Caught In Slips Pt 12
By Christie Myr

*********************************************************************************************************************************
You will read in this chapter how Janet changes her name to Cassandra (Cassie). This wasn’t part of the storyline originally, but after listening to song by an Australian singer John Farnham, an idea struck me for a “one off” nickname for her. You’ll understand better when the cause is made known for the nickname in a later chapter..... I apologise for any confusion the name change causes anyone.
*********************************************************************************************************************************

When the Xmas break came around, everyone in the club was thinking optimistically about the rest of the season. True our top 3 sides weren't doing so well (although usually only losing by the narrowest of margins) but our 4th and 5th grade teams were doing “passably” well. In fact the 5th grade side I was in were running third, and was quietly confident about the rest of the season. Usually the post Xmas draw was where the club always regularly lost players for various reasons, but it was now hoped to offset the player loss problems caused by last minute promotions to higher grades, by using old stagers who were now eager to play a game or two with our new club ethos and the afternoon meals at the tea break.

On the private side of my life, my exam results were good, my bank account was healthy, I enjoyed my part time work and was finding cricket both fun and challenging, so what more could a girl ask for. I went home to Wagga with Sue for the family’s Xmas get together hoping to give our parents the most fantastic Xmas present they could ever have imagined.

This year my sister had also asked her boyfriend Craig to join us after Xmas day which my parents were even willing to allow them to sleep together. Extra good news was hearing that my brother Greg would be home for Xmas too, so it was going to be a real family get together, the first one in three years.

There was also to be a belated 21st birthday party for me too. My unique 21st birthday present given to me by my parents was one I would never have thought of in a million years………….changing my Christian name. Dad always said he remembered the day he and mum had given me my name Maree Janet Brooks and remembering how I said I would have liked another name if I’d had the choice. Perhaps because almost straight away Sue and Greg started addressing me as Janet instead of Maree.

So he’d secretly (with mum’s help) gone and lodged all the paperwork allowing for my name to be changed (for the second and last time) to Cassandra Maree Brooks, which had always been my personal favourite. What an amazing birthday/Xmas gift!!!

Mum jokingly told all of us how her and dad had thought about changing my name to Cassiopeia (shades of Shakespeare if you recall) instead of Cassandra, although from then on mum wasn’t above calling me Cassiopeia (with a smile on her face) to friends when I was home, leaving her friends completely unaware of mum’s hidden wicked sense of humour.

Both Sue and I had wanted to ensure that the Xmas presents we bought this year for everyone were something very special and had taken a considerable amount of time discussing it since about June! In the end we decided to join forces and purchased our parents an all-expenses paid 15 day cruise, which we intentionally left open dated but had to be taken before May the following year. We each purchased separate gifts for our brother Greg.

I’m not sure what Sue and I enjoyed the most on Xmas day. Seeing mum burst into tears looking at the cruise tickets, or dad smiling like a Cheshire cat. He happily told us how wonderful we were to think of and pay for a cruise for both of them, saying it was better than any present him or mum could ever have given us. They both agreed they were going to make the present a 2nd honeymoon, because they’d been talking about it themselves so much just recently.

My gift for Greg was three full car detailing cleanings able to be redeemed at any time, because he’d written and told everyone about buying a slinky looking 10 year old 2nd hand Porche sports car on the never ever finance plan. Sue bought him lamb’s wool car seat covers in-case he didn’t already have them fitted in the car (which he didn’t). You should have seen the car. It was absolutely incredible! When he took Sue and I for a test drive, early on Xmas Eve morning, my sister breathlessly claimed afterwards that if sex was something on four wheels, it had to be this!

When Craig turned up late on Boxing Day, he quickly won over both my parents and big brother. The following day we all went out to the RSL in Wagga for tea (with dad driving). Once there Greg managed to get Craig paralytic drunk while they enjoyed swapping yarns about my sister between the two of them. Sue took it all in good humour and gloated most of the following day as Craig suffered a horrendous hangover. Greg surfaced pretty late as well but surprisingly with little effect, boasting how he’d been taught by experienced seaman how to tie one on and recover by the morning!

