The Black Kiss

Chunky beads, leg warmers and ra-ra skirts were only one side of the ’80s, Jo is reminded…

An elegant stranger

Jo sat on the edge of her bed and pulled on orange Day-Glo leg warmers. She stood, smoothed down the frilly ra-ra skirt then slipped her feet into the black suede pixie boots she’d found on the market. She picked up her shiny red leatherette bag bought in a charity shop and slung it across her body. Inside she put her purse, phone and her ticket for the night ahead.

She’d been looking forward to tonight for months – an ’80s gig at the arena in town where many of her favourite bands from decades ago were playing. Some of the bands had weathered the years better than others, but she was still excited about meeting up with her friends and dancing as if the last

“That LIPSTICK you’re using – it’s never MIDNIGHT BLACKBERRY, is it?”

thirty-five years hadn’t happened.

Jo teased her hair with a comb, back-combing it so it stood out like candy floss. She wiped the cherry-black lipstick across her lips again and put an extra bit of blusher on too. Well, she thought, it was an ’80s gig, and the ’80s were all about excess.

Jo looked in the mirror one last time before she headed downstairs. She looked good, she decided, but there was something missing.

She delved into her jewellery box and pulled out two strings of chunky beads. She wrapped the red one around her neck, the white one around her wrist and checked her reflection again. Perfect.

She squared her shoulders, then headed downstairs to where Dave was watching television with the kids.

“Mum! You’re not going out like that, are you?” her son Adam cried.

“Thanks for your support,” Jo huffed. She gave a twirl, making her ra-ra skirt spin out. “I’ll have you know this look was all the rage back in the day when I used to go nightclubbing.”

“But you look like a clown,” Adam said, returning to his phone. “I think Mum looks great,” said Alys. Jo smiled at her daughter. “Thanks, love.” Dave’s jaw dropped as he took in the sight of his wife.

“I can’t remember you wearing so much make-up back then,” he laughed. “Are you sure you haven’t piled it on a bit thick? And what have you done to your hair?”

“Oh, Dave. It’s a bit of fun for this gig tonight. It’s not like I’ll be going into work looking like this tomorrow, will I?” Outside a car horn beeped. “That’ll be Sue,” Jo said. She bent low to kiss Alys and Adam. Dave hugged his wife and walked her to the front door.

“Have a great night with the girls, love,” he said.

Jo walked down the garden path and slipped into the passenger seat. “All set?” Sue asked. “Can’t wait!” Jo replied. Sue twiddled a knob on her steering wheel and music filled the car. It was the roaring drum beat of one of their favourite ’80s songs.

“Then let’s go… two, three, four!” Sue yelled as she put the car into gear and moved away from the kerb. “Who else is coming?” Jo asked. “There’s a few of us,” Sue replied. “You remember my mate Brenda? She’s coming and her sister, too. I said we’d meet in the wine bar first.”

“Sounds good,” Jo said, but her reply was lost on Sue, who was now singing at the top of her voice to a song about a woman called Rio who was dancing on the sand.

Once inside the wine bar, the group settled into a booth in a corner. A waiter brought them two bottles of prosecco in buckets of ice with frosted glasses and a toast was raised to the night ahead.

When it was almost time to head to the arena for the gig, Jo excused herself and headed to the ladies. In truth, she wanted to check her phone for any messages from Dave and to make sure the kids had done their homework.

She was standing in front of the mirror swiping her phone into life, lost in concentration, and didn’t notice a tall woman walk in and stand next to her.

It was the woman’s perfume she

noticed first. The heady scent of it took her straight back to 1981, to when she was free and single.

Jo put her phone away and looked at the woman in the mirror. She was clearly going to the ’80s gig too.

“I love your outfit,” Jo said. “Did you get it from the market? I got most of mine there. It was either that or the fancy dress shop, and they were so expensive. They must make a fortune from women our age wanting ’80s clothes for these gigs.”

The woman didn’t reply. She simply stared into the mirror as she touched up her make-up. Jo peered at the lipstick in the woman’s hand.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me asking. But that lipstick you’re using – it’s never Midnight Blackberry, is it?”

The woman eyed Jo from the mirror as she carried on talking.

“I used to use it all the time when I first started clubbing. But I thought it wasn’t made any more. Did you buy it online?”

“I’ve had it a while,” the woman replied, giving nothing else away.

Jo watched as she bent to the floor and picked up a huge, black leather handbag. From deep inside she pulled out an enormous can of hairspray.

“Wow,” said Jo. “I haven’t seen one of those for years. I didn’t even know you could still buy them that big. I used to carry one round with me every weekend when I went out. Hairspray was all we had back then, wasn’t it? Hairspray and a bit of gel, sometimes a tin of mousse if the chemist shop in the precinct decided to stock it.

