Chapter 22

I finish at about 4 in the morning. Elsa and a few stragglers are at the bar. She calls me over and hands me a C note.

‘A tip from the guys on my table.’

I pocket it and nod my thanks.

She looks as fresh as a daisy, just like she’s had a good nights sleep and awoken to birdsong

‘We are going back to my place on Long Island, we a have a piano on the terrace, want to join us?’

I am pooped, too much scotch and not enough food, so I decline. She presses a calling card into my hand. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’

I go out into the cold morning. I need food and cross Lexington and enter a diner on 64^th street. I order ham and eggs easy over, two muffins and coffee. The place is filled with early workers and late shift night workers. There is a bunch of black guys in a far booth. I recognise them as players from Dukes band.  Louis Metcalf, and Bubber Miley, from the trumpet section and the drummer, Sonny Greer. Sonny spots me and calls me over.

‘What’s up Fats, hear you’re bedding down at the cat house on 124^th.’

The real Fats will have some lost memories when he is back on the scene I think.

‘A cribs a crib, Sonny, I play for my keep. The Pimp likes my songs. He is a big fan.’

Sonny shuffles over to make room for me.

‘Still packing them in at the Appollo?’

‘The cat’s can’t get enough. Duke’s got them swinging like crazy.

Mood Indigo, Sophisticated Lady, Solitude, Sentimental Mood, all great numbers.

My ham and eggs arrive and I tuck in. It’s good to catch up with the gossip. They tell of a little street kid called Ella Fitzgerald, who won the contest last week. Chick Webb’s taken her under his wing. They all rate her say she is the best. I think of Zeno as Ella on the Starship and get all nostalgic. I must find Doil and get me back home.