Sixth Movement

By Jenny Walker

© 2003

 

Sixth Movement

 

 

Author's note: Many thanks to all the readers who have persisted with this tale of mine. This is the penultimate instalment. Thanks and credit are due to the wonderful Hebe Dotson and Anne Baker who tirelessly correct my mistakes and improve my writing – any errors that remain, are mine.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 31

 

 

The mind is a mysterious thing; the control it can have over the physical body is quite remarkable. There may be nothing wrong with you physically, yet, due to what is going on in your mind, your body can be as sick as it would be if you had a significant illness, if not sicker. After my conversation with Keith Wilkinson, it was as if my mind had decided to shut down for the rest of the day. I can barely remember what I did. It certainly was nothing of any great consequence, however, the next day, after a less than restful night's sleep, my mind was swinging into full gear. Along with it came a nauseating feeling that was so bad that by lunchtime (not that I was eating) I actually vomited. Whether it was fear, panic or anxiety, I was not sure.

 

Jools was worried too. She was trying to hide it, but I knew her well enough to see through her façade. She told anyone who phoned that I was not feeling well. This certainly was the truth. I was feeling so miserable that by mid-afternoon, I decided to go to bed. I had a few hours of thankfully dreamless sleep and the respite from the seemingly relentless assault that my thoughts were waging against my body was most welcome.

 

The next morning, I felt better in relative terms. At Jools' insistence (of course), I managed to force some breakfast into me. The stomach-churning nausea had dissipated, but I still felt edgy and ill at ease. I tried to ask Jools what we should do, but she just said that we would have to wait and see what Sunday would bring. I found it hard to believe that she was holding to this herself. The Jools I knew had a plan for everything and I hoped she had some ideas about what we would do if the worst happened. Emigration came to mind. I was quite happy to be left alone and allowed to fret by myself, as I did not feel up to putting on a good front to talk to anyone. Unfortunately this was not to be.

 

It was early afternoon when Jools shouted up the stairs to me, "Jon's here."

 

I did not really want to see him at that moment. However, considering that she probably had already opened the door and let him in, I could hardly shout down that I did not want to see him. So, I said nothing. I reckoned that they would figure out that I wanted to be left alone, or knowing both of them well, they would ignore that and interrupt me anyway.

 

I knew them well.

 

"Hey you," Jon said as he entered the living room.

 

I tried my best to force a smile. "Hi."

 

He frowned. "Geez, you look like hell."

 

I raised an eyebrow and said in a neutral tone, "Really? You know, Jon, you may want to reconsider your opening lines with women. Not that I'm an expert, but I think that 'you look like hell' isn't going to get you too far."

 

He did not know whether to laugh or apologise so he did neither. He came and sat down beside me on the sofa. We sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke. "Are you alright?"

 

I shrugged and managed a mirthless smile. "I've been better."

 

"What's up?"

 

I sighed. "What did Jools tell you?"

 

He shook his head. "Nothing much. She just said that you hadn't been feeling well."

 

I nodded. "That about sums it up."

 

His eyes narrowed a little. "Nuh-uh. Something's up. You haven't been yourself since that phone call the other day. You may have been able to fool the lads with your story about your time of the month, but don't forget, I know something they don't."

 

I turned to look at him and said, "Not for much longer."

 

He sat up straight. "What do you mean?"

 

I turned away again and sat silently. My mind was whirling and I did not know what to say to him. After a few minutes, he realised that I was not about to answer him.

 

He stood up and firmly said, "Right, come on."

 

I looked up at him. "Huh?"

 

"Let's get some fresh air. A walk will do you good."

 

I thought it was ridiculous. If a walk and some fresh air would have solved my problems, did he not think I might have tried it by now? I was about to decline when I found myself standing on my feet courtesy of his hand grabbing mine and pulling me upright.

 

"Jon…" I whined.

 

The look he gave me silenced me. "No buts. We'll walk and talk. I'm not taking no for an answer."

 

I believed him, but some part of my vanity managed to surface long enough for me to make one more protest. "I can't go out like this. I look like hell, remember?" He was right: I was not exactly looking my best. I was pale-faced, with no make up, and wearing a baggy T-shirt and scruffy jog bottoms. That was without even mentioning my hair, which was definitely doing its own thing that day. I consoled myself with the thought that at least I would not have to worry about people recognising me as Cara Malone.

 

"Doesn't matter," he said, "Let's go. It's nice outside."

 

It was. Not that I had noticed until now. Although the sun was burning down on London, there was a very pleasant breeze that lowered the apparent temperature to somewhere in the less than torrid range. We walked aimlessly along one shaded leafy avenue after another and for a long time he did not say anything. That was fine by me and I was happy to reciprocate the silence. I just trudged alongside him with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my jog bottoms. My head was lowered as I took an inordinate interest in the spot where my foot was about to land with my next step. Eventually he sighed and stopped walking. I stopped too.

 

"Aren't you going to tell me what's wrong?" He sounded a little exasperated.

 

He stood there and looked me in the eye, giving the impression that he was not going to move or look away until I gave in. I nodded slowly. "OK."

 

There was a low brick wall adjacent to us and I sat down on it. He did likewise. I swung my legs, kicking my feet against the wall for a few minutes whilst I gathered my thoughts. I had no idea where to begin or how to start. I finally blurted out, "The journalist from the Sunday Times knows all about me and who I used to be and, come Sunday, the whole world will know too."

 

To say that Jon looked taken aback would be an understatement. He looked as if he was trying to get his mind around it. "How does he know? Did you let something slip when he was talking to you?"

 

I shook my head. "No. At least I don't think so." In fits and starts I told him about Mrs. Forbes and the break-in. I told him about Keith calling back a few days previous and what he had said. When I was finished, I just sat there still swinging my legs. Jon was processing what I had told him.

 

"I mean, he might not know," Jon suggested.

 

I shot him a sceptical look, "Yeah, sure."

 

He shrugged and defensively said, "He might not. He can't be sure. Anyway, even if he does know, he might not write about it."

 

I laughed and, if possible, I imagine I looked even more sceptical. "Come on, Jon. I know you are trying to make me feel better, but don't treat me like a stupid child."

 

He shrugged and said defensively, "I'm sorry. I'm just thinking out loud." After a pause he asked, "What are you going to do?"

 

"I don't know. Jools says we just wait and see. I'm hoping that she has some sort of damage limitation plan in mind."

 

Jon thought more before saying, "If it… well, just say… it is going to come out. Would you… I mean… is there anyone… you would want to tell about yourself before… this happens… if it does?"

 

I think I knew what he was getting at. "What, you mean like the band or people at Sony?"

 

He shrugged. "Yeah, or other friends."

 

I sighed. "I know what you mean, but I can't do that. We'll just have to wait and see." I think some small part of me was hoping that this was not really happening and that I would wake up the next day and there would be no problem.

 

Jon shifted awkwardly. "You know we'll stand by you no matter what happens, don't you?"

 

I looked across at him. "Who's we?"

 

He shrugged. "OK, I know I will, and Jools will."

 

I managed a smile. "Thanks." However, deep down inside, I wondered just who would stand by me if the truth did come out. I feared that friends would shun me, Sony would drop me, and my father would be even more ashamed. Apart from that, I had nothing to worry about.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Claire arrived on Saturday morning to stay for the weekend. Jools had phoned her a few days previously and filled her in on the recent happenings, and she had readily agreed to come down. I was glad to see her, but despite her attempts at comforting words, I could see that she too was worried. It would have obvious implications for her life were it to come out that her 'sister' was actually her erstwhile 'brother'. We did not exactly make a joyful threesome as the general mood was quite sombre. 

 

Claire had said that she was keen to hit the London shops while she was with us, but I think the ulterior motive was to try and take all of our minds off the dark cloud that was hanging over us. So, we did the shopping thing and we were able to enjoy ourselves to some degree. However, I was a little perturbed that, despite my dark glasses and baseball cap, it appeared as if some people recognised me. No one approached me, but I was ever more aware of the public profile that I now enjoyed - except that 'enjoyed' was not the right word. I feared it would be even further from the truth come the next morning.

 

That evening, we shared a quiet dinner out together before heading back to Jools' place. As we were heading to bed, Claire stopped me outside my room.

 

"Have you room in your bed for a guest?"

 

I looked at her with some suspicion. "Has Jools been saying anything to you?"

 

"About what?" she said with apparent innocence.

 

I shrugged. "I dunno.  About nightmares or anything?"

 

She smiled and hugged me. "She might have mentioned something. She really cares for you, you know?"

 

I nodded and then grinned. "OK, come on in then. Any snoring and you're out though, understand?"

 

She laughed and protested, "I don't snore."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on. Back home, at times I used to wish that the wall between our rooms was three feet thick."

 

She playfully poked me as she climbed between the sheets. "Not fair!"

 

I grinned slyly as I climbed in beside her. "I guess I may as well let you bunk in with me tonight." I gestured expansively. "I mean I've had Jools in bed with me and then Beth. What's one more?"

 

Claire looked shocked initially and then realised I was trying to goad her. She smiled and retorted, "Yes, but that's not the question I'm dying to ask."

 

My warning signals were flashing, but I couldn't help myself from falling for it. "OK, what question are you dying to ask?"

 

She turned out the light and with the sly smile evident in her voice asked, "Has Jon had the pleasure of sharing your sheets with you?"

 

I gasped aloud, "Claire!" I really was shocked at her audacity. I tried to think of something to say, but no words came out.

 

"Well?" she asked.

 

"Of course not!" I said indignantly. I should have left it there, but I went on, "Whatever gave you that idea?"

 

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding far from apologetic. "I'm sure you haven't even entertained such a thought, have you?"

 

'Say something, and say it quick', my mind was telling my mouth. My mouth was sort of quivering there, not knowing what to do as the seconds ticked by.

 

Claire reached over and squeezed my arm. "I'm sorry, Nicola. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."

 

I could not let things be left like that. I cleared my throat. "Claire, whatever gave you such an idea?"

 

She giggled and this time sounded more apologetic as she said, "I was being a teeny bit nosy and was asking Jools if you had any potential romance on the go."

 

"And she said Jon?" I asked indignantly.

 

"In her defence, I did have to drag it out of her."

 

"Pffft!" I hissed. "That girl doesn't give up anything that she doesn't want to."

 

"Are you annoyed?" Claire asked.

 

I sighed and paused before answering, "No, I'm not annoyed. Embarrassed? Yes."

 

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about." She hesitated before continuing, "I take it that you do like him?"

 

After a long silence, I said in a small voice, "Yes, I think I do. Is that bad, Claire?"

 

She squeezed my arm again. "No, I don't think so. I mean, this whole situation is so new to me. It can be hard to get your head around it, but if you are a woman, then being attracted to a man is hardly a big deal, is it?"

 

"It's just so new to me too. It's hard to sort out what I feel."

 

"How does he feel about you?"

 

I lay back and looked up at the ceiling in the semi-darkness. I exhaled slowly before answering, "I have no idea. I don't think he has any real thoughts about me in that way. I mean, we get on well together and are good friends, but… we always were. I think that is the problem."

 

"Never mind. If it is meant to be, it will work out somehow," she said.

 

"You sound just like Mum…" The words were out of my mouth before I thought about them.

 

After a brief moment, she chuckled and gave me a hug. "Night, sister."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

For a change, no one slept in on Sunday morning. At six a.m. all three of us were sitting in our dressing gowns at the kitchen table drinking coffee. I could not face the thought of eating any breakfast. We sat there, not saying anything much. The local newsagent opened at seven. The 'Sunday Times' would be there...    

 

"What time is it?" I asked.

 

Jools smiled sympathetically. "Five minutes later than when you last asked."

 

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "I feel like I want to die."

 

Claire hugged me. "Don't be silly. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. Won't we, Jools?"

 

"Damn straight!" Jools affirmed.

 

Who said that time is a constant? As I sat there, I was sure that time was slowing down to an interminable crawl. I remembered oft-quoted words of my father to his impatient children, 'A watched pot never boils'. I could now fully appreciate the meaning.

 

The doorbell interrupted our reverie. Jools frowned. "Who the hell would call at this time of the morning?" She checked her watch. "It's just after half six."

 

She went downstairs to answer it, but my curiosity dragged me down a short distance behind her. She opened the door cautiously and then opened it wide.

 

"Jon, what on earth are you doing here at this time?" she asked.

 

I heard his voice. "Sorry Jools. I couldn't sleep too good, you know. Anyway, I was sitting looking out the window and the paper boy came round. I remembered that the folks next door to us get the 'Sunday Times' each week…"

 

Jools laughed, "So you pinched theirs?"

 

"Uhh yeah," he said sounding embarrassed. "Can I come in?"

 

"Sure," she replied, "but we're not quite dressed… and take that silly look off your face."

 

He came in and spotted me lingering on the stairs. "Hey you," he said softly.

 

"Hey you, yourself.  Have you read it yet?" I asked anxiously.

 

He shook his head. "No, I came straight over here with it."

 

We went upstairs and gathered around the table. Jon put the paper down on the table and it sat there as if it was taunting us. I realised that all eyes were on me. I shook my head.

 

"I can't… Jools, you read it."

 

"You want me to read it out?" she asked.

 

I shook my head vigorously. "No! Just skim through it, read it yourself and tell me…"

 

I sat down on the sofa and could not even watch as she reached for the magazine. I heard the pages rustle and then settle as she found her place. I briefly glanced over my shoulder and saw Jools sitting at the table with Jon and Claire each reading over her shoulders. I turned away again and concentrated on taking one breath at a time. I felt like I was being smothered.

 

As they read, there were no gasps of shock or outrage. In fact, they giggled or laughed from time to time. I willed them to hurry up, but it seemed like an eternity before Jools set the magazine down on the table.

 

"Cara?" she called.

 

"Yes?" I replied with dread in my voice.

 

"It's OK," she said softly.

 

"OK?"

 

"Yes," she said, "there's nothing to be worried about."

 

I got up slowly and walked over to them, "For real? Nothing at all?"

 

Claire smiled and gave me a hug, "On the contrary, it's flattering to say the least."

 

I wrinkled my brow, "I don't understand…"

 

"Read it," Jon urged.

 

I sat down and began to read…

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

'THE REAL CARA MALONE?' by Keith Wilkinson

 

I would like to think that I am an unprejudiced journalist, but when some assignments land on my desk, I cannot help but have some preconceptions. This was the case when I was landed with interviewing the latest contemporary pop/rock female songster, Cara Malone. I'm not very imaginative when it comes to preconceptions; the usual ones suffice. I pictured an industry-created, media-inflated product who would, as many have done before, grace the scene for a brief moment with their unoriginal music written by some calculating mogul in the higher echelons of the record company. I was reminded why I tried to avoid preconceptions: they are often wrong.

 

I was more than ready to suffer through excruciating banalities and time-honoured clichés from yet another 'beauty' whose image was only skin deep. In a sense, I wondered why I just did not write the answers to my own questions and save us both the time. In preparation, like any good reporter, I did a little background and actually listened to this girl's music. I had to admit that I was pleasantly surprised, but did not get my hopes up.

 

When she opens the door of her West London apartment to us, I am reminded that she is indeed physically attractive. Big deal, I tell myself. Who isn't, in this age of exalting the superficial over all else? However, bit by bit, I find myself reappraising this young woman and coming to a different conclusion. She starts well by offering to make us coffee. I know it sounds petty, but rarely have I found the so-called stars of this generation ready to do anything that they might consider beneath themselves. Not only that, she makes damn good coffee!

 

I am amused to watch her apparent self-consciousness as Michael, my photographer, arranges a few stills. I have seen such before and have often found it to be false and affected. For some reason though, I did not think this was the case. As Michael coaxes the desired appearances from her, I take the opportunity to watch her gentle, yet amusing responses to him.

 

Having despatched Michael to develop what are the, no doubt, lovely images accompanying this article, I set myself to the task of discovering the real Cara Malone. My interest is whetted and I soon forget my original reluctance for this assignment. In some senses, you could say I was disappointed. Disappointed? Yes, in that I did not get the expected airhead giggles to my supposedly penetrating questioning, nor the screwed up face of apparent hard thinking when faced with the simpler issues I bring up. Instead I find myself talking to a young woman of obvious intelligence who courteously and thoughtfully answers everything I ask her. Well, almost everything.

 

Cara Malone was born Nicola Evans on the seventeenth of September 1979. She was brought up in Pembroke, along with her older sister, by her father, a solicitor, and her mother, who gave up teaching to look after her two children.

 

 "I can't remember a time when I didn't have music in my life," she says with the bright eyes of one recalling happy memories. "My parents always encouraged me and I attribute my strong desire to succeed to the hard-working examples they modelled for me."

 

I ask her if they had intended for her to grow up and become a rock star. She laughs and drops her gaze for a moment before replying in her melodious Welsh lilt, "No. Far from it. Although they would never forbid me to pursue my dreams, I think they hoped I would give up and become a music teacher or something."

 

As she talks about her family, there is a certain veil of sadness that descends. Cara Malone lost her mother two months ago when she died following a heart attack. The pain of this still raw wound is all too evident and she admits that she finds it hard to believe that the mother she loved so much has gone. There are hints that things are not exactly as they should be between her and her father, but it is obvious that she does not want to elaborate on this.

 

When asked to talk about her music, however, she becomes more animated and I can sense the vitality and strength of determination that she possesses. Immediately, she is unmistakably set apart from most of those who pass as musicians today. She is adamant that she writes her own songs and is almost horrified when I try to suggest otherwise. Call me old-fashioned, as I am sure you will, but those who can both write and perform their own music are worthy of double respect in my opinion.

 

When I ask her how she writes her songs, a look of almost maternal pride comes over her as she tries to explain. "I don't know if I can really answer that, because I don't think I really understand it myself. I just know when there is a song inside me and sometimes I can pull it out quickly with the minimum of effort. Other times it is long, drawn out and almost painful."

 

I quip, "Just like giving birth?"

 

Her eyes twinkle and she replies, "I wouldn't know about that, I'm afraid."

 

I laugh and tell her that's another question off my list then. I am rewarded with a gratifying flush that spreads across her cheeks.

 

With her first two singles reaching the Top Ten, one might expect that this young musician with the world at her feet might be developing an opinion about herself. "Opinion about myself? Definitely not… well, I mean I hope not." She looks at me somewhat anxiously, "I hope that's not the way I come across. I don't take anything for granted. The last few months have certainly taught me that. I'm actually amazed at how well my songs have done. Not that I don't think they are good, I'm just surprised that so many other people seem to think so too."

 

Feeling confident in my skills as an experienced journalist, I decide to push the boat out. Trying to catch her off guard I say, "You have quite a sexy and sensual stage presence when performing and in your videos. How do you reconcile that with who you are off-stage?"

 

I expect her to squirm or perhaps even reveal that her apparent self-deprecation was not authentic. She does neither. Instead I am the one forced to squirm as she turns it back to me with a coy smile, "I'm a bit worried by the way you phrased your question that you are implying that off-stage I'm not sexy or sensual."

 

I try to regain my composure and assure her that I meant nothing of the sort. In fact, I realise that the young woman as she is before me now is so much more alluring than any public image she has portrayed thus far. Of course, I don't admit as much - I'm a professional after all. I'm not affected by such things, am I?

 

I rephrase my question and ask her that when the spotlights are off, who is the real Cara Malone? As she crosses her legs while she thinks of her answer, I find that I have to force myself to concentrate on what she is saying.

 

"I don't want to sound as if I take myself too seriously. I guess I'm just an ordinary girl who loves to sing and play the piano and guitar. I'm just like anyone else; it's not as if I've got anything magical. I'm thankful for the musical abilities I've got and the opportunities I've been given to share them." From anyone else, it might sound syrupy and manufactured, but her words ring with an assured sincerity.

 

For a bit of fun I asked her that if she could have a date with anyone in the musical world, who would it be? I am surprised by her answer as she avoids all the usual clean cut and attractive clichés.

 

"Aaron Kramer," she admits. When I intimate that the aforementioned lead singer of 'Stealing Time' is not exactly highly placed on the music industry's list of attractive males, she laughs and says, "I guess not, but the words he writes are so poignant and the songs are filled with this deep longing and thirst for life. I've loved his music for so long that perhaps it's possible to have a crush on someone for their talent and poetry."

 

Why do I have a sudden urge to write poetry, I ask myself?

 

I move on to ask the billion dollar question. Is she dating anyone at present? My supposedly professional detachment seems to disappear as I find myself taking an inordinate interest in her answer. For as hard as it might be to imagine, this talented young woman is unencumbered by any romantic attachments.

 

When I ask her why, she gives a little smile and in her gentle sing-song inflection says, "The time, the place and the person has not been right. When they are, I hope I'll recognise it." I ask her if she has anyone in mind and she laughs and says, "Well, that is part of the real Cara Malone that will have to remain a mystery for now."

 

I don't know if the rest of the men up and down this country suddenly feel like trying to solve this part of the mystery behind the real Cara Malone. If so, get in line… behind me.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I finished reading the article and looked up to see three faces grinning at me. I smiled shyly and slid the magazine away from me.

 

"You're blushing," Jools said with more than a degree of amusement.

 

I laughed self-consciously and raised a hand to my cheeks. "I guess I am." I paused before continuing, "It's quite good, isn't it?"

 

Claire snorted. "Quite good? If that's only quite good, I'd hate to see what you think very good or brilliant is."

 

I grinned and shrugged. "Oh come on, it's artistic licence. He's exaggerating things to make it read better."

 

Jon chuckled, "Rubbish. He's got the hots for you."

 

"He has not," I protested, "You're reading too much into it." I found myself looking into three very sceptical faces.

 

"All fun aside," Jools said seriously, "did we get it wrong? I mean did we read too much into what happened with the year book and what he said last week?"

 

I sighed and thought before speaking. "I don't think so. I'm fairly certain he knows. He definitely knows something of what happened with… Noel."

 

Claire frowned. "Why didn't he write anything about it then? I mean, no offence, but it is a heck of a story."

 

None of us had an answer to this. Although I was immensely relieved after reading the article, I still had a nagging feeling that there was more to this than had so far met the eye. Perhaps I was developing better female intuition.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Claire, Jools and I headed off to get showered and dressed. Since Jon was still there, we told him that he should make himself useful and make us all some breakfast.

 

He thought we were joking until Jools pointed to the kitchen and in a low voice said, "I'm not going to ask twice."

 

Jon could move fast when he wanted to.

 

I was feeling rather good about myself I have to admit. Although I had played down the things written about me in the article, inwardly I felt flattered and pleased by what he had said. I was a little disconcerted by the apparent reaction I had evoked in him, but I took it as a satisfying reassurance as to my femininity. To celebrate this, and for the first time in several days, I took extra care with my appearance: a white halter top, red miniskirt and carefully applied make up – I was ready to face the world again.

 

With my appetite making a sudden reappearance, I found that I was able to do myself justice with breakfast. We took immense delight in complimenting Jon for the great job he had done and kept throwing out comments to the effect that we must have him around more often to do likewise.

 

We all took turns to read the article a few more times, although I was the only one who got teased for doing so. I was feeling more and more relaxed, until the phone rang and Jools answered it.

 

She put her hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Cara, it's for you. It's Keith Wilkinson."

 

My eyes asked the question: 'what does he want?' Jools shrugged and handed me the receiver as she mouthed 'be careful'. I nodded and frowned a little.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Hi Cara, it's Keith."

 

"Yes?" I said more than a little suspiciously.

 

"I was wondering if you had had a chance to read my article."

 

"Yes. I did. It was very flattering… thank you."

 

There was a pause, before he continued, "I wonder if you would do me a favour. Would you mind, say, meeting me for a coffee this morning? That is if you are not too busy? There's something I'd like to talk about."

 

"What is it?" I asked as my heart rate began to climb.

 

"I'd rather talk face-to-face, if you don't mind."

 

I chewed my lip and then replied, "OK, I'll see you at Marnie's café at the bottom of the Portobello Road in one hour."

 

When I put the phone down, I was hit with a barrage of questions.

 

"What did he want?"

 

"What was that about?"

 

"You're meeting him?"

 

I waved at them to be quiet and told them what he had said. "What does it mean?" I asked.

 

Jools sighed, "I think he does know, but I've no idea what he wants. Are you sure you should meet him?"

 

I shrugged, "I don't particularly want to, but we have to know what is going on. I have to know."

 

Jools grimaced and nodded, "You're right. Just be very careful about what you say to him. Don't tell him anything even if you think he might already know it. He may be trying to trick you into admitting something that he might suspect but not know for definite."

 

"I'm coming with you," Jon stated.

 

I shook my head, "No. I'm going alone. I want to be able to get him to talk and find out what is going on."

 

After a brief discussion, it was decided that they would come with me and wait in the car at a discreet distance, but I would go in alone.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"Cara?" Jools said gently, "Aren't you going to get out of the car?"

 

I looked over at her and forced a smile. "I'm steeling myself for this. I just don't know what he is going to say or do."

 

Jon in a low almost growling tone said from the back seat, "He isn't going to do anything. If he gives you any hassle, give us a wave and I'll be there before you know it."

 

I smiled and checked my appearance in the mirror on the sunshade. I looked a little pale, but otherwise OK.

 

I felt a hand from behind gently squeeze my shoulder and Claire murmured, "You'll be fine, sis, and you look great. Don't worry."

 

I swallowed hard and thanked them for their encouragement as I got out of the car. I slowly walked over to Marnie's and entered. I spotted Keith immediately at a table near the back. He stood, smiled and waved me over. I forced a smile and walked over to him.

 

"Hello, Cara. I'm glad you came."

 

"Hi, Keith." I paused, "Could we maybe sit at a table near the window? It is such a nice day outside and it would be a shame to sit back here in the gloom."

 

I'm not sure if he read anything else into my suggestion, but he shrugged and seemed happy to acquiesce. We took our seats at the new table and I looked at him warily.

 

"You wanted to meet?" I prompted.

 

He nodded. "What did you think of the article?"

 

I looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze. "As I said, I found it very flattering. Although I think you did exaggerate things here or there."

 

He gave a soft laugh. "Perhaps I understated them?"

 

"Keith, I'm not quite sure why I am here."

 

He inclined his head. "I think you have a fair idea though, don't you?"

 

I spread my hands on the table and leaned forward. "Please just say whatever you have to say."

 

He nodded. "Fair enough." He paused and then began slowly, "I think you know that I found some other background material on you that I didn't put into the article. You're probably wondering why I didn't use it."

 

I was poker-faced and raised an eyebrow. "Other background material? Why don't you enlighten me?"

 

He sighed. "Cara, I'm not trying to threaten you or trick you. I can see why you would be reluctant to say anything, but… I know. I think you realised that last week, didn't you?"

 

I chewed my lip and thought. I remembered Jools' warning and I was not about to confirm any suspicion of his.  However, I did want to find out what he wanted.

 

"Alright," I said slowly, "Hypothetically speaking: say you did have some other background material on me, why would you not use it in the article?"

 

He looked intently at me and spoke frankly, "I nearly did."

 

I think he could see the effect his words had on me. I swallowed nervously and took a sip of the coffee that had arrived before me. I did not know what to say and was almost thankful when he continued to speak.

 

"I think it's a pride thing with me. I hate to feel that I'm not getting the full story on anything I work on. I don't know why I probed further; I just had a hunch for some strange reason. I mean, there was nothing in your appearance or in what you said that made me think anything was out of place. I think it was the visit to your school. Something just didn't seem right. So I investigated a little further and found out… well, you know what."

 

I looked at him intently and chose my words carefully. "Assuming what you say is correct, hypothetically of course, why would you not publish it?"

 

He grinned ruefully. "As I said, I was so close to doing just that. What a story! Like a dog with a bone, I wanted the whole story, so I sought Noel out and had a few drinks with him. Unfortunately, he was able to hold his liquor better that night than he had done a few weeks ago. As I said, in Kent I got the full story of what happened."

 

"So, what are you trying to say? You took pity on me?" My voice had a harsh tone to it.

 

He winced and shook his head. "Not at all. I was still going to go with the whole story. I even had a draft written, but I tore it up."

 

I frowned, "Why?"

 

He shrugged and smiled. "I don't really know if I can put it into words."

 

I raised an eyebrow and with a degree of scepticism said, "So speaks the experienced journalist."

 

He laughed and rubbed his chin. "I guess I deserved that." He paused. "Let me try then." After another pause he continued, "Alright, as much as it embarrasses me to admit this to your face, when I met you and interviewed you I was really quite taken with you. You probably gathered that from reading the article. The article you read today was the one I wanted to write after meeting you. The draft that I destroyed made me feel hollow and…" He shrugged. "I don't know… like the guy who bursts the kids' footballs when they get kicked into his garden. If that makes any sense. You probably have Harry Rowan to thank that I didn't go with the draft."

 

"Harry who?"

 

He grinned and leant back in his chair. "Harry Rowan was the editor of the 'Lincoln Gazette'. It was the local paper where I got my first job. Although it was a provincial little rag, Harry had forgotten more about journalism than most Fleet Street editors will ever know. I never forgot the things that Harry taught me. One of his favourite sayings was 'The good journalist always unearths the big stories, but the great journalist knows which ones not to tell'."

 

I nodded slowly. "So, you just chose not to tell it?"

 

He looked a little embarrassed. "When I read the draft I had written, I realised that I hadn't written about the real Cara Malone like I had thought." He paused and said quietly, "I realised that, for me, the real Cara Malone was the lovely young lady that I had the pleasure of interviewing. That was the real Cara Malone that I wanted to show to the nation. What's more tangible or real? Facts on a piece of paper? Or what my eyes and heart tell me?" He laughed. "God, that sounds so corny."

 

I smiled awkwardly. "I don't… I don't know what to say."

 

He shrugged and smiled at me. "I still can barely believe what I think I found out. Just sitting here and looking at you…"

 

"Keith, please," I interrupted. I took a deep breath. "Did you show… the draft to anyone else? Your editor?"

 

He laughed mirthlessly. "God, no! If he saw what I knew and that I hadn't used it, he'd have my balls for breakfast." He winced. "Sorry. Unfortunate turn of phrase."

 

I could not help but smile. "So Keith, why am I here? What is it you want from me?"

 

He looked hurt. "Cara, it's not what you think. You think I'm here to blackmail you or something?"

 

I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, your words about me were fairly flattering… you certainly expressed a lot of interest in me…"

 

He smiled and softly said, "You think I'd use what I know to… what, force you to do something you didn't want to do? With me?"

 

I felt very uncomfortable and looked around to make sure that no one was listening to our conversation. "I don't know. I've been very unsure and on edge this past week. Actually, these past few weeks."

 

He shook his head vigorously. "Don't get me wrong. I am interested in you… even despite what I know. But I have no illusions; after all I'm at least ten years older than you."

 

"More like fifteen," I said with a wry grin.

 

He laughed and said, "Whatever. I've no ulterior motive here. I just wanted to let you know why I did what I did. I wanted to reassure you that you have nothing to fear from me."

 

"You aren't going to tell anyone?" I said hesitantly, "I mean, hypothetically, if there were anything to tell?"

 

He shook his head. "Trust me…" He grinned. "I was going to say: 'trust me, I'm a journalist', but I don't think that has a good ring to it."

 

I smiled. "No, it's not the most comforting thing I've ever heard. I don't have much choice though. I guess I have to trust you."

 

He shifted a little in his seat and smiled almost apologetically. "Now, if you ever… for whatever reason, decided you wanted to tell your full story…" He paused and shrugged and left the rest unsaid.

 

I nodded slowly. "Let's just say that I'll keep you in mind should such an occasion ever arise and leave it at that."

 

He grinned. "That's all I can ask for."

 

I shifted my chair back a little and was about to get up when he slid a folded piece of paper across the table to me. I stood up and looked at it and then back to him.

 

"What's that?" I asked suspiciously.

 

"It's something I thought you would want to keep safe. It's the original and I don't have any copies," he replied.

 

I slowly picked it up and unfolded it. My heart pounded as I realised what it was. My picture, or Nick's picture rather, looked back at me from the page of the missing yearbook. I folded it again and slipped it into my handbag.

 

"Thanks," I murmured and was about to turn to leave, when I stopped. "One thing I don't understand though, is how you could break into the school just to get this?"

 

He frowned. "I'd hardly call it breaking in."

 

"What would you call it then?"

 

He shrugged. "After talking to your old headmistress, I pretended to leave. Five minutes later, I sneaked back in and made my way into the library. I just acted like I had every right to be there and no one challenged me. I found the book and, when no one was looking, I tore out that page, replaced the book and got the hell out."

 

I stood there and felt the cold fear swathe my heart again. I stammered, "B-but if you didn't…"

 

He looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

 

I swallowed, forced a tight-lipped smile and, before leaving, said, "Nothing. Never mind. Thanks again, Keith"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 32

 

 

As the 747 began its descent into JFK International Airport, I relaxed back in my spacious seat and decided that I really liked travelling first class. I did not think that I was being snobbish or anything, but I could fully appreciate the benefits of getting to wait in the first class lounge in Heathrow before being called for boarding. It was not that people in that lounge did not recognise me, but more that they did not swarm around me. I was a little fearful of what could happen in a less reserved crowd. 

 

I was not the only one who had been enjoying myself. Jon and Brian had had a perpetual competition across most of the Atlantic as to who could get the highest score on each and every Nintendo game available on the system. Kevin had tried to compete initially but soon fell off the pace and decided to spend the journey sampling the various and seemingly unending culinary delights of high class travel. I often marvelled at the amount of food that Kevin consumed. Despite the calorific volume he put away, he was still as lean and wiry as a prize greyhound. Peter had played some games, eaten the food, watched some movies and had thoroughly enjoyed the whole procedure. I caught his eye; he grinned and winked at me, looking like the proverbial kid in the candy shop. Simon had spent part of the journey reading some highbrow novel that he had picked up at the airport, but he soon gave up and found the insides of his eyelids more interesting from then on.  Jools and I had made the best of the extensive in-flight movie system. I'm almost ashamed to admit that I went for the romantic comedy slant compared to Jools' action flick choices. She was never a great one for anything that could be deigned even slightly mushy.

 

With the latest feast of blood and guts having finished, Jools took off her headphones and stretched. She turned to me and smiled.

 

"Feeling more relaxed now?" she said.

 

I grinned. "You bet. Nothing like a bit of pampering to help in that department."

 

It was true; I felt a lot more at ease. As the miles between us and London increased, it was as if I could leave the recent uncertainties and worries behind. I mused to myself that perhaps the original pilgrims had shared such a sentiment as they headed to the New World. However, I doubted that the accommodation aboard the 'Mayflower' was quite as lavish as British Airways' finest.

 

My mind did begin to chew over the revelations of the previous day again. When I had related the conversation with Keith to the others, we had all shared similar mixed feelings. There was a general sense of relief that Keith did not seem inclined to tell what he knew. Jools was still wary, but even she had been prepared to admit that he appeared to be on the level. I do not claim to be an expert judge of character, but I was fairly confident that Keith had been truthful and honest with me.

 

However, the realisation that someone else had been looking for the yearbook was a mystery to us all. I shivered as I thought about it again. We had talked about it for quite some time back at Jools' place and no one could even think of any remote possibility that could explain it. If Keith was being truthful, which we were assuming for the present, then it could have been an almighty coincidence with regard to timing. Claire had pointed out that, if so, it was a very fortuitous coincidence in that Keith had removed the evidence just in time. The fact that someone thought there was evidence to collect remained the outstanding concern.

 

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of rubber striking macadam as the wheels connected with the runway. The huge jet slowed to a crawl before snaking its way across the maze of asphalt that is JFK International. I used to hate the interminable wait to disembark, but I was pleasantly surprised with yet another benefit of this horrendously expensive way to travel: first class passengers were off the airplane within a few minutes of the door being opened. I thought that I could see myself really getting used to this.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The Waldorf-Astoria was definitely my kind of hotel. Located on Park Avenue, it is an imposing, almost regal, monument to the best of American opulence. Jools and I had a two-bedroom suite on the twenty-seventh floor. We had a spacious lounge with sumptuous furnishings and a large bedroom each. The bed alone was larger than my previous bedroom in my old Greenwich flat. That place seemed like a world away and, in more ways than one, it was. I unpacked my suitcase, which of course had been delivered to my room even before I got there. I had quite an array of clothing with me at Jools' insistence. She had said that I had to be prepared for every eventuality. I turned the air-conditioning up to maximum and let the cool air blow away any last vestige of the oppressive New York summer heat. I lay back on my bed, closed my eyes and enjoyed the sheer luxury.

 

"Ouch!" I protested as I felt a poke in my side. I opened my eyes.

 

"No sleeping," Jools said with a mischievous grin.