“Mind you, it’s all different now. There’s all kinds of products to make your hair stick out, lie flat, curl about, go straight, whatever you want there’s a product for it.”

“I use crimpers first,” the woman told her. “I crimp it, backcomb it and spray it.”

Jo nodded appreciativelyappreciatively. “Cigarette?” the woman asked, taking a pack from her handbag and offering it to Jo, who shook her head. “No… you can’t, not in here.” “Oh come on.” The woman smiled. “It’s not as if it’s against the law.” “It is,” Jo replied. She wondered if the hairspray had addled the woman’s brain. There was silence between them again.

Jo looked at the woman’s outfit, so different from her own. She was tall enough to carry off the black knickerbockers that were tucked into long, white silk socks.

On her feet were black and red suede shoes with black tassels. She wore a short black jacket with shoulder pads, giving her angles and edges that showed her off to perfection. Across her shoulders lay a scarf of long, silky black feathers and under her jacket Jo could see a white blouse, studded with a diamante brooch at the neck. Matching diamante earrings peeked from beneath a black feathered hat. Silky black gloves covered her long fingers and went all the way up to her elbows.

Standing next to her, wearing her lacy white gloves from the pound shop and her pink fuschia headband, Jo felt a fraud.

“I’m guessing my ’80s experience was different to yours.” She laughed, tugging at her Frankie Says Relax T-shirt. “Who were your favourite bands? I was into Duran, Spandau Ballet, Boy George.”

“I like the darker side,” she replied. “Bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees, Bowie, The Cure. And I’ve got a big crush on Gary Numan. Do you think he’s still single?” Jo shook her head. “He married one of his fans, didn’t he? I’m sure I read about it somewhere.” The woman shrugged. “I love Bowie’s latest, Let’s Dance.” “His latest?” Jo asked, confused. “You mean they’ve re-released it?” “The one that’s in the charts now.” Jo shook her head. She hadn’t kept up with the charts for years. She wasn’t even sure if they existed any more. Who knew what might be going on now?

“I don’t think any of those bands you mentioned are playing tonight,” Jo said. “It’s ’80s pop more than anything.”

“No Joy Division? No Bowie?” the woman asked.

Jo shook her head, confused. Surely she knew what had happened to Bowie?

“I think New Order still tour but…” Jo couldn’t bring herself to say any more – it was an explanation that could take all night.

“Look, it’s been great chatting to you but I need to go,” she said. “My friends will be waiting outside. We’re heading to the gig together, and I’d best run. But it’s been great meeting you and I

Jo SHOOK her head. She hadn’t KEPT UP with the CHARTS for YEARS

hope you enjoy it tonight, too.”

The woman glared from the mirror. Jo stood stock still, unable to move.

“I just want to say again, how fabulous you look,” Jo said at last. “Your outfit’s amazing, the detail’s unreal.” She touched her neck. “That brooch you’ve got there, the diamante, I’ve not seen stuff like that in years. Did you keep it from the first time around?”

“I’ve had it a while,” she replied. Then she snapped her bag shut, slung it on her shoulder and walked out, black feathers rippling as she went.

“Nice talking to you,” Jo called as the woman walked away. “And I’ll be sure to look for that lipstick online.”

Jo snapped back into herself, then turned to leave the ladies and headed out to find her friends. She couldn’t wait to tell them about Midnight Blackberry lipstick being back on sale.

As soon as she stepped into the wine bar, she saw Sue and her friends. “Crikey, you took your time.” Sue laughed. “Everything all right? We’ve been waiting here ages for you to come out of there. I almost had to send Brenda in to get you out. We’d thought you’d been locked in!”

“I got chatting to someone in there,” Jo replied, looking around the wine bar for the tall, black-haired woman in the feather hat. “You must have seen her. She walked out just before me. Tall woman, black hat, feathers everywhere, knickerbockers, big handbag?”

“We didn’t see anyone, Jo,” said Sue. “Like I said, we’ve all been standing here waiting for ages, and no one’s come out of there apart from you.”

“But you must have seen her!” Jo cried, panic rising. “I was talking to her, she was telling me about…”

“She was telling you about what?” Brenda asked calmly, seeing how anxious Jo was.

Jo stopped dead. She couldn’t tell her friends what she’d been talking about – bands that no longer existed, songs in the charts from decades ago. They’d think she was making it up. Either that or losing her mind.

“Sorry…” Jo said, pushing past her friends. “I need some air.”

She ran out of the pub and stood against a wall, breathing deeply, trying to calm herself down. When her heart finally stopped hammering, Jo felt a tap on her shoulder. She swung round expecting to see Sue or Brenda… but all she saw was a brick wall.

Something at her feet glistened in the light from the pub window. She gasped when she saw what it was and bent to pick up the diamante brooch. As she did so, a whisper caressed her ear.

Enjoy your ’80s night, she heard as a black feather floated by on the evening breeze.