Effanbee
The Fly
Slightly more light-hearted bit.
Free Falling
Chapter 13
On the road again. I was driver, Edge riding shotgun. His cheerful, positive mood lifted my spirits, enabling me to face the future with more courage.
We swung into a car park in Whangarei, in sudden and urgent need of coffee.
‘Lots of coffee,’ murmured Edge as we headed towards the local Buckys. ‘Double-strength, with cream’
‘And chocolate on top.’
‘And extra M&Ms.’
We giggled into the coffee shop like a pair of idiots, ordering outrageous concoctions that were satisfyingly unhealthy.
‘Let’s go to the reserve, we can watch the world go by as we get caffeine poisoning…’ I realised I was walking along on my own, talking to myself. ‘Edge? Where did you go?’
I turned and saw Edge several yards back, gazing into a shop window.
‘What’ve you seen, Edge?’ He turned to me with a faraway look in his eyes, indicating the window display.
‘Ah, right.’ It was a music shop. Guitars and other instruments were lined up enticingly. the sun bounced off gleaming bodywork.
‘I need, er, some new strings,’ announced Edge as he sidled towards the shop.
‘Go for it, Edge,’ I laughed, and we entered an Aladdin’s cave of the musical kind.
The young guy behind the counter did a double-take as Edge picked up a glorious 12-string. I sighed inwardly, then shrugged. Oh, well, what the hell, I thought. It’ll make the kid’s day. I sat down on a piano stool, sure we’d be there for the rest of the day and possibly all night as well.
Edge politely asked if he could try out the 12-string. The young guy looked sort of poleaxed as Edge chatted to him about the merits of 12-strings, absently tuning the guitar as he talked. The counterman managed to introduce himself (Howie) then listened raptly as Edge began to play.
The rich tones of the 12-string filled the air and sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. Howie crept over to me and whispered, ‘Is he who I think he is?’
‘Well, Howie, I don’t know,’ I said with a smile. ‘Pretty good though, isn’t he?’
‘Only the Edge could play like that,’ said Howie reverently. ‘It’s him, for sure.’
‘You’ve got it,’ I said. ‘But keep it under your hat, ey? No pun intended.’
Howie was beaming. ‘I can’t believe the Edge is here in my shop,’ he breathed. ‘I wonder if he’d give me his autograph?’
‘Only one way to find out, Howie,’ I said.
Before Howie could approach Edge the door opened and four teenagers strode confidently into the shop. Casting curious glances at Edge, they greeted Howie with high-fives then went into a huddle, talking in low voices.
Edge carefully put the 12-string aside and wandered over to browse the electric guitars, happy as a kid in a chocolate factory. I leaned back on the Steinway, idly checking my phone for messages. There was a text from Bono, which I deciphered as a request to call him.
I moved over by the door and dialled Bono’s number. He answered immediately, surprising me.
‘Hey, angel. How’s the day going? Where are you?’ Bono sounded fairly hyper.
‘Hey there. We’re in Whangarei. In a music shop.’
‘Oh, Lord. How many guitars has Edge bought?’
‘Probably a 12-string. He’s just picking up a Gibson and looking like he’d fallen in love.’
‘Ooooh, dear,’ Bono chuckled. ‘You know you could be there all day?’
‘I reckon,’ I said with a laugh. ‘Now he’s plugging things into an amp. I’m going outside so I can hear you, I think the decibel level’s about to rise.’
‘Wish I was there,’ said Bono.
‘Hell, there’d be a riot if you were here too.’ I peered in through the window, seeing Edge talking and laughing with the teenagers, everyone setting up instruments now. ‘Looks like Edge has found a new band.’
A series of power chords blasted out, rattling the door, turning the heads of passers by.
‘Jeez, I can hear that,’ said Bono, laughing his throaty laugh which always had a disastrous effect on me, in terms of staying upright. I closed my eyes and leaned against the doorframe.
‘You still there, Roo?’
‘Yeah, more or less.’