 

"I wasn't sleeping," I said indignantly, "and haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

 

She shrugged. "Your door was open and your snoring was disturbing me. No sleeping 'til later or you'll be wide awake at three a.m. and I don't want you keeping me up."

 

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "I don't snore," I yawned. "Oh, I feel exhausted now. Can't I just have a little nap?"

 

She shook her head. "No chance. You'll thank me later."

 

She was right – as always. The bedside clock confirmed that it was only two p.m. local time, but my body clock was not buying that for a minute.

 

"OK then, Miss Know-it-all, so what do you suggest we do to keep me awake?" I said with a cheeky smile.

 

She laughed and gestured expansively with her hands. "Here we are in the heart of New York and you wonder what we are going to do?"

 

I thought for a moment and then grinned. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

 

She raised an eyebrow and said, "Anyone for shopping?"

 

After a quick shower to freshen up and a change of clothing, we were ready to go. As a matter of courtesy, we thought we should check in on the guys and see if any of them wanted to join us. We had a fair idea of the likely response. Jon and Brian were sharing a similar suite to ours.

 

Brian opened the door. "Err hi," he said with a somewhat guilty look on his face.

 

"What are you two doing?" Jools asked suspiciously.

 

"Nothing, really," he said lamely as Jools pushed past him.

 

I followed her in and saw Jon sitting on the sofa with a games controller in his hand. He looked up at us and gave an embarrassed grin. Jools raised an eyebrow questioningly.

 

"We've got a Playstation 2 and widescreen TV in our room," he said as if by way of explanation.

 

I sighed. "You are like two little boys. You played games for the whole plane journey and here you both are at it again?"

 

Brian grinned and picked up his controller. "Got to do something to keep ourselves awake, right?"

 

Jools gave a superior smile. "I don't suppose you gentlemen would like to accompany us ladies on a shopping trip?"

 

The look they traded between themselves said it all. Jon looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat.

 

He said hesitantly, "Well… I suppose we could… if you really wanted us to."

 

I laughed. "Forget it. We'd hate to drag you boys away from your toys."

 

"You sure?" Brian said hopefully, "I mean if you really want us to come…"

 

Jools shook her head and with a degree of irony said, "What? And have to drag two grumpy boys around the shops? Stay here and enjoy yourselves. We'll see you later."

 

They both looked immensely relieved and before we were even out of the door, they were both engrossed in their game once more. Jools just rolled her eyes and looked at me. We both giggled.

 

"Men!" she said.

 

"I know," I agreed, "Typical."

 

It was strange, but I was able to look at my previous gender with much more of an objective eye now. A year ago, I would probably have preferred to sit and play games rather than go shopping. Probably? OK, definitely then. A lot had changed.

 

We called in with Kevin and Peter in their suite. Peter was flicking through the myriad cable television channels. Kevin was munching on an apple from the well-stocked fruit bowl that was a standard feature in all of our suites.

 

"Hi," he munched with his mouth half-full. "Come on in."

 

"Oh hi!" said Peter looking over his shoulder. "Get this, there's like over a hundred channels and there's hardly anything but commercials on most of them. I mean, there's like a break for adverts every ten minutes."

 

Jools smiled. "I'm assuming you gents don't fancy a quick sortie to check out the best of New York's shopping?"

 

The smile disappeared instantly from Peter's face and Kevin actually stopped chewing mid-munch. Jools and I both laughed and did not even wait for an answer.

 

"We'll see you guys later for dinner," I said as we turned to leave.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Fifth Avenue was only two blocks away, but the short walk in the horrible humidity was not overly pleasant. It was a relief to step into the chilled sanctuaries of the shopping temples arrayed along this stretch of what seemed like consumer paradise. We looked, we browsed, we tried and, of course, we bought. It was not exactly cheap, but then quality rarely is.

 

I was standing looking at a display when I heard Jools' voice in my ear, "Fancy a pair, do you?"

 

I laughed and shrugged. "I don't know, I've sort of always thought about it." I was looking at a mannequin dressed in a pair of tight black leather trousers.

 

Jools sniggered.  "You mean to tell me that you've always wanted a pair of leather trousers like those?"

 

I flushed a little. "Well no, not quite. I mean, in my previous dreams of rock and roll stardom, I imagined myself in a slightly different style of trousers than those."

 

"And now?" she said with a smile.

 

I chuckled. "These do look rather good to me. What do you think?"

 

"Very Olivia Newton-John," she remarked.

 

"Huh?"

 

"You know, the last scene in 'Grease' where she comes out all sexed up wearing those sprayed-on leather trousers."

 

"Ah," I said with a smile as I made the connection. I turned to move on when she stopped me.

 

"Aren't you going to try them on?" she asked.

 

I shrugged. "I wasn't really serious."

 

"Oh come on," she urged. "You've always fancied a pair, you said. Now that you've reached rock and roll stardom, why not treat yourself?"

 

"They cost a fortune," I protested, "and they probably look better on the mannequin than they would on me."

 

She shot me a sceptical look and said, "Only one way to find out." She picked a few sizes off the rails and handed them to me.

 

I sighed and grinned. "Alright, but I'm not buying them, OK?"

 

She laughed and nodded. "Sure, whatever you say."

 

I slipped off the light cotton trousers that I had been wearing and tried on one of the pairs that Jools had selected. It was safe to say that they were too small as I could not even get them up over my hips. Were my hips getting bigger? The next size up were almost as difficult, but I was able to pull them up and fasten them. They were tight. I checked myself out in the mirror and almost blushed. No curves were hidden. I also thought that my rear end was looking a lot bigger than I remembered it. I managed to peel them off and tried the larger size again. Whilst they were easier to get on, they did not hang very well on me.

 

"Well?" I heard Jools whisper loudly from outside.

 

I opened the door and stepped out. "They're not right," I said, "They don't fit well and the others are just too tight."

 

Jools gave me a wry grin. "Try on the smaller size and let me see."

 

"I said they're too tight."

 

She shrugged. "Let me give you a second opinion."

 

I realised that arguing with her was pointless so I sighed and went back in. Having pulled on the tight trousers again, I opened the door and gingerly stepped out. Jools' eyes widened and her face broke into a large grin.

 

"Turn around," she murmured.

 

I self-consciously turned around and then turned back to face her. "See what I mean? Too tight."

 

Jools inclined her head. "I don't think so."

 

"Oh come on, Jools. My bum looks massive in them."

 

"Cara, don't be ridiculous. I wish I had an ass like yours and those trousers show it off in all its glory."

 

I felt my face flush and said, "I can't wear these. Can I?"

 

Jools chuckled. "One of the perks of being a rock star, darling, is that you get to wear things that most of us won't get away with. One of the perks of being a particularly attractive rock star is that you will also look damn good in said things."

 

I smiled uncertainly and checked out my appearance in the mirror again. "They do look pretty good, don't they?" I mused.

 

Jools laughed. "I think I sense another purchase coming on."

 

I shook my head. "They're still too expensive."

 

"Oh, like you can't afford it?"

 

Predictably, I left the shop weighed down with yet another bag, my latest purchase therein along with a matching leather jacket to boot. Although it was a relatively short distance, Jools hailed a cab to take us back to our hotel. Neither of us could face carrying our bags for any length of time in the stifling heat.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next morning I was up bright and early. Not quite three a.m. as Jools had warned, but early enough. I felt quite rested, but I envisaged feeling very tired again around mid afternoon. It was a work day, so I used the time to get myself ready. After showering and sorting out my unruly hair, I slipped on a short jade sundress and matching sandals. I added the minimum of make up and jewellery, and I was good to go.

 

When I exited my bedroom, the rest of the suite was still and quiet. I sighed and presumed that Jools was still in bed. That girl would never have a problem with insomnia. As much as jet lag might try to inflict itself upon her, she was way too tough to succumb to such a trivial insult. I knocked lightly on her door. Then I knocked heavily on her door. Finally, I just opened the door, walked to the window and flung the curtains wide open. This elicited a reaction at last.

 

"What-the-hell-did-you-do-that-for?" she whined as she rolled away from the light.

 

I chuckled. "Come on Jools. It's a beautiful day and we've got work to do."

 

She groaned and sat up. "You mean you've got work to do."

 

I shook my head and laughed. "You're not weaselling out of it. I'm not going alone and I need my manager with me."

 

"Simon will be with you," she whined.

 

I pulled the bed covers off the bed to leave her in no doubt that I had learnt a lot about being stubborn whilst living with her. She eventually sat up and rubbed her eyes.

 

"What time is it?"

 

"It's seven thirty."

 

"Seven thirty? Why so early?" She screwed her face up in disgust.

 

I shrugged. "I've been up for over an hour. Looking at you as you are now, I figured you're going to need some time to make yourself presentable to the world at large."

 

She scowled at me and then sighed. "Alright, leave me alone and I'll be out soon."

 

I turned to leave then stopped dead in my tracks. I turned back to her and chuckled as I saw her reaching for the bed covers. "Nice try Jools. I almost fell for it."

 

"OK damn it," she said with frustration as she got out of bed. "Right, I'm up."

 

I waited until I saw her enter her bathroom before I left.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We met Simon downstairs for breakfast. When I say 'breakfast', I do not mean it in the usual sense of the word. Perhaps lavish banquet would be more accurate. The range of choice was staggering. Simon had no difficulty with this as he simply started at one end of the buffet and steadily worked his way along it. I did not have his stamina and gave up after some fresh fruit, cereal and a croissant.

 

A car picked us up outside the hotel just before nine and whisked us off to our first appointment of the day. It was a non-stop round of radio interviews and most of them were less than satisfying. Whilst most, but not all, of the disc jockeys were pleasant and polite, their interest was superficial at best. It was as if they were amused by this British girl who had come to the 'Big Apple' to promote her music. I tried to be charming and answer their questions as best I could, but by the end of the afternoon I was tiring of it.

 

Back at the hotel, to my envy, I found that the guys had spent most of the day in the swimming pool and health club. Actually, it seemed, Kevin spent a substantial amount of time in the restaurant. In his defence, he protested that it took a long time to eat breakfast when he kept finding more and more food on the buffet table. Brian had tried to point out to him that he did not have to keep eating until there was nothing left, but Kevin could not quite get his mind around that concept. We all grabbed a light dinner in the bistro and then got ready to leave.

 

Simon had hired two cars to take us to the Ed Sullivan Theatre on Broadway. From there the Carl Dennis Show was broadcast live, five nights per week. Simon was quite exhilarated at the exposure that this would provide. I was quite nervous. Especially since I knew what outfit the bag at my feet contained. I could not believe the persuasiveness of Julie Carstairs. She was merciless. I think her sheer dogged persistence led most people to cave in just to make her stop. I had protested that I wanted to wear something less arresting. She maintained that I had one big opportunity here to make an impact and I needed to take the bull by the horns. What chance did I have?

 

At the studio, it was all go. A production assistant was assigned to us. His name was Danny and he talked us through the plan. The show was broadcast live between eleven p.m. and midnight. It was going to be a late night. My tiredness was almost balanced out by the adrenaline that was beginning to pulse through my system. Firstly, as the only outside musicians performing on the show that evening, Danny wanted us to get the sound check over with. The theatre was empty. That is if you discount the numerous assistants and crew members scurrying here, there and everywhere. The sound check was fairly routine and, before too long, both we and the sound engineers were satisfied.

 

Danny talked about the show in quarters as if it were a basketball game or something. We were opening the second quarter with 'No Half Measures' and then I was going to be interviewed by Carl. I would remain there whilst another guest was interviewed and then at 'half-time', as Danny called it, I could go and get changed into another outfit if I so desired. Apparently we were to end the show with another song. 'Not Dancing, but Flying' was the obvious choice. This left me with a problem. I had just about reconciled myself to wearing the outfit I had brought for singing 'No Half Measures', but there was no way I could see myself wearing it for 'Not Dancing, but Flying'. I expressed this to Jools and she readily agreed with me. After a quick discussion, we settled on a short white dress that was currently hanging in my wardrobe in the Waldorf. Jools found Simon and, with his permission, commandeered one of the cars and went back to fetch the aforementioned dress.

 

The backstage staff were exceptionally well organised. I imagined that they would have to be. If they put on this show five times a week with lots of different guests coming in and out, it needed to be a well-oiled machine. Two rooms were allotted to us. Naturally, I got one to myself and I had to appreciate the benefits of being a female singer in an otherwise all male band. The boys made their typical token attempt to grumble about this. I managed to silence them when I said that if any of them wanted to come and share my room, they were most welcome to do so. Although I spotted a few raised eyebrows and cheeky grins, no one dared to take me up on my offer. I did not think that they would call my bluff.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I was just about to begin changing when there was a knock on my dressing room door. I called out for the person to come in and the door opened. A tall, rather chubby bald man with a large grin on his face stuck his head around the door.

 

"Well, hello, hello. Cara Malone, I presume?" he asked with the assuredness of someone who knows the answer before asking.

 

I smiled and nodded. "That's me and you must be Carl Dennis."

 

He grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "May I come in?"

 

"Please do."

 

He entered and bounded over to me. Given his obvious bulk, it was surprising how light he was on his feet. He held out a spade-like hand and I gave him mine. He pumped it up and down with vigour.

 

"Great to meet you, Cara. I've been looking forward to having you on the show."

 

I raised an eyebrow and unable to conceal my surprise asked, "You have?"

 

He laughed and waved a hand. "Well I have to say that don't I? To be honest, I hadn't heard of you before last week when my producer was running through the schedule for this week. No matter though, as I'm assured you're very talented and I'm positive we'll have an awesome chat."

 

I smiled and blinked a few times as my brain caught up with his rapid-fire speaking. "Err, thanks… I think."

 

He laughed again; he looked like someone who liked to laugh a lot. "Anyway Cara, I tend to fly by the seat of my pants… my very large pants." He laughed at his own joke and did not wait to see if I joined in. "So we'll just have a friendly chat and see where it leads us. OK with you?"

 

"Sure, that's fine by me." What else could I say?

 

He shook my hand again, gave another laugh for no obvious reason and waved as he headed out of the room. After the door closed, I sat there for a moment feeling a little bemused. I was not sure what to expect from this evening, but as there was little I could do about it, I tried to focus on getting myself ready.

 

I opened my bag and pulled out my outfit. I sighed to myself and with a shrug, began to change. Jools, at her obstinate best, had practically ordered me to wear my new leather jacket and matching trousers. With some effort, I pulled on the tight trousers over a pair of sheer dark tights. Under the leather jacket, I was wearing a sleeveless white vest top. It was both short and low-cut. A pair of shiny black high-heeled pumps completed the ensemble. I viewed myself in the full-length mirror and sighed. It was not that I thought I looked bad in the unappealing sense of the word, but more that I definitely looked potentially 'bad' in the moral sense. I hoped that my father was not a closet fan of the Carl Dennis Show. I was fairly confident on that last point.

 

The guys had been given a time to go and see the girls in the make up department. I, as the so-called star, had been given the option of having my make up done in my dressing room. I readily accepted this offer and a cheery young woman of around my age appeared before long and introduced herself as Nell.

 

"Wow, great outfit!" she said enthusiastically.

 

"Do you think so?" I said a little uncertainly.

 

"Oh yes, very hot! You look amazing."

 

"I just wonder if I don't go a bit over the top sometimes," I mused.

 

"Yes, it's way over the top, but that's just what you want," she replied.

 

"It is?"

 

"Sure it is," she began as she sat down beside me, "I see a lot of guests coming on this show who don't want to draw too much attention to themselves. They tone things down and go for a middle of the road appearance." She shrugged, "They usually bomb."

 

"What do you mean?" I asked with interest.

 

"Boring, ordinary and totally forgettable," she said matter-of-factly, "They don't stand out, the audience doesn't care and more importantly, Carl isn't interested. You want him to be interested. If he is, then he'll be at his humorous best and he'll do all he can to bring you out of your shell and do a good interview. If he's bored, he'll move on before long and may even give you a hard time on the way." She shuddered and gave me a knowing look, "You don't want that."

 

I didn't doubt her and was thankful for her advice and reassurance. She decided that she was going to have to make sure the make up matched the outfit. I was a little apprehensive as to what that meant, but had to trust her to do her job. She carefully worked on my face, nails and hair. When she was finished, she told me to look in the mirror.

 

"My goodness," I murmured.

 

She giggled, "Just remember after the show to make sure you let me remove the make up and don't forget to change your clothes or…"

 

I grinned as I completed the sentence, "Or the N.Y.P.D. will arrest me for being a hooker?"

 

She giggled again and waved a hand, "Nah, you're far too classy looking to be mistaken for that."

 

I thanked her as she left for her next assignment. I looked at myself in the mirror again. She had tousled and sprayed my hair into a loose, almost wild, style. My eyes were dark and smoky which contrasted with the scarlet lipstick and matching nails. I stood before the mirror and checked my outfit again. I tugged my top down as best I could, but it kept riding up and exposing my belly bar. I half-turned to check out my rear end, which did look outrageously large to me in the tight leather. It was in this position that I was caught when Jools entered the room.

 

"Admiring yourself?" she giggled.

 

"Don't you ever knock?" I said with mock irritation.

 

Her eyes widened visibly as she took in my appearance. "Dang girl, you look…"

 

I inclined my head and shot her my best sultry glance. "I look…?"

 

She gave a low whistle. "Damn sexy."

 

I blushed and tried unsuccessfully not to smile. Jools noticed and grinned at me. In a teasing voice she said, "I think someone likes looking like a hottie."

 

"Oh Jools, don't be silly. I've a job to do and this is merely the 'uniform' that I have to wear." I tried to sound nonchalant.

 

She chuckled. "You aren't fooling me, girlfriend. Don't be ashamed, you'll certainly be making an impression tonight. I think this is perfect – they will see such a contrast."

 

"What do you mean by contrast?"

 

She shrugged. "First you go on as the dirty girl of their fantasies and sing the rock-chick song, then at the end you go on looking like the virginal maiden their mothers would love as you sing the romantic ballad."

 

"You don't think that people will find the change of image confusing?"

 

She shook her head. "Not at all. It will show that you are not someone they can pigeonhole. You'll show that you have a great diversity of both image and talent."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"Please will you all stop looking at me like that," I said quietly, feeling very self-conscious.

 

Jools and I had headed next door into the guys' dressing room to wait for our cue. From the moment I had walked in, the conversation had stopped and I had felt four pairs of male eyes crawling all over me. Of course, Jools was highly amused by this. In response to my plea, I received a round of sheepish grins and muted apologies. I could see that they were all trying not to look, but I was still aware of surreptitious glances from time to time.

 

"Where did you get that outfit?" Brian asked.

 

I frowned. "Don't you like it?"

 

He laughed. "Come on, I think you know fine well that we all… like it."

 

I grinned. "Well boys, if you had taken Jools and I up on our offer of coming shopping with us, you would have been able to help me pick out this outfit."

 

Kevin nudged Peter and said in a loud whisper, "We thought we'd rather watch TV? Man, next time I'll even offer to carry their bags if they'll let me tag along."

 

We laughed and, with the focus thankfully shifting away from me, we began to chat about the imminent performance.

 

I sidled over to Jon. "You're looking pretty suave yourself." He was wearing a long flowing button-down white shirt over a pair of baggy black jeans.

 

He laughed and self-consciously ran a hand through his hair. "Gee thanks, but looking at you, I'm fairly confident that no one will be paying me a blind bit of notice."

 

I grinned. "I wouldn't say that. Wait 'til those American girls spot a true British guitar hero – they'll be swooning in the aisles."

 

Whatever he was about to say in response was lost forever as a member of the crew knocked loudly on the door and shouted, "Cara Malone, on stage in five."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

As we stood there on the darkened stage waiting for the finish of the commercial break, I began to feel more nervous. Jon was standing just to my right and he must have sensed something.

 

"You OK?" he murmured.

 

I nodded and whispered, "Yes – just very nervous."

 

"Don't worry, we know our songs well – you'll do fine."

 

I glanced sideways at him. "It's not the songs I'm worried about, it's the interview."

 

He nodded with understanding and grinned and winked at me. "As I said, don't worry. Just be your usual charming and lovely self and you'll have him eating out of your hand."

 

I looked over at him and smiled warmly. "Thanks Jon, I appreciate that."

 

He shrugged diffidently and looked uncomfortable. "You're welcome," he murmured.

 

The red lights on the cameras came back on and Carl introduced us, "Ladies and gentlemen, give a big New York welcome to the latest musical sensation from Britain – Cara Malone."

 

The glaring lights went up, Kevin counted us in sotto voce and we kicked into action. The sound was good and I felt myself slip into that familiar place where I was not quite relaxed, but was comfortable with what I was doing. The song was so ingrained in my mind that I did not have to even think of what the next word was. I made sure that that did not compromise the energy of my performance as I sought to use my ease with the song to allow me to channel more feeling and punch into my delivery.

 

"For when you feel it's over and there's no point going on,

Is when you realise what is chaff and what're your treasures,

But if there's half a chance of making it, join me in this song,

Let's kick down the ever-closing doors – no half measures!"

 

We gave it the full steam ahead live ending and as I brought down my upraised fist, Jon, Brian and Peter brought their respective final chords and notes to a perfect crisp finish in synchrony with Kevin's concluding cymbal crash. I felt that fleeting moment of what I call 'negative noise'. It is that strange millisecond when a song finishes in which you almost feel like you share a vacuum with the audience before the applause begins. It is as if the song uses so much energy that it has to be balanced by a momentary silence. It is just long enough for you to take a breath and hold it as you wait for your audience to respond. The response seemed positive and I smiled and acknowledged it.

 

A spotlight came back up on Carl and he was standing applauding. "Ladies and gentlemen – Cara Malone."

 

When the applause began to fade he held out his hand to me and I walked over towards him and took his hand. He leaned in towards me and kissed me on the cheek.

 

Still standing there he said, "That was pretty powerful."

 

I smiled. "Thank you."

 

His eyes twinkled and he grinned. "However, my first question to you has to be – can you sit down in those pants?"

 

I was momentarily caught off balance by his question but found my composure quickly. I laughed.

 

"Well, I guess there is only one way to find out."

 

He chuckled and quipped, "Can you wait until we get a camera back here for the reverse angle view?"

 

I laughed and gingerly sat down. I did it a little over-dramatically, not taking my eyes off his as I lowered myself into the seat. When I was fully seated, I looked to the audience and gave a mock sigh of relief.

 

Carl laughed. "I don't know whether to be relieved myself… or disappointed."

 

I smiled back at him. "Really Carl, if I'd realised I was on your show to talk about my pants, I'd have worn this lovely pair of Lederhosen that I have back home."

 

The audience roared and Carl laughed again. "Who says the English have no sense of humour?"

 

I saw an opportunity that I never liked to pass up. "I do, but of course that is because I am Welsh."

 

He inclined his head and then turned to the audience, rolled his eyes and in a quieter tone said, "Another background research assistant is going to be looking for a new job tomorrow. Just can't seem to get good staff."

 

He turned back to me. "Let me start again. So you're Welsh?"

 

"And proud of it," I said with a smile.

 

"I'm probably wrong, but the image that comes into my head when I think of Wales is a wet, damp country where the people seem to moan all the time."

 

I nodded solemnly and with a straight face said, "That about sums it up. It's our national pastime."

 

He chuckled. "Well I'm glad to see that, unlike a few of your British brethren, you don't take yourself too seriously."

 

I grinned and pointing downwards said, "I can hardly take myself seriously wearing trousers… sorry pants like these." Another laugh ensued and I found myself worryingly allowing my brain to have free unfettered use of my mouth. "I mean what is with your fascination with calling trousers 'pants'. Someone says to me 'I like your pants' and I'm like 'oh my goodness, is my underwear showing?'" I feigned looking behind me as if my underwear were showing.

 

Carl grinned. "It's the subtle difference between pants and panties. I can see how you repressed Brits may get embarrassed by our freer use of language. In that vein, I think we'll avoid talking about your fanny."

 

I couldn't help myself and found myself gasping and raising my hand to my mouth. Peals of laughter echoed around the theatre. Carl sat there looking at me with an amused expression on his face.

 

"Well, really," I said with a smile, "you're making me blush." My face felt as if it was burning and I realised that it was not just the embarrassment and stress of the situation. The lights were relentless and dazzling. I was worried that I was going to start sweating or something and having that displayed in close-up on national TV was not something that I was particularly crazy about.

 

Hooking my finger under the collar of my leather jacket I said tongue-in-cheek, "Carl, I'm getting hot under the collar here. I'm sure you're used to having that effect on the ladies you interview. Do you mind if I take off my jacket?"

 

He grinned. "Cara, let me assure you, I'm not a man who has ever stood in the way of a woman who wants to remove an item of clothing in his presence."

 

The audience appreciated this greatly. I laughed and stood as I shimmied out of my jacket. I sat down primly and crossed my legs.

 

"Now where were we?" I asked with innocence.

 

"I fear that I'm actually going to have to ask you about your music. If I talk any more about your pants or you removing your clothing, I'll have hell to pay when I get home to Mrs. Dennis…"

 

He proceeded to ask more straightforward questions about song writing, my career to date, my aspirations and so on, but every question was coated with his trademark cheeky and irreverent humour. I really did not mind and quite warmed to the occasion. I was beginning to think that I was going to come through this ordeal relatively unscathed. I was wrong.

 

"Now, to change the subject a little…" he said with a glint in his eyes.

 

"Yes?" I asked with evident suspicion.

 

"I have it on good authority Cara that you are actually single and unattached. Can that be true?"

 

I laughed and felt myself flush slightly. "Yes indeed, you are correct."

 

He turned to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen did you hear that, how can this be?" He turned back to me. "No boyfriend?"

 

"No, I'm afraid not."

 

"Perhaps you've been waiting for a good honest charming all-American man?"

 

I raised an eyebrow and earnestly asked, "Is there such a thing?"

 

The audience 'oohed' and then laughed as did Carl. "Touché, Miss Malone, touché." After a brief pause he innocently asked, "Now if you could have a date with any famous musician, who would it be?"

 

I was immediately on high alert, but tried to appear offhand. "Oh, I don't know. I'd have to think about that."

 

He chuckled, reached under his chair and pulled out a magazine. "Oh come, come, Cara. I put it to you and the members of the jury… I mean audience," he winked, "that you've already thought about this." He slapped the magazine down on the table and with his eyes twinkling said, "Allow me to present 'Exhibit A' into evidence. The 'London Sunday Times' asked our delightful guest this very same question." He looked over at me and asked, "And you said?"

 

I shrugged and smiled. "OK, it's a fair cop. I guess your research assistant isn't too bad after all. I said it would be Aaron Kramer."

 

Carl shook his head. "Why would you pick him?"

 

"I've been a big fan for a long time. I think his song writing epitomises what contemporary music is all about – poetry set to music. His lyrics are clever without being trite and moving without being soppy."

 

His gaze was fixed on me for a moment and I wondered what he was going to say next, but he turned to the audience and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for the lovely Cara Malone."

 

When the applause died down, he cast me a sideways glance and then stood as he looked into the camera in front of him. "It now gives me great pleasure to welcome my next guest who is no stranger to this show. We also continue on the theme of music." I began to get a strange sinking feeling, but thought I was being paranoid. Carl continued, "He has been described as writing lyrics that are 'clever without being trite and moving without being soppy'. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Aaron Kramer."

 

I lowered my face into my hands as the audience roared and applauded. I looked up to see Aaron swagger onto the stage in his inimitable manner. He was grinning broadly and he and Carl laughed as they shook hands. I slowly stood and was sure that my face was beetroot. Aaron walked over to me and winked. He held out his arms and I smiled as I opened mine. We hugged and he kissed me on the cheek before we took our seats.

 

They were both looking at me and I shook my head. "This is a set up," I accused.

 

Aaron nodded and said, "Yep, that's about right."

 

Carl chuckled. "Cara, I just wanted to give you the opportunity to meet your hero."

 

I self-consciously pulled my top down a bit and had to laugh. "Lord, I feel so embarrassed."

 

Carl then sounding more serious turned to Aaron. "I imagine you must be embarrassed too. I expect you get plenty of pretty ladies coming on to you."

 

Aaron shook his head and then scratched it. "No actually, I don't… wait a minute…" he nodded slowly and then more definitely, "I mean, yes of course. All the time."

 

Carl laughed. "I don't usually go in for embarrassing my guests…" The laughter and jeers from the audience suggested a difference of opinion. "Hey, who asked you guys?" he fired at them jovially. "Anyway Aaron, can I ask you a similar question? If you could have a date with anyone in the music world who would it be?"

 

He sat there as if pondering the question before turning to Carl and saying with all seriousness, "Cara Malone."

 

I shook my head and laughed again. "You boys…"

 

Carl nodded to Aaron. "What do you think has influenced your choice?"

 

Aaron couldn't continue with his straight face and the corners of his mouth began to tug at his lips. "It's the pants. Definitely the pants."

 

I groaned and smiled. "Can I go now?"

 

Aaron turned to me. "Oh you can't leave. Think about it. You go and that leaves me and him." He gestured to Carl. "Who's gonna want to watch us two if you leave?"

 

Mercifully, Carl began to ask Aaron about the latest album that 'Stealing Time' were recording and I was able to fade into the background a little. It led into a discussion on the state of modern music and I was happier to chip in from time to time. It was obviously time for another commercial as Carl wrapped up, "Ladies and gentlemen, show your appreciation for Aaron Kramer and again for Cara Malone who has been very patient with my tomfoolery."

 

The red lights on the cameras went off and everyone around the stage visibly relaxed. We stood and Carl came over to me.

 

I pointed at him and grinned. "Fly by the seat of your pants? See where the chat leads us?" I shook my head. "What a con!"

 

He laughed and held up his hands. "I'm sorry. It was irresistible. Can you forgive me?"

 

I smiled. "I guess you were quite nice to me, so I'll let you off just this once."

 

He shook hands with both Aaron and I again and then we were ushered off the stage. If anything, I felt more embarrassed now than I had been before.

 

"Aaron, listen… I feel really silly…"

 

He laughed and shook his head. "Don't. I'm flattered. Actually, I know you probably didn't even mean it, so don't sweat it."

 

I chuckled and mused, "This isn't exactly how I imagined meeting you."

 

He nodded seriously. "Likewise. In my dreams it always happened differently."

 

I looked at him with concern for a brief moment before I realised he was joking. I laughed and his face cracked into a grin. He stuck his hands into his pockets and looked like he was in deep thought.

 

"What is it?" I asked.

 

He turned sharply to me. "I know this is maybe strange or something, but can I ask you a favour?"

 

I shrugged. "Sure."

 

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

 

I shook my head slowly. "I don't think so," I said with growing curiosity.

 

He idly kicked the wall in front of him. "Uhh, you know we're recording our new album. I was kinda wondering if you might be able to drop by tomorrow. There's a new song that I'd love to have you sing backing vocals on."

 

I was quite taken aback. "Well… that should be alright. I'll have to check out the official contractual side of things with my manager."

 

He grinned. "Excellent. Here's the address. Studio's on Long Island, not far." He paused. "You do have to come, of course."

 

"Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

 

He winked. "Because if you don't show up at the studio, you won't know where we're going on our date tomorrow night." He turned and swaggered off down the corridor leaving me standing there totally bemused.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 33

 

 

It had been very late when we all got back to the hotel the previous night. As there was nothing scheduled for the next day, it seemed that practically everyone had decided to have a long sleep in. Not me. Although it had been after two a.m. when I had finally got to bed, I had woken just after eight a.m. and had not been able to get back to sleep. I suppose I must still have been wired from the previous night's happenings.

 

When I realised that sleep was not returning to embrace me in its comforting arms, I got up and decided to visit the health club. As much as I would have liked to swim in the luxurious inviting pool, I did not have a swimming costume. I hit the treadmill in the gym instead and enjoyed a strenuous workout as I mused over the previous night's show. After meeting Aaron and receiving his intriguing invitation, I had returned to my dressing room. With Jools' help, I had managed to extricate myself from my leather prison. I had been so sticky that I had taken the time to have a quick shower. I had changed into the diaphanous short white dress that Jools had brought back from the hotel. With nude stockings and white open-toed mules, it was a world apart from my earlier look.

 

Nell had returned to help me change my make up accordingly. Having cleared the remnants of her first endeavour, she had attacked my face like an artist approaching a fresh canvas. When she had finished, I had assessed her efforts in the mirror. Simple and almost understated – I liked it: a light coating of pink lipstick, with matching nail polish, and a hint of beige eye shadow with the faintest brush of rouge on my cheeks. Although it was not the sex kitten look that I had quite enjoyed earlier, I had felt more comfortable thinking that the bashful, almost coy, appearance was more me. Nell had brushed my hair out and this time had gone for a sleek, glossy style compared to the previous 'wild-child' manifestation.

 

Taking the stage for the second time, I had been nowhere near as nervous. I had taken my seat at the grand piano and when Carl had introduced us, I had begun the gentle piano intro with confidence. We had played well and I had utilised the high emotion of the whole evening to invigorate my vocal. We had played the show out and, once finished, Carl had come over to me and thanked me once more. He had wished me all the best for the future and made me promise to come back on his show at a later date.

 

Of course, everyone else had been highly amused at my embarrassment during the interview. I think that they had nearly wet themselves laughing when Aaron was first introduced. After the show, there had been more laughing at my expense. I had brought it to a sharp halt when I casually mentioned that I was going to sing a backing track on his new album before he took me out on a date. I had relished the shocked unbelieving looks on their faces. Jools, unsurprisingly, had pried every detail out of me once we were back at the hotel. Not that there had been much to tell. I was not sure what to expect myself.

 

"Hey dreamer," a voice said from beside me.

 

I refocused on the present and almost fell off the treadmill as I lost my rhythm. I stopped the treadmill and stepped off.

 

"Hey, Jon," I said breathlessly as I wiped my brow with a towel.

 

"Been down here long?" he asked.

 

I shook my head, but then as I looked at the clock, I realised that more time had passed than I had thought. "Actually, I guess I have. I didn't notice the time."

 

He grinned. "Caught up thinking about your big day today?"

 

I laughed and murmured, "Something like that."

 

He shook his head. "I can't believe you are going to see 'Stealing Time' in the studio and actually record with them."

 

"Jealous?" I asked mischievously.

 

"What do you think?"

 

I laughed. "Want to come along?"

 

"Nah. I somehow think I would be surplus to requirements."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

He gave a wry smile. "I think that Mr. Kramer is looking forward to the pleasure of your company… alone."

 

I waved a hand. "It's nothing serious."

 

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Be careful, Cara."

 

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, "Nothing's going to happen, Dad."

 

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, just remember that he probably sees you as fair game: an attractive, unattached woman who happened to express some interest in him."

 

I raised a hand. "I promise to be a good girl and be home by midnight."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The taxi dropped me at the address that Aaron had given me. I presented myself to the reception desk and gave my name. It seemed that I had been expected and was brought back to the studio forthwith. The band were all in the studio and were in the middle of a take. They were recording it live. I lurked at the back of the control room, not wanting to disturb anyone. Having so recently been in the studio, I found it fascinating to watch what was one of my favourite bands during the recording process. I almost had to pinch myself to prove that I was not dreaming. Although they were in a sterile studio environment, they were playing as if it were a live gig. Aaron was animated and the microphone and stand were almost an extension of his body. The rest of the band were obviously giving it everything. I was sure that this was part of the explanation for the captivating sound they usually produced on their recordings.

 

When they finished, the producer keyed his mike and told them it was a good take and to have a break. Aaron ran his hands through his dishevelled hair and then spotted me through the glass. His face broke into a grin and he came through and over to where I was sitting.

 

"Hi Cara. I'm glad you came."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

 

He laughed. "Wouldn't have been the first time I've been stood up."

 

I grinned and feigned surprise. "So, this is the date? Here I was thinking that I was here to sing a song and then have a lavish date this evening."

 

He chuckled. "Sounds like I'm not going to be able to please you that easily then."

 

I smiled and tossed my head. "Well, I am a woman."

 

He introduced me to the band. I did not have any difficulty remembering their names given that I had memorised them several years previously. I tried to remember that I was not just a star-struck giggling fan, but that I was also there in a professional capacity. Aaron took me into the studio and sat at the piano to play me the song he wanted my accompaniment on. He apologised for his playing. He said that he was able to write songs on the piano, but though he was an adequate pianist, he was never good enough to perform them himself. The song was called 'Never Knowing What to Say'. It was vintage 'Stealing Time' stuff: a degree of repressed angst expressing itself in a melancholy yet catchy melody.

 

"Have you anything specific in mind that you want me to do?" I asked.

 

He shrugged and grinned goofily. "Not really. I just thought that some of your haunting Welsh voice would sound damn good on this. What do you think of the song?"

