since ‘Love me do’.”
“It has been that,” Jim said in a mock old man’s voice. “As you say, a long and winding road.”
“Very long.”
“And very winding.”
“Do you think we’ll do it again someday?”
“Someday over the rainbow, where skies are blue,” Jim sang, his voice cracking.
“Come here, Longshanks,” Phil held his arms out. Jim put down his guitar and walked over to embrace him.
“I love you, man,” Jim said, “but this, brother, is the end. We’ve sailed this boat as far up the Khyber as we can get it.”
“Have a good life, Jim,” Phil said, wiping his eyes.
“You too, man.” Jim walked to the studio exit, stopped, and looked back. Phil stood with his head hanging, tears running down his face.
“See you around, Phyllis,” he whispered.
Phil didn’t look up.
Epilogue
Jim Longshanks died from gunshot wounds in 1980, just eleven years after the BlueBoys broke up. Sir Harry Stickler married Mary-Lynn Mozart in 1981. Sir Phil McNaughtie’s wife, Lucille Kindack, died in 1998. And three years later Greg Humble died from a brain tumour metastasising from lung cancer.
The BlueBoys never recorded as a foursome again.
The End