‘I’m coming over to Sweetwaters tonight,’ Bono announced.
‘Is that wise, Bono? What does Alison think about that?’
‘She’s OK with it,’ said Bono confidently. ‘Is the key where it usually is, in case I get there before you?’
‘Yes … Bono, I’m not sure about this …’
‘Great. I’ll see you later, darlin’,’ said Bono, choosing to ignore my protests. Perhaps he knew they were half-hearted.
‘OK, later Bono.’ Besides, we’d have Edge as chaperone, I thought, trying to justify my weakness when it came to opposing Bono about anything. I went back inside the shop, where the musicians were beginning to produce some interesting sounds together.
Edge was in his element, inspiring the young musicians, their nervousness dissolving as they became absorbed in the music.
Howie nudged me and pointed at the small crowd which had gathered outside the shop. He locked the door and turned the sign to ‘closed’, then sat down at the Steinway with a shrug and joined in.
A kind of magic built up in the little shop, a very loud, very powerful magic that grew stronger as the players grew in confidence.
Edge adapted himself to whatever the music demanded, now playing a wonderfully fluid solo, now reverting to rhythm guitar, giving the other guitarist a chance to spread his wings. The music ebbed and flowed, time passed unnoticed as we were all caught in its spell.
The magic was broken by a banging on the door. Startled, I turned to see a large, official-looking figure rattling the door-handle and demanding entrance. The crowd outside had grown, jostling the official in a not-too-friendly way.
Howie unlocked the door and stared up at the uniformed figure, who pushed past him unceremoniously, shutting the door on the crowd outside.
Edge gave the cop his best welcoming smile. The cop did a double-take, then remembered his official status. It seemed the philistine shop owners next door had complained about the noise.
‘You’ll have to wrap it up,’ he told Edge, sounding almost apologetic. ‘I don’t want to have to pull you in for disturbing the peace.’
I imagined Larry’s reaction to bailing Edge out of jail and stifled the giggles rising in my throat.
Edge unhurriedly removed the Gibson and moved between the cop and the teenagers, who were looking mutinous and ready to argue.
‘You understand, sir. Look at all these people outside. We can’t have a disturbance like this,’ the cop said to Edge.
Edge drew him aside, talking quietly and explaining that he was just playing a few tunes with some friends and they hadn’t realised how loud it was. The cop looked at Edge sceptically. Edge looked him right in the eye, smiling, just avoiding insolence. When the cop pulled out his notebook I thought we’d all be spending the night in the cells. He turned his back to us and Edge dropped me a quick wink.
‘He’s getting Edge’s autograph!’ whispered Howie incredulously.
Everyone avoided cracking up until the cop departed to move on the crowd outside, then we all fell about. Tension dispersed and we farewelled Edge’s new friends and left, Edge carrying the 12-string in one hand and the Gibson in the other.
A few hopefuls were still hanging around on the pavement and Edge stopped to talk with them and sign autographs. He was hugged and kissed by several women, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, and posed for photos with the fans. I waited patiently with the two new members of the Edge family.
‘That was great,’ said Edge as we retraced our steps back to the car. ‘Those kids were really good, they’ve got something going there. They’re writing their own songs as well, not just doing covers.’
‘Worth keeping an eye out for in the future?’ I asked him.
‘I should say,’ replied Edge. ‘I hope they stick it out, get their chance. It’s very different from when we started out - more difficult now, in many ways.’
‘Well, you guys did it, against the odds,’ I said.
Edge smiled. ‘We were convinced we’d make it - well, Bono was especially. Although we didn’t have a clue what we were doing at the time. It came down to belief, largely. And a fair amount of bluff, in the beginning.’
‘If you believe in what you’re doing, anything’s possible, right?’ I said as we got into the car.
‘That’s right, Roo,’ said Edge. ‘Anything at all.’
Free Falling
Chapter 13
On the road again. I was driver, Edge riding shotgun. His cheerful, positive mood lifted my spirits, enabling me to face the future with more courage.