 

I was taken aback. Not by the question, but by the way he asked it. I detected an undercurrent of insecurity. I had thought that this icon of mine would have an unswerving confidence in his talent. It seemed that he was human after all. I assured him that I loved the song. I got him to play and sing it through again and again while I experimented during the chorus.

 

"Words fill my mind, I let the drama,

Unfold and play inside my head;

I imagine my lines and your response,

As I lie unsleeping on my bed.

 

Well and good 'til I see your face,

And my planned recital flees away;

I'm cursed with knowing what I feel,

But never knowing what to say."

 

I eventually settled on a harmony and let him hear it as he accompanied me. He liked it and we tweaked it around a little until we were both satisfied. The band, it seemed, had already recorded their tracks, but Aaron had not been satisfied with the final sound. He had felt the song needed something more. I understood this feeling all too well. So I found myself in the claustrophobic vocal booth which was a ubiquitous feature in recording studios the world over. I began to appreciate what a goldfish must feel like as I noticed the whole band gathered in the control room looking at me through the glass. I put on my headphones and indicated that I was ready. With the song playing in my ears, I added my vocal harmony to it. I got it right on the third attempt and was released from my temporary prison.

 

The producer thanked me as did the band. I noticed some strange goings on between the band and Aaron. They were high-fiving him and winking. He did not seem too happy about it.

 

"What's going on?" I asked them.

 

"Nothing," Aaron muttered, "Guys are just being pricks as usual… sorry."

 

Ben Whitman, the lead guitarist, sniggered and leant over to me, "Cara, just ask him tonight about the previous backing vocalists we've had in."

 

Aaron looked annoyed and whispered a few four letter words in Ben's direction who shrugged and walked off muttering, "Jeez man, lighten up."

 

I looked at Aaron for an explanation, but none was forthcoming. "I'm afraid we have to get on with the recording. You know what it's like," he apologised. "Tonight though, I'll have all the time in the world for you. I'll pick you up at eight and we'll go have dinner somewhere?"

 

"Sure," I said with a smile. "Oh, what style of dress. Smart? Casual?"

 

"Oh casual definitely. I'm not too good on the old smart dress thing. Where are you staying?"

 

"The Waldorf."

 

He whistled. "High class stuff."

 

I presumed he was talking about the hotel, but it felt good to wonder otherwise.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"What are you hoping to achieve?" Jools asked.

 

"I'm not hoping to achieve anything. I just want your advice on what to wear."

 

I lay back on my bed and sighed. I had thought it was a simple question, but I had not counted on the calculating mind of Carstairs to look for hidden meanings that were not there.

 

She sat down on the bed beside me. "What I mean is – are you wanting to just look nice or are you hoping to seduce him?"

 

I sat bolt upright. "Jools," I protested, "I most certainly am not hoping to seduce him. Whatever gave you that idea?"

 

She grinned and shrugged. "An attractive woman, a man she admires, a date together – you can add it up and get a number of different answers."

 

I shook my head and firmly stated, "It's just dinner. I'm looking forward to chatting with him." I paused and thought before continuing, "You could look at it as a meeting of professional minds."

 

She looked sceptical. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I doubt that's how he sees it."

 

"Well, I'll set him straight if that's the case."

 

She grinned wickedly. "So you don't want him to kiss you tonight?"

 

I sighed. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've said?"

 

She chuckled and murmured. "Be a different story if it was Jon and I asked if you wanted him to kiss you."

 

I was thrown by her comment and tried in vain to recover quickly. "I… err… that's… well, it's really got nothing to do with anything."

 

She raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She walked over to my wardrobe and picked out a denim miniskirt and a wide-necked white short-sleeved top. "I suggest you wear these with your cream suede boots."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I sat in the Waldorf lobby waiting for Aaron. I waited and waited. The minutes rolled by and I began to wonder if he was coming at all. Eventually at nine p.m. I gave up and headed for the elevators. I felt dejected and strangely almost cheapened by the experience. I was entering the elevator, when I heard a voice behind me shout my name.

 

"Cara! Cara, wait!"

 

I turned and hit the 'Door Open' button on the panel in front of me. I looked across the lobby and linked the voice with the scruffy unshaven man trying to hurry towards me. However, his appearance and unseemly behaviour had attracted the attention of the doorman who was currently blocking his progress. I stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked over. The Waldorf door staff must have received special instructions on which guests to remember and I gathered that that meant those who were staying in the Astoria suites as we were.

 

The large doorman turned to me and said, "Miss Malone, this gentleman says he has an appointment with you."

 

I frowned and raised an eyebrow. I looked at the name badge he was wearing. "Is that so, Michael?" I asked coolly. "I maybe had an appointment with a gentleman over an hour ago, but then a gentleman wouldn't keep a lady waiting."

 

"Aww Cara, come on," Aaron pleaded. "I'm real sorry. Please, give me a chance to make it up to you."

 

I knew that I had been a little bitchy and I relented. "Sorry," I sighed, "I just got a bit fed up waiting." I turned to Michael, "Yes, this gentleman is with me. Thank you for your concern."

 

He tipped his hat and headed back to the front door. I turned back to Aaron and appraised his appearance. He was wearing the same shirt and jeans that I had seen him in earlier at the studio. He appeared even scruffier if that were possible.

 

"Glad to see you made an effort for me," I said dryly.

 

He ran a hand through his wayward hair. "Uhh yeah, sorry. Look you know how it can be. We got into a good groove at the studio and when the juices are flowing, you don't wanna choke it, do you? I came straight here as soon as I could get away."

 

I inclined my head and smiled. "Yes, I know what you mean." I paused, not quite willing to completely let him off the hook, "You could have phoned ahead though."

 

He grinned at me. "Yeah, but that would have required your phone number which happens to be high on my list of things that I don't have but desperately want."

 

I looked at him with a degree of scepticism, but he just grinned goofily at me. I had to laugh.

 

"Alright, mister. Let's go then, I'm starving. You've got some making up to do."

 

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

 

He held out his arm and I slipped mine through it as he led me out onto the street where he hailed a taxi.

 

In the back of the taxi, I asked, "Where are we going?"

 

"Greenwich Avenue on West Twelfth like I told the driver," he replied with a grin.

 

"Oh, like I have an idea where that is?"

 

He chuckled, "Greenwich Village, West Side. We're going to Benny's – the best burritos in the USA."

 

I wrinkled my brow, "What on earth is a burrito?"

 

He looked at me like I was from another planet. "You don't have Mexican food in Britain?"

 

I shrugged. "There are a few places, but I'm not really au fait with it."

 

He thought aloud, "What is a burrito? How can I explain… it's like… a wrap?"

 

I nodded. "Ah, I think I'm with you now."

 

He smiled and looked sideways at me. "Can I just say something? It's been burning inside of me and I think I'm going to have to come out and say it."

 

"Sure, what is it?" I asked tentatively.

 

"You have damn fine legs."

 

I blushed and tried to hide my smile.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

There was a queue outside Benny's Burritos and I was not overly impressed. It did not look like it was up to much. I turned my nose up a little.

 

"This place looks a bit rundown. Didn't you make a reservation?" I complained.

 

He laughed. "A reservation? Benny's doesn't take reservations."

 

After a short time, we found a space at the bar while waiting for a table. Aaron said that I had to try the chips and salsa. I did and was surprised by how tasty they were. He insisted that I had to try the best Margaritas in New York City. I barely knew what a margarita was, but tried it nonetheless. The taste was strong and tangy at first, but, by taking little sips, I soon found it to be fairly pleasant. The place was crowded with people from all walks of life. As I looked around, I saw men in suits who looked like stockbrokers, scruffy students, some guys with wild spiky hair and lots of body piercings and even some couples in what looked like evening dress. I mentioned the apparent diversity to Aaron and he nodded.

 

"That's Benny's for you. No respecter of class – everyone loves it here. That's why I brought you. I figured you needed to get out of the stuffy atmosphere in the Waldorf and experience some of the real New York. In here, no one is likely to rush up to you and say 'My God, are you Cara Malone? Can I have your autograph?'"

 

I chuckled. "I doubt that will happen to me anywhere in this country. I'm a nobody… for the moment."

 

After about half an hour's wait, we got a cramped table against the far wall. Aaron recommended the beef burrito and I went for it. When our meal came, I was shocked by the size of it.

 

"It's massive," I exclaimed. "I'll never eat all that."

 

Aaron rolled his eyes, smiled at me and murmured, "Women!" He shrugged. "All the more for me then."

 

My prediction had been accurate and, as tasty as it was, I was beaten with just under half of my burrito remaining. I made a mental note to tell Kevin about this place. Then I remembered that it would not do him much good since we were flying out to L.A. the next morning.

 

Aaron and I chatted about song writing, recording, performing and about anything that was vaguely related to music. I was fascinated to be sitting there talking away to him about all the things I had often wondered about.

 

I knew a lot of the background. He and Ben had gone to school together in Seattle, where the band originally came from. They started a band together and after some experimentation with the line up, arrived at the current ensemble that made up 'Stealing Time'. I remarked that, similarly, Jon and I had gone to the same school before Jon had moved away.

 

"So you and Jon pretty tight then?" he asked.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

He shrugged. "You seem like good friends."

 

I nodded. "We are. We work well together."

 

He grinned slyly. "What about play?"

 

I laughed. "Purely business, nothing more."

 

He did not look convinced, but I decided to change the subject. "So, tell me - what was Ben talking about earlier when he mentioned the previous backing vocalists?"

 

Aaron frowned. "He was spouting a load of crap."

 

I was intrigued. "No… come on, tell me."

 

He sighed and leant back in his chair. "OK, if you insist. It just so happens that the last few backing vocalists, females that is, I've sort of hooked up with afterwards."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you are doing with me this evening…?" I spotted the change in his expression and suddenly realised something. "Oh, I think I've just realised what you meant by 'hooking up'."

 

He smiled. "I was trying to be polite."

 

I blushed. "Right, thanks. Silly me."

 

He shook his head, "He was just goading me. As I said, it's a load of crap."

 

After leaving Benny's, Aaron gave me a quick tour of the Village. 'Bohemian New York' he called it. Again, I was struck by the diversity of the clientele of the restaurants and bars. It was vaguely reminiscent of student areas back home, but on a larger and more grandiose scale.

 

"So you're leaving New York already?" he asked.

 

I nodded. "I'm afraid so. Off to L.A. tomorrow."

 

"That sucks."

 

"You don't like L.A.?"

 

"No, I didn't mean that. I was just hoping I could spend more time with you. There's so much more to show you in New York."

 

I was quite touched and smiled at him. "Thanks. Maybe another time?"

 

"Definitely," he said. Then he winked as he continued, "However you're going to have to give me your phone number to console me since you're running out on me."

 

I laughed and pulled a card out of my purse. "There you go. You are persistent, aren't you?"

 

He grinned, "You have no idea."

 

When the taxi dropped us off outside the Waldorf, it was almost midnight. Aaron put his arm around my shoulders and walked into the lobby with me.

 

"You know," he mused, "I've never seen the inside of a suite in the Waldorf." He looked at me and smiled.

 

I laughed. "Nice try, Sunshine. You can afford to rent your own. Shall I ask at the desk if any are available?"

 

He chuckled. "Can't blame a guy for trying. So this is it then?"

 

I nodded. "Thanks, Aaron. I had a lovely time and I'm sorry for being snooty at the start."

 

He shrugged. "Don't sweat it. Served me right. What kind of fool would keep a woman like you waiting?"

 

The lobby was deserted except for the staff as we waited for the elevator. I was momentarily startled when he put his arms on my shoulders and leaned forward to plant a light kiss on my lips.

 

"Goodnight, Cara."

 

"Goodnight, Aaron," I murmured as the elevator arrived.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Jon grabbed the seat beside me as we again settled into first class for the flight to L.A. Jools gave me a lascivious wink as she walked past us to take a seat in the row behind. I hoped that Jon had not noticed it.

 

"It's just as well there are no games consoles on this plane," I said. "If you are going to sit beside me, there's no way you'd be allowed to ignore me for the whole flight."

 

Jon grinned. "Rats! So you mean I have to talk to you? Maybe I should change seats now."

 

I narrowed my eyes. "You wouldn't dare."

 

He shrugged and chuckled. "Nah, not worth the hassle."

 

The plane roared off the runway hurtling towards the blue sky and I lay back in my seat as I waited for my stomach to catch up with the rest of my body. I was not what you would call a seasoned traveller, but I generally enjoyed it. Take off and landing, however, constantly tried to convince my body that I was subjecting it to something that was inherently non-physiological. Once the craft began to level out, I was able to relax more.

 

"Phew, that was close," Jon said with a grin.

 

"What?"

 

"For a moment there I thought that your knuckles would pop out of your fingers. Either that, or the arms of your seat would come off in your hands."

 

I laughed. "I'm not that bad. I just get a little tense."

 

"Anyway, tell me about yesterday?"

 

"Yesterday?"

 

"Yeah, you know like meeting one of our mutual heroes and getting to actually record with him. I'm telling you, you land all the cushy numbers."

 

I gave him a coy smile and batted my eyelashes. "There's a price to pay for landing these cushy numbers. I figure I've paid my dues."

 

He laughed. "I guess you have. Anyway, tell me all about it and make me jealous."

 

I told him about my time at the studio. I did rub it in a little about how fantastic it was to watch 'Stealing Time' recording live in the studio. There really was not that much to tell, but Jon did not seem satisfied.

 

"And?" he asked.

 

"And what?"

 

"What about your date then?"

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I wasn't aware that details of my dates had to be public knowledge too?"

 

He laughed and looked a bit uncomfortable. "I was just, you know, interested in what Aaron was like."

 

I gave a sly smile. "Perhaps I'll get him to take you on a date next time so you can find out for yourself."

 

"Cara!" he protested.

 

"Sorry, I'm being facetious. He was interesting company. We chatted about loads of things: his thoughts on music, performing and the like. It was useful."

 

"Just useful?" he prompted.

 

I laughed. "Jon Peters, you are fishing for information. What do you want me to tell you? Do you want me to tell you that he kissed me at the end of the evening?"

 

That silenced him and ended any further requests for information. Thankfully, the increasingly awkward silence was interrupted by the stewardess bringing another of the innumerable rounds of drinks that one can enjoy in first class.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

As we descended into LAX (Los Angeles International Airport, for you stay-at-homes), I was amazed at the seemingly infinite conurbation that stretched out in every direction beneath us. Los Angeles was a sprawling, manmade lake of civilisation that ate up territory the size of a British county, if not more.

 

Our hotel, whilst definitely in the luxury class, did not compare favourably to the Waldorf. With some regret I realised that I would probably never again stay in a hotel that matched up to it. It is slightly depressing in a poignant sense to realise that, in a certain area, you have experienced the best on offer. Having been at the pinnacle, everything else falls in its shadow and is therefore relatively lacklustre. I had a one-room suite and everyone else had a luxury single room.

 

Yet again the phenomenon of different time zones had conspired to add three hours to my day and, in so doing, confuse my poor body clock that had just about adjusted from the transatlantic insult. That, combined with the two previous late nights, had left me quite exhausted. There was nothing lined up for the rest of that day and, flying in the face of Jools' advice, I took a nap after lunch.

 

That evening, we dined in our hotel. The mood was relaxed and spirits were generally high. The food was good according to Kevin - our resident barometer of all things consumable . However, I feared that his accuracy on the quality scale could all too easily be influenced by quantity. In this case, I agreed with him, but I required significantly less of the delicacies on offer to make my own judgement.

 

After dinner, Brian wanted to go to a club that reputedly had the best live music in L.A. Having been rejuvenated by my siesta earlier, I felt awake enough to join the rest of the guys. Jools complained about being tired, but was not going to miss out. Simon made his excuses, so that left six of us and we ordered two cabs to take us to our destination.

 

The club was spacious yet still intimate enough that the audience could enjoy a close connection to the band performing. Perhaps the band playing that night were not up to the usual standard that had led to the accolade that Brian had quoted to us earlier. Perhaps I was hard to impress. Having said that, we enjoyed ourselves and we left in the secure knowledge that we were a far better band. Jools, of course, maintained that a band was only as good as its manager.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

While we had been in New York, Simon had been meeting with some of his counterparts at Sony Music headquarters. He had let them see my two videos and hear some snippets from the album. It seemed that they had been reasonably impressed, if one could believe that Simon was not exaggerating. Nonetheless, they had decided to release 'No Half Measures' as a single and test the US market. The release was scheduled for ten days time and this gave added impetus to the interview slots that Simon had been arranging.

 

Everyone had to be up bright and early the next day as Simon had also managed to persuade MTV to record a short session with us. They had made no guarantees to use it, but on hearing that a US single release was in the works, they were keen enough to record us playing a few tracks in one of their studios. They were not looking for a lavish performance, but were seeking a more relaxed intimate set. With this in mind, I went for a more casual appearance: my leather jacket over a red sleeveless top and blue jeans.

 

The basic premise was that we were put in a studio, allowed to get our equipment set up, sound levels adjusted and then the cameras were turned on and left rolling. There was no concept of 'takes'; it was all captured for posterity. In contrast to the polished, sometimes contrived performances, the producer wanted some authenticity and reality.

 

As we were setting up, I reminded the guys not to say or do anything too embarrassing.

 

"Hear that, Kevin?" Brian asked.

 

"What are you getting at?" he said defensively.

 

"No farting!" Brian whispered.

 

"I told you it was those fried beans. I couldn't help it."

 

We all laughed and I had a momentary panic that the cameras were already on, but a quick check allayed my fears. The studio was arranged so that we were in a large circle facing each other. When we were all set, the producer told me to introduce myself when the cameras started rolling and then to play whatever we wanted.

 

I did as instructed and we started off with 'No Half Measures' and then moved on to 'Not Dancing, but Flying'. It was a different style of performing. It was not the adrenaline-charged show of a true live performance, but was more like a relaxed recital for friends.

 

I had thought that we would play 'Simply Say' next and said, "OK guys, let's do 'Simply Say'."

 

I was surprised when Jon spoke up, "No, let's do 'I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song'."

 

I hesitated and smiled. "Perhaps later, if there's time?" I was very conscious of the red lights on top of the cameras surrounding us.

 

Jon chuckled, turned to the rest of the guys and said, "Right lads, 'I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song'… one… two… three… four…"

 

They started into it and initially I was fuming inside. Jon kept nodding to me encouragingly as if trying to start me singing. I shrugged and laughed, "Oh, what the hell."

 

I slipped off my leather jacket and, with revenge in mind, I stood up and sashayed over to the high stool that Jon was sitting on. I moved round behind him, draped one arm over his shoulder and leant down so that my face was beside his. I smiled coyly and sang…

 

"I'm not gonna sing your song,

I'm not gonna sing your song,

If you ask me, it's already gone on far too long,

And I'm not gonna sing your song."

 

I tried to give the song the sassy attitude that it required and we ran through the rest of the verses. I did the same to the rest of the guys when it was their turn. Brian chuckled as I ran my hand up and down the hair on the back of his head and Peter had blushed floridly when I tickled him under his chin. I thought that Kevin was going to fall off his stool when I actually sat myself down on his lap and put an arm around his neck. To his credit, he managed to keep the rhythm going after dropping only one beat. For the final verse, I stood in the centre of them and fixed a mock-baleful stare on them as I sang…

 

"You've tricked me into singing your song,

You've tricked me into singing your song,

I thought it was crap but I guess I was wrong,

You win, you've tricked me into singing your song."

 

As we finished, I could not hold my expression any longer and began to laugh. I squealed as Jon and then Brian threw their plectrums at me.

 

When we settled down, I smiled sweetly and asked, "Can we now do 'Simply Say'?"

 

With permission granted, we started in. The mellow feel of the song always gave me this sense of inner calm and I smiled with my eyes closed as I began to sing. The guys were obviously enjoying playing it too. When it came to the last verse and chorus, I found myself having to consciously stop myself from focusing my gaze on Jon…

 

"I wonder is a love so real, if it's never really voiced,

Yet inside my head the voices grow, 'til it sounds like a choir,

Demanding that I soon must act, I feel my eyes grow moist,

Steadily growing deep within, it's a never fading desire:

 

To call you up, and ask you now

If you know why I feel this way

It feels both wrong and right somehow

And I just don't know how to say

The words I'm feeling in my heart

But am afraid to believe they're true

To open up and make a start,

And simply say that I love you."

 

I spotted the producer in the background giving me the thumbs up and indicating that we should wrap it up. I smiled into the nearest camera.

 

"Thank you so much for watching. I'm Cara Malone and these are my bad boys: Jon, Brian, Peter and Kevin."

 

Afterwards, the producer was very complimentary and told us that our performance was just the sort of thing he had been looking for. When we got outside, I found myself being the butt of the humour.

 

"We're your 'bad boys'?" Brian asked with a quirked eyebrow.

 

I flushed. "I just said the first thing that came into my head. Plus, you were bad – all of you."

 

They proceeded to walk four abreast behind me as we headed for the cars. They were strutting and posing, making comments like, "We de bad boyz."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The rest of Friday and all day Saturday were spent doing the radio interview slots that Simon had lined up. It was so boring and tedious that I felt as if I could do it in my sleep. The questions were predictable and it was hard to make myself respond as if the current interviewer was the first person ever to ask me such things.

 

By the time I got back to the hotel, Laura and Rachel had arrived. The work was over and the next day marked the official beginning of our holiday week. Laura encased me in a monster hug.

 

"Wow," I said breathlessly.

 

"Isn't this amazing?" she gushed. "Here we all are on holiday."

 

"I take it you are pleased to see us… or at least to see Brian," I said with a twinkle in my eye.

 

She blushed and tickled me. "Hey, I'm pleased to see you too."

 

I whispered in her ear. "Umm, did we remember to book an extra room for you?"

 

She looked at me guiltily and, with her face reddening further, confessed. "That won't be necessary."

 

I went into a fit of the giggles and she eventually joined in.

 

At dinner, I engineered the seating arrangements so that I could talk to Rachel. She seemed somewhat overawed and I tried to get her chatting so that she would relax. I asked her about how she and Peter were getting on. The smile that she could not prevent from spreading across her face basically said it all. Jools, who knew everything, had covertly informed me that Rachel and Peter had separate rooms. In their defence, I had protested that they were both young and that I admired them from not bowing to the expected conventions of modern society. My father would have been proud of me… perhaps.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next morning, we all piled into the minibus taxi that Simon had hired. The drive to Malibu took just under an hour and when we arrived at our hotel, I found myself almost having to retract what I had said earlier about no hotel ever comparing to the Waldorf.

 

The Malibu Beach Inn may not have been as overtly ostentatious as the Waldorf, but what it may have lacked in magnificence, it made up for in charm.  With only around fifty rooms, the hotel aimed to provide a more personal and friendly service. The terracotta exterior of the hotel with its palm-lined beachside location created a neo-Mediterranean atmosphere. Although we were only a short distance from what was probably the busiest city in America, I could already feel time begin to slow down and I was eagerly anticipating the opportunity for some overdue R & R. I thought that my suite was very agreeable with its comfortable furnishings and exquisite view over the ocean, but when I actually stepped out onto the balcony, I think I gasped with delight. For there, on the balcony, was my very own private Jacuzzi.

 

Jools came by my suite shortly thereafter, knocking on the door this time before entering. When I excitedly showed her the Jacuzzi, she laughed and said that she had thought I would like it. She winked and said it would be perfect for an intimate rendezvous. I was becoming immune to her teasing and pretended that I had not heard what she said.

 

"So what are we going to do first?" I asked with enthusiasm.

 

"Lounge by the pool, I would say," she replied.

 

My face fell. "The pool. The beach. I don't have a swimming costume with me."

 

She laughed. "Then thank heavens for the excellent selection available downstairs in the shop."

 

"Lead the way," I said with a grin.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We entered my suite again and I sighed. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I just wanted an ordinary swimming costume."

 

"Rubbish," she said gently, "There's nothing ordinary about you. A boring swimming costume is not going to do the job; it had to be a bikini."

 

"Well couldn't you have let me pick a more… modest one?"

 

She laughed. "Try it on. If it looks horrendous, we can change it for another."

 

I sighed and went into the bathroom to change. I thought that it was a fairly skimpy black bikini. The bottoms actually were reasonably generous. They had to be as I needed to make sure that they completely covered my 'protection belt'. I checked out my appearance in the mirror. The bottoms were fine and covered everything without any problem. The top, however, showed an inordinate amount of cleavage and I was worried that my breasts might actually overflow out of it.

 

I walked out of the bathroom and stood before Jools. "Well?" I asked bashfully.

 

She smiled. "You look like a million dollars."

 

I shrugged. "I don't know, Jools. Don't you think my breasts look big in this?"

 

She half-laughed half-choked and gave me a funny look. "Cara, darling, your breasts look big in anything."

 

"Jools!" I protested, "You aren't helping."

 

She shook her head and walked over to me. "No, seriously, you know that you are very well endowed. Everyone else with eyes in their head knows that. No matter what bikini top you wear, you can't hide what you've got and you shouldn't be embarrassed."

 

"Maybe I should just get a one-piece swimsuit?" I mused.

 

Jools chuckled, "What, and hide this?" She tweaked my belly bar and laughed at my reaction. She shrugged, "You look great. I'm going to my room to change into my bikini, I'll call back and we'll head to the pool."

 

I agreed with some resignation. Thankfully I had bought a matching beach wrap to try to protect a little more of my dignity. I wrapped it around me and waited for her.

 

----------*----------

 

 

By the time we reached the poolside, everyone else was already there. Brian and Peter were splashing around in the pool, Kevin and Jon were getting some drinks from the bar and Rachel and Laura were stretching themselves out on sun beds. I was somewhat gratified to note that it seemed to be bikinis all round – for the girls I mean. I claimed an adjacent sun bed and rather shyly slipped off my wrap. Jon and Kevin arrived with the drinks and called to Brian and Peter in the pool.

 

Laura nudged Rachel and nodded in my direction. "It's enough to make you sick, isn't it?"

 

"What are you on about?" I asked.

 

She grinned. "I don't think I'll ever wear a bikini again."

 

With all the attention this sent in my direction, I felt exposed and embarrassed. I reached for my wrap and was about to pull it around me again when there was a round of protests… from the guys.

 

"What?" I said petulantly.

 

"Don't do that," Brian said.

 

"Why not?" I asked.

 

"Yes, indeed," Laura said looking at Brian pointedly, "Why not?"

 

He shrugged awkwardly and just grinned. "Heck, we're all here to enjoy ourselves. If us guys are prepared to show off our manly physiques, I think you girls should feel free to show off your beauty. All of you…" he turned to Laura, "Especially you, my sweet."

 

She laughed and waggled a finger at him. "If I see you peeking at her…"

 

We relaxed around the pool, swam at leisure, dozed in the sun and reapplied sun cream regularly under Jools' instructions. The only interruption to this wanton relaxation was when we had to get up for meals.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Monday was spent with the same self-indulgent decadence as the previous day, but in the evening the girls did something different. It drove the guys crazy when we informed them that we were going to have a girls' night in my suite. Jools took great delight in telling them that after an intimate dinner from room service, we were going to luxuriate in my private Jacuzzi. She wickedly intimated that we would not be requiring bikinis. The guys were practically drooling.

 

Of course, we did wear our bikinis. Jools was merely playing on the pseudo-lesbian fantasy that seemed to lurk somewhere in most male minds. I had even felt a little echo within myself when she mentioned it.

 

I sipped champagne from my glass as the steam rose from the bubbling water. "This is so good, it has to be wrong," I murmured.

 

There was a round of giggles and raised glasses in response.

 

"It's just so beautiful," Rachel said wistfully as she looked beyond the balcony to where the setting sun reflected across the water like rippling golden fingers reaching towards us.

 

"So, to business," Jools said with a grin.

 

"Business?" asked Laura turning up her nose.

 

"Well, we can't have a girls' night without getting down to the nitty-gritty, can we Laura?" Jools asked.

 

Laura looked a little uncomfortable as she caught the drift. I giggled and began to think that I had had too much wine and champagne.

 

"You first then, Jools," Laura said defensively.

 

Jools laughed and shrugged. "What's to tell? I'm still single; busy professional woman that I am. I must confess, though, that our waiter at lunchtime had a scrummy ass."

 

We all squealed with shock and delight. Jools cleverly had said nothing, but given the impression of having satisfied us. She grinned back at Laura and raised an eyebrow.

 

Laura laughed nervously. "What do you want to know? No, don't answer that. OK, Brian and I are getting on very well. To keep you quiet, I'll admit that, yes, we are… intimate."

 

Jools leaned over and in a low voice asked, "What's he like between the sheets?"

 

"Jools!" I said with a combination of shock and glee.

 

Laura tossed her head primly and then grinned as she leaned forward conspiratorially. "Let's just say, he is experienced enough to know what I want, and innocent enough for me to teach him a thing or two."

 

I joined in the giggling that ensued, but was actually astonished at the explicit nature of the conversation. Who said that boys were the only ones to talk dirty?

 

The spotlight fell on Rachel who was more reticent and shy compared to both Laura and Jools.

 

"I've only been going out with Peter for about a month," she said. "I like him, I really do. He's sweet and thoughtful. Before you ask, I haven't slept with him. We're going to take things slowly."

 

"Last but not least…" Jools said as their eyes fell upon me.

 

I shrugged and smiled. "I'm afraid I'm quite boring and have nothing to report."

 

"Poppycock," Laura said. "Come on, if you don't have any facts to report, we're happy to accept fantasies instead."

 

I blushed. "I don't know what to tell you."

 

Rachel, who was obviously growing in confidence, chipped in, "What about Jon? I have to say he is just gorgeous, isn't he?"

 

I smiled and brushed my hair back from my face. "Jon's certainly very attractive… but I don't think there's anything happening there."

 

Laura pounced on my words. "You don't think?"

 

"OK, you know I like him. I just don't see it ever coming to anything more than that." I thought quickly and realised I could use a decoy to distract them. "I could tell you about my date with Aaron Kramer, if you were interested?"

 

My ploy worked and I was able to satisfy their carnal cravings with my rather tame account of our evening together.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

On Tuesday afternoon, there was an impromptu game of water polo in the pool. I declined to participate, as did Jon. I was quite happy to spectate and laugh at the antics of those involved. By now, I was more comfortable lounging around in my bikini. When everyone else around was in beachwear, it was hard to feel out of place. Jon had gone to get us some drinks when a voice spoke beside me.

 

"Hey, Sugar," an American voice drawled.

 

I looked up and shaded my eyes from the sun. "Yes?"

 

He sat down on the sun bed beside me. "The name's Joe."

 

I replied rather coolly, "Good for you."

 

He was tall and well built, blond haired with a big white smile and wearing swimming trunks that were simply just too tight. He did not appear to be a lout, the Malibu Beach Inn not being exactly the sort of establishment to cater to such, but had the attitude of someone who seemed to have an over inflated view of his own attractiveness.

 

He laughed. "Now, don't be like that, Sugar. You're English, aren't you?"

 

I bristled. "I'm Welsh and my name is not 'Sugar'."

 

He was unfazed and grinned. "Well then darn it, you're gonna have to tell me your name or I'm gonna have to have to call you Sugar. It's the only thing I can think of when I see someone as sweet as you."

 

I looked at him with incredulity. Did he really think this routine was fetching? I was struggling to think of polite words to say to him when I felt an arm go around my shoulders from behind me. I almost flinched before I heard Jon's voice say, "Sorry Sweetheart, there was a queue at the bar."

 

I turned to him and smiled with gratitude in my eyes. "Don't worry, Darling."

 

Jon turned to Joe and with a smile that didn't reach his eyes said, "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't realise my girlfriend was entertaining a guest or I'd have brought a drink for you too."

 

Joe shrugged and stood up, his earlier bravado less evident. "S'okay, I was just tryin' to be friendly." He walked off.

 

I turned back to Jon and we both laughed. "Nice timing," I said.

 

He grinned. "I was toying with just standing back and seeing how you got on. I mean, for all I know, you may have wanted the attention."

 

I rolled my eyes. "Please, no. It could be quite handy having you around as a so-called boyfriend."

 

He chuckled at that. "Do you want your drink?"

 

I thought for a moment and shook my head. I jumped to my feet and extended my hand down to him. He looked up with curiosity, but took my hand as I helped him to his feet.

 

"What?" he asked.

 

"I fancy a walk on the beach, and I figure I'd better bring my 'boyfriend' to keep away the vultures. You coming?"

 

"Sure, why not?"

 

We walked down onto the beach and I relished the feel of the cool soft sand between my toes. There was just enough of a breeze to take the edge off the July heat. We walked in silence for a bit before I realised I was still holding onto his hand.

 

I looked down at our hands and murmured, "Sorry."

 

I was about to let go of it, when he squeezed my hand. "It's OK," he said gently.

 

I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He laughed. "If you must know," he said, "it's doing my confidence no end of good to walk along the beach holding your hand."

 

"What are you on about?" I asked with a smile.

 

He grinned and winked. "Haven't you seen the jealous looks the guys are giving me?"

 

I blushed and laughed. We walked down to the edge of the water and strolled along, stopping occasionally to watch the surfers defy gravity and several other laws of physics as they latched onto the waves and allowed themselves to be propelled along at the ocean's mercy.

 

"Enjoying your holiday?" Jon asked.

 

"Yeah," I replied noncommittally.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

I shrugged. "I feel bad for saying it, but after three days of lounging around like this… I'm sort of bored."

 

He grinned. "I know what you mean." He paused, "You know what I'd like? I'd love to head up to the mountains: do some walking, see waterfalls, rivers and lakes. Do you realise, we are less than a day's drive from Yosemite National Park?"

 

I sighed. "Now there's somewhere I've always wanted to visit."

 

He stopped walking and I looked up at him. He chewed his lip. "Why don't we go there?"

 

"Huh?"

 

He nodded. "Hire a car, see who wants to go and book a few nights' accommodation. I'm sure Jools can square it with the hotel here if some of us are away for a few nights." He shrugged. "We can split the costs of the trip between whoever wants to go."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

When we arrived back at the hotel, we were greeted with several suspicious looks. Not least because we were still holding hands. We released each other quickly and tried to appear blasé about our walk.

 

"I just got bored and fancied a stroll," I explained. "The rest of you were all playing in the pool, so I dragged Jon along." I was getting sceptical looks so I tried to change the subject. "Jon's got an interesting idea about something different to do…"

 

He told them about his plans and tried to drum up interest. We chatted about it over dinner, but when he actually tried to tie people down about going, no one seemed that keen. I was a little suspicious that the hand of Jools was behind some of the apathetic responses, but I had no proof.

 

After dinner when we left the restaurant, Jon walked alongside me. "Well, looks like it's just you and me for our mountain expedition. That is, if you still want to go."

 

I felt my heartbeat pulsing in my throat as I grinned and casually said, "Sure, I want to go. It'll be their loss."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 34

 

 

The next morning, I was trying to pack my bag for the trip, but was having difficulty deciding exactly which clothes I would need. What occasions would present themselves to me? What different outfits might I require? I stood back and scowled as I thought.

 

Jools chuckled from where she was squatting on my bed. "Now you know why we girls can't travel light."

 

"Yeah, I mean I bet Jon has no bother at all. A pair of jeans or two, some shorts, one or two shirts or T-shirts and bingo – all sorted."

 

"Yes, but do you wish you could be back to having it that simple?" she asked.

 

I shook my head. "Heavens, no. My choices may be difficult, but at least they aren't boring."

 

With Jools' help, I eventually got my rather large bag packed and was all set to head downstairs. Jon had been arranging to have a hire car delivered to the hotel for us.

 

"You're really excited about this, aren't you?" Jools said with a little grin on her face.

 

I laughed. "Is it that obvious?"

 

She chuckled. "You're practically glowing."

 

I sighed. "I don't know why I'm getting myself all worked up. It's not as if anything is going to happen."

 

Jools shrugged. "Look, just have a good time, enjoy each other's company and who knows what might happen?"

 

I smiled and hugged her. "Do I look OK?"

 

I was wearing a simple, sleeveless, pink sun top and my denim miniskirt. I had my hair pulled back into a ponytail and had the bare minimum on in the way of make up.

 

"Go knock him dead!" she said.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"You hired a convertible?" I asked.

 

Jon ran his hand along the sleek curves of the red Chrysler. "It's the Californian way," he explained. "There was no other choice I could have made. Don't you like it?"

 

"Oh, I love it," I said in a voice that almost sounded like a purr.

 

"Here, let me put your bag in the boot…" He rolled his eyes, "or the trunk as they would have us call it here." He picked up my bag and frowned. "What on earth do you have in here? It weighs a ton!"

 

I shrugged and said defensively, "Hey, a girl has to be prepared for any eventuality."

 

He rolled his eyes again and shut the boot. "Ready to go?" he said with a boyish grin.

