Temporary Secretary

Part 58

26 July 1981

1:00pm Sunday

—--

Your father had gone up into the attic, rummaging for something.

Paul and you were in the sitting room, laid on an oriental rug.

The records here were a mixture of yours and your dad's. Easy to differentiate between, as they were half rock from the 70s and late 60s, the other half swing and jazz from the 20s and 30s.

"This one came out in 1978." You said. "The uncollected, unreleased Russ Morgan. It's quite good."

You let Paul take the album, watching as he looked the cover over.

"You like this sort of music?" He said. "It's much before your time, isn't it?"

You shrugged.

"My dad likes it." You said. "So we've had it in the house. I've listened to it growing up, and I do like it."

You thought to yourself.

"Until I was a teenager, I didn't really think much of music." You said. "I didn't think about how old each song was, either. I just thought of all these as 'older music' as a whole, listening to what my dad did. Or what channel the radio was left on. Only cared if the music was especially unpleasant."

You made a face, but then smiled.

"Course I knew the new stuff eventually." You said. "But my first album was Pet Sounds. I told you."

"My dad is older than yours." Paul said. "Older when he had me, too. This is more his type of sound."

"Suppose so..." You said. "Mine was born in 1929 I believe? He would've been a kid when most of this stuff came out. Maybe his tastes didn't change over time."

Paul laughed.

"Your dad's twenty-seven years younger than mine." He said.

Funny how timing had worked out.

"Well, it's a good thing they didn't get together then." You murmured to yourself, turning back to the shelf.

"Do you know Layton and Johnstone?" You said.

Paul gazed upward.

"It's rather spotty, my knowledge of the era." His eyes met yours. "But probably my da' would've known."

"They were American, then came to London and got big." You said. "They have a good sound, I think. Sold over ten million records, and that was the twenties."

"Impressive." Paul said.

Paul was smiling to himself. He seemed to always be smiley. You liked the look of him now, sat on the floor, legs crossed, eyes focused on the LP. They always looked a bit sleepy, with the way they were downturned. It was a sweet face, surely.

He wore a chequered shirt today. His quaffed fringe was getting a bit long, but not to his eyebrows quite yet. He'd likely get it cut soon.

You liked the way he kept his hair. Though, you did wonder how it would look a little longer. Not shorter (though you were sure anything would suit him).

You couldn't help but think he looked silly when he raised those arched brows of his. He already carried a consistent expression of aloofness with them.

He turned over the record.

"Oh, Lullaby of the Leaves!" he said. "I know this one, a favorite of my dad."

He turned his head.

"He was in a group, y'know." Paul said. "He played this one. The Jim Mac Jazz Band."

You chuckled.