Whatever Happened to Dazzer Adler, Silverback Star of Stage and Screen?

Don’t know why I thought of you then, as I slid along the pew. Not a guest as such, but a stand-in, Lisa’s replacement plus-one in light of her recent split from her partner. She couldn't possibly not attend, her being second cousin to the bride. But don’t flatter yourself that my thinking of you was in any way romantic – or the opposite, come to that - and it wasn’t because Lisa served as a reminder either. Good friends since college (acting school, if you like) we often touched based, but didn’t normally meet up in church. So, I guess it was more the ‘where’ of the situation as opposed to the ‘what’ or the ‘who’, memories flooding back of when you played the lead in The Graduate.

‘You made it then.’

Decked out in daffodil yellow, Jackie Kennedy-esque in her bodycon dress and veiled pillbox hat, Lisa looked as stunning as ever although you probably wouldn’t agree. You were always putting her down for either trying too hard or relying on her looks to get parts. Hardly a serious actress, you said.

‘Yeah, taxi didn’t turn up and I had to wait a whole twenty minutes for another…’

‘I know, you texted.’

‘And then I saw them all at the door, the bride and her father, the entire party, so I came in the side way, wasn’t sure where you’d be.’

Lisa had managed to secure an aisle-side seat near the back. So many heads in front of us, one or two behind, but no-one else in our row. Good view of the carved wooden panels to the left of me (was that one of the Marys washing Jesus’ feet?) and the stained-glass windows casting jewel-bright light. A bit like a child’s kaleidoscope when you moved your head around at speed. Up into the rafters, and down. No panes of glass in the gallery here. No Perspex for you to pound upon as you did in the penultimate scene of that play. Although if you had been on intimate terms with the bride (and nothing would surprise me now) disrupting the wedding and running off with her like you did with your 'Elaine' on stage – for real as it turned out - would be exactly the type of stunt you would pull. Then again - You? Church? If we had to recite The Lord’s Prayer, you’d probably change the last line to ‘mine is the kingdom…’

‘Here, I got you one of these.’ Lisa passed me a sprig of white heather fashioned into a mixed tartan buttonhole. ‘We’re all expected to wear one. Less to do with good luck than the conjuring up of good spirits, the ghostly kind, I’m afraid to say. And not merely the Campbell-MacDonald’s dearly departed either, but those of their ancestors stretching way back - to the time of Bonnie Prince Charlie and the days of yore. A kind of two for the price of one, if you get my drift. Who knows, I might even have Flora Macdonald nestled in my bosom right now… Tell you what, we could call yours Erica. Keep it simple.’

I can’t say that Erica, whoever she was, helped keep you in mind at this point, although maybe the pins…

‘Ow!’ I sucked at my bleeding finger. And I’d made a hole in my blue chiffon shrug. I threw the offending article onto the bench beside me, relieved that I’d chosen to wear the silvery navy ensemble as opposed to the plain cerulean. The last thing I needed was a blood-spotted dress.

‘Don’t leave me here, I won’t be able to see the bride.’ The voice with its old-lady highland lilt, appeared to come from the buttonhole…

Lisa!

Actress turned comedian, sometimes ventriloquist, I’d forgotten how my friend could throw her voice.

‘You!’ I chastised as she pulled a tissue from her clutch-bag.

‘Here, use this for now… And you could put Erica in your hair… Let’s see, we could pin her onto your fascinator… There, just the thing…’

Dead-pan, cucumber-cool and smelling as fresh, I sometimes wondered if Lisa bathed in its juices. You used to tell her she stank. Said the same about my acting…

Unsure of this new attachment on my head, my eyes travelled down towards the altar where the groom and best man stood all kilted-up, their dark-whetted heads recently barbered…

Duck’s Arse, D. A… Your hair had been cut that way too when you landed the role of Benjamin. In keeping with your initials, I’d jibed, and you’d gone schizo. No-one spoke to Dazzer Adler that way. No one insulted His name. You, the alpha male, the self-proclaimed silverback of the stage, destined to be one of the greats. Musical theatre, television, the silver-screen, global fame, all calling. And who was I? Just some wannabe nobody. An easy lay, a hook-up, and I was deluding myself if I thought we were in anyway exclusive. You destroyed the birthday bouquet I’d been gifted by the rest of the cast, tore the roses apart, stamped on them, and I’m certain it was you who scuppered my chances of playing Elaine alongside you, ending up instead in the role of 'nightclub stripper'. No having to twirl my tassels like in the film at least, but my dancing around with veils was demeaning enough, my nameless character making a fool of the trusting Elaine when it was the other way round in reality. Or was it just you making fools of us both? I’d heard the rumours about you and our 'Mrs Robinson', her character played by one of the more mature part-time students.

‘Don’t tell anyone but He’s going to put in an appearance today...’

Well! I’d expected some kind of whisper in the ear next to which the loathsome Erica was placed. I mean, as Lisa always said, there had to be a follow-up, even at the risk of it falling flat, but… what…? Was she mind-reading now as well? And what did she mean about you ‘putting in an appearance’. Surely you weren’t coming to the reception? I felt my eyes bulge wide in their sockets as I considered my friend. The neutral expression. The sophistication. The refrigerated, sculpted butteriness of her yellow…

Please be upstanding for the bride…

Bagpipes on Bluetooth, ‘Mairi’s Wedding’ (Of course! That was the veiled one's name.) The procession down the aisle, crystal-white, petal-pink, flounce and crush in the shadows, and ahhh… I’d dreamed of something similar once and you knew it, but it’s only when you grow up that you realise how dark those fairytales are…

Singing. That was one of your talents too. I could never match up, my voice too low to reach the high notes. The vows, the exchanging of rings, the kissing – you avoided all those. More singing. Register signed.