 

"You bet! Can I drive?" I asked enthusiastically.

 

"No."

 

"Please?"

 

"I'm afraid not. It's just the way things are." He put on his sunglasses. "My job is to drive and look cool. Yours is to sit in the passenger seat and look pretty."

 

I pouted, but he just laughed at me as he held my door open for me.

 

 

----------*----------

 

With the top down, the music playing and the wind rushing through our hair as the sun glared down from a brilliant blue sky, I was thinking that there was a lot to be said for the California way of life. I was aware that I was idealising things, but I was in a pretty good mood and was quite happy to romanticise the situation.

 

"So what's the plan?" I asked.

 

"I could tell you zat, but zen I'd haff to keel you," Jon replied in an awful accent.

 

I laughed. "Very funny, now spill the beans."

 

He grinned. "OK, I was thinking we'll take our time today. There's no way we'd make it to Yosemite in time to do anything much, so we're heading for Fresno where we'll stay tonight. Then tomorrow, we'll head into the park early and do some hiking. I've booked us in for two nights at 'The Ahwahnee' in Yosemite Village, and I think you will find it very much to your liking."

 

"Sounds good," I said as I curled one of my legs underneath me and lifted my face to enjoy the oncoming rush of air.

 

A thought struck me. Had he booked two rooms or one? I mentally shook myself – of course it would be two rooms. Would it not? I realised that I couldn’t exactly ask him as it would be too awkward, so I resigned myself to having to wait and see. We turned north onto Route 99 and headed towards the San Joaquin Valley. The scenery began to change from the coastal landscapes and surrounding hills to flat, lush valleys. I saw rows and rows of vines on either side of the road as far as the eye could see.

 

"Is this where the famous Californian wines come from?" I asked Jon.

 

He thought for a moment before replying. "You're thinking of the Napa Valley, aren't you? That's further north. I'm not sure what wines from here are like. I'm not exactly an expert."

 

I grinned. "Me neither."

 

 

----------*----------

 

"Hungry?" Jon asked.

 

"Yes, and thirsty."

 

We had stopped for coffee an hour previously, and eventually had to put the top back up on our car. The midday sun was too much for us to bear and, with the roof on, we could immerse ourselves in the icy jets from the car's air conditioning. However, it was definitely approaching lunchtime.

 

"I want to get somewhere nice to stop," Jon murmured.

 

I groaned. "Don't tell me you are going to be like my father."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

I smiled. "I remember family holidays when I was younger. We would be driving along heading to our next destination and we all wanted to stop for lunch. Dad was determined to get the right spot to stop at. He was paranoid that if we stopped at the locations we pointed out, when we drove on we would find that a far better place had been just around the next corner." I chuckled as I remembered. "Some days it was nearer tea-time before we got our lunch!"

 

Jon laughed. "I promise not to be like that. I was thinking we'd stop in Bakersfield, but it's bigger than I thought. I don't fancy having to find somewhere in a city. Let's drive on and stop in the next small town.

 

The next small town was just off Route 99 and had the intriguing name of 'Shafter'. This provoked a few laughs between us. I was not quite sure if the slang of 'shafter' or 'shafted' meant quite the same this side of the Atlantic as it did back home, but we found it amusing anyway. It was a small pretty town with a grassy square at its heart.

 

"This is it," Jon said with satisfaction as he parked the car and turned off the engine.

 

"Sure?" I asked. "I mean, what if the next town is even prettier?"

 

He laughed and shook his head. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

 

We enjoyed a simple, but tasty lunch in a little restaurant that had a first floor balcony overlooking the square. More importantly, the balcony was shaded and afforded welcome respite from the sun. After lunch, we enjoyed a leisurely coffee and were content to sit for a while and watch the world go slowly by.

 

"We had better get going," Jon said as he stood up.

 

I smiled. "What's the rush?"

 

He shrugged and grinned. "I'm missing my car. I want to spend as much time in it as possible. Got to get my money's worth."

 

I laughed. "Well you can sleep in it if you want. In which case, we could have got away with only booking one room."

 

Yes, I know I was being devious, but it was an opportunity to reassure myself. I was not quite sure whether I was reassured or disappointed.

 

He laughed. "You're right. Now why didn't I think of that?"

 

I tossed my head and smiled primly. "Because I'm the brains of this operation; you're the brawn, remember?"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

It was just before five p.m. when we entered the outskirts of Fresno. We had not been rushing ourselves as we were under no pressure of time. We had even stopped briefly at one of the vineyards along the road to see what it was like. Having been offered a free sample glass of wine, we sniffed it and swirled it in the glass, as if we were connoisseurs, before tasting it. Jon had made a few seemingly knowledgeable comments that had taken me by surprise. When we had got back to the car, I had asked him what he had been talking about. He had shrugged, laughed and admitted he had been bluffing.

 

As the car stopped at a busy intersection, Jon turned to me. "Err… Cara? You know how I said we are staying in a luxurious hotel when we are in Yosemite?"

 

"Yes?" I replied slowly wondering what was coming next.

 

"Well… it was hard to get those reservations given that it is the middle of summer and all." He hesitated and smiled apologetically. "I wasn't quite so lucky for Fresno…"

 

I looked at him. "Uh-oh, so where are we staying?"

 

He shrugged. "I'm sure it will be fine. It's just maybe not what you're used to, after the last week or so."

 

He was right: it was not the Waldorf or the Malibu Beach Inn. The San Joaquin Country Inn was a two storey small motel on the edge of Fresno. To say it was mature would be a nice way of phrasing it. I was somewhat apprehensive about the standard of the accommodation as we entered the lobby.

 

"Howdy 'n' welcome to the San Joaquin Country Inn," boomed a cheery red-faced woman from behind the desk. She looked to be in her fifties and was wearing a gingham dress.

 

Jon smiled and approached the counter. "My name is Jon Peters. We've a reservation for tonight."

 

"Yes, Mr. Peters. We've been expecting you. I'm Sheila Egerton. Me and my man, Bob, we own this li'l place here. And this must be Mrs. Peters?"

 

I nearly swallowed my sunglasses and tried to choke the giggle that I could feel rising from my throat. Jon shifted his feet and shook his head. He was reddening a little.

 

"Err… no. This is my… friend, Cara Malone."

 

Sheila did not look too fazed. I imagined she had seen all sorts of pairings and arrangements. She nodded. "Let me check - it was two rooms you wanted?"

 

We got our keys and filled in the required registration forms.

 

"Now will you be planning to join us for dinner? We've got some good specials on tonight."

 

Jon looked taken aback and hesitated. "Well… yes, I suppose we could…"

 

"That's great," Sheila gushed. She smiled and continued, "And you folks are in luck. Tonight, in the bar, is line dancing night. You'll be most welcome."

 

"Thank you," Jon said with some difficulty and we high-tailed it around the corner out of earshot before we could release the laughter that had been building up.

 

"So we're dining here tonight?" I asked.

 

He shrugged. "What can I say? She intimidated me into agreeing."

 

I grinned. "Well, if we're dining here tonight, then I say we give the line dancing a go."

 

He looked at me as if I was mad. "You're not serious, are you?"

 

I merely smiled and pointed to my bag at our feet. "Am I going to have to carry my bag to my room or will you be a gentleman? Come on, I need to freshen up for tonight's festivities."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The food was plain, but well cooked. The restaurant, similarly, was nothing fancy, but the service was friendly and prompt. I realised that a hotel did not have to be the last word in luxury or finery to have something to commend itself to you. Charm and individuality went a long way too. I got the impression that this place, although a motel, catered for a lot of locals as the waitresses seemed to be on first name terms with many of the diners. There was a friendly relaxed buzz of conversation and I found myself enjoying it more than I had expected.

 

My room had not been a total disappointment either. It was very clean and, whilst not overdone on the comfort side, was certainly more than adequate. I had enjoyed a refreshing shower and had tried to dress as appropriately as I could for this establishment: a white blouse and a long denim skirt seemed to fit the bill.

 

"See, I knew this place would be good," Jon said with a wink.

 

I laughed. "You got away with it this time, mister. Next time, you may not be so lucky. Let's see how good you are at the line dancing though."

 

He grimaced. "Really? Do we have to?"

 

I nodded. "Oh, come on. Let's sample a bit of local culture."

 

"But I haven't a clue what to do," he protested.

 

I shrugged. "Me neither. It'll be fun."

 

He did not look convinced.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The bar was quite crowded, but it was not claustrophobic as it had a large central wooden dance floor and numerous tables and booths scattered around the periphery. Bob, Sheila's husband, was the master of ceremonies and when we arrived, the line dancing was in full flow. Jon immediately glued himself to a chair at a nearby table and made a pretence of wanting something to drink.

 

"You're stalling," I said.

 

He nodded. "Absolutely right."

 

I sighed. "I guess I'll have to dance alone."

 

"Oh you won't be alone. There's dozens of people up dancing. Since you don't need a partner for this anyway, there's no need for me to embarrass myself."

 

I pouted and gave him my best doe-eyed look. "Jon, please," I said softly.

 

He laughed. "OK, OK. Just stop looking at me like that. You're making me feel bad."

 

I grinned and stood up. "Shall we?"

 

We joined the end of one line and tried to follow what was going on. It was patently evident to anyone watching, including the blind man in the corner, that neither of us had a clue as to what we were doing. Nobody seemed to mind though and, as time went on, we sort of started to pick it up. I was surprised at how energetic line dancing actually was. It looks quite pedestrian, but after some time, you realise that it takes a fair bit of stamina. Although he was reluctant to admit it, Jon appeared to be enjoying himself too.

 

Later in the evening, Bob brought the latest routine to a halt and said, "All right folks, you've been dancing solo all night. Now's the time to grab yourselves a partner for the last dance."

 

I looked at Jon and he looked back at me. He held his hand out to me and gallantly said, "If I may have the pleasure, milady?"

 

I gave a mock-curtsey and said, "The pleasure's all mine, kind sir."

 

Bob spoke again, "Now that you're all ready: ladies, never forget the truth of this great song…"

 

He started the old turntable and I could not believe what I was hearing. The infamous chords of 'Stand by Your Man' blared from the speakers.

 

I turned to Jon, "Is this for real?"

 

He laughed and shrugged. "Hey, you said you liked the down to earth feel of this place. This is what you get."

 

I smiled and placed my arms around his neck. He tentatively put his arms around my waist and we tried our best to dance. I think both of us felt like bursting out laughing with each chorus, but we managed to contain ourselves.

 

Afterwards, we walked upstairs to our rooms and we stopped outside mine. Jon paused and leant on the door frame.

 

"Umm… I had a really nice time tonight," he said hesitantly.

 

"Me too," I said, almost breathless.

 

For a moment, I thought he was going to lean forward and kiss me, but he just squeezed my shoulder and smiled. "Get a good night's rest. Early start tomorrow and we've a lot of walking to do. Night, Cara."

 

"Night, Jon," I murmured as I went into my room.

 

I closed the door behind me, leant back against it and exhaled slowly. 'Get a grip, girl,' I told myself. I could not help but smile to myself, however, as I got ready for bed. I lay down and told myself that tomorrow was another day.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I woke early the next morning and jumped out of bed, feeling full of anticipation for the day ahead. I showered, washed my hair and suffered through the recurring chore of deciding what to wear. Practicality was the order of the day. After all, we were going to spend most of it hiking. I settled on a loose white tie-off blouse and a pair of cut-off denim shorts. My walking socks and hiking boots would never win any awards for fashion, but necessity won over form. After adding a hint of make up, I scraped my hair back into a ponytail and popped on a baseball cap. I grinned at myself in the mirror and then almost laughed.

 

"Settle your head," I murmured to myself, "It's as if you're a little girl again."

 

That thought stopped me in my tracks. I reminded myself that I had never actually been a little girl. I took a deep breath. Was I starting to lose it or something?

 

Thankfully I was spared from having to answer my own question by a knock on the door. It was Jon. He was wearing a T-shirt and shorts and was raring to go.

 

"Sleep well?" he enquired as we sat down for breakfast.

 

"Yes, great," I lied. It had taken me some time to get to sleep and I had woken several times during the night. I was pretending to myself that I didn't know why this was the case.  "And you?"

 

He grinned, "Like the proverbial log."

 

He tucked into a hearty breakfast. Although I knew that we had a hard day's activity ahead, I did not have much of an appetite.

 

"What's up with you?" Jon asked as he speared a pancake from my plate.

 

I smiled. "Maybe I'm a little excited at the thought of the scenery we're going to see today."

 

He nodded and smiled. "Me too," he said with his mouth half-full of my pancake.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We entered Yosemite National Park, driving in silence as we both appreciated the scenery. The road was ascending gently with each mile we covered. Majestic trees reared high above us and, every so often, we caught a glimpse of the mountains behind the leafy walls that guarded the road.

 

"Beautiful," murmured Jon.

 

"Why thank you. You're looking pretty good yourself today." I said with a grin.

 

He looked at me with an expression approaching shock. "I err… that is… well I was sort of talking about the view."

 

I giggled and patted him on the arm. "I know, I'm teasing."

 

He blew out his cheeks, shook his head and then smiled as he murmured, "Why do I have to put up with you?"

 

I tossed my head. "You just can't do without my sparkling company."

 

He sighed. "You're right, I can't live without you."

 

I snapped my head round to look at him and he gave me a large wink. "Gotcha."

 

We both laughed.

 

Eventually we arrived at Yosemite Village. It seemed almost wrong that a place as naturally beautiful as Yosemite Valley should have this mini slice of urbanity imposed upon it, but I suppose it did provide some valuable functions. We stocked up with water and some food for our trek and then drove on to the trailhead. I was glad to escape the thronging crowds that seemed to carpet the valley floor. I hoped that they were all intending to get out and experience the rugged beauty of this beautiful little corner of creation, but I guessed that, for some, the closest they would get to nature would be the photos of the various sights in the Visitors' Centre.

 

Little corner of creation? Jon, who let me say is a veritable mine of trivia, had informed me that Yosemite National Park covers an area larger than the state of Rhode Island. I was reminded again of the grand scale of this country. It was also emphasised by the fact that we had to drive another thirteen miles just to get to our trailhead.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We parked the car and Jon put all the provisions in his backpack. I protested that I could carry some, but he insisted that it was not too heavy. We descended a path for a short distance, before turning onto a path that inclined slightly upwards.

 

"So, tell me again where we are going?" I asked.

 

He grinned. "To Sentinel Dome."

 

I batted my eyelids as I smiled sweetly. "And that is?"

 

He chuckled. "OK, it is the second highest viewpoint over Yosemite Valley and one of the most popular trails in the park."

 

"So why aren't we doing the highest viewpoint?"

 

"Ah, that's for tomorrow. It's about a ten hour hike to Half Dome and back so we need a full day for it."

 

It was wonderful to be out in the fresh air and in the relative seclusion of the forest. There were a few other hikers on the trail, but it was in no way crowded. It was as if the vast expanse of nature was helping us to free our minds. We talked about the events of the last few months. The good and the bad. We laughed as we recalled highlights from recording in the studio. I talked about my Mum's death and the trouble with my father. It was not without its pain, but it felt cathartic to talk about it, especially in such beautiful surroundings. Jon talked about Tanya and how things just did not work out. As Jon had always had a bit of a reputation with the ladies, I was actually quite surprised when he let it slip that they had never slept together. Apparently, they had been heading in that direction on the fateful night in the Kent hotel after the big party, but we all knew what had put paid to that.  I think he realised that he had said too much and he quieted down after that.

 

After walking along one of the park roads for a short time, we veered off onto another forest trail. Under the trees, the air was cooler, but it seemed thicker. It was aromatic and quite sweet smelling. Before too long, we came to what Jon informed me was the north base of the dome. There was a steep path over a rocky surface which led up to the summit of the dome.

 

"We've to go up there?" I asked.

 

Jon nodded. "It's not too far, really."

 

It was fairly strenuous, however, and before long, we were walking in silence. It was not that we had nothing to say to each other, but more that neither of us had the breath with which to speak. The combination of the effort of climbing and the increasing heat from the sun overhead conspired to make me aware of the rivulets of perspiration beginning to form on my brow.

 

"Are we nearly there?" I gasped.

 

Jon paused and chuckled. "How would I know? I've never been here before."

 

I sighed. "Damn it! Just tell me we are nearly there so I can urge my body to keep going."

 

Jon nodded seriously and said, "Yes, then, we are nearly there."

 

"This better be worth it," I muttered.

 

It was.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

As we walked out onto the bald dome, I was almost overcome with the incredible vista that stretched out in every direction as far as the eye could see. Looking down, one could see the valley floor far below with the miniature cars beetling about. The stark face of El Capitan rose majestically from the valley, like an old man presiding over his dominion. Turning round some more I could see Yosemite Falls cascading down one side of the valley.

 

"It's awesome," I murmured with hushed reverence.

 

"Isn't it?" Jon agreed.

 

He directed my gaze to another rocky outcrop. "Look up there."

 

"What's that?" I asked.

 

He grinned. "Half Dome. That's where we're going tomorrow."

 

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Why do I get the impression that today is only the warm up?"

 

He laughed and did not respond. I do not know how long I spent just standing there drinking in the sheer splendour of the magnificent panorama that threatened to overwhelm my senses. Eventually a few protests from tired leg muscles reminded me that I was still standing, so I plopped myself down on the rocky surface and looked out over the world. Jon sat down beside me and I leaned over against him before I realised what I was doing. I almost expected him to move away or get up, but what he did surprised me even more. He put his arm around my shoulders. I looked up at him with surprise. He smiled down at me.

 

"Shush," he whispered, "Just enjoy the moment."

 

I did.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

After a while, we awkwardly disentangled ourselves from each other and found a shady spot for lunch.

 

"Sure you don't want us to do a quick hike over to Half Dome in case that is a better spot to eat?" I quipped.

 

He laughed and shook his head. "I'm not rising to it."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Then I guess I'll have to try harder."

 

It was amazing how mass-produced sandwiches could taste so good simply by eating them in a wonderful setting. It was as if the brilliance of the scenery enhanced their taste. I could not explain it, I simply enjoyed it. The hunger from our exertions might also have had something to do with it.

 

Eventually we decided that we had to tear ourselves away from the glorious view and we began to descend from the dome back to the path. At the bottom of the dome, I was really starting to feel uncomfortable. I scratched and wriggled.

 

"What's wrong with you?" Jon asked.

 

"Nothing," I replied, but within a minute, I was scratching again.

 

"What is it?" he asked again.

 

I stopped and sighed. "If you must know, my bra is cutting into me."

 

"Oh," he said. Then with a cheeky grin he said, "Why don't you take it off then?"

 

I was about to chide him for his impudence, but then I thought about it and shrugged. "Good idea."

 

The look on his face was priceless. "Err… do you want me to turn away."

 

"No need," I said matter-of-factly.

 

I proceeded to reach up inside my blouse and unsnap my bra. Then I quickly pulled one arm inside my blouse and out of the bra strap. I did the same for the other arm and whipped out my bra.

 

"Ahh," I sighed. "Much better."

 

I walked over to Jon who was dumbstruck and I opened his backpack and dropped my bra into it.

 

"How on earth did you do that?" he asked.

 

I laughed and winked. "Secrets of the sisterhood."

 

I turned back to him and casually said, "Oh remind me to get that from your backpack at the end of the day… that is unless you want it as a souvenir."

 

He gasped, "Cara Malone, you are the limit - I'm going to grab you and tickle you…"

 

I squealed and turned to run from him, but I slipped on a rock and felt a sickening pain as I went over on my right ankle. "Ow," I moaned as I fell to the ground.

 

"What's wrong?" Jon asked, having suddenly switched from jocularity to concern.

 

"It's my ankle. I went over on it." I grimaced with the pain.

 

"Here, let me see." He bent down and carefully began to take my boot off.

 

"Be gentle," I warned as I gritted my teeth.

 

He slipped the boot off and gingerly felt around my ankle. "Can you move it?"

 

I nodded and moved it up and down while wincing. He gently squeezed over the ligaments and I gasped, "Ow, ow!"

 

"Sorry," he apologised. "I think it's just sprained, but we'd better get your boot back on before it swells up too much."

 

Getting the boot off had been a cinch compared to the pain of getting it back on. At last, it was in place and loosely laced up.

 

"Here, take my hand," Jon said as he helped me up.

 

I tested my weight on it and winced again. "Damn, damn!" I said with frustration.

 

"Cara, I'm really sorry…"

 

"It's not your fault, Jon. It's just one of those things."

 

"Can you walk on it?"

 

I paused and looked at him. "I'm going to have to, aren't I? There are a few miles between us and the car."

 

"Come here, let me help you."

 

"I'm OK," I protested.

 

"No you're not," he said gently and walked over to me. "Come on, put your right arm around my neck and I'll help you."

 

I nodded with resignation and did as he instructed. I felt his arm slide around my waist.

 

He looked down at me and grinned. "Ready, quick march!"

 

I grinned despite myself. However, the marching was anything but quick. My ankle was really throbbing and it was like getting an electric shock each time I put it to the ground. I found myself leaning more and more on Jon. Inwardly I mused that Jools would have a good laugh at this. She would think I had done it on purpose just to get close to Jon. She would actually be disappointed that she had not thought to suggest such an idea.

 

"You OK?" Jon asked.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I hope I'm not putting a strain on you?"

 

"Not at all. Do you want to stop for a quick break?"

 

Our progress was slow and stilted with frequent stops for a rest. Several hikers were overtaking us and each group stopped to check if we were alright. It became a bit tedious to have to thank each of them for their concern and assure them that we would manage. To pass the time, Jon and I invented crazy responses we dared each other to give to the next group that asked.

 

Jon winked. "I'm sorry, but my girlfriend was giving me cheek, so I wrestled her to the ground and wrenched her ankle to teach her a lesson."

 

I gasped and hit him gently on the arm. However, the feeling I got inside me when he called me his girlfriend made me feel like a silly teenager. I mean, I knew he was only jesting.

 

I sighed. "Yes, I twisted my ankle when I landed a roundhouse kick to my boyfriend's stomach when he suggested I take off my bra."

 

Jon guffawed. "I dare you to say that to the next one that asks."

 

"You're on," I said gamely.

 

He looked at me uncertainly. "Err… you won't, will you?"

 

I laughed and winked.

 

He sighed. "Darn, you get me every time."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We made pitifully slow progress and the light was beginning to fade. We had not seen another hiker during the last hour and we were both getting more tired.  We took another break.

 

"I can't go on," I sighed. "I'm bushed."

 

"Come on," he said gently, "We're nearly there. In about a hundred yards, we come to the bottom of the path that leads up to the road and then we are basically there."

 

I got to my feet and put my foot to the ground and, this time, it gave way. I fell to the ground and cried with frustration.

 

"Hey, hey, take it easy," he said, instantly at my side.

 

"I can't do it, Jon."

 

"C'mere," he said tenderly and scooped me up into his arms.

 

"Jon, you can't carry me," I protested.

 

"Course, I can. You're as light as a feather."

 

"Liar," I accused.

 

"It's not far, I'll manage," he assured me.

 

I was too tired to argue, so I slipped my arms around his neck and laid my head on his shoulder. Despite my tiredness and discomfort, the closeness and the physical contact gave me butterflies in my stomach. I glanced up at Jon and suddenly noticed that he was looking down the inside of my blouse. I cast my eyes down and realised that, with my bra off, and with the position I was in, he had a front row view of my breasts. I was about to shift position or distract him, when I inwardly shrugged and settled my head down again onto his shoulder. Let him look.

 

At last, we saw our car appear out of the twilight gloom. Jon gingerly stood me on my feet and opened my door. Without warning, he lifted me up again and set me down onto the seat. He got in and, looking weary, started the car for the drive down to the valley.

 

"I'm sorry, Jon."

 

"What for?"

 

"For spoiling our day."

 

"Rubbish," he said softly as he smiled over at me, "I can't remember when I last had such fun."

 

I looked at him and, seeing the twinkle in his eye, began to laugh. He joined in before long.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

When we pulled up outside The Ahwahnee, I murmured with approval. It was a large granite building with wooden balconies jutting out from the large windows arrayed around its circumference. Jon jumped out and said he would be back for me in a moment. He took our bags in and then came back out to help me. He lifted me out of my seat and I tried to complain that I could walk, but he would not hear of it. He carried me into the lobby and set me down on a seat.

 

"Thanks," I murmured gratefully. My ankle was really throbbing with a vengeance now.

 

He went over to the reception desk. After a while, I realised that there must be something wrong. Jon was having an involved discussion with the clerk and did not look too happy. His shoulders fell and he turned round and walked over.

 

"What's wrong?" I asked.

 

He sighed. "Apparently, they have this rule about late check in. If you don't arrive before eight p.m., they will give your room away."

 

"They gave our rooms away?" I asked with a mixture of incredulity and despair.

 

He shook his head. "Not quite. They gave one of our rooms away just before we arrived. The clerk says there are no rooms in the lodge across the valley either. He checked for me." He rubbed his eyes, "Look, let's get you into your room, I'll sleep in the car or something."

 

"Don't be stupid. Look, knowing American hotels, I bet there are two large beds in the room, no?"

 

He nodded. "Apparently there are."

 

I shrugged. "Well, we're both adults. We'll just have to share the room. Unless that thought repulses you."

 

He gave me a tired grin. "You sure?"

 

"Definitely!"

 

He chuckled. "Fair enough. By the way, you should have seen the look the guy gave me when I said we needed two rooms. He looked over at you and then back to me as if I was crazy."

 

He went back over to the clerk and filled out the forms. A bellboy appeared to take our bags up and Jon told him to go on ahead as we would be taking our time. He came back over to me and helped me limp to the lift. We got out on the second floor and my ankle almost gave way on me again.

 

Jon grinned. "Right, no more messing about." He picked me up again and carried me to our door.

 

"Bet you can't get the door open without dropping me," I said in a teasing tone.

 

He looked at me and inclined his head. "Watch me."

 

He jiggled me onto one of his knees and reached out with the key card. He slotted it in, took hold of me again and tried to open the door with his knee, but the light flashed red again. I sniggered. He tried again and this time he was fast enough. He kicked the door wide open and was carrying me in, when an elderly couple came out of the room opposite and noticed our precarious position.

 

They chuckled and I could hear them whisper, "Newlyweds."

 

Jon kicked the door closed behind us and landed me unceremoniously on one of the beds. I lay back and laughed out loud.

 

"Did you hear what that old couple said?" I gasped.

 

He laughed and nodded. "Gah, I feel so embarrassed."

 

"My hero," I said in a syrupy voice.

 

He shook his head and grinned. "Now, to business."

 

"Getting cleaned up?" I asked.

 

He stopped and looked at me. "Err… no. I was thinking more of getting some room service up here. I'm famished."

 

"But we're all sticky and dirty," I whined.

 

He laughed. "Didn't seem to be a problem when you were clinging to me earlier. Can't be that much of a turn off. You're pretty grimy yourself, you know."

 

I inclined my head. "Is that so? Well it can't be that much of a turn off since you were happy enough to look down the front of my blouse."

 

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He reddened and then laughed. He murmured, "Sorry. I didn't think you'd noticed." He shrugged. "Old habits die hard."

 

I smiled. "OK, go on with you. Let's get some food then. I'm pretty hungry too."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We both felt better after tucking into flame-grilled burgers and fries. Jon had fetched a bucket of ice from the ice-maker down the hall and had applied some to my swollen ankle. Getting the boot off had been agonising. The ice was helping to dull the pain.

 

"You can have the bathroom first," Jon said magnanimously.

 

I shook my head. "You go first."

 

"No seriously, Cara, you go."

 

I sighed. "Think about it. I presume you're going to have a quick shower, maybe a shave and be out in less than ten minutes, no?" The look on his face confirmed my thinking. "Whereas, I am planning a long soak in the bath and then I'm going to wash my hair and so on. It's going to take me a heck of a lot longer than ten minutes. Do you really want to wait for me to do all that?"

 

He grinned and needed no more encouragement. He headed for the bathroom, "Thanks, Cara. I'll be out before you know it."

 

True enough, it was no more than ten minutes before he exited in a clean T-shirt and boxer shorts.

 

"Want me to help you?" he offered.

 

I took his hand and he helped me walk to the bathroom. "Mmm," I commented, "someone smells nice."

 

He chuckled. "Well, let me tell you, it isn't you."

 

"Jon!" I gasped.

 

He led me into the bathroom and then stood at the door. "Do you need any more help?" he asked with a sly wink.

 

I threw the facecloth at him, but it hit the back of the door as he pulled it closed behind him making a hasty exit.

 

I smirked to myself. It had been quite a day. Although spraining my ankle had not been part of the plan, it had certainly made things more interesting. I luxuriated in a steamy bath and felt my aches begin to settle. It was joyous to feel clean again. I washed my hair and dried it before taking care to brush it out so that it shone. Having spritzed myself with perfume, I pulled on my nightie. It was a short satin chemise with thin spaghetti straps. I looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly felt embarrassed that I was going to have to walk out into the bedroom like that. I shrugged and smiled at myself before turning to leave the bathroom.

 

I hobbled out into the bedroom where Jon was watching TV. On seeing me, he snapped the TV off and jumped to his feet. He walked to my side and took my arm.

 

"Need some help?" he asked.

 

I nodded. "Jon, sorry, this is all I had to wear."

 

He looked down at me and gave me a little smile. "Don't apologise, you look… great." He grinned, "You smell pretty awesome too."

 

I looked up at him with a half-smile on my face and self-consciously pushed a few strands of hair back from my face. His face took on a strange serious look and he reached up to brush the hair back from my face. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes.

 

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, Cara?" he murmured softly.

 

My mouth opened, but I had no idea what to say. I just smiled and blinked repeatedly. I was going to say something, but he leant forward and his lips brushed gently against mine. I felt as if I had received an electric shock and it was as if his touch had suddenly heightened all my senses to maximum awareness. I looked up at him and had no idea what to do or say. I could feel my heart pounding within me and I was glad he was holding me or I feared I might fall to the floor.

 

He stroked my cheek gently. "May I kiss you?" he asked.

 

I smiled nervously. "I thought you just did."

 

"That wasn't a real kiss…"

 

"Then you'd better show me what a real kiss is," I said, my voice suddenly sounding husky.

 

He looked at me briefly for a moment and then pulled me to himself. He cupped my face in his hands and lowered his lips to mine again. He pressed them gently against mine, but this time he did not remove them. My eyes closed automatically and I slid my shaking hands around his waist. His lips pressed against mine with more force now as he lowered his hands to pull my body closer to his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and our kissing became more urgent. We broke for a moment and both of us were breathing hard and fast. He lifted my chin again and with a burning intensity in his eyes, kissed me passionately. I allowed my lips to open, and had he not been holding me tightly, I knew I would have fallen when I felt the sensation of his tongue probing my mouth. I had kissed a man before, but when Paul had kissed me, I now realised that I really had not felt anything compared to what I was experiencing at that moment. I felt as if my whole body was on fire and my skin felt exquisitely sensitive.

 

We broke for air again and this time, Jon sat down on the bed and pulled me down onto his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lowered my face to his. He kissed me hungrily and I began to lose track of time. When I felt his hand gently brush against my breast through the flimsy material of my chemise, I thought that I was going to stop breathing. He kissed my face and then planted gentle kisses along my neck.

 

"Oh, Jon," I moaned.

 

He paused and looked at me. I suddenly became aware of a pressure beneath me. I realised that Jon was aroused and that was what I was feeling. I was quite shocked and raised an eyebrow.

 

"Wow," I said as a smile formed on my lips. "Somebody's excited."

 

He looked at me and his expression suddenly clouded. He swallowed and shook his head.

 

"Cara… I…" he shook his head again and closed his eyes.

 

He gently lifted me to my feet and stood up beside me. "Cara, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me…"

 

"Don't be sorry," I said with a feeling of dread within me.

 

He shook his head more firmly. "No, I'm sorry. This isn't right. I shouldn't have…"

 

"What's not right about it?" I asked, my voice rising in intensity.

 

"We shouldn't… you and I… you know that. I lost control… I'm sorry," he said looking increasingly uncomfortable.

 

"Why shouldn't we?" I demanded.

 

"You know why not," he said, his voice also getting louder.

 

"Well why don't you tell me," I said. I put my hands on my hips, "Because a minute ago, you didn't seem to have a problem."

 

"You and I… we can't do this," he said intensely.

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because…"

 

"Because what, Jon?"

 

"Because, you're not… a woman."

 

My eyes widened and I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach. "Well if I'm not a woman, what the hell am I?" I shouted.

 

"I don't know," he said forcefully.

 

"What do you mean you don't know? What do you think I am, Jon? What do you think?"

 

"I don't know," he shouted back, "I don't know…

 

"How can you not know?" I shouted.

 

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head and said in a hoarse whisper, "I just don't know. What are you? What do you want me to say? Some kind of freak…"

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he stopped and he raised his hand to his mouth. All anger left his face and he bit his lip. If he had slapped me across the face, I would not have been as shocked as I was then.

 

"What did you say?" I hissed.

 

"Cara, I'm sorry," he said in a low voice as he slowly advanced towards me, "I didn't mean to…"

 

"Get away from me," I said raising my hands in front of myself.

 

"Cara, I didn't mean…"

 

"Get away!" I shouted as I felt the moisture begin to trickle down my cheeks. "Get away, get away," I repeated in between sobs.

 

He was pale and looked almost fearful. "OK, OK," he said in a placating voice as he slowly backed away.

 

I turned and hobbled into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. I sat on the toilet and buried my face in my hands. I could not hold myself back any longer and I sobbed aloud. I knew he could probably hear me, but I did not care. I could no longer feel any pain from my ankle, so great was the pain I was feeling inside. I had been thrown from the heights of intense pleasure to utter rejection. With all the pent up emotion of the day added to this, I felt as if I was going to break down completely. I have no idea how long I spent in the bathroom, but when I eventually made my way back into the bedroom, it was in darkness.

 

I climbed into my bed and, turning my back to the rest of the room, pulled the bedclothes up around my neck. I could hear Jon's breathing and rustling from his bed. I knew he was still awake, but I could not stop myself from crying into the pillow as I lay there.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 35

 

 

I woke just after six the next morning. For a moment, I lay in that netherworld between slumber and consciousness where one seems to drift seamlessly backwards and forwards between the two states. Gradually, my mind began to pull me into the land of the living. As I realised where I was, the memories of the previous day assaulted me and I felt something akin to a deep pain within myself. With a degree of shame, I saw the outline of the now dried moisture on my pillow. I took a deep breath, lifted my head and looked over to the other bed. There was a sheet-covered outline that was not moving save for the gentle undulations of respiration. I quietly slid my feet over the side of the bed and as I put them to the ground, I winced as my ankle reminded me that it was still feeling the worse for wear from the previous day's activities.

 

After grabbing some clothes from my case, I limped my way into the bathroom and gently closed the door behind me. When I turned on the light and looked at myself in the mirror, I appeared to be shocked. I was not sure whether it was because of the bright light flooding onto my retinas or the ghastly appearance I presented. I quickly washed and made myself more presentable. I could not even bring myself to think about make-up. I brushed my hair and pulled on my T-shirt and jeans.

 

There was still no evidence of wakefulness from the other side of the bedroom when I crept out of the bathroom. I was quite glad of this, as I needed some time to think. Most of my footwear was ruled out as my ankle was still swollen. I had a pair of slip-on sandals that were the best option. I grabbed my handbag and key card for the room before I quietly opened the door and slipped out.

 

The air outside was not quite cold, but there was a coolness that I found refreshing. The sun was creeping up over the mountains and spilling its meagre warmth over the valley as a foretaste of the searing assault it was planning for later. As my ankle was complaining, I did not walk far. I found an empty seat on the east side of the hotel from where I had a magnificent view. The valley was peaceful and gloriously devoid of any living beings. It was as if this sanctuary of nature was enjoying its brief respite from the unremitting human invasion of its natural glory. I leaned back on the seat and tried to sort out the maelstrom of emotions that were ravaging me. I did some hard thinking and realised that there was probably only one path open to me. I knew that there had to be some form of resolution if things were to move forward from that point.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I made my way into the restaurant and spotted Jon sitting at a table by himself. I limped towards him and he jumped up as if to come to my assistance. He hesitated and did not seem sure what to do. By the time he might have decided, I was already at the table.

 

"Cara, are you OK?" he asked tentatively. "When I woke up and you were gone… I didn't know where you were…"

 

I sat down and shrugged. "I'm OK. I was just getting some fresh air."

 

We sat in silence for a moment. I'm sure I looked equally as uncomfortable as he appeared to me. I steeled myself and took a deep breath. As it happened, we both started to speak at the same time and then both stopped.

 

"You first," I said.