We swung into a car park in Whangarei, in sudden and urgent need of coffee.
‘Lots of coffee,’ murmured Edge as we headed towards the local Buckys. ‘Double-strength, with cream’
‘And chocolate on top.’
‘And extra M&Ms.’
We giggled into the coffee shop like a pair of idiots, ordering outrageous concoctions that were satisfyingly unhealthy.
‘Let’s go to the reserve, we can watch the world go by as we get caffeine poisoning…’ I realised I was walking along on my own, talking to myself. ‘Edge? Where did you go?’
I turned and saw Edge several yards back, gazing into a shop window.
‘What’ve you seen, Edge?’ He turned to me with a faraway look in his eyes, indicating the window display.
‘Ah, right.’ It was a music shop. Guitars and other instruments were lined up enticingly. the sun bounced off gleaming bodywork.
‘I need, er, some new strings,’ announced Edge as he sidled towards the shop.
‘Go for it, Edge,’ I laughed, and we entered an Aladdin’s cave of the musical kind.
The young guy behind the counter did a double-take as Edge picked up a glorious 12-string. I sighed inwardly, then shrugged. Oh, well, what the hell, I thought. It’ll make the kid’s day. I sat down on a piano stool, sure we’d be there for the rest of the day and possibly all night as well.
Edge politely asked if he could try out the 12-string. The young guy looked sort of poleaxed as Edge chatted to him about the merits of 12-strings, absently tuning the guitar as he talked. The counterman managed to introduce himself (Howie) then listened raptly as Edge began to play.
The rich tones of the 12-string filled the air and sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. Howie crept over to me and whispered, ‘Is he who I think he is?’
‘Well, Howie, I don’t know,’ I said with a smile. ‘Pretty good though, isn’t he?’
‘Only the Edge could play like that,’ said Howie reverently. ‘It’s him, for sure.’
‘You’ve got it,’ I said. ‘But keep it under your hat, ey? No pun intended.’
Howie was beaming. ‘I can’t believe the Edge is here in my shop,’ he breathed. ‘I wonder if he’d give me his autograph?’
‘Only one way to find out, Howie,’ I said.
Before Howie could approach Edge the door opened and four teenagers strode confidently into the shop. Casting curious glances at Edge, they greeted Howie with high-fives then went into a huddle, talking in low voices.
Edge carefully put the 12-string aside and wandered over to browse the electric guitars, happy as a kid in a chocolate factory. I leaned back on the Steinway, idly checking my phone for messages. There was a text from Bono, which I deciphered as a request to call him.
I moved over by the door and dialled Bono’s number. He answered immediately, surprising me.
‘Hey, angel. How’s the day going? Where are you?’ Bono sounded fairly hyper.
‘Hey there. We’re in Whangarei. In a music shop.’
‘Oh, Lord. How many guitars has Edge bought?’
‘Probably a 12-string. He’s just picking up a Gibson and looking like he’d fallen in love.’
‘Ooooh, dear,’ Bono chuckled. ‘You know you could be there all day?’
‘I reckon,’ I said with a laugh. ‘Now he’s plugging things into an amp. I’m going outside so I can hear you, I think the decibel level’s about to rise.’
‘Wish I was there,’ said Bono.
‘Hell, there’d be a riot if you were here too.’ I peered in through the window, seeing Edge talking and laughing with the teenagers, everyone setting up instruments now. ‘Looks like Edge has found a new band.’
A series of power chords blasted out, rattling the door, turning the heads of passers by.
‘Jeez, I can hear that,’ said Bono, laughing his throaty laugh which always had a disastrous effect on me, in terms of staying upright. I closed my eyes and leaned against the doorframe.
‘You still there, Roo?’
‘Yeah, more or less.’
‘I’m coming over to Sweetwaters tonight,’ Bono announced.
‘Is that wise, Bono? What does Alison think about that?’
