The Belle of Barcelona and The Singing Waiter.

A starlit night, a man and a Spanish beauty, and a song that tells the tale of their romance. The song sent me into a reverie, and imagining Al Bowlly as the singing waiter and a “what might have been.” The song also sounds like it could be a scene in a film, with Al and Ray Noble playing the parts.

Was in a cafe where I first met you
Amid the haze and song
Just like a dream
How my heart was beating
While my lips were still repeating
Vows of love, by stars above

Oh, my lovely Belle Of Barcelona
Though I thought my heart was fancy free
I’m caught beneath the spell of Barcelona
Hoping that someday you’ll care for me

For with eyes aglow, your gaily dancing
Into my heart
That’s why I long to hear
Your lovely Belle Of Barcelona
Whispering that wish
We shall never part

Albert was down on his luck and needed a job. His last job as a singer in the fancy hotel hadn’t worked out; not that the clientele hadn’t liked his singing (far from it) but the band leader had a habit of turning up drunk and arguing with the manager over the choice of music. After one too many incidents like this, they were let go, and a new band was hired. As the new dance band had a beautiful blonde singer with a voice like a nightingale, there was no spot for poor Albert.

So, a few days later he found himself waiting on tables in the little cafe along the seafront. The manager Carlos, was a genial sort of fellow, but he insisted on calling Albert “Alberto”, due his dark looks. Carlos didn’t seem to mind when Albert, or Al, as he liked to be called, burst into song at the tables because it amused the customers. He didn’t even get cross when Al flirted with Maria, his pretty daughter who performed the flamenco at weekends in the cafe.

Truth be told, Maria rather liked Al and welcomed the attention he gave her. Unfortunately for Al, lots of other men flirted with Maria too, and he had a lot of competition to try and win her heart. He won it in the only way he knew how: his wonderful voice, for nobody else could sing like he could. Soon enough Maria, was in his arms one starlit night as he murmured words of love in her ear. Before he knew it, Carlos and his wife Isabella were arranging their wedding.

Al had finally fallen on his feet, not only did he have a pretty Spanish wife (even if she didn’t speak much English) but he was given some hours a week to sing with the new dance band Carlos hired. The cafe became very popular and their takings doubled. Life was grand! He forgot his ambition to make it to London and get his big break singing with the premier dance bands there.

One afternoon, three months after their wedding, two Englishmen came into the cafe and ordered some drinks. They were polite and sober unlike the other Englishman at the bar who impatient for his tapas, and so sozzled thought the bowl of nuts on the counter was his the only thing they were going to serve him. As they sat down they nudged each other when they spied Maria come out of the back room in her colourful gown. Their eyes followed her as she walked to the area where she performed her dance.

“La Danca!” they called out enthusiastically, to which Al responded by clapping his hands exclaiming Si si Senor!” and burst into song whilst Maria danced. The two Englishmen were enchanted by this spectacle, and not a little impressed by Al’s voice too.

“He has very good English doesn’t he Dick?” one of the gentlemen said to his friend.

“I’m not convinced he’s a Spaniard old man, despite his swarthy looks,” replied his tall thin fair haired friend.

The shorter man still had his eyes still fashioned upon Maria. “She is a real beauty that girl!“

Dick gave him a wry smile. “Fancy your chances eh Max?”

Max soon found his hopes dashed when the singer informed him that Maria was his wife.

“Hard luck old man,” Dick said patting his shoulder. “Cigarette?”

“I say, aren’t you looking for a new singer for that club you are opening in the West End?” Max said suddenly.

“Yes, ” mused Dick. “He’s certainly got something. I wonder if he’d be interested?”

“Only one way to find out,” Max leaned back on his chair. He watched his friend walk over to the singing waiter and take him aside. The singer shook his head several times, and kept looking over at Maria who gazed at her husband with a confused look on her face.

Eventually, Dick came back to the table.

“Well?” said Max, as his friend sat down.

“I couldn’t persuade him, old man. “

“What? One would think he’d have jumped at the chance!” exclaimed Max. “To sing with a big dance band in London, make good money, instead of working in this little cafe. He can’t be making much here, waiting on tables, with a few songs here and there.”

“He won’t leave Maria,” replied Dick. “I told him she could come too, but he wasn’t having any of it, said that she would never leave Barcelona and her family. He’s a very romantic fellow. Devoted to her.”

“Oh well, you can’t compete with true love,” Max told him. “Never mind eh? I just hope he’s made the right choice. He would’ve been very successful I’m sure. He might even have got on the radio and recorded some gramophone records.”

“I expect so,” Dick said. ” But he’s not interested in money nor fame. To him love is the sweetest thing.”

“Sounds like a great title for a song,” Max laughed.