Dickie Williams

Ten minutes into the second half Dickie missed an open goal and this time the crowd to a man began to chant: “POOF POOF POOF !”

I choked back the tears and tried to send my heart across the ground to my lover. I know he knew I was hurting for him.

“POOF POOF POOF !”

Mercifully Dickie was taken off and a substitute sent out to play but City still lost four nil.

The manager did not travel back on the team coach and an air of sad gloom filled every seat. Dickie sat with his face turned towards the window and tried to sleep. I held his and did all I could to comfort him.

His phone rang and he whispered into it. His talking was monosyllabic but at the end of the call I could see he was feeling a little better.

“Who was that ?” I asked.

“Harry.”

“Harry Webb, Cliff Richard.”

“Really ?”

“He saw the game on television and has seen all the press reports. I told you he’s like a father to me. He’s asked us round to his place tonight, I said we’d go. Is that alright ?”

“Of course.”

“I’d like to see him and I want him to meet you.”

“Wow !”

“Nigel……”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to play football any more.”

I squeezed his hand and tried to comfort him.

Cliff Richard, or Harry as Dickie liked to call him, lived in a huge mansion somewhere in Hertfordshire. It took us a few hours to drive there and was quite late as the tyres of the Porsche cracked their way up the long gravel drive. And there he was, the man who had his first number one hit when my grandparents were young and who could still sell a million copies of any single he cared to release.

“Harry,” Dickie said. “I am so glad to see you. This is Nigel.”

“Hi Nigel.” That voice ! The tone and inflection so familiar, I couldn’t believe I was actually there with him.

“Come here the both of you,” he said and hugged us close to himself.

“Fancy a jam session ?” he asked. “Always good to lift the spirits.”

Dickie nodded.

“Do you play anything Nigel ?” Cliff – I mean Harry – asked.

“I used to bash out on the drums but hardly to a standard for the likes of you two.”

“We’ll see.”

This man had genuine kindness pervading from every pore of his body, I could see why Dickie trusted and respected him so much. He took us to his music room, a vast studio with microphones, recording equipment and lots of different instruments. Dickie went straight to a large electric keyboard, flicked some switches and hammered the keys. Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor thundered out as if it was being played on a convert grand. I didn’t know that Dickie could play a piano, clearly his musical talents were much greater than singing.

Cliff pointed to a set of drums. “Have a go.”

“Can I ?”

“Hey, go for it.”

There was something about the atmosphere, something about being in the home of the oldest teenager in pop, something about Dickie hitting the keys like Sparky’s Magic Piano that pumped adrenalin into my playing. I hadn’t drummed for years but as I crashed about that magnificent set up I beat a rhythm better than I had ever done before.

“You didn’t tell me Nigel was a brilliant drummer Dickie,” Cliff chided. He picked up and electric guitar, tuned it slightly then called out, “Let’s go !”

The three of us jammed away playing all kinds of things for hours. My spirits lifted and Dickie was smiling again, smiling so wide.

“Can you sing ?” Cliff asked.

I used to think I could but would never have admitted it in front of such august company. I shook my head.

“Come here,” Cliff said placing an arm about my shoulder. “Sine one of my songs with me. We’ll do it together. Which one would you like ?”

What could I say ? I mean Cliff Richard was hardly my era of music and I only knew a few of his hits by name. My mind fumbled then blurted out the first thing that came into my head. “Summer Holiday.” I’d seen the film as a kid on television one Christmas.

Cliff sorted out a CD and placed it into a karaoke machine, music started to play and the words came up on a television screen in front of us. I sang softly at first but sensing Cliff next to me And my beloved Dickie watching I changed and threw my heart and soul into it. I felt I wasn’t doing at all bad, At the end Cliff and Dickie applauded, “Well done you ! Well done.”

It was two in the morning when the tree of us collapsed exhausted into deep armchairs and Cliff served us coffee and micro-waved pizzas. “Sorry about the food,” he said, “but it’s a bit late to wake the housekeeper.”

“Won’t the noise of the music have woken her ?” I said concerned that we may have disturbed her.

“She lives in a cottage in the grounds,” Cliff explained.

Thank goodness for that.

“Feeling better now ?” Cliff asked Dickie.

“Much thanks. Harry ?”

“Yes.”

“I think I want to give up football.”

“Do you ?”

“My contract is up to be renewed at the end of the season and I think I want to quit. I need to talk it over with Nigel of course but I don’t want to play any more.”

“You are a better musician than you are a footballer,” Cliff said. “Brilliant at both of course but music is your number one.”

“Do you think I could make a living at it ?”

Cliff laughed. “Boy you make a fortune every time you release a song !”

