Regular readers will be aware of my discovery of the mysterious band, Precious Comfort Love Thrust.
You can read about it here and here . I am also aware I’ve not written much more about them. Whilst attempting to navigate through the contents of Stef’s suitcase can be time consuming that was not the reason for the absence of content.
The other day I was partaking in my daily jog around the East End (…. okay I was walking….. to buy alcohol) when I noticed an elderly woman just standing on the corner gazing over the road at a Vegan cafe.
Having walked these streets with my dad I am used to elderly people looking confused at specialist vegan restaurants but there was something about her that made me stop.
She was dressed in a long rain mac which seemed unnecessary in the heat of the London sun. Her hair was bright white and although her skin showed the ravages of time you could tell she once beautiful…indeed still beautiful.
Concerned that she might be lost I asked if her she was okay. She looked at me with dark eyes which still sparkled, albeit betrayed by the lines that framed them, a clear indication those eyes had witnessed some unpleasant moments.
She returned to looking over at the vegan cafe and spoke, her voice was hoarse and whilst I caught a twang of cockney her speech was more refined
“Over there used to be a club” she said wistfully “I used to sing there…back in the day”
I thought she must just be lonely and was happy to indulge an elderly lady in a trip down memory lane.
“A lot’s changed around here” I replied “So you were a singer?”
She turned to look at me, the dazzle in her eyes faded as she shared this memory with a stranger “You could say that, although there..in that club…I became something different”.
I was intrigued with what she meant but the guarded, cryptic responses led me to believe she was not really in the mood to reveal anymore and the awkwardness made our discussion brief.
I politely said “Gotta rush. Been nice talking to you.”
As I begun to walk away I heard her call out “She didn’t deserve to die alone Selina”.
By the time those words had registered I had turned the corner and although double backed to ask how she knew me the elderly lady was gone.
I hadn’t recalled given her my name. How did she know who I was? The identity of this mysterious woman stayed with me throughout my shopping trip, although by the time I had reached the tills I just resolved she must be some family member I had forgotten about; we have a lot of them in our family.
I gave this encounter no further thought until very recently when I was collecting my post. It was the normal dull stuff; bills and passive aggressive letters from the Residents Committee but crammed into the small box was a brown envelope. It simply had my name written on it and had been hand delivered.
I went back to my flat and opened it, prepared that it was just going to be a full report from the Residents Committee of my most recent infringements. But as I pulled out the thick wad of paper it was something far more surprising than things I’ve done to annoy my neighbour.
It was the small note attached to it I read first. It said;
If you’re going to tell our story, tell it properly
Here’s the truth.
I looked at the front page of the manuscript which read ‘Thrusting : The Unbelievable True Story Of Precious Comfort Love Thrust”
At the bottom was the identity of the author…. Labia Lefeure.
That elderly lady was Labia!! My brain chimed in with the obvious, hoping that no one would notice how slow it had been to work that one out.
I cursed myself for missing the opportunity to speak with her. I had so many questions. I fumbled through the pages hoping to find some contact details for her, but there were none.
All the answers to my questions would be in this document and so I poured myself a large glass of gin and read the words of Labia (pronounced La-Bi-Ah by the way).
I had polished off nearly half a bottle of gin by the time I had finished it and then I had to read it again because I could not believe what I just read.
There was always a mystery about Precious Comfort Love Thrust. There had always been something peculiar about them, at the end of the day they all just disappeared without any trace.
Labia’s manuscript provided all the answers. Where they came from, why they suddenly disappeared and what Pirouette Angel was.
Before this manuscript had mysteriously appeared I thought I was beginning to work everything out about PCLT. But as I re-read every word Labia wrote I realised I had been wrong about everything.
The story of Precious Comfort Love Thrust is still an amazing one. Perhaps even more amazing than the one I thought I was telling. It still needs to be told. But it’s not for me to tell it. It’s for Labia to tell.
So, coming soon exclusively to my website I shall be serialising Labia’s manuscript.
The true story of Precious Comfort Love Thrust…. Her Story.