Ceremony over, we made our way outside. Photographs in the grounds, congratulations and small talk… ‘Ah, Lisa, still doing the open-mics…? A season at Butlins, that’s good... And - sorry, I didn't catch your name - Kate, is it? I’m sure I know you from somewhere… The dentist’s that’s it. You’re on reception… Kiddies’ drama group on Sundays…? Oh, must tell the better half… Anything to help drag the little horrors away from their screens… Hey, I like what you’ve done with your heather – very inventive... Hey, Rachel, you could’ve worn it like that… Wife didn’t want to risk putting holes in her dress, did you, love…?’

I tore the buttonhole from my head after that, felt the pins jab into my scalp.

I’d lost sight of Lisa for a while, but she wasn’t exactly hard to spot in all her yellow, standing apart from the crowd, watching the happy couple get into their white limousine.

‘Don’t you just love a wedding? Such a fantastic source of material.’

The mother of the groom was having a bit of a struggle gathering up the bride’s train. ‘You do know this isn’t my job.’ She glared at the bridesmaid who stood oblivious scrolling her phone. ‘And I still think I should have gone with Tom’s dad in the first car. So what if his floosy felt uncomfortable? Wasn’t that when she was romping around in our bed, playing havoc with the springs. Never had a decent night’s sleep since… Don’t care if it was eighteen years ago. Eighteen years, eighteen weeks, what’s the difference…?

‘Lisa,’ I finally asked, ‘What did you mean before? About Dazzer? I take it you were referring to him?’

‘Moi? I know nothing of zis. Perhaps Erica. Such a naughty - how-you-say – tattle-tale. She let zee kitty-cat free from zee bag, mai non?

That phony French accent!

‘You’re not funny, you know.’

‘Ah, zee Britain’s Got Talent judges say zee same at zee auditions… Come to think of it so did my ex.’ She dropped the accent for the latter sentence.

‘Oh, Lisa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’

A flash of her pearly veneers made whiter by her burgundy lipstick. ‘You know your trouble, Kate? You’re way too serious. And forget about our supposed Silverback. It’s just a little surprise Mairi’s dad’s got lined up for her, that's all. Adler won't even know that we're there. Oh, here’s our taxi now. First drink’s on me.’

‘The first drink’s free, Lis.’

‘Ah, c’est vrai.’

***

All the way to the reception, and throughout the carvery meal, I kept wondering what on earth this surprise could be. No point pressing Lisa any further. She’d made it clear her lips were sealed. And besides, there was no more Erica to do her whispering for her. The only thing I could think of was that you’d been hired to perform. But, you, a wedding singer? Not in a million years! You were far too above the rest of us to even consider such a humble gig. You who had packed in college (ironic when I thought of The Graduate) and had made such a big noise about BBC Scotland snapping you up for that minor role in their new weekly soap which gave you a bit of a bad boy rep but also showcased your vocals to the extent there was talk of you landing a recording deal, wouldn’t stoop to this. Unless, of course, there was something lucrative in it for you. Money maybe, but you’d always put your art (and your ego) well above that. And then it dawned on me… You’d been quiet on your socials for a while, ever since the soap had been axed, but you’d hinted that something huge was in the offing. Watch this space, folks, The Silverback will be back, and believe me, you won’t want to miss it… I’d also read an article online about the possibility of a film being made based on the lives of The Bay City Rollers and their rise to fame. The band from here in Scotland were massive in the nineteen seventies. My mum had been a fan, and she’d told me all about them. She’d kept all their records too so I knew their music. And if this came off, it would indeed cause a box office storm. You’d be up for that alright, although the thought of my mother collecting the merch, drinking out of - or worse, steeping her teeth in - a mug with your smirking face on the front did rather give me the ick.

Yes, that would be it. You’d be in here singing a Rollers melody – not so much ‘Bye Bye Baby’ as ‘Summer Love Sensation’, making your big announcement, upstaging the bride, laying the groundwork for said 'love' and 'sensation' to come flooding your way.

‘At twenty a man is peacock’ and you certainly were. You even called yourself as much, said what was a castle without them? Just some grey drystone wreck that nobody wanted to look at or live in. And, you were right, I suppose. For all your arrogance, our little theatre group didn’t last after you left. We passed our exams, gained our qualifications in acting, but apart from Lisa’s small-time successes, not one of us, bar yourself, came anywhere near realizing our dreams. Guess I should have picked up a steak knife; this beef was proving a little too tough to cut through.

I looked towards the top table. Bride, groom, best-man, chief bridesmaid, bride’s mother and father, groom’s father… and ‘the floosy’. The mother sat apart, further down the hall. Glass in hand, crumbs on the floor... Speeches. When the best-man produced that gigantic ball and chain made out of plastic, she was the only one who didn't look amused. And then the moment of truth, the father of the bride…

‘Now I hate to tell you this, Tom, but you’re not Mairi’s first love – oh, not by a long chalk. See, this guy you’re all about to meet now – and sorry, love, I know this might come as a shock – when Mairi was younger, well, obsessed didn’t even come close to how she felt. Posters on her bedroom wall. Even had his face on her pillow-slip at one point. No getting into bed without him, oh no. And night after night she even had me watching him on the telly, all pre-recorded on DVD, her name stuck on next to his on the label, so smitten she was. So, without further ado, and before my lovely daughter here bashes me over the head with that ball and chain, best introduce him…

I took a deep breath as Lisa flashed me a smile, and we watched as the man in the King Louie ape suit appeared and lolloped his way towards the blushing bride, ‘It Should Have Been Me’ blasting out through the speakers as he jiggled before her. Must say, his moves were most impressive. Quite the Silverback. And if you’d been sitting where I was, I know - oh, yes, I just know - you would have been laughing too.