Greg soon showed everyone how much his body had developed since joining the navy. He’d always been as big as dad and now 6’3” was probably as heavy too, but his chest and abdomen were rippling rock hard as he showed at the pool to clear away the drinking session after effects. I swear when he walked out of the change rooms at the pool, in a matter of seconds, you could have sworn every pair of female eyes there, young and old were looking at him walk.

In almost no time at all he had several women swarming around him trying to get him to remember them from school or wherever. His arm strength allowed him to casually demonstrate his strength when he picked up two girls clinging onto an arm each as he lifted them off the ground. He did it as if they practically weighed nothing more than a feather. I only saw my brother coming home to breakfast from then on, till I had to leave to come back to work.

Sue caught up with old girlfriends at the pool while introducing Craig around to them. I discovered how much different I must’ve looked as a twenty one year old. Playing my own game of catch up with old girlfriends, I was suddenly finding myself far more interesting to guys I’d gone to school with and had totally ignored me back then. I also enjoyed the novelty of having a different guy phone to ask me out every day until I had to leave to come back to work at The Sheaf. Mum and dad still had no idea where I worked thank goodness and were just happy to see the family happily reunited once more.

I had to catch the train back down to Sydney and eventually found my way home, where I had the luxury of having a further four days free of Sue and Craig to relax by myself. When I rang Trudy to ask if there were any extra shifts going, she told me she wanted me the following morning and could I do the following ten days straight including both Saturday nights………..Helloooo Mr Money!

Back at work, patrons greeted me like a long lost relative (and not just a few were confused at my new name tag - Cassandra). I also now wanted to wear either a dark purple coloured Basque with matching bottoms or an emerald green satin body corset for my work uniform. I’d usually only worn orange, yellow or red Basques and bottoms, and never a corset. But now I wanted to find out if men might find me more desirable wearing sexy colours and outfits. Besides, I was selfishly hoping that my tips would go up accordingly! As a concession to modesty (while wearing the corset), I also planned to wear my black wrap around skirt with it, because the corset had a “string thong” bottom and no matching panties for it.

And I wasn't above occasionally bending over slightly more wearing the corset, so the patrons could see more of my derriere than normal and hopefully tip better. It DID show in the tip jar, but ONLY after Sam loudly remarked to patrons (I was gathering up glasses from tables at the time) that you could see my freckle if I bent over any further in that green get up. What some girls will do for money you might well ask!

My first game back after the Xmas break was another surprise (and shock). During my day shift on Friday I was rung up by the 3rd grade captain (I’d deliberately missed the two practices that week due to work) and advised I was temporarily being promoted out of 5th’s till further notice. I didn’t know David (the 3rd grade team captain) all that well, so having been told who we were playing and where, I just hung up and got back to serving drinks.

I over slept the next day and had to drive like the wind to get to where the 3rd grade game was being played arriving only minutes before the start. Fortunately for me, David’s “skill” as a captain saw him winning the toss and electing to bat. So I got to spend the afternoon sleeping under a nearby tree for shade before being rudely woken up and told it was time to leave by David and that we’d scored 5 for 270.

The following Saturday saw David declare our innings finished before the start of play and our team fielding for most of the afternoon in beating Mosman on 1st innings. I justified my promotion, by taking 3 for 52 and dealing with the middle order of Mosman’s strong batting line up in the process. My new captain took the time to speak to me quietly at the nets the following Tuesday. Saying he was impressed with how well I’d bowled against Mosman, but that I’d need to work closely both with him and the team’s wicketkeeper Patrick (Pat) and try to devise a simple code for the types of balls he wanted me to bowl during an over sometimes, (shades of Howling Janet back in Wagga).

