Over the next few weeks & months you can read about a group of young men who decided in the early 1980’s to try and make an impact, and for one night only. You can follow the lives of: The Sultans of Soul.

by Ravi Mangat
Writer

[Earlier chapters: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8]

6a.m. The alarm clock had failed to wake Raj, so Malkit was now calling out to him. Raj opened his eyes and smiled. The night before had been a great revelation and somewhere deep inside of him he felt as if he might finally have some purpose in his life. As he showered and changed, he sang a few of the soul songs that the guys and Bernie had been playing until 2a.m. When he came downstairs he saw Malkit with a big smile on his face. It seemed as if they both had something they were happy about.

“So, how did it go?” asked Malkit expectantly.

“Great, really great”.

“Really?” Malkit was surprised. He had expected a completely different reaction, especially as he had asked Bernie to ruin the equipment. “And the equipment, did it work okay?”

“Yeah fine. We still need something better, but Ashok thinks he can arrange something for us.”

“I see,” Malkit paused. “Nothing else happened. No problem?”

“No, not really. Oh, except we met this guy…Bernie, he says he’s going to help us”.

“What!” Malkit was amazed, but he managed to compose himself. “What do you mean, you met someone? Can you trust him?”

“I think so. He seems harmless and he’s got some good ideas”. Raj grabbed hold of the car keys and walked towards the door. “You coming dad?”

“You go ahead and open up. I’ve got to…got to go and see Iqbal at the Cash and Carry”.

“Okay…see you later”.

Malkit was left alone in the kitchen. He muttered a curse under his breath and walked out purposefully.

Ashok had also been up for a few hours, in fact he hadn’t even gone to sleep. He had been summoned to see ‘The Man’ and the meeting had gone less well than before. Although, ‘The Man’ was happy enough with the designer briefcases, he was not so keen on the extra surveillance that had been heaped on him by the local constabulary. He had a feeling that his recent deal with Ashok may have had something to do with it and he had made his feeling known. Ashok was told to keep a low profile until the warehouse raid had been forgotten. By the time he got home, it was 7a.m. His sister, Rupa, was already awake and his mother was busy trying to shoo the next door neighbour’s cat from the garden.

Although he tried to get to his bed, the doorbell rang and Ashok wished he had never answered it. It was Detective Harris with a constable and he was armed…with questions. It lasted just over an hour during which time, Ashok’s mother kept interrupting with questions about whether anyone would like any tea. When Harris had left, she turned on Ashok with anger. “I knew you were up to something stupid. How many times have I told you to stay away from those men at the snooker club? Your father is going to go crazy and I noticed Mrs Sidhu from down the road already starting to talk to the other neighbours. Everyone’s going to be talking about us”.

“Don’t worry”, Ashok tried to re-assure her. “I haven’t done anything wrong, they’ve got the wrong person.

Rupa was watching from the door. She had got ready for school but the spring in her step had disappeared. She seemed disappointed with Ashok and when he looked at her, she turned away and walked into another room.

By comparison, Ramesh had slept very well and for a very long time. He woke up at 11a.m. Jagpal had already gone to start on a decorating job for a friend of a friend. Things were going really well for Ramesh at the moment. He was starting out on a new journey as a singer and he was going out on a date with Jas.

He had brunch with a permanent grin plastered across his face, which made eating the Cornflakes difficult. The phone rang at 11.33a.m. He didn’t make it in time, before it tripped on to the answer phone. A desperate sounding Sanjay came on the line. “Ramesh…Ramesh are you there? Anyway, I’ve been thinking. I’ve decided to tell Jas how I feel. You were right, I should be the one to tell her, so I don’t need you anymore. I’m going round now and see if she’ll have me back.” The message ended and the room fell silent. What now? Ramesh had finally found someone he was interested in and now another man was going to try and win her back. It was time to decide whether he was a man or a mouse.
He got changed in one-minute flat and raced out. This mouse was just about to start roaring.

11.55a.m. Malkit had waited over three hours outside Bernie’s flat. Just as he was about to leave, Bernie appeared from the lift. They looked at each other in silence and Bernie motioned Malkit to enter his flat. There was hardly any décor of note; everything was pretty basic, but what was apparent was the enormous record collection that occupied two sides of the room.

Malkit looked at the collection, “Is that where all your money goes?”

“What money?” Bernie replied.

Malkit waited for Bernie to turn around and face him. “So?”

“So”.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Do you want a drink?”

“It’s too early.”

“Something soft? A cup of tea maybe?”

“No…nothing. Just tell me what happened”.

Bernie took a deep breath. “They’re good kids you know. Your son seems to have his head screwed on.”

“I’m not paying you for your psychiatric skills. I want to know why my son turns around this morning and starts talking about his friend Bernie.”

“He called me his friend?” Bernie seemed surprised.

“No, but it was obvious that you made some impression on him.”

“What can I say? I was ready to smash the equipment, just like you wanted, but I couldn’t do it.”

Malkit paced slowly around the room. “Does he know?”

“About you? No, I didn’t say anything…in fact I quite enjoyed hanging with those guys. You know, with the right guidance they could make something of themselves.”

Malkit laughed. “Two minutes in his company and already you’re talking like him. You’re as naïve as he is. No one is going to give him a second look. At least my way will stop him early enough so that he doesn’t get hurt.”

“Is that what it’s all about? You afraid of him being rejected? How is the boy going to learn anything if you don’t give him a chance to explore? Let him make his own decisions.”

“His own mistakes you mean.”

“Maybe.”

“All I know, is that I want my son back…in the shop. Do it quickly, for his own sake.”

12p.m. High Noon. Bernie sighed and knew he had to make a decision.

————–
This serial is fictional and any similarity with existing groups or individuals is unintentional.
Ravi Mangat is contactable on: rav38man@yahoo.co.uk