“Do you think Nigel and I could make a duo ? Say like the Everley Brothers from your time ?”

“Phil and Don Everley were even before my time,” he giggled. “But hey you may have something there. What do you think Nigel ?”

Me a pop singer ? This was going too far, perhaps everything that had happened over the last two weeks had been but a dream I would wank up soon.

“I’d back you with my production company,” Cliff said. “I think you could do it.”

This wasn’t a dream was it ? No it wasn’t.

“Can I ask you something else Harry ?”

He smiled.

“Do you believe in gay marriage ? I mean you are a Christian so what do you think about it ?”

His answer cam quickly, he did not have to think about it. “Love is given by God and it isn’t up to man to debate who he gives it to and why he gives it.”

Dickie looked at me and his eyes silently asked the question.

With tears joy in my own I gave him my answer.

“You can use my home in Barbados,” Cliff said. “Take a holiday there and have a special ceremony to mark your love.

This man was fantastic, so easy to see why Dickie respected him so much.

We are and chatted. Dickie would retire from football at the end of the season. Cliff would start a programme of coaching for me and turn us into a pop duo. His promotion company would assure our success. We would get married that summer in Cliff’s Caribbean home and life was going to be so, so wonderful.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Dickie suggested.

“You two go,” Cliff said and come back when you are ready.

We walked down the long drive from Cliff’s home, down the quiet lane and into the small town. It was a bright morning. We were both so full of life and our hearts so full of joy. We skipped along the footpath like a couple of kids let out of school. Dickie was dancing backwards, facing me laughing and singing We’re all going on a summer holiday ……….

Then everything went into slow motion. I saw those nimble feet which were the envy of football clubs the world over trip, I saw him stumble back into the road and I saw the car coming. There was nothing I could do but stop and watch in horror. The sound of Dickie falling against the oncoming car was sickening. He hit it, rolled over the bonnet and fell to the floor motionless.

I went to his side but was overtaken by others who appeared as if out of no where. A paramedic on a motor cycle was the first on the scene followed very quickly by the police.

“Don’t die Dickie,” I cried. “Don’t die.”

A police office was at my side and asking me questions I did not hear.

An ambulance arrived and parked up. The police began clearing the road, backing cars up and an air ambulance landed. It was not a good sign that the pilot shut town the rota blades.

“Don’t die Dickie,” I cried. “Don’t die.”

I presume those about me knew who it was on the floor but their professionalism prevented them making any comment.

“Don’t die Dickie,” I cried. “Don’t die.”

I could no longer se him in the crown of yellow and green fluorescent jackets.

“Don’t die Dickie,” I cried. “Don’t die.”

The air filled with the whine of the helicopter’s engines but it had been on the ground so long any urgency of using an air ambulance to take my lover to hospital was lost. I watched Dickie now covered with tubes lifted into the aircraft, a police officer hale me back as I tried to step forward. “We’ll take you to the hospital top be with him, once he’s on his way.”

“Thank you.”

The helicopter lifted slowly, hovered about fifty feet in the air, turned then sped up, climbed and flew away. I watched it until it was too small and lost in the sky to see any more.

“Don’t die Dickie,” I cried aloud screaming after it. “Don’t die – please.”

But I knew he would.

I have never been so wrong about anything at all. Not before and not since.

I stood there in a daze and watched as the helicopter noisily ascend, taking my beloved Dickie away from me. The downdraft of the rota blades rippled the shirt bon my back and tore the hair about my head. I had lost all sense of time and could not have told you even what day of the week it was. Tears flowed down my face in rivers, I had lost the most important thing in my life.

Someone was speaking to me but their voice was an echo in a distant canyon far away. Whoever it was repeated themselves and laid a firm hand on my shoulder. That had tried to steer me away from the spot where I stood transfixed. I can not tell you how long it was before I started to respond, how long before I made any sense of what was going on about me.

“He’s in shock,” I heard a voice say and the next I knew I too was in an ambulance on my way to hospital.

There were various words of reassurance which passed me by until one short phrase jolted me back to reality. “Dickie is going to need you so we had better get you fixed up.”

DICKIE IS GOING TO NEED YOU !

Was I dreaming ? NO surely not ! 

Was it possible ?

Could it be ?

Was Dickie still alive ?

Croaking the words with the greatest of effort to speak them over my emotions, I asked the question.

“He is seriously injured,” was the reply, “but yes he is still alive.”

I broke down and sobbed like a small child.

“Will he live ?” I managed to ask.

“We must hope and we must pray.”

By the time I reached the hospital I had worked hard to regain some form of composure. The press was there waiting but police were keeping all outside. I had to be strong, I would be no use at all to my dear friend as a wreck of a man and I was damned if any photographer was going to snap am picture of me looking like that !