I’d quickly found out that playing in 3rd grade was akin to 2nd grade cricket (skill level wise) in Wagga and also discovered that the comradery we enjoyed in 5th grade was lost playing 3rd grade. I also had to put up with a lot of whispered snide remarks (clearly heard) behind my back from opposing players and even some of my own teammates during the Mosman game. When I quietly spoke to Trevor about it, he thought it wasn’t so much prejudice by opposing players or even my own teammates for that matter, but more likely the feeling of jealousy and inadequacy they must feel playing alongside me. My questioning look had him candidly tell me I should’ve been and “would be” playing in a higher grade soon, adding if I kept bowling the way I was, he wouldn’t be surprised to see me in “ones” before too long………I was too surprised to say anything.

When Dom had decided several months previously to provide a musician to play out in the beer garden from 12 till 3 of a Sunday (if the weather permitted) none of The Sheaf staff liked the idea. Mainly because usually the musician was nothing more than an “ordinary” busker, playing chord guitar and singing slightly off key. How the patrons could put up with it and eat their lunches was something that none of the bar staff could understand. In fact, depending on how the performer played (generally terribly) I was amazed that patrons weren’t throwing their food at them in protest.

If the musician (invariably a different one, pair or even trio each week) had set up early, before the pub opened, he/they often had the amplifier set up too loud. Each time, whenever Dominic turned up (not that often of a Sunday now) he’d inevitably would walk over and turn the volume down uninvited, till it was almost inaudible! …….. Still Dom liked his idea about quiet music in the background as patrons ate Sunday lunch and swilled drinks. We only all wished he’d stay around and listen for the entire 3 hours, to hear what was being inflicting on patrons and bar staff alike.

What I never expected was to have to substitute one Sunday afternoon for a musician who had needed to be rushed to the nearest hospital by ambulance, with quite nasty glass cuts over his back, arms and hands after an inebriated patron had clumsily fallen onto him and caused the injuries. I also lost the coin toss with Sam to decide who’d clean up the mess and hose away the offending blood.

When around 1 o’clock Dominic turned up and wondered where the usual Sunday musician was, he wasn’t pleased on hearing about the accident, but seemed thankful that it wasn’t fight related. He went over and looked at the musician’s equipment and came back furiously saying that the equipment didn’t have the ability (or he couldn’t see it) to be able to play recorded music to entertain people during breaks.

It didn’t help matters having a couple of regular patrons wind him up about not having lunchtime music for patrons to listen to while he looked over the equipment, not understanding they were only having a shot at him. In fact Dominic was downright rude to Sam and me when he came back inside. He didn’t seem to care one iota at his angry outburst to either of us, so stupidly I told him "I know how to play guitar and if you want I’ll go out and bloody play for an hour or so", quickly adding as an afterthought as long as it only entailed playing and not singing……..just to shut the bugger up.

Offer made, offer accepted!

Dom furiously muttered he’d get someone to relieve me and to get my fanny out in the beer garden and start playing “immediately”! - Typical Dom, shoot first and ask who or why later on. So I went and got my skirt from behind the bar counter, putting it on as I walked outside to where the musician had been setting up and proceeded to check the amplifier and speaker connections.

I picked up the acoustic guitar (ignoring the electric one) and strummed it to see if it was in tune. Thankfully it was (no mucking around with trying to tune up). On turning around to hoist myself up onto the stool the musician had placed there to sit on, I inadvertently showed off the bottom of my green (thong) corset. That resulted in several comments being made, including a sarcastic one “it must be time for the lunchtime stripper now,” which had me blushing profusely while trying not to get flustered.

On finally getting comfortably perched on an uncomfortably high stool, I lifted the guitar and cradling it, strummed a few chords to get a feel (and sound) for the instrument. The guitar was actually quite a good one and after a few chord attempts to feel its neck pressure action (which was fantastically light, so obviously a more expensive instrument than most musicians played) I decided to play one of the better known “mouldy oldies”. I checked the amplifier to make sure the volume was as low as possible (the staff’s pet hate) before getting starting to play Johnny River’s classic “Poor side of town”.