 

He shook his head and spoke gently, "No, you go first."

 

I nodded and paused as I gathered my thoughts. "Jon, about last night… about yesterday - things got out of hand. I think we both lost our perspective. I don't know, maybe it was the heat, the exhaustion… we just weren't thinking… I know I wasn't." I tried to keep my expression as neutral as possible as I uttered these words that were anathema to what my heart was screaming at me. "We both said and did things that we regret and I think the best thing is for us to forget about it and let things get back to normal." I watched him closely as I spoke. A small part of me was hoping he would disagree and refuse to leave it at that. I found his expression strangely unreadable.

 

He nodded slowly. "If you're sure…?"

 

I nodded quickly and my words betrayed my heart again, "Of course I am. Now what were you going to say?"

 

He shrugged and gave a small smile. "Pretty much the same."

 

"You sure?"

 

He nodded again. "Yes, but I want to say that I'm sorry for… what I said… at the end… of it all. It was inexcusable."

 

I waved a hand. "Forget it. Let's put it all down to experience."

 

He regarded me solemnly and, after a pause, tried to force a smile. "OK, do you want some breakfast?"

 

We ordered and, when the food came, we ate in an awkward silence punctuated by the occasional nondescript comment from one or the other of us. The free abandon with which we had shared and communicated the previous day was long gone.

 

"Jon, I think we should head back to Malibu today."

 

He screwed up his face. "Do you think so?"

 

I nodded. "I mean, my ankle is still really sore and I'm not fit for anything at the moment." I paused before continuing, "But if you want to walk up to Half Dome, feel free. I'm sure I can pass the time here rightly."

 

He shook his head and murmured, "No, it wouldn't be the same."

 

A sad voice inside me wondered if it would ever be the same again and I felt something like grief. I told myself to get my act together: you can't grieve for something you never really had. I knew I did not believe this for one minute.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The car sped along the near-deserted highway in silence, save for the rushing of the wind. With the top down, it was as if the need to shout to make yourself heard was giving us the excuse for saying nothing. I am sure I must have looked like a real sourpuss as I fixed my gaze on the road ahead, but I did not have the capability to completely detach myself from my emotions. The effort required to stop myself from breaking down and crying again was almost as exhausting as the previous day's physical activity. We stopped only briefly for lunch and were back at the Malibu Beach Inn by mid-afternoon. When we checked in again, we were informed that the rest of our group had hired a people carrier and left early that morning for a drive up the coast. They were not expected back until nightfall. I was actually quite relieved, as I did not feel up to facing them at that point.

 

I retreated to the sanctuary of my suite and, to my shame, began to cry uncontrollably. I sat on the floor beside my bed and wept as the pain of the previous night reared its ugly head again. Although Jon's words had cut me deeply, as did his rejection, I think it was compounded by the sheer joy and pleasure that I had felt only moments prior to things coming to such a bitter end. I had felt such a perfect connection with him that I could not believe he could turn his back on me in that way. As I thought about it, I realised that he was a man and was probably only acting on instinct. He had been in an intimate situation with someone his senses perceived to be a pretty and impassioned woman and he had done what most males would do: act first, think later. This was almost harder to bear as I concluded that he had merely enjoyed a bit of physical gratification whereas I had seen it as the emotional culmination of what I now admitted had been growing within me for several months. As the tears began to subside and the scorching emotional fire raging within me dulled to a smouldering ember, I crawled up onto my bed and lay there feeling empty and drained.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

When I woke again, the room was in darkness and a glance at my bedside clock informed me that I had been asleep for over five hours. I sat up and felt a strange calmness within me. The pain had not departed, but I knew it would eventually fade. Not that day, or the next, but in time it would decrease. Like gold that has been refined in the searing heat of a cauldron, my intense emotions had left me with clarity of thought and perception that found me grabbing for a pen and paper. When I write songs, it is rare that the full lyrics come before any hint of the music or melody. With a strange feeling approaching detachment, I wrote line after line. After an occasional scribble and correction here and there, I was left with what I knew was a powerful lyric.  I read through the words on the page in front of me and heard the melody in my mind. I had to get to a piano and let this song out. It was as if I had to bleed myself of a poison, as if letting this out would allow the healing process to begin. From past experience, I knew that this was probably true to a degree.

 

I washed my face and brushed my hair again before heading down to the reception desk. Apparently there was a piano in the back of the main restaurant. Although the duty manager, Kyle, seemed initially reluctant to let me use it, I think something of the desperation in my manner got through to him. Perhaps the smiling and eyelid fluttering that I shamelessly engaged in also had something to do with it. As the restaurant was now closing, Kyle reasoned that, although it was highly irregular, an exception could be made in my case.

 

I sat down at the piano and set my scribbled notes on the music stand. The restaurant was empty of diners and a few tired looking staff were finishing the settings for breakfast. I tentatively played a few chords and hummed to myself. I tweaked and twiddled until I was satisfied with what I was hearing. I nearly jumped when one of the staff tapped me on the shoulder.

 

"Sorry ma'am, it's just that we're all done here. Can you let the front desk know when you are finished and they can close up?"

 

I smiled and thanked her. The restaurant was in semi-darkness and, being left alone, I now sang and played the song for the first time. I played and sang it through several more times after that. At one point, I thought I heard someone in the room so I stopped and looked around. There was no one there, but I saw the door vibrate a little as if it had just swung closed. I shrugged and went back to my playing. I am not sure what shocked me more: the raw emotion that I felt while singing it or the realisation that this was possibly the best song that I had ever written, in my opinion at least. I continued to experiment with some of the chord structures and I worked on the piano solo.

 

When I felt another tap on my shoulder, I did actually jump. I had been so caught up with the music that I had been oblivious to the rest of the world. I turned and then, on seeing who it was, grinned.

 

"Hi, Jools, you scared me. How long have you been there?"

 

"Hi, Cara," she said with a smile. "I've just arrived. What on earth are you doing here? Reception told me you were in here."

 

I shrugged. "I'm writing a song."

 

She shook her head. "No, I meant what are you doing back at the hotel? We weren't expecting you and Jon back until tomorrow."

 

I nodded and grimaced. I did not quite know what to say so I went for the simple explanation. "I sprained my ankle yesterday when we were walking. I can barely walk on it, so we decided to come back today." I extended my leg so she could witness the physical evidence.

 

She noted my swollen bruised ankle, but did not look totally convinced. She did not push it any further at that point. Changing the subject, she said brightly, "Can I hear it?"

 

"Mmm?"

 

"Your new song?"

 

"Ah, right." I hesitated and then said, "Maybe tomorrow? I'm shattered and could do with getting to bed."

 

"Oh go on," she urged. "Let me hear it."

 

I smiled uncertainly and said in a low voice, "OK, you asked for it."

 

I began to play…

 

"Chasing the sun as it sets on the horizon,

Turning away from what I rest my eyes on

Running so fast as I feel the wind behind me

Don't get too close as I will not take it kindly,

 

At first I couldn't see

What was happening to me

Surrounded myself with lies

But now I realise...

 

That I've forgotten how to love

Forgotten how to feel

No laugh, no cry,

Don't know how or why

I shrug, I sigh

Just cold and dry

As if it's no big deal,

That I, I've forgotten how to love.

 

Living my life was such a fulltime business

Became my excuse for my own hard-heartedness

Although you're there, it's as if you are invisible

Your tender words to me, incomprehensible

 

And now I understand

That while my life seemed grand

Force the smile, standing tall,

But underneath it all...

 

See I've forgotten how to love

Forgotten how to hope

No laugh, no cry,

Don't know how or why

I shrug, I sigh

Just cold and dry

All I do is try and cope,

Cos I, I've forgotten how to love."

 

My fingers roamed over the ivories as I picked out the discordant notes of the piano solo. I closed my eyes and gave my hands free reign in their atonal search for fulfilment.

 

"But suddenly it's as if my outer façade cracks

I can't run, I can't deny, I have to face the facts

Life without the heart is not the life that I desire

Can you fan the smoke and restart my inner fire?

 

Having pushed you away,

I'm asking you to stay

Hear my desperate pleas

I'm begging on my knees...

 

Oh teach me how to love

Unleash your wondrous charms

Want to laugh and cry,

To soar and fly

Up onto Cloud Nine

And know you're mine

Hold me in your arms,

For I, I'm remembering how to love."

 

As the echoes of the final chord faded, I sat for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning to face Jools. I do not quite know how to describe her expression. It was something between astonishment and wonder.

 

"Well?" I asked tentatively. "What do you think?"

 

She looked at me almost blankly for a moment before shaking her head. "What do I think?" She half-laughed. "It's bloody amazing!" She paused again, "I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

 

I permitted myself a little smile. "I know the feeling. So you like it then?"

 

She nodded vigorously, "Too right I do. However, we now have a few problems."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Problems?"

 

She grinned and counted off on her fingers. "Number one: we have to make sure that Sony haven't begun the production run of your album yet as you have to get into the studio and record that. It has to go onto the album. Number two…" she hesitated and said in a more gentle tone, "You need to tell me what the hell happened."

 

I shrugged and pretended ignorance. "Happened? What do you mean?"

 

She sat down beside me on the wide piano stool and put an arm around my shoulders. "Come on, this is me. I know you better than anyone. You don't write songs in the abstract. They come from within you. For a song like this to suddenly appear, something pretty drastic must have happened."

 

I stared at the keys on the piano for what seemed like a long time before trying to reply, "Jools, I don't know if I can talk about it."

 

She just sat there in silence and squeezed my shoulder. She knew me very well and I'm sure she had a fair idea that if she didn't push me, I would start talking. She was right. I told her about the trip. I'm sure my eyes were shining brightly as I recounted the details of the hike.

 

"You did what?" she exclaimed when I told her about taking my bra off.

 

I laughed and confirmed my boldness before going on with the tale. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when I told her about Jon looking down the front of my blouse. She was hanging on my every word as I filled her in on the events in the bedroom up to the point where Jon brushed my hair back from my face.

 

"What happened next?" she asked breathlessly.

 

With a wistful smile, I softly replied, "He kissed me. I mean, really kissed me..."

 

"He did?" she exclaimed again. She sensed my reticence. "Did you not… enjoy it?"

 

I looked at her and spoke from the heart. "I loved it, Jools, I really did. I've never felt anything like it. Sorry, I know we… you and I… well…"

 

She waved a hand impatiently, "Oh forget about that. That was years ago. So what's wrong? What happened?"

 

I closed my eyes as I told her about the fateful exchange that had followed. She squeezed my shoulder tightly as I hesitantly continued. I screwed my eyes shut, but still some tears managed to escape.

 

"He called you a freak?" she asked incredulously.

 

I shrugged. "Well, sort of."

 

"Bastard!" she spat as she jumped to her feet and stormed towards the door.

 

I turned round and urgently called after her, "Where are you going?"

 

She whirled around with anger burning in her eyes. "I'm going to tear that git a new asshole. I'll be back soon."

 

"Jools, no!" I called, but she continued to head for the door.

 

"JOOLS! PLEASE DON'T!" I shouted, the anguish evident in my voice.

 

She stopped and slowly turned. She shook her head and slowly walked back towards me. "Cara, he can't be allowed to just forget this."

 

I shook my head and wiped my eyes. "Jools, that is exactly what has to happen."

 

She sat down beside me again. "What are you talking about?"

 

I told her about the conversation that I'd had with Jon over the breakfast table that morning. I could see that she was still seething and I tried to make her see things from my perspective.

 

"Jools, I had to make it seem like it was just a misunderstanding. We have to be able to look each other in the eye; we have to work together. I just made like it was something that got blown out of all proportion…"

 

"Bullshit!" she said with feeling.

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

 

I swallowed and closed my eyes again. "Jools, please…"

 

"Well? Aren't you?"

 

It was like pulling the scab from a recently healed wound, but I opened my eyes, looked at her and, with the pain evident in my voice, softly said, "Yes, I am."

 

She bristled again. "Well, you can't just leave it like this."

 

"What else can I do?"

 

"I don't know." She stood again and paced up and down. "We have to do something."

 

I shook my head and in a tired voice said, "Jools, there are things that even you can't fix."

 

She frowned. "You have to tell him how you feel."

 

I shook my head again. "No way."

 

"But perhaps he feels the same way; maybe he just made a mistake…"

 

"Jools, no," I interrupted. "He doesn't feel the same way. He got carried away. You should have seen the look on his face when he realised what he was doing." I looked away and swallowed again. "It was almost like disgust."

 

"Bastard!" she exclaimed with frustration. "I swear I feel like killing him."

 

"You won't say anything, will you?" I asked with concern.

 

She bit her lip and thought for a moment.

 

When she didn't answer, I pushed her. "I mean it, Jools. Under no circumstances are you to breathe a word of this conversation to anyone. Promise me?"

 

She blinked hard a few times and then nodded. She scowled and then said, "Yes, OK."

 

"You promise?"

 

"Damn it! I said, 'Yes'." She winced and sighed. "Cara, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you." She walked over and hugged me. "What are we going to do?"

 

I forced a smile. "We're going to go to my suite, raid the mini-bar and get horribly drunk."

 

She looked shocked. "But you barely drink?"

 

I shrugged. "I think the occasion calls for it."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The evil maniac was drilling into my head and laughing with a frenzied cackle. I couldn't understand why he was torturing me so. His evil twin was hammering the other side of my skull and laughing equally as maniacally. I begged for them to stop yet still the hammering and drilling continued.

 

Eventually I realised that the sound was not coming from the hammer or drill, but rather was from the forceful knocking on my door. I rolled over and rubbed my eyes. I sat up and got to my feet. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm me and I stood still for a moment to let it pass. I staggered to the door and opened it a fraction.

 

"Are you OK?" asked a concerned-looking Laura.

 

I let the door swing open and, without answering, turned and staggered back across the room. I flopped down on the bed and groaned. Laura followed me in and closed the door behind her.

 

"We were all wondering where you and Jools were. It's lunchtime and no one had seen either of you today. I've just been to Jools' room and figured you might be in a similar sorry state."

 

I just lay there face down on the bed and felt like dying. I couldn't muster enough energy to even reply.

 

"Rough night, eh?" Laura said sympathetically. "Come on, let's get you up. You'll feel better after a shower and something to eat."

 

I murmured something unintelligible into the pillow.

 

"What did you say?" Laura asked.

 

I rolled over a little. "I said, 'Sod off'."

 

She looked shocked. "Come on, Cara. I'm just trying to help."

 

I sighed and slowly sat up. I covered my eyes as she had opened the curtains. "I'm sorry. I just feel like crap and the thought of eating makes me want to spew… again."

 

My eyes tracked towards the bathroom and she followed my gaze. She looked at me questioningly. I gave a mirthless laugh. "Believe me, you don't even want to think about going in there." I sighed, "Just let me sleep."

 

She shook her head and gently said. "Come on, you need to drink something at least."

 

I raised an eyebrow, "That's what got me into this problem and I think you'll find that we were so thorough that there's nothing left in the mini-bar."

 

Laura went to check and then laughed. "I think you missed something."

 

I looked up with irritation and she held up a bottle of mineral water. I shrugged. "Big deal."

 

She took a cup and put some ice in it before filling it with the water. She sat down beside me. "Drink this, please. It will make you feel better… eventually. You're probably dehydrated."

 

I sighed and took the cup and slowly drank it. My stomach recoiled from the invasion of the space which it had declared as a no go area. I swallowed hard as I felt the bile rising, but I had to run to the bathroom as the inevitable ensued yet again. When I exited and again collapsed on the bed, Laura's eyes narrowed.

 

"What on earth were you and Jools doing last night?"

 

I shrugged and didn't answer.

 

"What happened, Cara?" I remained silent and she continued hesitantly, "Was it something between you and Jon?"

 

I frowned and looked at her. "I don't want to talk about it."

 

"What could have happened that would lead you to…"

 

"I said that I didn't want to talk about it," I said bitterly.

 

"OK, OK," she said raising her hands defensively. "Maybe, you'd better rest."

 

"That's what I've been trying to say all along," I said with the irony in my voice thinly veiled.

 

"I'll check on you later, OK?" she said as she headed for the door.

 

I waved a hand vaguely at her as I lay down again. "Whatever."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I slept fitfully for most of the afternoon and eventually felt capable of rising from my bed around five. I had let the maid in earlier and had apologised for the state of the bathroom. Thankfully though, she had cleaned it up and it smelt fresh. Without looking in the mirror, I headed straight for the shower and I have no idea how long I stood there under the steaming jets. I let the water drill into my body, but it was a long time before I felt clean.

 

After drying and brushing my hair, I plucked up the courage to look in the mirror. I dread to think what I would have looked like before the shower, as the reflection that scowled back at me was none too pleasing. I was pale and my eyes were bloodshot with lovely black bags under them. Although I could not have felt less like it, I took the time to put on some make up to cover the damage. The end result, whilst not fantastic, was satisfactory. I put on a black blouse and white cotton trousers before exiting my room.

 

I headed for Jools' room as she was about the only person I could think of facing just then. I knocked on the door and was rewarded with a muffled, "Go away."

 

"It's me, Cara," I said loudly.

 

After a moment in which I thought she was just going to ignore me, the door opened. After checking that it was me and that I was alone, I was permitted to enter. Jools was wearing a towelling bathrobe and looked like she had just got up.

 

She rubbed her eyes and regarded me. "You don't look so good."

 

I smiled sardonically as I looked back at her. "It feels like I'm looking into a mirror."

 

We stood and frowned at each other before the smiles took over. Jools fell back on her bed and groaned, "That's the last time I let you talk me into a bender like that."

 

"Talk you into it?" I exclaimed. "I don't remember having to twist your arm."

 

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "You had a rough day?"

 

I nodded. "I've had better. You?"

 

She rolled over and grimaced. "I've been as sick as a dog."

 

I winced as my stomach resonated with the sentiment. "Yeah, me too."

 

Jools laughed hollowly and said with irony, "Take it from me, Cara, no man is worth this. You hear me?"

 

I laughed softly. "I hear you."

 

I must not have sounded too convincing as she raised an eyebrow. "I mean it."

 

I changed the subject. "Are you going to wallow in your filth here all day?"

 

"There isn't much of the day left," she retorted. She yawned and rubbed her eyes again. "No, you're right. I need to get my act together. Will you wait while I clean up?"

 

She spent half an hour in the bathroom and I watched TV, but took little of it in. When she reappeared, there was a marked improvement. Like me though, she was far from looking her best.

 

"We need to eat," Jools said with a frown.

 

"I know," I said with an equal lack of enthusiasm.

 

"What time are the others eating at?"

 

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. I was sort of thinking that maybe the two of us could get some room service sent up."

 

Jools shook her head. "No, we need to show our faces. I'm sure they all have a fair idea of what happened to us. You need to face the world again too."

 

I knew that by 'the world' she meant Jon. She was right, again. Damn her! I sighed. "You're probably right."

 

Jools rang the restaurant to see what time the others had booked in for. It seemed that we had no time to spare.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I felt very self-conscious as we entered the restaurant and headed towards the others. A waiter appeared and added two more place settings to the table.

 

"Glad you could join us…oomph!" Brian said, before Laura's elbow reached his solar plexus.

 

Jools and I sat beside Rachel and Laura respectively. It seemed that all eyes were on us.

 

Jools sighed theatrically and said, "Alright, so we had a booze up and got merrily plastered. And yes, we spent most of the day paying for it. Big deal!"

 

Her bravado earned her a few laughs and managed to defuse the situation. A low buzz of conversation started around the table and we caught up with what the others had been doing. I heard about the coastal drive they had all taken the previous day. It sounded magnificent and I made a mental note to add it to the list of things I must do before I die. One of which at that moment was to place some food in my stomach and keep it there for the entire evening.

 

Actually, once I started eating and got over the initial phobia, I realised that I was very hungry. When I thought about it, I had not eaten anything much since Jon and I had stopped for lunch the previous day. Even then, I had not had much of an appetite. At one point during the meal, I looked up and realised that Jon was looking at me. I immediately looked away and knew that it was very obvious that I felt awkward, but what could I do?

 

We relaxed and chatted over coffees after dinner. Peter and Rachel had slunk away for a romantic rendezvous, no doubt. I could not help but feel an irrational envy as I watched them leave hand-in-hand. Kevin had placed himself at the bar and was, thus far unsuccessfully, trying to engage an attractive blonde in conversation. Jools had cornered Simon and was talking intently to him about something or other. Brian got up from where he was sitting beside Jon and lumbered over to us.

 

"Fancy some fresh air?" he said with a wink to Laura.

 

I felt an inner panic that she would get up and go with him. That would leave Jon and me sitting there by ourselves. I knew I had to deal with this situation, but I felt ill equipped for it at that moment.

 

Laura shook her head. "Not just now, Brian."

 

He frowned. "Huh? What's wrong?"

 

She sighed. "I'm talking to Cara, OK?"

 

He got the message, but probably did not understand why he was getting it. He went and sat down again beside Jon.

 

Laura turned to me and rolled her eyes. "Men!" she murmured.

 

"Thanks," I replied softly.

 

She shrugged. "No problem. I know something has happened and I know you don't want to talk about it, but I'm here for you anyway."

 

I squeezed her arm and smiled. "You're a good friend, Laura. I'm sorry for being rude earlier."

 

She smiled and hugged me. "Don't worry about it."

 

I chewed my lip. "Erm… do you know if Jon has said anything about… our trip?"

 

She shook her head. "Brian asked him about it. We both suspected that something had happened. He wouldn't say a word about it though."

 

I nodded and felt somewhat reassured. Before I could say anything else, Jools looked over and called to me, "Cara, come over here for a minute, would you?"

 

I walked over and took a seat beside her and Simon. "What's up?"

 

Jools grinned. "I'm just telling Simon that we need to add another song to the album."

 

From the look on Simon's face, it was clear that this was the first that he had heard of it. "What?" he spluttered. "You're kidding. It's going into production... well very soon… if not already."

 

Jools smiled and patiently said, "Well, stop it then. Cara has written a new song that has to be included."

 

He shook his head. "I can't. It's too late. Why don't you save it for the next album?"

 

Jools sighed. "Simon, trust me, this song is going to be Cara's first Number One. That's why you will want to include it."

 

That got his attention for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed. "No, you're trying to play me again, aren't you?"

 

She shook her head. "I'll put any amount of money on it reaching the top spot. You have to hear it."

 

He inclined his head and thought for a moment. "Alright then, let me hear it and I'll see what I think."

 

I realised where this was going. "Jools, I don't really feel up to…"

 

"Hush, hush," she said with a smile. "Now let's go and talk your friend Kyle into letting you use the piano again."

 

I eventually agreed, but said that she had to wait until the restaurant was empty of diners. I had no intention of delivering an impromptu live performance, and especially not if Jon was sitting there. It had been bad enough playing the song to Jools the previous night, but I felt extremely awkward with Simon sitting there. I knew that it would become easier to sing as the days went by, but my emotions were not the steadiest at that time.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I took a deep breath and tried to forget about anyone listening to the song as I began to play. By the time I got to the last chorus, I was so immersed in the emotion of the song that I really didn't care who was listening…

 

"Oh teach me how to love

Unleash your wondrous charms

Want to laugh and cry,

To soar and fly

Up onto Cloud Nine

And know you're mine

Hold me in your arms,

For I, I'm remembering how to love."

 

I released the keys and, with my eyes still closed, took a few deep breaths before turning to face my 'audience'. Jools turned to Simon and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

 

"Well?" she asked.

 

He blew out his cheeks. "My God, I see what you mean." He scratched his head and grimaced.

 

"What's wrong?" I asked.

 

He sighed. "Nothing really, I'm just thinking of the flak I'm going to take by stalling the album release and the headache of getting you squeezed back into the studio."

 

Jools grinned triumphantly. "Simon dear, there's no time to lose." She checked her watch. "It's eleven p.m. here which makes it seven a.m. in London. In two hours' time, you can ring through to London and start to get the ball rolling."

 

He winced, but gave a nod of resignation. "Why is it that you always get your own way?" he asked ruefully.

 

Jools laughed. "Now, don't be like that. You know it's for the best."

 

As Jools and I headed back up to our rooms, she stopped on the stairs and put her hand to her mouth.

 

"What is it?" I asked.

 

She grinned and her face reddened. "I forgot that tomorrow is Sunday."

 

"And?"

 

She laughed, "Poor Simon seems to have forgotten too and is going to sit up until one a.m. to try and phone the London office which will, of course, be closed."

 

She started to walk on and I put a hand on her arm. "Aren't you going to tell him?"

 

She shrugged. "What, and let him know I'm fallible? He'll work it out."

 

I grinned. "You're bad, very bad."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Sunday was the last day of our trip and we had to check out of the hotel by lunchtime before making the journey back to L.A. to catch our overnight flight back to London. I was feeling much better having had a good night's sleep and a proper breakfast. We had all agreed to have one last morning lazing around the pool. I did not feel up to wearing a bikini, though. Perhaps it was just the feeling of vulnerability that I had; I wasn't sure. I went for a simple sun top and shorts and headed to the poolside.

 

Kevin and Jon were the only ones there when I arrived. "Hi guys," I said feeling irrationally shy.

 

"Hi Cara," Kevin said in his ever-cheery manner.

 

"Hey, you," Jon said.

 

The sound of his voice almost made me shiver and I had to consciously stop myself from flinching. My mind was telling me to get a grip on myself and stop acting like a fragile flower.

 

I sat down beside him. "Hey, Jon. How are you?"

 

"I'm OK. What about you?"

 

"I'm alright."

 

The others began to arrive and settle down onto sun beds around us and a healthy chatter soon filled the air.

 

"You sure you're OK, after… the other day?" Jon asked quietly.

 

 I knew he was talking about Yosemite, but I pretended otherwise. "Oh that? Oh Jools and I just had too much to drink. We were having a silly girlie night. I guess we just didn't know when to stop." I smiled. "I felt pretty awful the next day, but I'm back to normal now. Thanks for asking though."

 

He nodded and smiled. "Err… that's good."

 

It felt as awkward as it had been when Jon and I were first practising and working on the songs back in January, just after he had realised who I was. I had thought that we had come so far since then, but it seemed we were right back where we had started. At least we were managing to talk to each other civilly. I reckoned that that was about as much as I could expect.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Any time previously that I had flown overnight, I had hated it, as I could never sleep in the cramped confines of Economy Class. The overnight British Airways flight back to Heathrow did a lot to dispel this hatred. In First Class the seats went horizontal in as close an approximation to a bed as is probably possible in an airplane. My mind was whirling with all that had taken place over the previous fortnight, but exhaustion overtook me and I fell fast asleep.

 

I didn't wake until the stewardess gently shook my shoulder and informed me that, as we were beginning our descent, I would have to sit upright. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and slowly sat up.

 

"Morning, sleepyhead," Jools said cheerily. "You had some sleep. The pilot had quite a lot of difficulty concentrating on his flight path because of your snoring, but I managed to persuade him not to have you ejected from the forward hatch. He said that he would overlook it on this occasion only because you looked so pretty as you slept there."

 

I laughed and stuck my tongue out at her. I quickly retracted it with embarrassment as the stewardess reappeared at my side with some fresh orange juice for me. I thanked her and accepted it gratefully.

 

"It's been some trip, hasn't it?" remarked Jools.

 

"You can say that again," I mused.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 36

 

 

For the few weeks following our American trip, I tried to keep myself as busy as possible. Simon had eventually persuaded 'The Powers That Be' at Sony to delay the album production run so we could add another song to it. He squeezed us into the studio for a short session as soon as he could wangle it. The recording of 'Forgotten How to Love' went smoothly and was uneventful. The rest of the band was very impressed with the song and I was aware that Jon probably understood its origin. Thankfully, he did not say anything specifically about that to me. I still felt slightly awkward around him, but as the days went by, that began to gradually ease. I don't mean to say that my feelings just disappeared, but I tried to bury them and get on with my life. Easier said than done, I know.

 

With the album definitely completed, the production and promotional bandwagon was gearing up for a big push. Simon was planning to release the album on the 1^st September. It was going to be a dual-pronged approach as he hoped to release 'Forgotten How to Love' as a single on the same day. That meant that another video was required, which of course meant Herby. We met up at Sony.

 

"Cara, darling, how are you?" he enthused as he embraced me vigorously.

 

I laughed. "I'm fine, Herby. How are you?"

 

"All the better for seeing you, my dear. Now, to business: this song of yours – I love it. It made me cry and I want every viewer who sees your video to do likewise."

 

He paused and I felt that I was supposed to respond. "Sounds good to me. What did you have in mind?"

 

He grinned. "Ah, that's the problem. I'm not really sure where to go with it yet. I was wondering if you could help me."

 

"What do you want me to do?" I asked warily.

 

He smiled expansively. "Since you were so wonderfully inspiring to me for the last video when you told me more about the events surrounding the song, I was thinking that if you told me something similar this time, I could come up with a killer visual spectacle to accompany the song. It really is a fantastically emotional piece."

 

I chewed my lip as I thought about what he'd said. I had no doubt that if I told him about the events that had led to me writing the song, and if we managed somehow to capture such on video – we would have a 'killer visual spectacle'. I was pretty sure that it could induce tears in most viewers. I began to feel the all too familiar burning sensation in my eyes and I blinked hard.

 

"I'm sorry, Herby, but I don't think I can really help you here." I shrugged. "It was just one of those songs that popped out for no reason."

 

He looked at me closely and I was sure that he didn't believe me, but I was not going to rip open my heart again just to come up with a good video. He was the professional; I was not planning to do his job for him.

 

He nodded slowly and then smiled. "Alright, I'll have to get my thinking cap on. Rest assured, sweetness, Herby will come through for you again."

 

I smiled warmly. "I'm counting on it."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next morning, after my traditional run with Kate, I came back in to find Simon, Jools and Rachel discussing something intently in Jools' office. Rachel had been keen to get a summer job in London and Jools, being her usual enterprising self, had come up with the idea of Rachel helping her with administrative duties and sorting through my fan mail. There was still an inordinate amount of the stuff arriving each day. Rachel had jumped at the opportunity and it was probably going to work out well in the longer term. She had received the offer of a place to study at the London School of Economics and, since she was going to be an impoverished student, the income from such a flexible part-time job would be most welcome.

 

I didn't think they had heard me come in and I lingered outside the office trying to overhear what they were saying.

 

"I think we have to tell her," Simon maintained firmly.

 

Jools shook her head. "I don't know," she replied, "What good will it do? I mean it is probably nothing."

 

Rachel was sitting between them and watching the exchange, but saying nothing.

 

I breezed in and smiled. "Hi folks. So what is it you think you should or should not tell me?"

 

I had presumed that they were talking about me and from the looks on their faces, I could see that I had presumed correctly.

 

Jools was the first to recover. "Hi Cara, we're just talking about some business details. I'm not sure that you need to bother yourself with them."

 

I knew she was lying, or at least, bluffing. I looked closely at her. "Come on, Jools. I'm not a child. There's something going on here and if it's about me, I think I have a right to know. If it's boring, well then go ahead and bore me. I'll tell you to stop before too long."

 

Jools looked at Simon and then back to me. She sighed. "OK, come over here and sit down." I did as requested and she continued, "It's probably nothing, but if you want to know about it, that's up to you." She paused, "You know you get a load of fan mail sent to you?" I nodded and she went on, "Well Rachel usually sorts through it and bins the wacky, distasteful stuff… but there were some pieces that arrived over the last few weeks that were… a bit different."

 

"Different, how so?" I asked.

 

Jools looked uncomfortable. "It's probably nothing, just some crank messing about…"

 

"Let me see them," I said feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

 

"I'm not sure that is really necessary…" Jools broke off when she saw the determined look on my face. "Alright, but remember it's probably nothing."

 

She nodded to Rachel who pulled out three clear plastic envelopes that contained a single sheet of white paper in each. Rachel slid them across the table to me with a sympathetic smile. I pulled them closer and looked at them in turn. In the centre of each page there were a few words of typescript:

 

'You're going to get yours, bitch!'

 

'I'm going to enjoy doing you, bitch!'

 

'I'll teach you what it's like to take a real man, bitch!'

 

I shuddered after reading them and quickly pushed them away. "Why would anyone send this to me?" I asked in a shaky voice.

 

Simon shrugged and in a sympathetic tone said, "It's fairly common for those in the public eye to attract a degree of… unwanted attention."

 

Jools put a hand on my arm. "I know it's disturbing, Cara, but it is probably just some weirdo who gets his kicks out of sending out this rubbish. I bet he sends the same to dozens of people."

 

I closed my eyes and bit my lip. "When did they arrive?"

 

Jools looked to Rachel who spoke up. "The first one arrived just after we came back from America and the others arrived at one week intervals."

 

Simon spoke up again, "Now don't take this the wrong way, but I think we should show these to the police."

 

"The police?" I exclaimed as I looked up him, "I thought you said this was fairly common stuff?"

 

Simon held up a hand. "I know and I do think it is most likely nothing to be worried about. However, I think it would be prudent to have this on record with the police… just in case."

 

Jools glowered at Simon. "Do you really think it is necessary?"

 

He shrugged. "I hope not, but don't you think it is better to be safe than sorry?"

 

They stared at each other for a moment as if neither was prepared to break the deadlock. Jools sighed and looked away as she nodded.

 

"OK, you're probably right. I'll give them a call."

 

Simon smiled. "I think it is for the best. They are going to want your fingerprints and Rachel's too."

 

Rachel looked puzzled. "Why?"

 

Jools replied for Simon, "We've both touched them. They will want to check the paper for other prints, so they need to be able to exclude ours."

 

I really was quite disturbed by the morning's revelations and I did not feel much better after the police had left later that afternoon. They had been polite and sympathetic as they questioned Jools and me. Had I any enemies? Could I think of anyone who might want to threaten me? Although part of me did not want to bring it up, I had to mention Noel. I did not talk about the attempted rape. I had simply told them that he had left the band under less than amicable circumstances. I had horrible visions of them kicking in his door and ransacking his place, but they had assured me that they would be discreet in their investigations. Before they left, they had tried to reassure me that there was probably nothing to worry about. There was that word again: 'probably'.

 

Jools and I talked it over that evening.

 

"Do you think it could be Noel?" I asked.

 

She shrugged. "It could be. I mean, he's probably fairly pissed with you. The little prick could stoop this low, but if it's Noel, in a way that's reassuring."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"He's just trying to get his own back at you in his own way. He doesn't dare do anything else or he thinks we'll slap an attempted rape accusation against him. So it won't come to anything more than this."

 

I nodded slowly. "I guess." Then another thought struck me, "What if it's the person with the yearbook?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"You know, the yearbook from school. The person who broke in to steal it."

 

Jools thought about this for a moment. "I don't know, Cara. I'm not really sure what's going on in that regard. Listen, let's try and forget about this. Perhaps there will be no more notes."

 

I hoped that she was right, but I had a bad feeling inside me about this. I made her promise that she would show me any future notes immediately.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

It was the last week in August and Simon had me in the middle of another tedious round of promotional slots for the single and album, which were being released the following week. The single had been forwarded to the radio stations on pre-release and was attracting some favourable attention it seemed. We had to break off the promotional bandwagon to record the video. I was glad. Relatively speaking, I would rather do the video than talk to another puerile D.J. who would make innuendoes and look me up and down as if I were an item on the menu. OK, so I was generalising and had come across a few poor examples in the previous week, but that's the way I felt.

 

Herby had wanted to record on a deserted beach and had asked for my thoughts for a suggested location. Jools had suggested the Devon coast, but I overruled her. Saundersfoot beach, in my opinion, is one of the loveliest locations there is. It was a beautiful sandy beach on the south coast of Wales with high cliffs rising behind it. I had spent many happy childhood summer days there with my parents.

 

When we arrived, I allowed the current vision of the present to mingle with the memories in my mind and I was almost overcome. I remembered jumping in the waves with my mother, building sandcastles with Dad, and Claire and I throwing buckets of water over each other. There is something about the innocence of childhood happiness that is forever lost when you grow up. Though you might seek to grasp something of those idyllic days, they are always out of reach and you are left with only a wistful nostalgia.

 

The beach was deserted, save for the trailers that Herby's entourage required. The local council had eventually granted permission for the beach to be closed, but only for one afternoon. We had only one shot at this, as Herby reminded us. Time was running out as Herby had hoped to have the video shot the previous week. As it was, the single was being released in six days time and he had to get the video recorded, edited and ready for release in near record time.

 

Herby gave us his by-now familiar pre-game talk. Most of the video would consist of me walking along the shore with the waves lapping over my feet. Herby wanted an almost ethereal appearance. Some of that he would achieve with the post-production editing. The rest would be courtesy of my appearance and performance. The guys were somewhat nonplussed when Herby revealed his idea for them: they were to be standing nonchalantly playing their instruments – in the sea. I could not help but laugh. They were to wear their ordinary clothes and literally stand in a foot of water playing as I walked along the shore. Once the guys made sure that it would not be their own instruments actually getting wet, they reluctantly agreed.