Of course everyone at the hospital knew who I was, Dickie and I had been all over the press all week. I was taken to a small waiting room and offered coffee which I declined. All I wanted to know was how my adored Dickie was.

“He is in theatre, it may be a long while but as soon as anybody knows anything we will tell you. A very young and kind nurse offered to sit with me and I accepted her company with gratitude. Without her I don’t know how I could have coped with the next few hours. She was truly wonderful.

“What’s you name ?” I asked.

“Anne, Anne Barber.”

Eventually we were joined by a third person, the surgeon who had headed the team operating on Dickie. He was smiling. My heart rose ever so slightly.

“Is he - ?”

“He’s alright,” was the answer, “but he is very poorly.”

“Will he - ?”

“He’ll pull through, but there is something.”

“What ?” I demanded.

“His sight. The blow to his head caused a blood vessel to burst and damage some brain tissue. It was near the part which receives messages from the eyes. I am afraid that Dickie will be left blind.”

“But - ?”

“He’ll not be able to play football any more.”

“He doesn’t wan to,” it was a pathetic response. My emotions were tumbling in every direction at once.

“He is in intensive care, it will be a slow but certain recovery. Do you want to see him ?”

I did want to see him, to see him more than anything else.

“I’ll take you to him, he’s asleep of course and we’ll keep him sedated until tomorrow. His mother is on her way over together with another friend, a Mr Harry Web, but you can see him first.”

He looked so lovely in spite of the tubes, wires and bleeping machinery. He was alive and that was all that mattered. My lover was alive !

I reached my hand and placed it gently on top of his and know that he was instantly aware of my presence. Others may not have been able to see it or noticed any change in his face but I saw him smile.

As the doctor had, said two days later he returned to consciousness and although he could no longer see it was the most precious gift on Earth to have him back. How I loved Dickie and oh how wonderfully grateful beyond measure I was to have him back with me.

“I love you,” I said. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. I could not have gone on living.”

“I don’t give up that easy,” he smiled.

My lover accepted his blindness with a bravery worth of a medal and showed a true depth of character which was far beyond his years. “At least I won’t be able to read all those terrible tabloids any more,” he giggled.

Those terrible tabloids and even the serious broadsheets were filled day after day with news of Dickie’s road to recovery. The cards arrived by the sack-load and there were enough flowers sent to fill the entire hospital. Everyone was so kind. Everyone was saying what a tragic loss to English Football Dickie was. Little did any realise that he intended to quit at the end of the season when his contract was up for renewal.

The day before he was due to leave hospital and return home Dickie talked to me about the night before his accident and the things we had said that morning. “Will you still marry me ?” he asked.

“I want nothing more,” I replied wiping away a tear. “And I want it to happen just as soon as possible.”

Our wedding took place just four weeks later. We decided to make it a very quiet affair. Not that we were ashamed of our love for one another or that we were not prepared to share our vows with the entire world and tell all how we would vow to spend the rest of our lives together, but that any ceremony where we invited more than just a few people to witness our love could so easily turn into a rat pack media frenzy. And so our gathering was small: both of our mothers, my sister and our special friend Harry. 

Harry gave us the use of his holiday mansion on the Caribbean island of Barbados for a private ceremony of dedication and insisted we stay on there for as long as we wanted to stay. “Take a holiday, take time to recover and when you return home we’ll talk about your career in music.”

Sadly our gay wedding was not recognised in law but I know on a higher level it was recorded in the universal register of love. Harry had found a Barbadian friend who was pleased to officiate and he did a truly beautiful job. He stood before us in the lush gardens of Harry’s mansion and spoke the words which would bind us together.

“Dearest Friends,” he smiled. “It is wonderful to be here and to share in this important day in the lives of Richard and Nigel. They will today declare a love for one another which transcends the mere laws of mankind and registers their union in the higher court of Heaven.”

Everything he said was so wonderfully perfect and captured totally our feelings. And so it was our two lives became one. After the ceremony we had a small celebration with the group of guests who had witnessed our union with them all returning home the next day to leave us alone on that island paradise.

The beautiful warm sunshine was a true elixir for Dickie and every day he regained more of his strength. But sadly his sight remained steadfastly switched off.

For endless hours we lay on the beach soaking up the sunshine. We would swim, laugh and splash about in that clear blue Caribbean water. Everything was so beautiful but Dickie could see none of it.

“I want to go out to the reef,” he said one day. “I want us both to go out there in a glass bottom boat and see the fish.”

“But -,” I could not bring myself to state the obvious.

“I want to see the fish and all their colours,” he said. “I know I can not use my own eyes but you can see them for me and tell me what they look like.”