I didn’t play too badly as it turned out and I played for almost an hour nonstop before my mind suddenly went completely blank and besides which I also needed to visit the ladies by then. So I slid down off the stool to hear a few patrons give me a quiet round of applause. I smiled and said I’d be back in ten minutes and walked off to the ladies, noting that a tip jar that had been placed in front of me by Dominic, (of all people) was now filled with just enough coins to cover the glass at the bottom. I could see several gold coins in there as well although most of the coins were silver!

I stopped off to talk to Sam after I came out from freshening up, to have her tell me I was doing brill out there, but could I turn it up a bit so they could hear it inside. I had to remind her about Dom’s usual behaviour about the music’s volume but did however take the glass of iced lemonade she handed me, as I hated the plain water of Sydney. Another Dom rule was that staff could never be seen to be drinking during shifts even if they paid for it, excepting of course water – that’s why I only ever drank lemonade instead of the god awful Sydney water when I worked.

Walking outside to start my next stint, I noticed Dom sitting with a few of the more regular patrons over against the fence on one side of the beer garden, watching me as I walked back outside to begin playing again. I’d taken the time while sitting down in the ladies toilet, to work out what I wanted to play for the next hour or so, which I felt could include possibly playing a few pieces on the electric guitar. Actually it was only to find out if its owner had the same taste in electric guitars that he had in acoustic ones.

I dragged a vacant chair from a nearby table to sit back “in” instead of falling off of, before I seated myself and started to play a mixture of music from country and western (Olivia Newton John) “Banks of the old Ohio”, to some classical music, (Moonlight Sonata) along with a few old style sing along tunes. During it Dom came over towards me, but this time to turn the volume UP, before walking away wordlessly inside and serve patrons drinks, allowing Sam to take her coffee break. I was now receiving a smattering of applause as I finished playing each song and if someone called out a song that I knew how to play, I’d start playing it right after I’d finished the one I was playing.

The time seemed to fly and before I knew it, it was 3.15pm and I hadn’t bothered to go to the toilet or had the chance to play the guy’s electric guitar yet, I’d been enjoying myself so much. So I took the opportunity to stand up and place the acoustic guitar back on its stand, before picking up the electric guitar and finding that my injured musician at least had the good sense to tune his instruments beforehand.

I’d always liked Chuck Mangioni’s “Feel so good” and started playing it, enjoying the feel of the guitar neck’s action and silently applauding the taste of its owner. I decided after that, that I’d call it quits and to end the afternoon by playing a slow romantic ballad. I’d gotten so into playing during the afternoon, that occasionally I’d subconsciously quietly sing a few of the words to some of the songs, and playing the chestnut “When I Fall in Love” I subconsciously sang the last few lines as it came towards the end of it, although mainly concentrating on playing the strings in a romantic rhythm (ala Johnny Mathis) when I played the last arpeggio chord, I managed to make it last as long as possible with the reverb handle.

The applause that greeted me as I stood up and put the guitar carefully to one side, made me start in fright as I turned back to see a number of patrons standing and quietly applauding me. So I gave them a curtsey and walked back inside where Sam, now with Joanna working with her applauded me too. I told Joanna to let me take a toilet break and I’d come back and relieve her till 4pm and the end of my shift.

When I came back behind the bar, almost my first customer was Dom, who told me in no uncertain fashion that I wasn’t too bad out there and until he said otherwise was to be the Sunday musician in the beer garden. I had to remind him that I didn’t have any instruments other than my own acoustic guitar at home and certainly didn’t have any sound equipment. He grizzled for a moment then answered a call on his mobile, before saying he’d get it sorted in time for next Sunday. And in the future he’d like me to play for most of the afternoon and extend my hours on Sunday up till 6pm.

He then handed me my tip jar which I’d completely forgotten about and told me I’d only be being paid normal rates for the additional hours, because the tip jar made overtime unnecessary! The jar had just over $40 dollars in it he told me, then walked out of the hotel and went home. I found out at my next shift (the following Friday) that the old bastard (Dominic) had actually been caught blubbering during my final song, and rumour had it, that when he got home he shagged his girlfriend silly before taking her out for a romantic dinner!