 

I went to the trailer designated for me and began to get ready. A long flowing white dress was waiting for me. The top consisted of a lowish cut bodice that descended into swirls of flowing white cotton. It was different, but not unattractive. Gina was there again to help me. The make-up was also different. Gina insisted on using a coppery foundation. I thought it made me look awful, but she assured me that for what Herby was planning, it would look fine in the end. My hair was to hang freely around my shoulders.

 

The shooting was simple enough. A lot of it was, as Herby had said, me walking along the shore with the waves lapping over my bare feet as I sang. I was to walk past the guys on several occasions, but I was not to look at them or acknowledge their presence. It was hard not to laugh, as when I saw them standing playing, they looked utterly miserable. Herby was pleased though; miserable was just the look he wanted from them. There were also some shots of me running along the beach with my hair flapping wildly about my face.

 

Just when it seemed that we were almost finished, Herby called me over.

 

"Cara, my darling, we are nearly there. However, there is something that I have not told you."

 

"Oh dear."

 

He laughed and patted my arm. "A video for such a song as this would be incomplete, particularly given the last verse and chorus without something else…"

 

I worked out where he was heading. "You mean it needs a love interest."

 

Herby smiled. "I'm glad you agree." I did not recall agreeing particularly, but it did not stop him, "It just so happens that I have a hunk waiting in one of the trailers for this occasion."

 

"A trailer? Herby, really – I think it would be a low class end to my video to have me jumping into a seedy trailer to hook up with my lover."

 

He looked aghast. "My dear, oh no, that is not what I intended at all…" My hand went to my mouth to cover my smile and he twigged. "Oh, you are a naughty girl. For a moment there… never mind. No, not at all, what I want is for you to do the cheesy expected thing… to run into his arms as the sun sets. I know it is stereotypical, but quite often, stereotypes work."

 

I looked at him sideways. "Just tell me the hunk isn't Nigel from the last video shoot."

 

He laughed. "Definitely not. Come; let's go meet him. I think you'll like him – he's gorgeous."

 

He introduced me to Gary who pretty much met the definition of hunk. He was tall, blond and well built. Unlike Nigel, he was polite and very considerate to me. He was a model who was happy to take on any work available to make ends meet. After allowing us a few moments to chat, Herby called to everyone to get ready.

 

We then did shot after shot of us running down the beach towards each other and him taking me in his arms and kissing me. Kissing me passionately let me say.

 

After one of the takes, I got my breath back and said, "You're a good actor."

 

Gary laughed. "Not really. What's to act? Herby wants me to hold and kiss a pretty woman? I've had a lot worse jobs." He winked.

 

I grinned and felt myself blush. It felt nice to be appreciated and I realised that my self-worth had taken a hit over the previous few weeks. I inwardly shrugged and decided to relax and really enjoy the next take. Both Gary and I gave it our all and Herby was delighted. The guys in the band were delighted too as they were finally able to get out of the water and stay out. Although it was late summer, the water was not exactly warm. Poor things.

 

We all said our goodbyes and Herby arranged for us to meet on Friday at Sony to view the finished product. He intimated that he was going to be working round the clock to get it ready. I think that was more for Simon's benefit though and to prepare him for the hefty bill that Herby would be sending.

 

On the long drive back to London, Jools and I chatted over the day's events.

 

"So what was it like to kiss Gary?" she asked.

 

I laughed. "It wasn't unpleasant."

 

"Oh come on, you looked like you were really enjoying it."

 

I thought for a moment and then smiled. "I was. It was nice. I felt appreciated. He liked me, I think."

 

"You think?" Jools said with a laugh. "Why do you think Herby left such a gap between each of those final takes? It was so poor Gary could let the bulge in his shorts subside."

 

"Jools!" I said with shock, "You're terrible."

 

She cackled. "I know, but you're smiling about it aren't you? Don't tell me you hadn't noticed."

 

She was right, I had noticed. The effect on me was strangely pleasing. That I could be so appealing to such a handsome man was something I was quite proud of.

 

"You know, someone else didn't look too happy…" she said slyly.

 

"Really? Who?" I said in a slightly sardonic tone knowing rightly where she was heading.

 

"Jon."

 

I shrugged. "If you had to stand with your feet in freezing water all afternoon, would you look happy?"

 

She shook her head. "More than that." She paused, "I don't want to go over old ground, but I really think he does care for you."

 

"Jools, this isn't helpful you know."

 

She sighed. "I know, but wouldn't you think about giving him a second chance?"

 

I frowned and looked over at her. "A second chance? You're making it sound like I was the one who threw away the first chance." I sat in silence for a moment before continuing in a quiet voice. "Jools, you don't know what it felt like. I think I would have given everything to have him accept me and love me. That sounds pathetic, but I really do… did love him."

 

"Did? Past tense?" she enquired gently.

 

I shrugged. "I don't know. It has to be past tense. If not, there's not much future tense coming my way as I see it. I need to get over this and get on with things. Can't you see that?"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The video was another Herby masterpiece. Whatever he had done to it after shooting made it look magnificent: it had that faded sepia tint to it. Gina had been right: my make up looked perfect in that light. There was also the occasional flicker and black spot on the film as if it had been shot with an old-style ciné camera. The overall effect reminded me of the nostalgia that I had initially felt when standing on Saundersfoot beach. The scenes with Gary fitted in well with the emotional climax to the song. At the end, we applauded the master once more.

 

He was as magnanimous as ever. "Now, now – I can only take what I am given and work with it. When it is as lovely as my dear Cara, my job is easy."

 

The next week was busier than ever. Every day there was a signing session in one city or another. Lines and lines of people queued to have me sign 'Forgotten How to Love' and the album, 'No Half Measures'. I tried to be as cheerful as I could, but as the days wore on, it took more and more effort. On Friday, I arrived at the Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street in London and was almost mobbed by the crowd waiting outside. It was a frightening experience and I was extremely relieved when I made it inside the relative sanctuary of the shop. Simon was in top form all week as he travelled about with me. I think he had high hopes for both the single and the album. I hoped that we would not be disappointed.

 

We weren't.

 

On Sunday, Jools and I settled down to listen to 'The Chart Show'. We had a long time to wait, but it was worth it. 'Forgotten How to Love' was the highest new entry of the week at number three. We were jubilant and Jools was sure that we were going to hit the top with this one. I wondered if she and Simon had actually made a bet about it, but she wouldn't admit to it. The album chart was also favourable as 'No Half Measures' débuted at number eight. Simon, when he phoned, was over the moon. All our moods were improved even further on Monday when 'Top of the Pops' confirmed that they would be playing the new video the following Friday.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Before Friday, I had another hurdle to overcome. I had received my appointment to see the psychiatrist in the post. Wednesday was the day and when it came, I was filled with dread. I dressed conservatively in a long white and red floral print dress with a navy linen jacket.

 

After a short wait, I was called into the doctor's office. She introduced herself as Dr. Sharon Cunningham. She did not have to be very perceptive to see that I was quite nervous.

 

"Nicola, don't be anxious. There's nothing to be worried about. I promise I'm not going to bite you." Her blue eyes twinkled.

 

I laughed and tried to relax. "Sorry, I'm a little keyed up."

 

"I have Dr. Carson's referral here and I have to say, I find it hard to believe what I'm looking at."

 

I wasn't quite sure how to take that and tentatively asked, "What do you mean?"

 

She smiled. "I mean it as a compliment. I would never have guessed to look at you… or to listen to you sing."

 

I flinched a little. "You recognise me?"

 

She nodded. "Yes, but don't worry. I know who you are, but as you are aware, your session with me is completely confidential. I won't even keep any notes that could be linked to you."

 

"Thanks," I murmured gratefully.

 

The interview was not like I had expected. I suppose I had been geared up for another inquisition like the previous one, but this was nothing of the sort. She covered a lot of similar ground, but was more interested in how I felt within myself than the actual facts of any situation. She covered the family background and, where Dr. Henwick had been confrontational, she was kind and sensitive. I found it easy to open up to her and shared my grief over losing my mother. I was frank about the rift between my father and me. When we got to the part where she asked about relationships, I even told her about Jon and what had happened in America.

 

"How do you feel about him now?" she asked gently.

 

I sighed. "I still care for him."

 

"Do you think there is any possibility that things may change between you?"

 

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

 

"How does that make you feel?"

 

I shrugged. "I don't know… sad… disappointed…" I forced a smile, "It makes me feel like crying even now."

 

She nodded and smiled. "It's only to be expected. Things are still very fresh in your mind. It will take time. Now I know it is probably too soon to say, but do you envisage having a relationship with someone else?"

 

I thought about this before replying. "I don't know, I mean… I think I would like to." I closed my eyes and tried to sort out my thoughts. "I liked the way it felt just being with him… having someone close to me… holding me and… well, you know, kissing me. The intimacy was something I've not had for a long time. I miss it."

 

She asked about my troubles, my worries, how I was eating, sleeping and a lot of other things. I was happy to talk freely with her and when she was finished and I left, I felt as if some weights had been removed from my shoulders. It was a world apart from how I had felt after seeing Dr. Henwick.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

My video was indeed shown on ‘Top of the Pops’ that Friday and the presenters were very complimentary about it and the song. I was becoming more comfortable with watching myself on TV, but the teasing from fellow watchers never abated. Claire had arrived with us to stay for the weekend and was mercilessly ribbing me about the kissing scenes with Gary.

 

"You're just jealous," I retorted.

 

"Too right I am," she admitted freely. "I can't remember the last time I had a kiss like that. Can you, Jools?"

 

"I don't think I ever had a kiss like that," Jools said with a grin.

 

Claire sighed. "I can't believe this. It's so unfair. My sister is getting all the good guys."

 

"Not the one I want, though." I mused. When I saw the solemn looks I was receiving from Claire and Jools, I realised that I had spoken out loud. "Umm, I don't think I meant that to come out."

 

Jools tactfully got up and stretched. "I think I'll take an early night and let you two sisters catch up." She gave me a meaningful look and left the room.

 

Claire sat on the sofa beside me and asked, "What was that all about?"

 

I shrugged. "It's a long story."

 

"I've got all weekend to hear it."

 

"It won't take that long."

 

"Well get on with it then and stop stalling."

 

I told her about the trip that Jon and I had taken. I told it like it had happened and had her laughing with me until I got to the bit where things fell apart. Correspondingly, I also fell apart again. Claire held me tightly and we both sat there for a long time. When I looked up, I saw that her eyes were red too.

 

"Oh Nicola," she said softly, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I mean I knew you liked him… I'm sorry."

 

I blew my nose and forced a smile. "What's done is done. Water under the bridge. Time to move on and all that."

 

"Is that how you feel?" Claire asked.

 

I shook my head and felt the tears begin again. I got to my feet and pounded a fist into my other hand. "Damn, damn, damn! This has to stop. Look at me! I'm acting like a stupid schoolgirl who has a silly little crush. It's pathetic and I hate it."

 

Claire shook her head. "This isn't a schoolgirl crush, Nicola. Don't be so hard on yourself."

 

I sighed. "It's been a month now and I'm still breaking up inside about it."

 

"Look, you admit you loved him – well you don't get over that in an instant. I can't say anything that will make you feel better. It's just going to take time."

 

"I know, but I just wish I could fast forward the clock until I felt better."

 

"We all feel like that sometimes."

 

Her words hung in the air between us and I knew we were both thinking about our mother.

 

"Come on, let's go to bed," Claire urged. "How're you sleeping these days?"

 

"Don't ask!"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Claire and I had tried to go shopping on Saturday, but we had eventually given up. Everywhere we went, people were pointing at me and whispering to each other. That would have been acceptable, but when others came up to me and stopped me to ask if I was Cara Malone and then proceeded to almost have hysterics as they told me how much they loved my music – it was a bit much. The pictures of me plastered over the Tube, advertising the single and album, didn't exactly help. So much for the fantastic disguise of sunglasses. Overrated I had decided.

 

On Sunday evening, if anyone had seen the three of us, Jools, Claire and me, they could reasonably have concluded that we were crazy or drunk. We were neither. We were bouncing up and down on the sofa and screaming at the top of our voices. In the background, the radio was playing 'Forgotten How to Love'. It was the last song that was going to play in that show as it just happened to be the new Number One.

 

"I can't believe it," I gasped breathlessly. "We're at Number One."

 

We were trying to calm down, but it was not easy. Claire proposed a nice relaxing cup of tea to bring us back to earth and as we were sitting at the table drinking, the doorbell rang. Jools went to answer it and a few moments later, Jon bounced into the room.

 

He loped over to me and grinned. I got up and smiled tentatively. His face broke into a massive grin. "You did it!" he said.

 

"We did it," I emphasised.

 

He held out his arms and gave me a gentle hug. I reciprocated and was shocked by how good it felt to have his arms around me. I broke the hug a little awkwardly and grinned shyly. "Err, want a cuppa?"

 

"Sure," he replied.

 

It wasn't long before we had to fill the kettle again as a steady stream of new arrivals soon filled the room. Brian and Laura, Peter and Rachel, Kevin, Simon – everyone was in high spirits. Jools decided that it was time to celebrate with something stronger than tea. She brought out a chilled bottle of champagne that she said she had been keeping for this very occasion. This met with approval all round. Claire was a little miffed as she could only afford to have one glass before she had to leave for the drive back to Bristol. She had an early start at work the next morning. Thankfully, Jools had stored up more than one bottle, as it wasn't long before she was doing a round of refills. It was nothing like the night at the Malibu Beach Inn, but I knew I was drinking more than I should have. This time it was different though: it was not a morose drowning of sorrows; it was a celebration with friends.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next morning I was first up. I felt fuzzy headed and my stomach did not seem to be quite in the right place. The thought of breakfast made my stomach scurry to the furthest recesses of my inner being. There it hid and whimpered until I promised not to inflict food on it.

 

When I entered the kitchen, I saw the last bottle of champagne sitting on the counter. There were four empty bottles in the bin. My head throbbed and I got a glass down to fill with water. I looked again at the last bottle sitting on the counter. There was not much left in it. It should have been the last thing I thought of, but I found myself lifting the bottle and pouring the remnants into my glass. I told myself that it would be a shame to waste it. As I drank it, my stomach initially recoiled, but settled fairly quickly. I even felt a little better and my head was not complaining as much. I dropped the bottle into the bin and turned to put the kettle on.

 

"Morning," said a sleepy voice from behind me.

 

I jumped a little as I turned. "Jools, I didn't hear you get up."

 

She gave me a grin. "I'm not moving the fastest this morning. Can't think why. You making coffee?"

 

I nodded. She looked at the bin and frowned. She asked, "Wasn't there some champers left over?"

 

I turned and looked back at her. "Err, I don't think so. Didn't we drink it all last night?"

 

Jools shrugged her shoulders and yawned. "We must have." She sat down at the table. "So, how come you are already up?"

 

"I've an appointment to see Dr. Carson this morning."

 

Jools raised an eyebrow. "Ah… the reports from your psychologist and psychiatrist."

 

I nodded and grimaced. "The latter doesn't really bother me, but the former…" I scowled and left the rest unsaid.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Dr. Carson had sensitively agreed to call me on my mobile when she was ready to see me. I was sitting in my car outside her building and, on receiving the call I made my way to the back entrance where she was waiting to escort me into her consulting room.

 

"We can't have the chart topping superstar sitting in the waiting area, can we?" she asked with a grin.

 

I laughed. "Please don't think that I have a real opinion of myself or anything, it's just that I don't want people to see me coming here and try to put two and two together…"

 

She put a gentle hand on my arm. "I was only teasing. I agree completely with you. Discretion is more important than ever. So, tell me: how did you get on with your appointments?"

 

"Well, Dr. Cunningham was lovely and I actually enjoyed chatting to her…"

 

Dr. Carson smiled. "I think I sense a 'but' coming here?"

 

I nodded and grimaced. "I'm sorry, but Dr. Henwick was quite a witch if you ask me. I've no idea what she said in her report. In my defence, she did nothing but bait me and confront me. It was awful."

 

Dr. Carson nodded sympathetically. "That is her style. Let me reassure you though that the report she sent me told me about a well-adjusted young woman who was coping admirably with numerous difficulties in her transition. In her opinion, there was no doubt that the young woman was making the right choices."

 

I blinked several times and I'm sure the disbelief was all too evident on my face. "She said that?"

 

"Yes, word for word." Dr. Carson spread her hands on her desk. "I'm sorry, perhaps I should have warned you about her approach, but to do that would have lessened its impact. That is how she gets to the heart of things and makes her assessment. Whereas Sharon, Dr. Cunningham, takes an entirely different approach. I think that they complement each other well, though."

 

From this standpoint, I had to agree, although part of me found it hard to let go. "So you mean that she puts on this act to deliberately go at people?"

 

Dr. Carson laughed. "Yes, she really is a gentle person if you meet her outside of the work context."

 

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, what did Dr. Cunningham say about me?"

 

Dr. Carson looked down at the reports on her desk, "Much the same. She had no hesitation to recommend that you be allowed to continue with your transition."

 

I frowned a little. "Was there a possibility that I wouldn't be… allowed to continue?"

 

Dr. Carson gave a little shrug. "Only theoretically. Good practice demands that these assessments be performed in order to guide the prescribing physician and confirm that the right course is being taken. Personally, I had no doubt as to the end result. I mean, look at you – who in their right mind would think that you are not a woman?"

 

One person came to my mind and I gave a little snort.

 

Dr. Carson picked up on this. "What were you going to say?"

 

I shook my head. "Nothing, just some personal issues."

 

I sat there and looked at her smiling patiently back at me. I sighed and reluctantly said, "You're going to want me to talk about it aren't you?"

 

So it was that I had to rehearse the whole sorry Yosemite tale. This time, to my credit, I completed the story without the shedding of a single tear. It was getting easier to think about it from a more objective standpoint.

 

"I think he's a fool," Dr. Carson said strongly.

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that a medical opinion?"

 

She laughed and waved a hand. "I don't know, but it's certainly a woman's opinion. Whilst I can understand something of his difficulties, I don't think he is seeing the bigger picture."

 

I shrugged. "Well I'm not going to be painting it for him any more. I think I need to move on."

 

Dr. Carson nodded and then hesitated before speaking. "Dr. Cunningham did raise a little concern that she thought you were exhibiting some mild features of depression. I'm sure it's only natural given what you have been through recently. I read in Dr. Henwick's report about the… assault you suffered. Add that to your mother's death and the thing with Jon… I can quite understand how you might feel a bit low."

 

I winced and nodded. "I'm OK, really. Yes, I'm not quite on top of the world and yes I'm not sleeping as well as I have done. I feel bad to complain though, I mean, professionally I'm achieving all I ever wanted."

 

"It's not enough, though, is it?" she asked softly.

 

I smiled and mulled that over. "No, it's not."

 

"Are you feeling alright today, Nicola? You look a bit peaky."

 

I smiled with embarrassment. "Well, we had a little celebration last night when we realised we had hit Number One. I may have had a few too many glasses of champagne."

 

Dr. Carson smiled and nodded. "I hate to ask, but I would be a poor doctor if I didn't: are you drinking more than usual?"

 

I felt a little offended at the question, but tried not to show it. "Well, given that I never really drank that much at all, drinking anything would be more than usual."

 

I think she realised that my reply was somewhat evasive, but after holding my gaze for a few moments, she let the subject drop.

 

She smiled and handed me another prescription for my hormones. "There you go. Nicola, I just wanted to let you know something: with these reports and everything that I have seen of you so far, there is nothing to preclude you from making your transition complete. That is, once you have been living as a woman for a full year which is only a few months away."

 

I felt flustered and uncomfortable. I don't know why, but I reacted against such a suggestion. "Err, yes, thanks. I just don't think I'm ready to think my way around that yet."

 

She nodded. "I understand, but I think you should give some thought to it in future. Why don't you make an appointment to see me in another few months time?"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The rest of the week was another media frenzy. A few more signing sessions had been scheduled and I told Simon in no uncertain terms that I did not want any more arranged for the foreseeable future. They were draining and, although it was nice to meet adoring fans, after a while it lost its charm and I longed for some privacy. Such privacy was hard to find even in the simple things of life.

 

Jools and I were doing some grocery shopping in Tesco one day and heard whisperings behind us, "Look, that's Cara Malone! I can't believe she shops in Tesco."

 

What did they think I did? Did they think that I don't eat and wash like other people? Worse was to come when a picture of Jools and I leaving Tesco appeared in one of the tabloid celebrity gossip pages. Alright, so I didn't look my complete best, but I wasn't a total frump. The subtle insinuations about the relationship between Jools and me were galling too. Jools managed to shrug it off and laugh. It all came with the territory according to her and I had better get used to dealing with it. However, my suggestion that she could do all the shopping from that point on sadly didn't meet her idea of 'dealing with it'.

 

On Sunday night, we were confirmed as the chart toppers for another week. Two weeks at the top! It was heady stuff. 'No Half Measures' was doing reasonably well in the album charts also. From entering at number eight, it had risen to number six and then to number four. Simon was ecstatic with how things were going - probably because he had an eye on the balance sheet too. Jools was quite thrilled in that regard also. She had been doing some sums after talking to Simon and the figures she was predicting were quite something else. I had to count the amount of noughts to make sure I was following what she was saying.

 

That Friday night, we were scheduled for a live performance on 'Top of the Pops'. It was not as daunting an experience this time around. I wore a simple short white dress and high-heeled pumps. My hair was braided and my make up was typically seemingly overdone as required for the intensity of the studio lights. Although we had played live there before, to do it as the Number One artist was something special. I had been given a much larger dressing room this time and the guys even had two rooms to use. This was indeed a novelty for them. The performance was faultless and I revelled in it. I think I almost overdid the hungry longing in the last verse and chorus, but Jools later assured me that it was phenomenal. The crowd, whilst not necessarily the most discerning, certainly seemed to like it.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The frequency of media events had begun to ease off thankfully. I had the occasional appearance on a daytime TV show the following week. I was not overly keen on such, but Simon insisted that if people had nothing better to do than watch daytime TV, they surely had plenty of time for buying and listening to music. In his book, any publicity was good publicity – or near enough.

 

There was one opportunity that I jumped at. I had been asked to guest on the 'Dave Bright Afternoon Show' on Radio One. I could remember first listening to Dave Bright in my late teens. He was 'The One' to listen to. We all did. He had a slightly irreverent way with him and always had a few co-presenters who all played well off one another.

 

Although I knew it was radio, I had taken a lot of time with my appearance. I had settled for a simple short red mini-dress that just happened to show off my legs quite well. With my hair straightened and glossy looking and my make up just right, I entered the studio with anticipation. I met Dave briefly before the show and he gave me a hearty welcome. You could say that he was well suited to a radio career. I think some people termed it 'a face made for radio'. That was a little unkind, but he was not the most attractive person in physical terms. However, he most certainly had an attractive aura about his personality. I also met his crew: a guy called Wes and a girl called Sue.

 

Half an hour into the show, I was brought into the studio and introduced on air.

 

Dave winked at me, "Everyone, I can't believe it – Cara Malone has just walked into our studio." He made as if this was an impromptu appearance. "Cara, what are you doing here?"

 

I laughed and decided to play along. "Well Dave, I've always been a big fan of yours and meeting you has been one of my unfulfilled dreams."

 

He smirked and was quick to reply. "Well, as most of you know, fulfilling the dreams of gorgeous women has for a long time been something… that I've realised I will never do."

 

"Dave, you're doing yourself a disservice," Sue chipped in.

 

"Aww, Sue, you're all heart," Dave said.

 

She grinned. "To say that you fulfilled the dreams of any woman would be an overstatement."

 

He spluttered. "Where's the respect?"

 

"Unless you count nightmares," Wes added.

 

"True," Sue conceded.

 

I was thinking that I should say something, but I was laughing too much. This was vintage stuff and took me back to my younger days. I mentioned this.

 

"I can remember listening to you when I was younger and wondering if this was all scripted, but I can see you're all just totally crazy. It's wonderful."

 

"Crazy?" Dave asked with a grin. "Wes, she thinks this is crazy? And here we are trying to be on our best behaviour. Anyway, on with our questions. There's no point wasting the opportunity to spend time with a beautiful woman… not that I know anything personally about that of course. Wes, you have the first question?"

 

Wes cleared his throat. "Cara, tell me - how does it feel to be one of the most sexy women in British pop music?"

 

I was lost for words. "I… err… well…" I thought quickly, "As flattered as I am by what you say, I doubt that is the case."

 

"Instant poll!" Dave shouted. "Listeners, we put it to you – is Cara Malone one of the sexiest women in British pop music or not. Our finger is on the pulse of the nation and soon we will reveal the views of the British public. Phone, text or email us now."

 

I was almost overwhelmed by the quick fire nature of the show and found it hard to keep up with what was going on.

 

"My turn now," said Sue, "Cara, I love your latest video. Is your co-star really as good a kisser as he looks? And do you have his phone number?"

 

I laughed. "Yes Sue, I have to tell you that he is. Better, perhaps." The guys were making disapproving noises in the background. "And sorry, but I don't have his phone number."

 

"Shame," Sue murmured.

 

"I doubt that he's as good a kisser as Dave and I," Wes interjected.

 

I knew what their next line was going to be. If I disagreed, he would no doubt propose that I had not yet tried kissing them and would have to do so to prove it. I looked over at him and he grinned as he raised an eyebrow. I leaned towards the mike and said, "Well Wes, why don't you and Dave give each other a good sloppy one now and I'll be the objective observer."

 

Wes' mouth dropped open and he nodded to me and laughed. "OK, you got me that time, I'll admit that."

 

Dave shook his head, "Brainy, beautiful and talented. Cara, I've heard it rumoured that you are unfathomably single. What's the deal with that?"

 

I grinned slyly. "I just hadn't come across the one man for me… until today that is."

 

Dave laughed, "I knew it. Thank you God. My time has come…"

 

I interrupted, "Yes until on my way in, I saw this hunk on the main reception desk…"

 

There were jeers and laughs around the room. The 'interview' if it could be called that, continued in this vein for some time. It was more of a banter session that flirted with the line between humour and innuendo, but never actually crossed it. I don't think I had laughed as much for a long time. I hoped I had come across alright on the radio, but Jools had promised to listen at home and give me feedback later that day.

 

I would tell you about the results of the 'poll', but modesty precludes me from doing so.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

When I arrived home, I was in a good mood and bounced up the stairs to find Jools. She was sitting on the sofa looking pensive.

 

"Well? How did I do?" I asked cheerfully.

 

"Umm, sorry. I forgot to listen."

 

"You forgot?" I said with a degree of incredulity. I took in her troubled expression. "What's wrong?"

 

She sighed. "Sit down, Cara."

 

I did so and asked again, "What's wrong?"

 

"You got… we got another note in the post this afternoon."

 

"Oh," I said. "The same as before?"

 

"Not quite," she said with a frown.

 

"Can I see it?"

 

"Here." She slid a clear plastic envelope to me.

 

I read the note inside and I felt as if I were going to be sick. I read the words again.

 

It read, 'Are you thinking about me, you transsexual bitch?'

 

"Oh my God," I croaked.

 

"There's another complication," Jools said slowly. I looked up at her and nodded for her to continue. "Rachel was the one who opened the letter and read it first."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 37

 

 

I sat there just staring at the note until Jools gently removed it from my grasp. I looked up at her and I shook my head.

 

"Jools, what are we going to do?"

 

Jools chewed her lip and paced up and down some. I recognised the look on her face: she was thinking hard. I didn't say anything more as I was loath to break her concentration. I just couldn't think straight and was hoping that she would know what to do like she always seemed to. After a few minutes she stopped pacing and sat down facing me.

 

"First things first – Rachel," she said purposefully.

 

"Yes… what did you say to her earlier?"

 

"I just took the message from her, told her not to tell a soul – including Peter. I said I would talk to her later about it."

 

"What do you think we should do?" I asked.

 

"What do you think?"

 

I thought for a moment and said, "I think we have to tell her the truth – add her to the list."

 

"You sure?"

 

"I think so. Why? Do you disagree?"

 

She shook her head. "No, I agree entirely, but the final decision is yours."

 

"We have to tell her," I thought aloud, "I think we can trust her and I don't think she will mention the note if we tell her the truth."

 

"I'll give her a call and ask her to come back over here. The sooner we tell her, the better."

 

I nodded and Jools went to make the call. It didn't take Rachel too long to journey across town from her student digs. I was trying to work out what I was going to say, but when she arrived I still hadn't finalised how I was going to do it.

 

"Hi Cara," Rachel said with a sympathetic smile.

 

"Hi Rachel," I said forcing a smile in return. "Have a seat."

 

"Are you OK?" she asked with obvious concern. "That note is a sickener. Some people will stoop so low and say such ridiculous things. It's really offensive, isn't it?"

 

Rachel was such a nice girl. I had become quite fond of her: she was cheerful, helpful and reliable. Jools had been wondering what she ever had done without her.

 

I took a deep breath. "Yes Rachel, it is offensive… but it is also true."

 

She looked at me as if unsure that she had heard me correctly. "What do you mean?"

 

I smiled. "I don't mean that I'm thinking of that sicko, or that I am a bitch… I hope I'm not… but the transsexual bit is correct."

 

Rachel frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand."

 

Jools interjected, "You do know what the word means, Rachel, don't you?"

 

She looked up with a bewildered expression on her face. "Yes, of course I know what it means. I have grown up watching Oprah and Jerry Springer."

 

Despite the awful situation, we laughed briefly. I continued, "Rachel, what I'm about to tell you is for your ears only. There are only a small number of people on this earth that know this. I want you to promise that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone."

 

"I promise; of course I won't."

 

"Even to Peter," I persisted.

 

She thought and nodded. "I understand. What is this all about?"

 

I paused and sighed. "Rachel, until last November, I was Nick Evans. As in Nicholas. I was an unsuccessful singer-songwriter. As you can see, a lot has changed since then."

 

"No way," she murmured with disbelief.

 

I went on to give her the potted version of my transformation and how it had all taken place. I then told her about the recent difficulties: Noel, the scare that Keith Wilkinson was going to expose me, the mystery of the missing yearbook, and finally the anonymous notes. She began to understand the full picture.

 

"My God," she exclaimed, "So who's behind this sick crap?"

 

Jools shook her head. "We don't know. We're going to have to do some serious thinking about that."

 

Rachel looked over at me and shook her head again. "Cara, I can hardly believe this. You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met."

 

I laughed and felt myself flush a little. "Thanks, Rachel. I wasn't much of a man – perhaps I was meant to be a woman, who knows."

 

"Are you… happy? It's a hell of a change." Rachel was really trying to get her head around this.

 

I nodded. "Mostly yes, I am happy. I love being a woman and I wouldn't go back for all the money in the world."

 

Rachel thought some more. "Is this all for real? I've seen you in your bikini and I have to admit I was green with envy when I saw your figure."

 

I shrugged. "I've been on hormones for quite some time, and I'm sure you've realised – my breasts are surgically enhanced if you know what I mean."

 

"Hell of a surgeon," she murmured with a smile. Suddenly she jumped up, sat down beside me and gave me a hug.

 

"What's that for?" I asked with surprise.

 

"You've been through so much. Here I was thinking you were the luckiest woman in the world. I thought you had it so perfect. I didn't realise how much you've sacrificed to get where you are."

 

I shrugged again. "Sacrifice? Depends on how you look at it. Don't get me wrong – I know I am fortunate… but this current situation… it's scaring me."

 

"Who all knows?" Rachel asked.

 

Jools butted in. "Rachel, this is not a subject for discussion – not even with those who already know."

 

"I know," she protested, "I didn't mean to imply that. I was just curious."

 

Jools pondered. "Actually, this gives me an idea."

 

I looked at Jools with a degree of concern. "Jools, I get nervous when you get ideas. You had an idea and look how I ended up." I gestured to my appearance.

 

We laughed again. Jools shook her head. "Don't worry, I was just thinking that maybe we need a meeting of 'the list'."

 

"The list?" Rachel asked.

 

"All those who know," Jools continued. "It might help us in trying to see if there has been a leak about Cara's past."

 

"Who all does know?" Rachel asked again.

 

"The three of us, my father, my sister Claire, Jools' sister Beth, Jon, my old high school music teacher… don't ask, it's a long story… my aunts, uncles and two cousins."

 

Jools added, "Dr. Carson, your psychologist, your psychiatrist… and Keith Wilkinson, don't forget him."

 

I frowned and murmured, "I think there's someone else, but I can't remember."

 

Jools shook her head, "No, I think that's everyone."

 

Rachel looked over at me and then looked away again.

 

"You want to ask me something?" I probed gently.

 

She smiled and shook her head. "It's none of my business…"

 

I grinned and theatrically rolled my eyes. "I still have a penis. I'm guessing that's what you're wondering."

 

She blinked and then giggled. "Actually, no – that wasn't it."

 

I slapped my forehead and groaned with embarrassment. I looked up at Jools. "Your honour, can that be stricken from the record?"

 

Jools chuckled. "No, I'm going to have to let it stand."

 

I sighed and turned back to Rachel. "So what was it that you were going to ask?"

 

She began hesitantly, "I was just wondering… when you said that Jon knew… it really is none of my business, but the rest of us sort of gathered that something happened between you two when you took your trip together. We realised that whatever it was… it didn't work out. I always thought you two would be perfect together…"

 

I smiled ruefully. "Well now you can add the background that explains the problem."

 

She put a hand on my arm. "That sucks."

 

I shrugged. "Life doesn't always deal you a perfect hand. I shouldn't complain."

 

Jools cleared her throat and got our attention. "I was also thinking," she said, "about this note – do we tell the police?"

 

"No!" I replied instinctively.

 

Jools nodded. "My gut feeling is to agree with you, but let's think it through."

 

"OK," I said, "the police have no idea about my past identity - I hope - so they won't be any the wiser as to who is sending these notes."

 

Jools nodded again. "Yes, if we can't work it out with what we know, I doubt they will. They have the previous notes – giving them this one won't add to what they can do."

 

"Who knows about the notes?" Rachel asked.

 

Jools replied. "Us three, Simon and the police. Unless you've told Peter?"

 

She shook her head adamantly. "I haven't. I presume we aren't telling Simon about this note?"

 

Jools nodded firmly. "Definitely not. I don't think we want Sony to know, do we?" She didn't wait for an answer. "In fact, I suggest we dispose of this note completely. We don't want to risk someone coming across it by accident."

 

We agreed and Jools set it alight and let it burn to ashes in the kitchen sink. As I watched it burn away to nothing, I wished that the trouble behind the notes would disappear as easily.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

On Saturday, we had a gathering of 'the list' at Jools' place. Not quite everyone, of course, as I didn't really fancy a full family reunion. Actually it was just me, Jools, Rachel, Claire, Beth and Jon. Jools had told everyone that we needed to consider the possibility that the truth about me had leaked out.

 

"Sorry to spoil your weekend folks," Jools said calling us to order.

 

"Spoil it?" Jon said with a smile, "Spend an afternoon with a roomful of pretty girls?"

 

The succession of cushions raining down on his body put paid to such male posturing. A part of me was saying that he wasn't really including me in that statement. I told my paranoia to shove it and clear out. It made a temporary retreat.

 

Jools filled everyone in on the situation. Some people knew different parts, but she wanted to make sure that everyone had all the facts. So she described the yearbook saga, she talked about Keith Wilkinson and she brought everyone up to speed regarding the anonymous notes. This last part was news to Jon, Claire and Beth.

 

"Sick bastard," Jon muttered. "If I find out who did this…"

 

"That's why we are here," Jools interrupted gently. "We need to put our heads together and work out how anyone could have found out. Claire, you first – you've been talking to your family."

 

Claire nodded and smiled. "I spoke to all our relatives who are in the know. I told them that Cara… Nicola to them… had been threatened. I'm absolutely sure that no one has breathed a word about her. Dad wouldn't dream of mentioning it to a living soul," she cast me an apologetic glance, "and as much as my aunts and uncles may disapprove, there is no way they would let the family down. Phil and Dawn, our cousins, would rather die than see any harm come to Nicola."

 

Jools nodded, "That's pretty much what I thought. Beth, you've no idea where things could have gone wrong?"

 

Beth shook her head. "I wish I had. I can't think of anything that would have given it away when Cara was in Devon with us."

 

"Jon, any thoughts?" Jools prompted.

 

Jon shrugged. "Nothing beyond speculation. I worry about Noel. Could he have found out?"