‘She’s OK with it,’ said Bono confidently. ‘Is the key where it usually is, in case I get there before you?’
‘Yes … Bono, I’m not sure about this …’
‘Great. I’ll see you later, darlin’,’ said Bono, choosing to ignore my protests. Perhaps he knew they were half-hearted.
‘OK, later Bono.’ Besides, we’d have Edge as chaperone, I thought, trying to justify my weakness when it came to opposing Bono about anything. I went back inside the shop, where the musicians were beginning to produce some interesting sounds together.
Edge was in his element, inspiring the young musicians, their nervousness dissolving as they became absorbed in the music.
Howie nudged me and pointed at the small crowd which had gathered outside the shop. He locked the door and turned the sign to ‘closed’, then sat down at the Steinway with a shrug and joined in.
A kind of magic built up in the little shop, a very loud, very powerful magic that grew stronger as the players grew in confidence.
Edge adapted himself to whatever the music demanded, now playing a wonderfully fluid solo, now reverting to rhythm guitar, giving the other guitarist a chance to spread his wings. The music ebbed and flowed, time passed unnoticed as we were all caught in its spell.
The magic was broken by a banging on the door. Startled, I turned to see a large, official-looking figure rattling the door-handle and demanding entrance. The crowd outside had grown, jostling the official in a not-too-friendly way.
Howie unlocked the door and stared up at the uniformed figure, who pushed past him unceremoniously, shutting the door on the crowd outside.
Edge gave the cop his best welcoming smile. The cop did a double-take, then remembered his official status. It seemed the philistine shop owners next door had complained about the noise.
‘You’ll have to wrap it up,’ he told Edge, sounding almost apologetic. ‘I don’t want to have to pull you in for disturbing the peace.’
I imagined Larry’s reaction to bailing Edge out of jail and stifled the giggles rising in my throat.
Edge unhurriedly removed the Gibson and moved between the cop and the teenagers, who were looking mutinous and ready to argue.
‘You understand, sir. Look at all these people outside. We can’t have a disturbance like this,’ the cop said to Edge.
Edge drew him aside, talking quietly and explaining that he was just playing a few tunes with some friends and they hadn’t realised how loud it was. The cop looked at Edge sceptically. Edge looked him right in the eye, smiling, just avoiding insolence. When the cop pulled out his notebook I thought we’d all be spending the night in the cells. He turned his back to us and Edge dropped me a quick wink.
‘He’s getting Edge’s autograph!’ whispered Howie incredulously.
Everyone avoided cracking up until the cop departed to move on the crowd outside, then we all fell about. Tension dispersed and we farewelled Edge’s new friends and left, Edge carrying the 12-string in one hand and the Gibson in the other.
A few hopefuls were still hanging around on the pavement and Edge stopped to talk with them and sign autographs. He was hugged and kissed by several women, which he didn’t seem to mind at all, and posed for photos with the fans. I waited patiently with the two new members of the Edge family.
‘That was great,’ said Edge as we retraced our steps back to the car. ‘Those kids were really good, they’ve got something going there. They’re writing their own songs as well, not just doing covers.’
‘Worth keeping an eye out for in the future?’ I asked him.
‘I should say,’ replied Edge. ‘I hope they stick it out, get their chance. It’s very different from when we started out - more difficult now, in many ways.’
‘Well, you guys did it, against the odds,’ I said.
Edge smiled. ‘We were convinced we’d make it - well, Bono was especially. Although we didn’t have a clue what we were doing at the time. It came down to belief, largely. And a fair amount of bluff, in the beginning.’
‘If you believe in what you’re doing, anything’s possible, right?’ I said as we got into the car.
‘That’s right, Roo,’ said Edge. ‘Anything at all.’
I might not come back … especially if they use the bit of us coming out of the U2 show 
wonderful!!
Control freak???? Nah, I just know what I like!! Mwahahaha!!!
nice chapter, Effie! I could see something just like that happening, Edge just wandering in off the street into a shop and changing people's lives by doing it....