Playing in 3rd grade, the cricket was much more satisfying than 5th grade, if only because each week would be a challenge. Before our game against Northern Districts, Pat (our keeper) and David took me to one side at training and worked out a simple but hopefully unnoticeable set off signals, that either one (but usually David) would use to tell me what he wanted me to bowl. The signals comprised of, pointing to square leg (flipper), flexing from side to side (quicker ball), touching the brim of a cap (wrong un), patting hips (top spinner), and folding his arms in front of him (top spinner) otherwise I should just bowl a normal leg spinner.

Pat and David tried it out in the nets with me for about an hour, using 3rd grade teammates facing me. After a lot of hilarious trial and error attempts at trying to get all three of us on the same page, remembering what sign related to which ball, it finally saw me bowling the type of ball they were signalling me they wanted me to bowl.

Although I always preferred to bowl what came into my head before each ball in a game, even if I had a thought out plan of attack told to me at training about a particular batsman, I was also used to being told what type of ball to bowl, back in Wagga curtesy of my old wicket keeper “Howler” or with my 1st grade skipper Cruiser. Generally it had worked out well overall back then, although no bowler could ever be pin point accurate each time they were instructed to bowl a certain type of delivery.

I was now aware of what type of ball to bowl for David or Pat that they signalled for. With each game and with a lot of net bowling practice (to refine the signalling to make it appear even more casual and even less obvious) it soon started paying excellent dividends as unsuspecting batsmen not understanding what was taking place, would very often get out to a well thought out attack on a batting weakness that had been spotted either of them.

Sometimes though, my hand grip might slip when I was releasing the ball out of my hand that would see a looping full toss being promptly clubbed over a picket fence on the fly. One particular ball had a teammate fielding at silly mid-on, having to duck as David hastily yelled out “Duck Spook (Gary)”, that saw the errant ball I waywardly delivered almost hit poor Spook on the head!

As a matter of fact, if you excluded the odd full banger (full toss), I’d usually only once an innings accidentally bowl a ball so wayward, that teammates fielding anywhere from point to square leg would have to stop it instead of our wicketkeeper Pat! It was “always” cause for general laughter from everyone (including the umpires), who’d simply signal “wide” and almost always I’d have a teammate call out I should stop trying to bowl a Doozra!

But booboos aside, I also usually got at least three and quite often four wickets an innings (even a fivefa wasn’t unusual either). If I had to bowl in a second innings, having quickly discovered batting weaknesses of opponents “that” was when I usually bagged the fivefa.

Winning can be a good way to win over sceptics and after a few victories, I was being more accepted by my FLCC 3rd grade teammates. And when a team starts winning more often so does the confidence in itself grow. Batsmen started to find form batting, fast bowlers rediscovered fast outswingers and fielding improved everywhere. Opposition batsman began not to think of me as a novelty anymore either, as the Sunday papers showed match results that saw 3rd grade FLCC consistently winning, while C Brooks bowling figures revealed my successes. When the season came to an end the team was unlucky not to make the semi-finals, missing out by a measly 2 points from achieving it. One thing was for certain, a certain Miss Cassie Brooks was going to be remembered for next season by a lot of opposition batsmen!

When the cricket season came to an end, and with sunsets getting earlier, I thought that Dom would also want to reduce back my hours on Sunday. Nope. As word gradually filtered out, the Sunday beer garden lunch crowd ended up becoming people who came for lunch and stayed around, then as they left, another group of patrons would start coming in for an early evening meal around 4ish. Either way I still ended up playing until near 6pm playing music. Trudy told me she and Dom didn’t mind one way or another, as long as everyone ordered drinks regularly. Even when it meant patrons having to sit on the brick surrounds in the garden, such was the popularity now of the quiet middle of the road music I was playing, along with a few singalongs each Sunday.

Dom had been as good as his word and organised for a small amplifier and both an electric as well as an acoustic guitar to be hired each week, at no more cost then he used to normally paid for a musician. Because of Sunday noise restrictions in suburban areas, the music I played was never loud, although louder than Dominic had allowed others to play of a Sunday.