 

Jools chewed her lip. "I doubt it. Unless Keith Wilkinson slipped the info to him to get some dirt in return. I have to say that even though Keith is an unknown quantity, I don't believe he would intentionally let this out. If he wanted to, he would have written the killer article. Besides, I think we all know that he has more than a little soft spot for our Cara."

 

I blushed as all their eyes rested on me. "Oh away with you all," I said, feeling a little flustered. I changed the subject, "I rang Dr. Carson and asked if she thought there was any chance that there could have been a leak from her office or those she referred me to. She was adamant that privacy and confidentiality in their profession is paramount."

 

"What about Mrs. Forbes, your old teacher?" Beth asked.

 

I shook my head. "She's as dependable as a rock. It's not in her interests at all to let it slip – she… doctored… the school records to help me. Besides, it's just not in her nature."

 

We discussed and pondered some more. Eventually, we seemed to be going in circles and getting nowhere. There was still the 'wild card' possibility that someone who knew me previously as Nick had managed to put things together and for some reason decided to come after me in this way. It wasn't a comforting thought and there was nothing we could really do to investigate that possibility.

 

Jools tried to be positive. "Thanks everyone for coming and taking the time to do this. It has been helpful. It has assured us that we have not been remiss in what we have done and it reminds us to be extra vigilant from now on."

 

Claire and Beth stayed after Jon and Rachel had left. We had a relaxing girls' evening in: watching a video, eating pizza, crisps, chocolate, drinking wine – what more could we want? It was a real sisters' night as Beth bunked in with Jools and Claire with me. As I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come, I was so thankful for them. I couldn't have asked for better friends.

 

Claire pulled me over towards her. "C'mere you," she said sleepily, "Stop thinking and go to sleep."

 

She snuggled over beside me and I guess the warmth and comfort soon had the desired effect.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

For a few days, I was on edge every time the post came through our door or each time a sack arrived from Sony. However, there were no more notes. I was thankful for this, but I knew that the problem had not gone away. The daily routine and the business of everyday life helped me to try and forget about it whenever possible.

 

I had enlisted some other help in taking my mind off my problems. Jools and I had got into the habit of having a bottle of wine with our evening meal. One bottle used to do us for three evenings or so, but lately I had found that it was more like two evenings. The occasional evening, when I was really uptight, the bottle was empty by the time we went to bed. It wasn't really a problem, though, and it was helping me to sleep. Yes, the occasional morning after, I had felt a little rough, but nothing that a few aspirin didn't cure. I have to admit that on the odd morning, I did finish off the remnants of the previous evening's bottle. There seemed to be little point in wasting it, and what harm would half a glass do?

 

I was quite sure that no harm would come to me while Jools was doing her mother protector routine. I did see her looking at me with concern from time to time. She would gently ask if I was OK. Despite my assurances, she would keep asking. Truth be told, it was becoming a little irritating and I think Jools could see this. It came to a head one evening.

 

"Cara, let's go to bed. I'm exhausted."

 

"In a minute. Have one more glass with me, Jools."

 

She shook her head. "I think I've had enough."

 

I picked up on her tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

She shrugged. "It means what I said."

 

"You think I've had enough too, is that it?"

 

She shrugged. "It's really up to you."

 

"That's what you meant, isn't it?"

 

"Cara… I'm just concerned for you. You know that."

 

"I'm fine Jools. I'm a big girl. It's not as if I'm an alcoholic. For heavens sake, it's just a few glasses of wine. Give me a break."

 

"Fine," she said quietly. "I'm going to bed anyway."

 

I shrugged. "Whatever. See, I'll leave the bottle as it is and go to bed too."

 

As I lay in bed, I replayed the exchange and felt bad about how I had reacted. I found myself tossing and turning and began to watch the hours roll by. Eventually I was so fed up that I got up and went back to the kitchen. I had one more glass and finished the bottle. Purely to help me sleep. It worked.

 

I'm sure that Jools noticed the empty bottle the next morning, but she said nothing.

 

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

 'Forgotten How to Love', having spent three weeks at the top, was now slowly descending the Top Forty. 'No Half Measures' had peaked at number three in the album chart, but was still hanging on inside the Top Ten. Simon was thrilled with the way things had gone.

 

Unfortunately, we couldn't claim to have cracked the U.S. market. 'No Half Measures', the single, had lurked in the lower realms of the Top 100. 'Not Dancing, but Flying' had been released recently, but was not showing any signs of doing much better. Simon had decided, with his U.S. counterparts, that we should hold off on any further stateside releases for the time being. This was not to say that the two singles hadn't been a financial success. Things on the other side of the Atlantic were of such a larger scale that even a record that barely crept into the Top 100 returned substantial profits.

 

Correspondingly, my bank balance was quite frightening – in a good way, of course. If the current patterns were maintained, I was going to be a millionaire within another few months. That is, if I didn't find a way to spend a lot more of it quicker than I had been doing. Obviously I was pleased with this state of affairs, but it wasn't as satisfying as I had often imagined it would be. Simply put, I had enough money to buy whatever I wanted – but I wasn't quite sure what I wanted. Even if I worked that out, I knew that there were things money couldn't buy. Clichéd, I know, but clichés by virtue of their status are more often than not accurate.

 

Whilst money could not buy one peace of mind, Jools was insisting that it could buy protection. She had been harping on at me for over a week about getting a bodyguard. I had recoiled from such a notion. It seemed ridiculous to think that I needed a mindless beefcake to shadow me everywhere I went. Two things happened in the space of a few days to change my mind.

 

With all this newfound wealth burning a hole in my bank account, I had decided that a little splurge on a shopping spree was called for. Jools had wanted to come with me, but I was keen to have some time alone. I headed into the centre of London and began to work my way along Oxford Street. With winter coming, it was time for a seasonal wardrobe update. I was doing well in that regard and enjoying it, until I realised that I was attracting some unwanted attention.

 

Although I was dressed simply in a fleecy top and jeans, and despite my sunglasses and baseball cap, it was obvious that I had been recognised. I became aware that there was a group of about four lads following me along the street. I went into the next shop and tried to lose myself in the rails of clothes. I nipped up the stairs to the top floor and began to browse. However, when I moved into another aisle, I was confronted with the same four guys.

 

"Hello, darling," said one with a smile. "It is you, isn't it?"

 

"I'm sorry," I said softly, "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

 

He shook his head and gave me a toothy grin. "You're just who I think you are, aren't you? Cara Malone, yes?"

 

I wasn't sure what to do. They had obviously recognised me. I smiled. "Yes, it is me. What can I do for you?" I looked around and realised that this floor was nearly empty. There was a sales assistant at the far side, but she wasn't looking in our direction. "Do you want an autograph?"

 

They laughed rather unpleasantly and joked with one another, "Do we want an autograph?"

 

One of them lewdly turned to the others and rubbed his crotch. "She can 'autograph' this anytime she wants."

 

The first guy turned back to me. "What's a hot chick like you doing out all by yourself? Don't you know there's a lot of bad folk about? Perhaps you need someone like me to look after you?"

 

I was becoming more disturbed by the minute. I looked behind me, but one of them had moved around to that end of the aisle.

 

"Look guys, I'm not sure what you want, but why don't we take a walk together. Go downstairs?"

 

The leader sneered. "So you think you're too good for us and you want to get rid of us? You think we're nothing but street scum?"

 

I began to get angry and spoke without thinking, "Yes, that's pretty much it. You seem to be smarter than you look, although that wouldn't be difficult. Now, get out of my way."

 

"Stuck up bitch," he hissed and moved closer.

 

"Ahem!" said a new voice from behind him.

 

He turned and I looked up. There were two burly shop security men standing there with the shop assistant behind them. I was so grateful to see them.

 

"Are these… gentlemen… bothering you, ma'am?" said one of them in a tone that made it clear that the word 'gentlemen' was being used in the broadest sense of the word.

 

"Yes, actually, they are. They are intimidating and threatening me."

 

The guys glared at me, but they didn't fancy their chances against the security men. Thankfully the latter weren't the wheezy near-retirement old men that sometimes took on such jobs. They were large and imposing and the earlier bravado of the lads had now evaporated. The security men led the four miscreants down the stairs and ejected them from the shop. The shop assistant brought me to the manager's office and let me sit down.

 

"Thanks," I murmured to her with a smile.

 

"Not at all, Ms. Malone," she replied.

 

I winced. "Am I that easy to recognise?"

 

She laughed. "Well it took me a few minutes when I first saw you. I knew you looked familiar and then I worked it out. I'm so sorry I didn't spot those louts earlier."

 

I shrugged. "I'm just glad you were there and I'm grateful for your help."

 

The shop manager arranged for one of his staff to take me home in her car. I had protested that it wasn't necessary, but I think he felt it prudent to look after what he assumed could be a valued customer. This episode, of course, increased Jools' insistence that I needed protection.

 

A few days later, I was convinced. Another note arrived.

 

'Scared yet? You should be. You're not even worthy to be called a bitch.'

 

I caught the drift of what the note was implying, but this time we decided to pass this one on to the police. It was sufficiently vague that we thought they would not read much into it. The officers that came out to talk to us regrettably informed us that they had not made much progress with investigating the source of the notes. They also agreed with Jools' on the protection issue. I gave in and gave her the go-ahead to look for some potential bodyguards. I hated that word.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

By the start of the following week, Jools had lined up a few potentials and arranged informal interviews for the Tuesday afternoon. I had told her just to pick one and be done with it, but she insisted that I had to be a part of the process as it was going to significantly impact my life. Whoever was picked was going to be spending a lot of time in my presence.

 

The first one to arrive was a large hulk of a guy called Harold. He was from an agency specialising in this sort of thing. He was pleasant enough, but was obviously more brawn than brain. I don't mean to be unkind, but that was the truth. After he left, I shook my head.

 

"I just can't imagine having him around me all the time, Jools."

 

She nodded. "I know, but you are going to have to pick someone."

 

The second guy was different. Again he was from an agency. He was well built, wore a leather jacket and sunglasses. Jools persuaded him to remove the latter whilst indoors. He had a flashy grin and a casual manner about him. I instantly took a dislike to him. I didn't like the way he looked at me.

 

When he left, I said, "Not him either. I'd need someone else to protect me from him."

 

Jools grimaced. "Yeah. This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

 

The third one was quite strange. He seemed out of place. To look at him, you would have thought he would be better suited to an interview for a job at the bank. In his early forties, he was not overly well built, was of medium height and was wearing a black business suit. Before he arrived, Jools had informed me that he didn't work for any agency. He ran his own business in this line of work and took on individual assignments himself. Apparently he was incredibly expensive compared to the other candidates. His name was Gareth Baxter. Jools asked him several questions and he answered politely and concisely. He was obviously intelligent, but I wasn't sure he was actually up to the job.

 

"Mr. Baxter, I have to say that you are not exactly what I would expect for this sort of position," I said.

 

He smiled. "I try not to be obvious about what my role is. If I were a seven-foot tall two hundred-pound monster, then it would be fairly obvious to anyone planning to harm you what my job was. They would target me first and then you. I prefer to be subtle and understated."

 

I nodded. "I don't know how to say this… are you able to… deal with situations?"

 

"Let me assure you Ms. Malone, I am experienced in hand-to-hand combat and have several martial arts qualifications."

 

He exuded a quiet confidence that I did find reassuring. Jools had a few other questions.

 

"Mr. Baxter, what about privacy and confidentiality? How do you stand on such things?"

 

"Good question. My sole concern is the wellbeing of my client. What they do or how they spend their time, whatever secrets they are hiding from the world – all that is not my concern. I don't make it my business and I don't tell anyone else. If I did that, I'd be out of work before too long."

 

Jools persisted, "That's all well and good, but what guarantees do we have that what you say is true?"

 

He gave her a long stare. "You have my word and that will have to be good enough."

 

It was for me. We had read his résumé and it was more interesting in what it did not say. He had served in the military and had listed the details of his career. There were a few blanks that were unexplained. One was during the period of the first Gulf War. We knew better than to ask, but Jools and I both had a suspicion that he had been involved in something secret. I don't know – Special Forces or something. He had left the army five years previously to set up his own business.

 

"Will you excuse us for a moment?" I asked him.

 

He took the hint and said that he would leave us alone. I turned to Jools.

 

"He's the one."

 

"You sure?" she asked.

 

I nodded. "Yes. I feel that I can trust him. He just comes across as… professional."

 

Jools nodded. "It's going to cost you."

 

I shrugged. "I know."

 

We called him back in and informed him that we would like to retain his services. He smiled and said that he would be pleased to take me on subject to certain terms.

 

We were both a little taken aback. It sounded like we were the employees and he was giving us a job.

 

"What exactly do you mean?" Jools asked coolly.

 

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm prepared to do this job only if I can be allowed to do it properly." He looked at me, "Ms. Malone, your safety is my primary concern. With that in mind, we have to have a certain agreement on some issues. You have to discuss your daily plans with me and keep me informed in advance as much as possible. I won't take it kindly if you run off at a moment's notice and leave me in the dark as to where you are going. Also I want to be able to suggest other security measures for you and your home."

 

I thought about this and decided that I really liked him. "Mr. Baxter…"

 

He interrupted, "Another thing is that you must call me Gareth."

 

I smiled, "OK, Gareth, call me Cara…"

 

He interrupted again and smiled, "No chance. You're my client and you will be Ms. Malone."

 

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "OK, but for goodness' sake call me Miss Malone then. I actually don't like Ms."

 

He nodded. "As you wish."

 

"As I was saying, Gareth," I emphasised his name and I saw him smile, "I respect your stance and I think it reflects your professionalism. One concern I have though – how much privacy am I permitted?"

 

"Your personal privacy will not be invaded by me."

 

"So you won't insist on watching me while I shower then?"

 

He raised an eyebrow. "Certainly not."

 

Jools shot me a puzzled glance, but I ignored it. I gave a sultry smile and said in a low voice, "Is the thought of watching me shower that unappealing?"

 

He narrowed his eyes and looked at me intently. "Miss Malone, I'm a professional. Business and pleasure are not things that mix well. If that is what you are after, I think you have the wrong man."

 

I shook my head and dropped my seductress act. "Not at all, Gareth. I was just checking. In my opinion, you're just the right man for the job. When can you start?"

 

"I already have," he said with a little smile.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Jools sorted out the contract and, over the next day or two, we sorted out how things would work. Gareth would arrive early in the morning and let himself into Jools' place. He would wait downstairs in the office until I was up and then would accompany me if I were going out. If I weren't going anywhere, he would just remain on the premises. In the evening, if I were staying in, he would leave. If I were going out, I was to give him prior notice where possible and he would again accompany me.

 

He emphasised that he didn't insist on being at my shoulder; he planned to be discreet. I think he was trying to let me know that whatever social activities I planned did not have to be hampered by his presence. He had already had a security consultant around and made arrangements for a better alarm system and external security lights to be installed.

 

I took him for a 'test drive' at the end of the week. I wanted to see how he coped with a shopping trip. I ventured back to Oxford Street.

 

"How do you want to do this, Miss Malone?" he asked as we walked along.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I can either walk beside you, or I can remain at a short distance behind you."

 

I laughed. "Oh for heaven's sake, walk beside me."

 

He grinned, "Yes ma'am."

 

I dragged him around several shops. I tried on lots, but bought little. He didn't complain or show any signs of weariness. I was aware that people were recognising me, but no one approached me. I commented on this.

 

"It's to be expected," he replied, "I'm not meaning to be chauvinistic, but if a pretty woman is accompanied by a man, she is much less likely to be approached than if she is alone."

 

"You think I'm pretty?" The words came out of my mouth before I thought about it. I blushed and bit my lip, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

 

He looked amused and chuckled. "You don't need me to tell you that."

 

I shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, come on, there's plenty more shopping to be done. I'm very impressed with your tolerance. Not many men are this patient. I'm sure you'll make someone a good husband some day."

 

He winced. "Been there, done that. Didn't work out too well."

 

I grimaced. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

 

He gave a little laugh. "Ancient history. Let's just say it's easier to be patient in these situations when one gets paid as much as I do."

 

I chuckled. "So, it's all about the money. That's all I mean to you?"

 

He kept his face straight and nodded. "Absolutely."

 

I laughed and relentlessly continued my expedition.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

A few mornings later, Kate raised an eyebrow when she saw Gareth accompanying me as I ran up to her. "A new running partner? Am I now redundant?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

 

I laughed. "Kate, meet Gareth. Gareth, this is a good friend of mine, Kate."

 

"Pleased to meet you ma'am," Gareth said politely. He took up a position near one of the park entrances from where he had a good view all over the park. Kate and I began our circuits.

 

"So what's the deal with him?" she asked. "New boyfriend?"

 

I grinned. "Not exactly. He's my new bodyguard."

 

Kate found this very amusing. "Well, he's almost Kevin Costnerish. Are you going to be doing the Whitney Houston thing?"

 

I laughed and shook my head. "It's purely business. I was reluctant to go down this line, but I had… an unpleasant experience while out shopping last week. I'm afraid it's a necessary evil."

 

"I'm sure he would love to know that's what you called him."

 

"He's not bad actually. He's polite and discreet. I forget he's there a lot of the time. Enough about me, tell me about your far more interesting life."

 

She laughed and updated me on the latest office gossip from her world. I loved to listen to her sharp wit and found it refreshing to spend time with her. When we were done with our circuits, we stopped beside Gareth.

 

"Bye, Gareth," Kate said in a smouldering voice and made eyes at him before running off.

 

Gareth raised an eyebrow and remarked, "She's quite a woman, isn't she?"

 

I grinned. "You can say that again."

 

He looked a bit perplexed. "Was she coming on to me?"

 

This time I laughed. "I don't think so."

He shrugged. "It seemed that way to me. Hey, why are you laughing at me?"

 

"Come on, old boy. Let's see if you can keep up with me."

 

I sprinted off back towards Jools' apartment. For an 'old boy', he was in surprisingly good shape and had no difficulty in matching my pace. He was barely out of breath when we got back.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Simon came over to see us the next day. He was obviously quite excited about something, but was not forthcoming as to what it was.

 

"Right, what's got you bouncing about like this?" Jools asked.

 

He chuckled. "Sometimes I surprise even myself."

 

We shared a glance and rolled our eyes. "What is it?" I asked.

 

He smiled, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate suit and with great satisfaction said, "It just so happens that yours truly has managed to talk the stuffed shirts at my beloved company into something that I think will please you."

 

"Oh come on and get on with it," Jools said impatiently.

 

He held up a hand and then continued. "In light of the great success of your album and latest single, I managed to persuade them that it would be a good idea to embark on a UK mini-tour. Now I know it might seem premature, but I think the increased exposure will help to keep your profile prominent in the public eye."

 

I raised an eyebrow and smiled. "A mini-tour?"

 

Simon grinned. "Now don't congratulate me all at once."

 

Jools chuckled. "When you get done congratulating yourself, I doubt there's any room for the rest of us to add ours."

 

He shrugged and wasn't fazed by her comment. "You're just overawed by my immense charisma and startling achievements."

 

She laughed. "Whatever. Anyway, give us more details. Where? When?"

 

He smiled and sat forward. Back to his usual businesslike self, he filled us in on the plans.  He had lined up five dates in total. We were to start in Edinburgh on Friday 5 December, Manchester the next night, Birmingham on Friday 12 December, Cardiff the next night and finishing in London on Saturday 20 December. That gave us just over four weeks.

 

"We need to get practising," I murmured.

 

"Are you sure we can sell enough tickets in such a short space of time?" Jools asked.

 

Simon nodded. "I believe so. The plan is to play medium-sized venues in each location except London. Better to have a smaller place sold out than a large venue half filled. However, I believe we'll pick up enough momentum to go for a larger venue in London."

 

"Where have you booked in London?" I asked with interest.

 

"Wembley Arena," he said smugly.

 

"My goodness," I exclaimed.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

That night, I felt like celebrating. I actually made an effort to make a proper dinner. Jools had headed out that afternoon to see some other clients. I was not much of a cook. I got some pasta, some lamb cutlets and followed a simple recipe to make a casserole. On her return, Jools was surprised to find me in the kitchen with an apron on.

 

"What's going on here?" she asked.

 

"I'm cooking us dinner," I said with a smile.

 

She laughed. "Umm, will it be OK to eat?"

 

"Hey," I protested, "Not fair. You should be encouraging me."

 

I served the meal onto the plates and carried it over to the table. I had a favourite bottle of wine on the table. Jools smelled the dinner.

 

"Smells great," she said with a raised eyebrow.

 

"Don't sound so surprised," I chided, although I was actually quite surprised myself. I hoped it tasted as good.

 

I reached for the wine and corkscrew. Jools turned up her nose. "Why don't we leave the wine tonight, Cara? I don't think I feel like having any."

 

"Come on, Jools. Don't be like that. I'm excited about this tour; don't put a dampener on things."

 

She sighed and muttered. "There's always a reason."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a sharp edge to my voice.

 

"Nothing," she said with a wan smile. "Let's eat."

 

The meal actually tasted very good and we both enjoyed it. We talked over the details for the tour and I was already coming up with ideas for some live arrangements of my songs.

 

Jools chuckled. "You're really quite excited about this, aren't you?"

 

I grinned. "Of course I am. I've always loved the live performance side of things. I can't believe it." I reached for the wine, "A top up?"

 

Jools shook her head and her expression clouded as I filled my glass. "Cara, can I talk to you frankly."

 

My eyes narrowed, but I looked up and forced a smile. "Sure, what is it?"

 

She hesitated and took a deep breath. "I'm really concerned about you." She held up a hand, "Hear me out, before you say anything. I'm worried. You're drinking a lot. I mean, does a day go by without you drinking at the moment?"

 

I bristled and said coolly, "Well, you obviously know the answer to that question since you've been keeping such close tabs on me."

 

"Don't be like that. You know I'm just looking out for you?"

 

I stood up and walked a few steps before whirling round. "I'm a big girl. I've got a bodyguard now. I don't need a stepmother also. I wish you'd just get off my case about this. I'm fine, really. So I enjoy a drink now, is there anything wrong with that?"

 

She stood and faced me. "Not in itself, but I think you're using it as a crutch. You're actually relying on it. Hell, Cara, I've seen bottles that weren't even half empty when I went to bed sitting in the bin the next morning."

 

My anger flared. "What do you want to do? Draw levels on the bottle so you can see when your boozy friend is sneaking some more? God, I feel like an intruder in this house at times."

 

"Don't say that," Jools said in a pleading voice.

 

I shook my head. "I can't deal with this, Jools. I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I think it's time I found my own place."

 

She looked as if she had been slapped. Her face fell and her shoulders slumped. "If that's the way you feel…"

 

"It is," I said firmly.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 38

 

 

We began rehearsals for the tour a few days later. Instead of using the back room at Jools' place, we now had the exclusive use of a performance studio at Sony. It was more spacious and there was plenty of room to set up all the equipment we needed. The guys were as excited as I was, if not more so, at the thought of doing the live performances. We spent the latter part of that week simply getting ourselves familiar with all our songs again. The atmosphere was fairly relaxed as we were not under much pressure at that stage. We were able to enjoy a few days of informal playing to get the feel of the music again.

 

Following my heated conversation with Jools, I was looking into possible properties that I might consider buying. Although I regretted the way in which things had come to a head, in the cold light of day I knew that I couldn't live with her forever. I was going to have to get my own place at some stage, and this was probably an opportune time. I was saddened by the way it was happening and I reckoned that Jools felt the same way.

 

The next day, I had apologised for my outburst and she had apologised for making me feel uncomfortable. No more had been said about it, but I knew that underneath it all, we both had some reservations about the issue that had precipitated this confrontation. Jools, for her part, didn't mention anything further about what I chose to drink and I tried to be more discreet when I felt I wanted a drink. Looking back, I think that was a bad move.

 

I had made an appointment with an exclusive property estate agent and met him on Friday afternoon. Gareth, of course, was in tow. Estate agents get a bad press for being pushy, somewhat slimy and less than forthright on occasions. I'm sure this is an oversimplified generalisation, but sometimes generalisations are spot on. It certainly was this time.

 

"Ms. Malone, let me begin by saying how wonderful it is to make your acquaintance. I can assure that you that it is a pleasure to be able to help you in this and any other way that I can. My name is Joel Duncan."

 

I smiled, probably a little coolly. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Duncan."

 

"Oh please, call me Joel. May I call you Cara?"

 

I felt my smile begin to fade and I bristled. "Actually, perhaps it would be better if you called me Miss Malone."

 

His expression darkened for a moment, but then he regained his composure. "Absolutely, as you wish. I'm here to serve you and help you find the property that is perfect for you. Had you anything in mind particularly?"

 

"Not exactly, but I have an idea of the sort of thing that I am looking for. I want to be somewhere within the Greater London area, but not overly central. In the closer suburbs perhaps. It would be preferable if it was a detached property with a degree of privacy."

 

"Absolutely," he fawned, "I can see how that would be important. You want to be able to exclude unwanted guests."

 

I smiled and mentally added Joel Duncan to the list of unwanted guests, but simply said, "Yes, I'm glad you understand."

 

He hesitated. "I don't like to mention it, but do we need to consider what price range you are thinking of?"

 

I'm afraid I must have looked and sounded rather condescending as I replied, "I don't think that is a problem, do you?"

 

He seemed to grow a foot taller and a wide smile spread across his face. "I'm sure it's not. This will indeed widen the available options."

 

I thought that it was more the widening of his commission that was contributing to the improvement in his mood. He proceeded to show me photographs and details on several properties. He gushed about how wonderful they were and the majestic features of each. It was amusing to realise how often he used the word 'unique' when describing the various houses. I was surprised that there were so many 'unique' houses around, but I refrained from commenting on this.

 

I had worn a smart, but fashionable, black jacket and skirt ensemble. The skirt was short and as I sat there, I was aware that it was riding up to a degree. Joel also seemed to be rather aware of this as I noted where his gaze was directed on more than a few occasions. Having looked at details on around twenty houses, I narrowed it down to half a dozen that looked like they had potential. Joel was practically bowing and scraping at the end as he agreed to set up viewing appointments for the start of the following week.

 

Once outside, I turned to Gareth. "What did you make of him?"

 

He looked at me frankly. "Snivelling little toad."

 

I laughed and asked, "Is that your professional opinion?"

 

"Without a doubt. If I'd spotted him looking at your legs once more, I think I'd have been tempted to do something about it."

 

I looked at him with some surprise. "My, aren't we protective."

 

He shrugged and smiled. "That's my job, isn't it?"

 

I chuckled. "A bit father-like though, aren't you?"

 

He winked. "I'm old enough to be your father."

 

I rolled my eyes. "Just don't start telling me what I can and can't wear."

 

He grinned. "Have you ever heard me complain about what you wear?"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The following week, we began to practise in earnest for the upcoming performances. To help us get into the right mindset, I had got the guys to arrange the room more like a stage set up. It was a traditional layout: Kevin and drums at the back, Peter and keyboards stage right, slightly forwards from Kevin. Brian stood stage left, further forwards again, and then I placed myself at the front, centre stage, with Jon to my right. I let them do a bit of fiddling with sound settings until they were satisfied that we could all hear what we needed to hear.

 

One of the myths about live performances is that there is spontaneity in the running order of songs. The audience may romantically think that the band scribbles the order down on the back of a cigarette packet minutes before taking the stage. I doubted that was often the case. Sound engineers and lighting technicians preferred order and defined patterns. Most bands on tour will play the same set in exactly the same order for most of their performances. Yes, there can be occasional adjustments with a few different songs being employed depending on the setting where they are playing, but for the most part, it is set in stone. It was also better for the band as one would know exactly what was coming next. The challenge was to make this almost obsessive organisation appear spontaneous and vibrant whilst on stage.

 

We sat and had some discussion about the order in which we would play the songs. At least, with only one album released, there was little difficulty in choosing which songs we would play: we would play all of them. After talking it over, we decided on the following order:

 

No Half Measures

Living Life in Colour

You Make My Skin Crawl

Nine Years Old Again

I Just Wanna Be Me

I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song

Simply Say

Dreaming Your Life

Waiting in Heaven

Forgotten How to Love

I'm Coming Home

Not Dancing, but Flying

 

The reasoning was that we should start with an up-tempo well-known song and follow that with another rocky song. Then we'd change pace a little and bring in some humour with 'You Make My Skin Crawl'. We'd pick the pace up again for a few numbers before slowing down again with 'Simply Say' and 'Dreaming Your Life'. I then planned to get more serious before singing 'Waiting in Heaven'. We'd bring things to a mellow end with the next two songs and then probably use 'Not Dancing, but Flying' for an encore, which again would be a well-known song. Having sorted that out, we had only to work out how we would play each song live. Easier said than done.

 

I wasn't someone who thought that every song we played live had to be different from the studio album version, but there were certain factors that had to be taken into consideration. For example, if we had used overdubbing while recording to get two lead guitar parts, we couldn't exactly split Jon in two to perform each part. Also, Steve and Tom may have used certain effects when mastering the songs to achieve a certain sound – this might be irreproducible for a live performance. Plus, I doubted that the London Philharmonic would agree to accompany us around the country just to play our final song. One thing I was insisting on though was a brass trio. 'I Just Wanna Be Me' absolutely required it and it would add a punch to some other songs. Simon had promised to get a trio to join in the final week of practising.

 

We began to work our way through the songs in order. We played around with the solos in 'No Half Measures' and extended them. Jon taught me a new riff to use while playing rhythm guitar. This was the challenge of performing live: trying to play your instrument well without compromising the vocal. In a sense it was easy in the studio as one could give full concentration to delivering a perfect vocal. Of course, in the heat of a live performance, absolute perfection was not required. I was quite fanatical however, that we had to get things right now. If we knew the songs inside out in practice, there was less room for error once on stage.

 

It was a hard grind each day and by the middle of that week, the pressure was beginning to build. I was not feeling at my best. I had a fuzzy head and had skipped breakfast. Perhaps my tolerance was weakened.

 

"Oh for God's sake, Peter, that's about the fifth time in a row you've missed that chord change," I spat with frustration.

 

He looked shocked and his eyes widened. "Err… sorry Cara. I'm not doing it on purpose, you know." He smiled, probably trying to lighten the moment.

 

"I don't care if it's deliberate or just incompetence, sort it out one way or the other," I said rather harshly.

 

I noticed that the others were all looking at me as if I had two heads. "What is it? Have you bozos forgotten that we're going on stage in about three weeks? This isn't the same as playing a smoky little club like we did months ago. This is the real thing and I'm tired of the amateurish effort that is being put in around here."

 

"Cara," Jon said gently, "I think you're being a little unfair…"

 

"Unfair?" I said whirling on him, "Come on, Jon, let's cut the crap. We've a job to do and so far you guys aren't up to scratch."

 

I could see that he was riled. "Us guys? It's not just us, we're a band altogether. That includes you."

 

I raised an eyebrow and put a hand on one hip. "Really? All in it together? How cosy. Well if I'm not mistaken the tickets that the poor unsuspecting public buy will say 'Cara Malone' on them. However, if I've got that wrong and somehow not realised that you guys are the stars, then please do correct me."

 

He shook his head and his brow furrowed. "Would you listen to yourself? Drop the prima donna act and get real. If you're so uptight about this, then maybe you should have thought about it before agreeing to do these gigs. We don't have enough time to prepare. Perhaps you should think about the consequences of what you do before you leap in."

 

I felt my blood begin to boil. "Oh that's rich. You would know all about thinking through your actions before you start something."

 

From the look on his face, I could see that he knew exactly what I was referring to. He looked hurt, but strangely I was unmoved.

 

"Anyway, I'm out of here," I said haughtily. "I've got some houses to view this afternoon." In a sarcastic tone I added, "Perhaps you boys wouldn't mind putting in a bit more effort this afternoon and make sure you know our songs. I'll be back tomorrow morning to see how you've got on."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

In the elevator, I was aware of Gareth's eyes on me.

 

I frowned at him. "If you've got something to say, then say it."

 

He shrugged and murmured. "None of my business, Miss Malone."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on. I didn't figure you for a spineless yes-man. If you're thinking something, then say it."

 

He was silent for a moment and then quietly spoke, "I'm not sure what the history is between you and Jon, but I know that what you said hurt him bad for some reason. If that's what you wanted to do, that's fine. The rest of the guys are trying their best and working hard. If you want to be the uppity ice queen, that is entirely up to you. However, if you are feeling less than one hundred percent for some other reason and are just taking it out on them, well that's another matter. Just my opinion. You asked for it and I'm not prepared to let you tear my head off too for giving you what you asked for."

 

I stared at him intensely for a moment and then sighed. I rubbed my eyes and nodded. In a small voice I said, "You're right. You're completely right. I don't know what got into me. I'm worried that I'm turning into a real bitch."

 

I felt his hand settle on my shoulder for a fleeting moment. "That's not the real you. I've spent a lot of time with you even though I've only been working for you a short while. I'd like to think I know what you're really like and upstairs there now? That wasn't the real you. You're special, there's something different about you. Don't lose that."

 

I looked up at him and gave a wan smile. "Do you give this pep talk to all the stars you've looked after?"

 

He laughed. "Hell, no. Most of them were real bitches and I couldn't care less about how they felt. As I said, you're different."

 

"Thanks," I murmured.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"This is the one," I said quietly.

 

"I beg your pardon," Joel said obsequiously.

 

We had looked at four houses already and none of them had been suitable or what I was looking for. The house we were viewing at that moment was a three-storey, redbrick, Edwardian detached house in St. John's Wood.

 

It wasn't much on the outside. It had a moderate-sized garden, large double garage and a fairly large wall most of the way around the property's perimeter. However, inside it was just fantastic. I was initially concerned that it appeared a little old and I worried that it might be somewhat rundown. I worried for nothing.

 

Inside, the house was the last word in modern design. Joel had been incessantly ranting about how wonderful everything was, but he was actually correct. Polished beech floors underfoot, concealed lighting, tastefully decorated and modern furnishings all combined to increase my liking for the house. The previous owners, apparently, had been a wealthy couple that had bought the house, decorated it, moved in and then promptly divorced. Neither wanted the house and they were offering to sell the furnishings also.

 

The accommodation was spacious with a large drawing room and dining room. Room? It was more of a small hall. The kitchen was beautiful, not that I am a big fan of kitchens. There was a cosy den that just seemed so homely. It opened through double glass doors into a spacious conservatory. Upstairs there were four bedrooms with a fifth bedroom, study and playroom all on the top floor. The playroom would make a perfect music room, I thought. Over the rooftops, I could just see into the western reaches of Regent's Park.

 

"What do you think?" I asked Gareth.

 

"Not bad. The wall outside needs to be built up in a few places, alarm system's pretty good, add a few external lights, CCTV and electric gates and it would be grand."

 

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "I meant: do you like the house?"

 

He chuckled. "Sorry, thought you were asking for my professional assessment. Yes, I do like it."

 

I turned back to Joel who was almost wringing his hands as he cowered in the background. "How much did you say they wanted for it?"

 

"Oh, let me just check again… the asking price is one point one five million and if you want all the furnishings, fittings and appliances, they are another fifty thousand."

 

I sighed and my shoulders fell. "Pity," I murmured.

 

Joel looked crestfallen. "Erm, do you think that is a problem?"

 

I smiled ruefully. "Joel, I love this house. It's perfect, but that much money is too steep for me at the moment."

 

He hesitated for a moment and then gave a slimy smile. "Well… I shouldn't tell you this, but I know that the previous owners would like a quick sale. They want to release the capital tied up in this house. There haven't been that many interested viewers…"

 

I looked back at Joel with interest. "What are you trying to say?"

 

He shrugged diffidently. "I'm just thinking that they may be receptive to a lower offer."

 

I nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, tell them I'm prepared to offer one million, but I'd want the furnishings included."

 

He paled a little. "Well, now when I said they might be prepared to accept a lower…"

 

I interrupted gently and put a hand on his arm. "Oh come, Joel. I'm sure you can be very persuasive. Why don't you see what you can do for me?"

 

He flushed and beamed with self-importance. His chest swelled and he nodded. "I'll do what I can."

 

As we left and got into my car, Gareth was chuckling.

 

"What's got you so amused?"

 

He grinned. "I'm just amazed at how some men fall for a pretty woman. I mean, he was almost putty in your hands. How long does it take you to learn how to manipulate men like that? I mean, do you start learning it from childhood? Do mothers take their daughters aside and start teaching it when you are just out of nappies?"

 

I laughed and shrugged. "Gareth, you'd be surprised how quickly we can learn what we need to do to get what we want."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next morning, I felt very sheepish when I arrived at Sony and had to face the guys. They greeted me warily as if waiting to see if I were in the same mood as the previous day.

 

I smiled apologetically. "Guys, I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday. I was wrong to take my frustration out on all of you. I guess I'm a bit uptight at the moment, but I know that doesn't excuse my behaviour… so anyway, I'm sorry."