I’d practice at home whenever I could find the time and had quickly worked out several “sets” I could play while allowing for “requests” every so often. I also learnt that Dom himself was a “hopeful and frustrated singer” and after meeting his girlfriend one afternoon, discovered he actually didn’t mind a 1970's/80’s singer Kenny Rogers. He particularly like a duet titled “We’ve got tonight” she informed me. So with the conniving help of his girlfriend, I managed to get him to sing it with me one Sunday afternoon where his girlfriend had planned for him to be there to do so.

Then whenever he turned up on a Sunday (when he did now, it was usually late) I’d get the patrons to bully him into singing it with me, occasionally changing the lyrics around so that I’d be asking “where is my pay” and holding out my hand, instead of the final words “why don’t you stay” as we finished the song.

I also discovered that even tough bikies could like quiet middle of the road music (if only in very small doses) as The Sheaf was a well-known hotel for one particular motorcycle chapter to have social drinks at on a Sunday. Generally the bikies were well behaved and as polite and civil as you could wish, but get on their bad side and look out, because no one in heaven could help you then.

My bank account had been slowly increasing curtesy of The Sheaf and I had a boyfriend of sorts although nothing serious. I was still a virgin and wasn’t looking for a one night stand to get me “off my duck” although I enjoyed my time together with Brad and didn’t feel pressured to go to bed with him. He was a friend of Craig’s although several years younger and just out of his cabinetmaker’s apprenticeship.

Since I never said “no” to a shift at The Sheaf I was offered (unless it clashed with a lecture) I had a considerable amount of leeway given to me about when I worked. I seemed to get on with everyone and vice versa, the till usually never appeared to be short, (it was always tallied off at the end of each shift) and when it was never by more than the occasional dollar, which then had to have tips reduced to make up the difference.

But I enjoyed my Sunday “entertainment” shift the most, so much so that when Sue and Craig came along one day to watch, Sue discussed with me later on at home about the possibilities of getting a highly discounted accompaniment tape for me to use as backing music from one of her home business clients. Then all I’d have to do was learn the timing of each song and hey presto, I could play with a musical accompaniment supporting me each week.

It took $750 dollars of my own money and about a month of practicing until I felt confident enough, to launch it on an unsuspecting Sheaf patronage one Sunday, who seemed to like what I played. Although I didn’t kid myself about how good I could play, the fact that Dom wasn’t being told by patrons to do something about me, had me able to actually enjoy playing the beer garden and where possible getting patrons to join in singing a particular song. Some weeks the till takings would be higher and some weeks lower, but overall the cash turnover was slightly up than before the Sunday lunch music idea had been introduced by Dom, which was all Dom and Trudy cared about.

Early one Sunday around 1 o’clock, I was in the middle of my first set that included a lot of well-liked instrumentals, when I suddenly recognised one of the FLCC 1st grade players Haden along with his girlfriend sitting towards the back of the garden drinking and watching me play. I’d seemed to dodge that bullet so far and none of my friends at university drank here either, so I felt reasonably safe about my secret job. He saw me suddenly recognise who he was and simply signalled for me to join him afterwards.

At the next break I wondered over and nervously asked him if he could keep my job here a secret between ourselves. Haden just laughed and told me it was too late for that, telling me that he’d been texting everyone to come on down and see me in my sexy attire. I “was” wearing a skirt over the bottom half of my corset thank you very much. By the end of my next set six players were seated together with girlfriends and loudly applauding and encouraging me. JUST GREAT!!!

The dogs were well and truly out now and couldn’t be put back in, so I decided to accept the situation for what it was…..a bad break. But the odds of keeping my part time work a secret forever had always been diminishing anyway. Besides these club mates didn’t pay my bills so I’d just shut up and accept it. So instead I decided to force them into participating, by telling everyone that I played cricket for the FLCC and that a few of my club mates were here today to see for themselves how I looked in lingerie. I also got them to name a few songs they liked and luckily found I knew several of them quite well as they were on my backing tape.

The rest of the afternoon went well and the guys even came over to put something in my tip jar. I was also invited to several homes for tea some time from three of them. Two of them even bought some hotel lingerie for their girlfriends that I’d gone and showed them all (including their girlfriends) during my final break, which had me teasing them afterwards worse than they did me during my final set.

Two Sunday afternoons later I should have asked Dom for a finder’s fee, because one entire side of the beer garden was filled with Fairfield Liverpool Cricket Club players, officials, WAGS and the odd small child or six all waiting to see and hear me. A fair number had already seen me in my “uniform” when they came in to order drinks, none being shy in saying I looked hot in my getup (with my girls out in view). I also noticed the looks a few of the club’s executive gave me. I wouldn’t have been too sure they would have looked at me that way if their wives were standing beside them, instead of sitting in the beer garden waiting for their orders.

I had my usual satin green body corset on along with a wraparound skirt so I didn’t feel embarrassed when I went to collect empties. I started getting lots of sarcastic taunts being hurled at me from club mates and I tried to give as good as I got. Haden who’d started this all off in the first place was there as was his girlfriend, plus two of the girls with her were wearing only Basque’s up top, their boyfriends had bought for them, along with a pair of jeans that saw me giving them high fives and complimentary congratulations for wearing them.

I joked with a lot of the players and girlfriends there, giving my standard line that I failed the brothel workers exam and this as the only place that would give me a job! I reminded everyone about the tip jar on the counter along with the one in front of my chair, also recommending what to order from Soo for lunch, which a lot of them took on board. I was also running a constant empty glass pick up and occasionally bent over just enough to show off my derrière to loud raucous remarks, while reminding them they could look, but not touch and should tip heavily.

By the time noon rolled around, the beer garden was bursting at the seams courtesy of my club mates, with a fair few regular patrons having to perch themselves on the brick retaining around the trees to get a seat. There were now “three” barmaids (excluding me) on hand to cater for the increased patrons, which because of my cricketing "mates" was quite larger than normal.

Sam my usual workmate, already knew about the situation and told me I should just tell everyone to go to hell and since my secret was out now, damn the consequences, lose the skirt when I played and not be afraid to wonder about the tables, which the rented amplifier allowed me to do, although I rarely did. She looked me straight in the eye and said “go for it Cassie and to hell with what they think.”

Good advice, although I’d rung up my sister earlier on to ask her what she thought I should do. Perhaps Sue was channelling herself through Sally, because Sue had said the exact same thing. My final ten minutes before I had to perform were spent sitting in the ladies, planning my sets. I decided that I still felt confident (brave) enough to start off with a popular quiet song, before I’d launch into a fast song and liked the saucy Dolly Parton’s “Why did you come here looking like that” even though I'd never played it before to the patrons.

I could have a bit of fun at the same time that way and then be able to slip back into my usual 1st set quiet calming music to enjoy with lunch. I was actually rowdily applauded by club mates when I walked over to my set up, in only my green satin body corset, before picking up my guitar and starting to play a slow ballad “I’m counting on you”. Sam came out during the middle of it, carrying somebody’s black cowboy hat and left it on the table beside me. Clever girl I silently thought to myself, having told her I needed her to try and find me a cowboy hat somewhere, quickly.

When I finished my first song I let everyone know I had a lot of my cricket teammates here today and they’d all come to see me make an ass of myself. This brought a loud round of laughter, so telling everyone here goes nothing, placed the cowboy hat on my head which luckily didn’t fall down blocking my eyes. I’d already set up the backing machine and with a quiet voice in my earpiece counting back from 3 telling me when to start, I hit my start exactly right.

I’m certainly not Dolly Parton, but the song’s so quick, catchy and upbeat, I didn’t need to be. I deliberately was looking at my club mates as I screeched out the first line……..and in moments knew that I’d gambled successfully. By the conclusion of it, a lot of people there were tapping their shoes on the ground in accompaniment to the bouncy song………

I told everyone I was just a simple country girl at heart so I might just play a few more slow ones from now on then took the time to do my usual spiel about how and where to order lunch as well as telling them that we had a limited table service if they wanted, but the girls at the bar were quick and good at serving, which I said with a broad grin.

I then started playing my usual first set, which was a lot slower and calmer. By the time I had finished it, my club mates and their girlfriends or wives were eating, talking to each other and occasionally listening…..perfect. Usually I used each break to powder my nose, then drink a cold glass of lemonade while talking to my workmates, but today I decided to spend it among my teammates and gauge their reactions to seeing me dressed the way I was.

I took a lot of jibes along with a quite a few back handed compliments, while even the vice president’s wife about 60 year old, (perhaps 70 in the midday sun) told me how much she liked my corset, telling me how she used to wear one too to look sexy for Harry (the club’s VP) who blushed accordingly at being mentioned. Several tables were starting to receive food so I decided to leave and start my next set.

By the time I was almost finished and I’d deliberately over run the sets, it was almost dark at 5pm. I thanked everyone for coming, particularly mentioning my cricket club. I then played the last slow number on my electric guitar, which I now felt confident I played as well as Johnny Mathis’s musicians did “When I fall I love”, before thanking everyone and turning off the power. My usual tip jar was half full of mostly gold coins with even a few $5- notes in it as well……bloody fantastic!

I actually had to carry it in both hands behind the bar where a grinning Barb’s said it had been a “brill” afternoon for trading and tips. Even though Dom turned up later than usual, it didn’t stop me from getting him to accompany me on our regular duet, which even though he always grumbled at, never refused to sing in……the big ham!

Pre season trials started two weeks after that Sunday and I copped a lot of friendly teasing at the first of them. I also got quite a few hopeful invites from club mates asking me out too, which I had to decline (explaining I had either study to do or was working). But from that Saturday’s 1st trial onwards, I felt so much a part of the club that I would have played in any grade although I was mainly bowling to the senior graders at the trials, along with several other candidates, so perhaps Trevor might have been right after all.

On the afternoon of the final Saturday trials, when the names would be read out for each grade squad, starting from the lowest squad, I was just a tad disappointed I admit to hear my name read out for 5th grade. I’d at least hoped to be playing 3rd grade and although happy to play anywhere, was silently regretting what was perhaps some form of disciplinary action because of where I worked. Before I had enough time to start feeling sorry for myself, the broadly smiling club president reading out the team grading’s, said that someone had obviously made an error as Cassie Brooks hadn’t even been proposed for 5th grade. The @#%! Bastard!

As each team’s squad was then read out, I didn’t hear my name mentioned and started to get worried half way through the 2nd grade side being read out alphabetical. When after the 1st grade side squad had been read out, along with several players they wanted to have stay for further evaluation, I was shattered beyond belief to find that my name hadn’t even been called out for any of the sides and like quite a few others, I turned dejectedly away to go pack up my things and go home.

Our “bloody” club president then loudly announced that he’d accidently omitted a name from one of the team squads and blamed it on his poor eyesight. Calling out my name with a huge smile, he said “firsts!” which had the 1st grade squad, who were lined up over to one side breaking up in laughter. Obviously they had to have been in on the “prank”, as they loudly welcomed me over. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over the joke, so I loudly said “Oh YOU guys” and walked over to join them, a beaming smile showing on my face at being played for the patsy but excited about my selection.

*********************************************************************************************************************************
I’d like to express my thanks to some of the BCTS members who suggested ideas about music for this and perhaps later chapters. Several of them didn’t want me to state their member’s names, but did agree to their wished for names, thanks Maureen and Kelly. Also thanks to “Joannebarbarella” and “Grim City Girl” for their suggestions, which on searching for some of their performers music to listen to, also allowed me to discover a lot of “new” oldies that I’d never heard of over here, although still sounding way better than today’s UK rubbish artists or “artistes”.

This chapter was originally proof read for me by Grim City Girl. However on trying to upload it and having my usual problems, it read much better in an abbreviated and slightly reworded chapter (3 pages shorter too)
*********************************************************************************************************************************