 

Kevin bounced on his stool. "No problem, Cara, that's fine."

 

Peter grinned at me. "Forget it; we're all a bit pumped."

 

Brian winked at me. "Give us a warning next time, will you?"

 

I turned to Jon. He seemed more reserved than the others. He shrugged. "We all get worked up at times." That was all he said.

 

We got back into the practising and things went better. We were getting on top of the songs and really starting to deliver a good sound. The energy and enthusiasm were there. I soon forgot about the previous day's debacle and began to enjoy myself.

 

We tweaked most songs to some degree or other. In most, we lengthened any solos as it gave us more scope for improvisation in the live setting, and, in others, we changed the endings. Of course, whilst one can do a 'repeat chorus to fade' ending in the studio, it doesn't come across so well on stage. The ending of a live song is possibly one of the most crucial parts; it has to be tight and punchy. Correspondingly, we spent an age making sure the ending of each song was permanently ingrained into our consciousness.

 

Over lunch, I sensed that the others were still somewhat cautious around me. I tried to chat freely and show them that I really was not an ogre.

 

"I saw a house yesterday that I really want to buy…"

 

"Really?" "Do tell." There was general interest.

 

I told them all about it in far greater detail than they would have requested given the choice. It was probably quite obvious to them that I was very taken with the place.

 

The others were talking amongst themselves and Jon piped up from beside me, "So, you're moving out from Jools' place?"

 

I nodded. "Yeah, it's a hard decision, but I've always known that I'd have to find my own place at some stage."

 

"Are you sure this is the right time?"

 

I shrugged. "I don't know. When is the right time?"

 

"I dunno," he replied, "I was just thinking that there's a lot going on in your life right now and the stability might help you."

 

I shot him a glance with a wry grin. "When has my life recently not had a lot going on in it?"

 

He laughed. "Fair point." He paused before continuing, "I just worry about you. Being in a house by yourself, what with all that has come to light recently."

 

I grinned. "Hey, don't worry. I've got Gareth to look after me now and if I do buy this house, it will be like Fort Knox by the time he finishes with it."

 

He nodded. "I'm glad you've got Gareth watching over you." His brow furrowed, "I know he'll make sure that nothing dramatic happens to you… but like for him it's just a job…" He shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like… he really cares about you though."

 

I turned to look at him closely. I grinned and murmured, "Jon, I never knew you cared."

 

He laughed self-consciously. "Don't talk crap. You know I care. That won't change… despite what all may have happened."

 

I smiled and then chewed my lip. "I'm sorry about what I said yesterday."

 

He knew what I was talking about. "Don't worry about it. I probably deserved it."

 

I patted his arm. "I don't know about that. It was wrong of me to say it no matter what."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"One point zero five million pounds?" Jools exclaimed.

 

Joel had taken two days to get back to me. He had informed me that his clients would accept no less than the above amount for the house plus furnishings. I was quite pleased. I hadn't expected them to accept my initial offer. I had told Joel I would give them what they had asked for. I had just told Jools the good news.

 

"Are you sure you can afford that?" she asked.

 

I grinned. "Hey, you know the state of my finances more than anyone."

 

She raised an eyebrow. "True, but we'll have to sit down and work out what's the best way to do this. How much of your capital to use as deposit and what size of mortgage to take out."

 

I grinned triumphantly. "No need, I've sorted it all out. I met with my bank manager and we've worked through all the figures. I got a pretty good deal on the mortgage too."

 

She looked surprised and perhaps even a little hurt. I think I understood: up until now I had relied heavily on Jools for everything. I felt that I needed to be more independent and I think she was finding it difficult to adjust to this concept.

 

"You had no problem getting the mortgage?"

 

I chuckled. "Not once he worked out why I looked familiar and admitted that his two teenaged daughters were big fans." I paused and with a straight face continued, "I suppose the autographed photos and promise of two complimentary Wembley Arena tickets had little to do with it."

 

She shook her head slowly and then laughed. "I've created a monster."

 

I buffed my nails. "I've been taught by the best."

 

After a moment's silence she asked, "So when… do you think you will be ready to move?"

 

I shrugged. "I've got my solicitor instructed to push the contracts through as soon as possible. I think it could be about three weeks or so."

 

"So soon?" she mused.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

At times, I felt like a flagging mountaineer. Just when I thought the summit was in sight, I would see another peak rising in the distance. It was as if I was always pushing to reach the next goal, the next target. When each successive achievement didn't quite bring me the fulfilment that I sought, I set my eyes on the next one and hoped that it would be the one to satisfy me.

 

I had thought that the album release or the Number One single would be the pinnacle of achievement that I had been seeking, but I was wrong. Now I was hoping that it was the opportunity to sing and play my songs live before a hopefully appreciative audience. Whilst I was holding onto this hope, there was a small voice inside me telling me that this probably would not be the case. Small voices could be drowned out by keeping yourself busy, and in other ways too.

 

The next two weeks were mostly made up of hard work in the studio as we practised diligently. We were getting to the stage where we could play the songs in our sleep and were almost getting bored with them. Each time that I sensed we were becoming over familiar with one particular song, I quickly moved us all on to another. There was a fine line between well practised and over practised. The last thing we wanted was for us to be so comfortable with the material that the performance would be stale. However, I figured that the addition of a proper stage, lots of lights and a few thousand people would help prevent that eventuality.

 

My mood was rather up and down during this period. I had days when I knew my temper was short and I had to fight hard to keep my irritation from showing too much. The guys were pretty good at reading me though. When they sensed that I was in bad form, they didn't push me on anything and would give me a lot of space. I had enough insight to realise all this, but it was hard to actually do anything about it. I wasn't sure why I was feeling like this. Perhaps it was the hormones. Perhaps I was more unsettled about my forthcoming house move than I liked to admit.

 

Simon kept flitting in and out to check how things were going. He was like a nervous expectant father wondering how the delivery of his first child was progressing. I understood that he had a lot riding on this mini-tour, as he had been the one to push for it. At first, his little visits were almost cute, but lately I had begun to find them tiresome. Unfortunately his timing was poor on a few occasions and he had managed to find me at less than my best. I was rather brusque and not too kind to him at these times.

 

Towards the end of the time that we had allotted for tour preparation, Jon had been acting funny. Whilst there had been a certain amount of awkwardness between us for some time, it had increased recently. I had asked Brian about it and he'd evaded the question, saying that I should ask Jon about it if I thought there was a problem. I knew there was something that he was not telling me, but I couldn't bring myself to ask Jon about it up front. I assume that Brian probably mentioned our little conversation to Jon, because the next day he took me aside during one of our breaks.

 

"Fancy getting a breath of fresh air?" he asked, trying to sound casual but looking extremely uncomfortable.

 

"Sure," I said with a shrug.

 

We headed up onto the roof. It was a grey late November day, but thankfully it was not raining. I looked down at the busy streets below as the cars crawled along, being outpaced by most of the adjacent pedestrians.

 

"What's on your mind, Jon?"

 

"Huh?"

 

I smiled. "I sense there is something that you want to tell me. You've been pussyfooting around me for the last two weeks."

 

"Yeah…" he said noncommittally. "I guess I have." He looked out over the rooftops and was silent. I wondered if he was actually going to say anything further.

 

He turned back to me and sighed. "Look, I don't know if I should feel uncomfortable about this or not, but I do. I don't know if it is a big deal or anything…"

 

I tapped my foot impatiently. "Jon, whatever it is, just say it, would you?"

 

He grinned nervously. "OK, I'm seeing someone new."

 

I looked at him and then began to smile. "That's it? That's what you've been trying to tell me all this time? Why didn't you just come out and tell me before now?"

 

My words sounded brave, but inside I felt the pain as his words hit home. Of course, it was nothing less than what I had expected. Did I think he would be a monastic bachelor until his dying day? Since there was no chance of anything happening between the two of us, I had known it would only be a matter of time before this transpired.

 

He shrugged diffidently. "I don't know… I just thought it might be a bit awkward… just with things that have happened before." He paused, "I was worried in case you would have a difficulty with it…"

 

I laughed. "Oh, Jon, come on. Don't flatter yourself, hon. I mean, yes we shared a moment, but that's all it was."

 

He nodded. "OK… well that's fine."

 

I looked up at him and softly said, "Surely you should be happy that there's no problem. You look as if someone died."

 

He forced a smile and stood up straighter. "I am happy. No, it's good. I just wanted to make sure."

 

I chuckled. "Come on, silly old you. Let's go back down and get back to work."

 

As we descended the stairs, I casually said, "Actually, I was thinking that perhaps I should start seeing someone too. All work and no play, you know…"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The first week of December was a busy one. Although we had finished all our practices and would not be playing our songs again until we went on stage in Edinburgh that Friday night, I had plenty to think about. I needed to work out what I was going to say on stage and, perhaps even more importantly, what I was going to wear.

 

All this was compounded by the fact that my solicitor had managed to complete the purchase of my new house. Having signed the contract and now being the official owner, I was keen to move in as soon as possible. Gareth had various teams of men swarming over the place making the adjustments that he had recommended. He had asked how much I wanted to know about what he was getting done and I had assured him that he could tell me all about it when it was finished. I trusted him to sort it out.

 

With the house being already fully furnished and with me owning very little in the way of substantial possessions, moving was not going to be an onerous task. At least, not physically. As I packed my clothes – not an inconsequential job given the large wardrobe I had built up – I felt very strange inside. It felt like I was leaving home. I sat on my bed staring into space for some time. My bed? My room? When I thought about it, I realised that Jools' house was the only place that I as a female had known as home. I had had few qualms about leaving the grotty Greenwich flat that Nick had inhabited, but this was different. This place was filled with many intense memories for me.

 

"Taking a break?" a quiet voice said from the doorway.

 

I looked up and grinned at Jools. "Heya, yes, just thinking."

 

She sat down beside me and gave me a wan smile. "Are you feeling as rotten as I am?"

 

I managed an equally washed-out smile. "Pretty much, I reckon."

 

Jools put her arm around my shoulders. "I know you have to move on and get your own place. It makes sense, but… hell I'm going to miss you so much."

 

I swallowed hard. "Jools, I know. I'm going to miss you too, but if we talk about this more, I know that I'm going to end up crying."

 

Jools shrugged. "Why don't we cry about it here and now together… rather than later tonight when we're each alone in our own houses?"

 

That did the trick and the floodgates opened. We both sat and sobbed as we hugged each other. I know it might sound pathetic, but perhaps even I had underestimated the bond that I had built up with this incredible woman.

 

I wiped my eyes and managed to achieve some semblance of control. In a shaky voice I said, "Jools, you're the best, you really are. I couldn't ask for a better friend. I know I've been difficult to live with recently and I know that this whole move could have taken place in better circumstances, but I want you to know that I love you so much and… if it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be today." I paused. "Actually I do. I'd probably be still asleep in that hellhole of a flat that used to be mine. I'd be a skinny, unattractive, and probably still unsuccessful, man."

 

Jools laughed through her tears. "You do realise that you've been a woman for over a year now. Just about a week ago you passed that milestone."

 

I nodded and smiled. I had noted it myself as the date had passed. "I know, it's hard to believe."

 

"Any regrets?"

 

I shrugged. "We all have regrets even when we make the right choices. Would I do things differently?" I thought for a moment before continuing in a determined voice, "Knowing what I do now, I'd definitely do it all again. Despite the troubles and difficulties there have been."

 

She grinned and squeezed my arm. "So you don't blame me for totally changing your life?"

 

I chuckled. "I just blame you for not doing it sooner."

 

We laughed and recalled the many happy times that we had spent together in her house over the past year. We did more crying too before we were done.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I stood on the front steps having packed everything into my car and Gareth's. Truth be told, most of it was in Gareth's. After all, my car was more about aesthetics than functional luggage space.

 

"Thanks so much, Jools. This place has been a real home for me. I'm going to miss it."

 

We both misted over again as she hugged me fiercely. "Damn it," she said through her tears, "I'm going to miss you."

 

I tried to force a laugh. "You're not going to get rid of me that easily. You'll see plenty of me, and remember I'm only going to be living about fifteen minutes from here."

 

As we broke the embrace, she said, "You will think about what I suggested, won't you?"

 

I nodded, "I promise."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"Are you listening, Miss Malone?"

 

"Mmm? What was that?"

 

Gareth sighed. "I'm trying to show you how this security system works. You were miles away."

 

I smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Listen, would you do me a really big favour?"

 

He shrugged, seemingly caught off balance. "Sure, what do you want?"

 

"Would you please call me Cara? I feel silly having you call me Miss Malone. It was fine at first when we didn't really know each other, but it sounds ridiculous now."

 

He screwed up his face. "I don't know, I mean I sort of always like to stick to the rules…"

 

I chuckled and with a flash of insight said, "Gareth, I know what you mean about the rules, but trust me – calling me Cara won't lead to you and me doing the dirty before we both know it. I mean, I like you, but not like that."

 

He looked both shocked and amused at the same time. He laughed and didn't say anything as he nodded slowly. "Alright, Cara, you win." He winked. "Although I'm gutted the way you've just dashed all my hopes and dreams."

 

I laughed and said, "OK, you were telling me about some alarm thingy?"

 

He rolled his eyes and patiently repeated his demonstration and instructions. He had been busy - or rather those he had employed on my behalf had been. There was a complete eight-foot high red brick wall surrounding the property and the front entrance had electronically controlled gates with an intercom system. There were sensor-controlled security lights all around the house and I was assured that the intruder alarm was state of the art. Apparently it was wired into the local police station and the security company's central control room. There were closed circuit TV cameras that covered the front gates and the front and rear entrances. I was impressed by the work that had been put in. Strangely though, instead of feeling more secure, I felt more vulnerable.

 

Gareth was about to leave for the night, when I stopped him. "Gareth?"

 

"Yes?"

 

I hesitated. I looked up at him and opened my mouth to speak, but then felt foolish.

 

"What is it?" he prompted gently.

 

I shook my head. "Nothing, I'm just being silly."

 

He really was quite astute. "You feel funny being left here alone, is that it?"

 

I smiled bashfully and nodded. "Ridiculous, isn't it?"

 

He shrugged. "Not really. It is your house, but it's not your home yet. The place is still unfamiliar, but you'll get used to it." He paused and looked at me as I stood there feeling a little lost. Then he sighed and smiled. "Do you want me to stay here tonight?"

 

I felt like a little girl as I asked, "Would you?"

 

He nodded and smiled kindly. "Sure I will, but I'm warning you, no funny business from you. I'm on duty." He winked.

 

I laughed and immediately felt better. "Fancy a quick nightcap then?"

 

He shook his head. "Remember – on duty."

 

I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on. One drink before bed will hardly hurt."

 

His eyes looked away for a moment before returning to me. "I don't drink… anymore," he said quietly.

 

He communicated so much more by what he didn't say. Although I had gotten to know him fairly well over the previous weeks, I realised that there was so much about him that I did not know. The sort of man that he was, I reckoned that I would never know the half of it.

 

"OK," I said brightly. "Well, you can have your pick of the bedrooms. Of course, I've already reserved the master bedroom, but the rest are available."

 

"Goodnight, Miss… goodnight, Cara," he said with a smile.

 

"Night, Gareth... and thanks."

 

I went into my spacious kitchen and opened the fridge. It was nearly empty save for a few bottles of wine that I had brought from Jools' place. I remembered that I had no food either. I frowned as I realised that I had never been very good at the living on my own thing. As I savoured a glass or two of wine, I mulled over Jools' earlier suggestion and concluded that it made good sense.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

After having persuaded Gareth to stay the next night also, he gently suggested the following morning that perhaps I should think about employing the equivalent of a night watchman. He said that various security companies provided the services of someone to watch private properties at night. It was not that they were trained killers to ward off any evil that may come around, but more like a reassurance to the owner and deterrent to any intruders.

 

"Can't you just stay with me?" I said grinning foolishly and batting my eyelashes furiously.

 

He chuckled. "I've got a social life to think of too."

 

We both laughed. In the short time in which I had known him, it had become fairly clear that he didn't get out much. I supposed that it was difficult given the unpredictable hours involved in his line of work. Nonetheless I knew that he couldn't keep staying over. So I agreed that he should pursue his suggestion. It did make sense: not only would it put my mind at rest when I was there, but given that I could be away from the house for prolonged periods of time, it was wise to have someone watching the house at night.

 

I had followed up on Jools' suggestion too. She had thought that I should get myself a housekeeper. Initially I had pooh-poohed the idea as I said that with only one person living in the house, it was hardly necessary. Jools had pointed out that the one person living in the house was unlikely to clean the house or do much in the line of cooking. She was right. Domestic chores had never been my strong point.

 

While staying with Jools, I had made more of an effort, as it was only fair given that she was letting me live with her for free. However, left to my own devices, we both had a fair idea of what would happen. It just so happened that Jools had done some groundwork of her own before mentioning this to me. She had talked to the person who knew most about housekeeping: Mabel at Silsbury Manor. Mabel had given Jools the phone number of a distant cousin of hers who used to keep house for an elderly gentleman who had recently passed away.

 

I phoned the number. "Hello, can I speak to Mrs. Dorothy Pantridge please?"

 

"Speaking. Who's calling, please?"

 

"Mrs. Pantridge, my name's Cara Malone, you don't know me but…"

 

"Oh yes, I recognise the name."

 

I was surprised, as I doubted that a sixty-year-old distant cousin of Mabel's would be up to date with current rock/pop music. My surprise was dispelled and explained as she continued.

 

"Mabel rang me and said that you might be telephoning. She said that you are a lovely young woman, but that you needed some looking after."

 

I laughed. "Yes, that sounds about right. It seems you are well informed. Would there be any possibility that you would be interested in helping me?"

 

It seemed that there was. She arranged to meet me at my house the next morning.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"This is a lovely house, my dear."

 

I smiled. "Thank you. I've only moved in and can take no credit for the décor or furnishings though."

 

Dorothy Pantridge was a thin but sprightly, well-groomed and conservatively attired woman. She had a warm smile, but a penetrating gaze. She was forthright and looked like a woman who had no trouble speaking her mind.

 

"So, tell me what you need, my dear."

 

I shrugged. "I guess the usual things: cleaning, laundry and ironing. You don't happen to cook too, do you?"

 

She laughed. "Of course I do. How do you think I survived to my age without being able to cook?"

 

The implication was evident. Doesn't every woman know how to cook? I didn't enlighten her as to my deficiencies in this area. My mind idly wondered if she would buy the excuse that I used to be a man until just over a year ago.

 

"That would be wonderful. I'd be delighted if you were willing to take up this job. If you're recommended by Mabel, that's all the references I'd need."

 

She chuckled. "And vice versa, my dear. Mabel said you were a lovely young woman and it seems that she hasn't lost her critical faculties yet. Yes, I'd be happy to take up the position."

 

We sorted out the practicalities such as her hours, holidays and pay. I was happy to agree to whatever she suggested in each regard. I already began to feel happier in the house knowing that there was going to be a friendly face there most days.

 

"Oh, I'll be away this weekend until Sunday," I informed her, "I'm going to Edinburgh and then Manchester."

 

"That's nice, dear. Going to see some friends?"

 

I smiled and shook my head. "No, I've got some concerts."

 

"Really? Who are you going to hear? I always liked some Mozart myself."

 

I grinned. "No, I mean I'm singing at the concerts."

 

"That's nice, dear."

 

I chuckled to myself as she bustled off to tackle another task. She was down to earth and I figured that was what I needed. I liked her.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 39

 

 

Our first gig was in the Edinburgh Festival Theatre. We had all flown up early that morning on the British Airways shuttle from Heathrow. Simon had travelled the previous day to ensure that there were no major problems with the sound and lighting crews. We arrived at the theatre and met the respective heads of each team. We talked through the running order and what we were planning and it seemed that copious notes were being taken. I didn't think that what I was saying was that important, but I suppose the various crews had to know exactly what was going to happen.

 

After lunch, we did a sound check. We spent a lot of time making sure that we were all happy with the foldback we were getting. We played a bit of each song, as the sound settings obviously were different for each one. We were assured by the chief sound engineer that it would not take as long for subsequent gigs as he would have a record of the settings each of us desired for all our songs. It was nice not to have to worry about such seemingly mundane yet vitally important things. I had enough on my mind. As the hours rolled by and the performance neared, I began to get more and more nervous. It must have showed.

 

"You OK?" Jon asked as we travelled in the back of one of the cars that Simon had hired to take us back to our hotel.

 

"Huh?" I replied intelligently.

 

He pointed at my hands. "You're fidgeting like mad."

 

I looked down at my hands and then looked up and smiled. "Yes, I guess I am." I sighed. "I'm actually really nervous."

 

He smiled. "Me too."

 

"You are? Mr. Cool Guitar Hero?"

 

He chuckled and shook his head. "That's how I hope it appears on the outside. Inside? I'm coming apart at the seams."

 

I laughed. "Yeah, right. We'll be fine, won't we?"

 

He nodded. "Sure we will. We're well prepared, we're ready and we're damn good."

 

I grinned. "Let's hope the audience agrees." I paused and wrinkled my brow. "I think the difference is that this time they are coming to see us. That is their sole reason for coming. Any time that we've played before, it wasn't as if we were the be all and end all. If that makes any sense."

 

He nodded. "I know what you mean. At least there's something I can take comfort in…"

 

"What?"

 

He winked. "They're coming to see the great Cara Malone; after all it's her name on the tickets."

 

I slapped him lightly on the arm. "Hey, not fair. I thought I was forgiven for all that."

 

He shrugged. "Doesn't mean I won't tease you about it."

 

I changed the subject. "So tell me about this new girlfriend of yours. I haven't met her or heard anything about her. I'm starting to think she's a figment of your overactive imagination."

 

He grinned and looked a little self-conscious. "What's to tell?"

 

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have to ask."

 

"Well… she's called Simone…"

 

"Classy," I interjected. Probably not her real name, I thought and then realised my hypocrisy in thinking that.

 

"…she's a model…"

 

"Impressive." Damn!

 

"Do you want me to tell you about her or not?" he said with mock irritation.

 

I laughed. "Go ahead, no more interruptions."

 

He nodded. "I should think not. Anyway, where was I? We met at a party a few weeks back and she sort of… came on to me."

 

I giggled. "Well it is the 21^st century." Pushy trollop, I thought.

 

He shrugged. "I'm not going to complain about girls throwing themselves at me. Of course, I'm used to it…"

 

"Sure you are, you stud."

 

"So we've been seeing each other for a few weeks."

 

"What's she like?" I probed.

 

"She's tall, like really tall with long long legs. Waist-length blond hair, very pretty."

 

"She sounds gorgeous," I said. I disliked her already, but kept a smile on my face. "So when do I get to meet her?"

 

"She says she'll come along to one of our gigs."

 

"What does she model?"

 

Jon looked a little uncomfortable and hesitated before answering. "Err… she's a lingerie model."

 

I laughed and then clapped a hand to my mouth. I could hardly keep my mirth from showing. "A lingerie model? Every guy's dream! So tell me, did you order her off the pages of one of those catalogues that guys secretly look at while always pretending they never open them?"

 

"Hey," he replied indignantly, "We guys don't do that."

 

I raised an eyebrow, "I think I have inside knowledge."

 

He sighed and smiled. "Stop winding me up."

 

I did as he said, but only because we were pulling up outside our hotel. As we were shown to our respective rooms, I had a heavy-hearted feeling inside. Despite my outer façade of humour, I wasn't exactly jumping for joy over what I had learnt. Would I have felt happier if she had been a large hairy Eastern European female shot putter? Oh yes, most definitely. 'Bitch,' I thought. I wasn't sure if I was talking about Simone or myself. Probably both.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The concert was scheduled to start at eight p.m., but Simon had lined up a support act. The band was called 'Standstill' and I was introduced to them at the theatre. It was a strange sensation. Here I was, the supposed big star, when only six months previously I'd been an unknown yet they treated me as if I were something special. I tried to be normal and down to earth as I chatted to them. We talked about the usual things: their music, hopes, plans etc.

 

The concert had been billed as 'An hour with Cara Malone'. I was happy about that, as given that we only had one album's worth of songs, we weren't going to be able to offer the audience much more than that. I was also pleased when I heard that the tickets had been selling for eighteen pounds. I hated the rip-off prices that some groups charged for their concerts. In my opinion, few concerts were worth shelling out more than forty pounds for.

 

As the time approached eight, 'Standstill' went to make their final preparations and I headed for my dressing room. The guys had all been assigned individual dressing rooms for the first time ever, but I later learned that they actually didn't like that. Apparently, Brian and Jon paired up as did Kevin and Peter. They said it was too boring sitting in a room by themselves.

 

I suppose that was how it was for them. I was rarely alone for long. Jools was in and out all the time, her excitement growing by the minute. I had Gina with me to help me dress and to do my make up. I had specifically requested her for this mini-tour as I had got along with her so well during the video shoots. She was delighted to have been asked to help.

 

"So, what are you wearing?" she asked.

 

I grinned. "When in Scotland…" I held up a tartan kilt.

 

OK, it wasn't quite the traditional Scottish kilt. It was tartan and was pleated, but it was significantly shorter than a true Scotsman would feel happy with. It was a bright yellow and red tartan. I got dressed. I was wearing a matching yellow sleeveless roll neck top. Under the skirt, I wore black sheer stockings and then pulled on my knee length black leather boots.

 

"What do you think?" I asked Gina as I did a mini-twirl.

 

"Very sexy," she said appreciatively.

 

I blushed and smiled awkwardly. "Erm, thanks."

 

She grinned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

 

I shrugged. "No, I'm flattered thanks. You would tell me if you thought it didn't look good, wouldn't you?"

 

She smiled and nodded. "I promise. Now let's sort out your hair and face."

 

I sat down and let her get to work. She scraped the hair back from my face and braided it behind my head. The make up job was extensive and she kept reminding me that it was necessary to avoid looking like a ghost under the stage lights. My eyes looked smoky and my lips and cheeks were a matching red to my kilt.

 

"What do you think?" she asked when she was finished.

 

I smiled and winked. "Very sexy."

 

She giggled. "I agree. You'll be a knock out."

 

Jools burst in. "You ready yet?" She paused and looked at me before grinning. "I think that's a definite yes."

 

I grinned. "How are the little boys on stage doing?"

 

She shrugged. "They're not bad. With a bit of work, I might even agree to take them on as their agent."

 

We laughed.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

When we eventually took to the stage, I was amazed at the noise that assaulted our eardrums. The crowd rose to their feet and were cheering wildly. As I looked into the darkened auditorium, it looked like a full house to me. Or as near as made no difference. I later learnt that it had almost been a sell out. I took the proffered guitar from one of the stage crew and walked to my microphone.

 

"Good evening, Edinburgh!" I shouted.

 

The crowd shouted back with even greater intensity.

 

I laughed. "It's great to start our little tour in a place so filled with Celtic passion. I'm not Scottish, but I do share Celtic blood so I hope you'll help us feel at home here with you tonight."

 

I turned and nodded to Kevin and he counted us in to 'No Half Measures'. The sound, certainly from where I was standing, was meaty and powerful. The adrenaline kicked in and I sang with gusto. The audience were still on their feet, and those that I could see seemed to be singing along.

 

After a few songs, I began to relax more and really enjoy myself. I had thought about different things that I might say to introduce some of the songs, but I found that I just went with what I felt at the time.

 

"I'm sure some of you have worked for hellish bosses at times or perhaps, ladies, you've come across a man who really thought he was 'it'." The cheers from the girls confirmed this. I laughed. "Well, this next song is dedicated to a onetime boss of mine and to lecherous men the world over: 'You Make My Skin Crawl'."

 

I took the microphone in my hand and used the width of the stage as I strutted along the front of it while singing. I gestured wildly, put a hand on my hip, inclined my head and tried to give the song the tongue-in-cheek feeling it needed.

 

After a few more songs, I slipped up onto the tall stool that had been placed on stage for me. Jon and Brian did likewise. "Have you ever been awake late at night and had that inner longing for a certain someone? Have you ever looked at the phone and felt it drawing you towards it. You know it's stupid and that they are probably asleep. You wish that they might be awake and thinking about you, but as much as you long for the courage, you can't bring yourself to lift the phone and simply say what you feel. If you know anything about that, then you'll know what this next song is about."

 

We moved into the mellow feel of 'Simply Say'. Jon played his jazzy sharp chords and Brian was playing his acoustic fretless bass. I smiled and sat there as I cradled the microphone in my hands and revelled in the placid richness of the song. It got a rapturous reception and we moved straight into 'Dreaming Your Life'.

 

At the end of the song, we had scheduled a long free solo alternating between Jon on the guitar and the saxophonist from the brass trio. This allowed me to slip off stage and rush back to my dressing room where Gina was waiting.

 

"My, you're dripping," she exclaimed.

 

"I know," I agreed ruefully.

 

I stripped off down to my underwear and Gina passed me a damp facecloth that I gratefully used to clean myself up a bit. I towelled off and got ready for my change of clothes. I was not a great believer in the multiple outfit changes of some female performers. Jools had reminded me that my ambivalence stemmed from my previous thinking as a male performer. For a guy, she had said, it wasn't relevant. So what if a male rock star drips with sweat and wears the same grimy clothes the whole tour. For a woman, it was different. I certainly appreciated the chance to get into fresh clothes.

 

I slipped on a short white-silvery dress. It had a slanted hemline that started just below the top of my thigh on the right and came to mid-thigh on the left. Up front, it was no less revealing.

 

"Goodness, I'm going to pop out of this," I murmured as I rearranged my breasts.

 

Gina giggled, "Nonsense, you've far too much up there for anything to pop out."

 

I laughed and flushed as I pulled on the knee-high white boots. Gina meanwhile was releasing my hair from the braids and brushing it out vigorously. She clipped it back behind my right ear and brought the hair from behind my head and draped it over the front of my left shoulder. She added lots of hairspray before she was happy with it. Next came a quick make up job. She took a large wipe and attacked my face to remove most of her earlier work. Then she touched up my foundation and added silvery eye shadow and a frosted pink lipstick.

 

We checked out my appearance. "Very nice," she murmured.

 

I grinned, thanked her and gave her a quick hug as I ran out the door. I took Gareth by surprise. He had been standing 'guard' outside my door. He quickly caught up with me and waited with me in the wings of the stage as the signal was passed to the guys to bring the previous song to an end.

 

"How do I look?" I asked breathlessly as I turned to him.

 

He looked at me and laughed. "I think the professional terms of our business arrangement prevent me from answering that honestly."

 

I grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

 

"You do that," he said with a laugh.

 

I strutted out onto the stage and the audience cheered wildly again. I sat up on my stool again and waited for the audience to settle. I raised a hand and before too long, there was as close to quiet as you could get in the theatre.

 

"As some of you may know, I lost my Mum earlier this year." I paused and swallowed. Now there was absolute silence in the hall. "This next song is not a cheap gag to get some mileage and sympathy out of what happened. If I ever thought that was how it appeared, I would never sing it again. It's a tribute to the most influential person in my life. The person I always relied on, the person who always loved me no matter what, even when she thought I wasn't doing the right thing." All eyes were on me and I looked to Jon briefly for reassurance. He smiled and nodded. "Losing her was like the sky falling in on my world. For a while, I didn't know where I was or what I was doing. What can you do when you lose someone so dear to you? The only thing you can do is have the faith that they are in a better place and that they are waiting for you and watching you." I looked upwards and murmured into the microphone, "Save a place for me, Mum."

 

The guys started and I did my best to keep myself together as I sang the song. It was an even more emotional task than when I had sung it in the recording studio. As I sang the final verse, the tears were unashamedly rolling down my face…

 

"Oh how I wish I could see you now, lifted beyond the stars

No more hurt, no more pain, almost too wonderful to be

Through my tears I steel myself, clinging to the edge of hope

Heaven is to be with you again – so save a place for me."

 

I wiped my eyes as the song finished and I smiled to the audience. "Thank you for letting me share that with you." The applause was deafening, there was no cheering or whistling, just applause.

 

'Forgotten How to Love' got an amazing response from the audience and again I could sense that a lot of them were singing along during the chorus. After 'I'm Coming Home' I thanked the audience and led the guys off stage. The cheers and shouts were unbelievable.

 

In the wings, Jon hugged me. "You were amazing."

 

"You were pretty good, yourself," I replied with a big smile.

 

I hugged each of them in turn and we waited to go back on for our encore. After a suitable period of time, we walked back out and the noise level increased in intensity.

 

"Thank you so much," I said into the microphone. "You have been by far the best audience we've played to on this tour." There was a loud peal of laughter. "No seriously, you've been very generous and it's been wonderful to share this evening with you. I'll always remember it. Truly it brings meaning to the feeling I tried to capture when writing the next song. This is 'Not Dancing, but Flying'."

 

This time there was no doubt about the audience participation. In the penultimate chorus, I motioned for the guys to drop the volume a bit. The voices of nigh on two thousand people could be heard singing along with me. The guys picked it up again for the final chorus and then dropped out completely as I sang the last few words with the crowd…

 

"And whenever I will think or dream of you,

We're not dancing, but flying."

 

"Thank you and goodnight Edinburgh."

 

We stood at the front of the stage and waved. I blew a kiss to the crowd and walked off arm-in-arm with Jon and Brian. We were rushed straight back down to the dressing rooms. They all piled into mine on a high.

 

"Awesome," Kevin said, "that was better than sex."

 

Brian laughed, "Like you would know!"

 

Kevin grinned, "Actually as it happens, have I mentioned my new girlfriend?"

 

Jon grinned, "That is something we will have to hear more about it. Man, though, how good was that?"

 

Peter's face was glowing, "I've never felt anything like that in all my life."

 

I grinned. "And you've lived a long time!"

He laughed and shrugged. "If I never experience that again… well I can still die a happy man."

 

Jools came bursting in and nearly bowled me over. "Bloody brilliant!"

 

I laughed. "So it came across alright?"

 

She stood there almost lost for words. She shook her head and smiled. "You had them eating out of your hand."

 

Simon was the next to invade my dressing room and he was effusive with his praise. I think he was more relieved that we hadn't bombed. This had been his venture and having stuck his neck out, he was glad his head was still attached to it.

 

After a while, I lifted my hand. "Alright, enough!" I got their attention and continued, "I'm exhausted and you're all in my dressing room. I'm going to strip off and get changed so you'd better clear out."

 

They all sat there and most of them had goofy grins on their faces. I tried to keep a straight face but it cracked into a smile and then I laughed. "Oh go on, get out of here before I have to get Gareth in here to knock your heads together."

 

They got up and headed out laughing. Jools and Gina remained behind to give me a hand.

 

"I'm too tired to take off my make up," I complained.

 

"Now, now," Gina said waggling a finger, "Think of how you'll look tomorrow morning if you don't let me do it."

 

I sat down and let her clean me up. I was about to change into a sweatshirt and jeans when she was done.

 

"What do you think you are doing?" Jools asked.

 

I shrugged. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I did think that leaving here in my bra and panties alone would be a little daring even for my standards."

 

She grinned and rolled her eyes. "No, I mean you can't just wear those clothes."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because chances are, there are adoring fans waiting around at the stage door hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol as she comes out. Perhaps even get an autograph."

 

I groaned but Jools went on, "It comes with the territory, darling."

 

So I changed into a long-sleeved black rib-knit top that fit me snugly and a denim miniskirt, tights and boots. Given this possibility, Gina decided that I needed a faint touch of make up and she quickly sorted me out.

 

I smiled tiredly. "Well, am I good to go again?"

 

It seemed that I was. I let the guys go out the door first and the shouts and camera flashes told me what I already knew – that Jools was right once again. Gareth went out before me and then ushered me out. He stayed right by my shoulder as he motioned me forwards. It was an intense experience to have all these people waiting for me and cheering like I was royalty or something. I smiled and waved. I then went and shook hands with some of them and signed autographs on whatever was presented to me. I was embarrassed at the young girls who gushed about how much they loved me. A few of the guys professed similar emotions too, but I sensed they meant it slightly differently. I signed one guy's 'No Half Measures' CD and then he blushed as he asked would I kiss the cover. I smiled with bemusement, but did as he asked, leaving a lipstick imprint on it. He was speechless and just grinned inanely at me.

 

It was a relief to finally reach the sanctuary of the cars that were waiting for us. Jon and Jools climbed into the back of the car that Gareth had guided me towards.

 

"Enjoy the adoration of your fans?" Jon asked me.

 

I laughed. "Sort of, but it's a bit overwhelming. Did you have your fair share of girls screaming after you?"

 

He grinned. "And then some."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We weren't permitted much of a sleep in the next morning as we had to get to the airport and fly down to Manchester. At least we had got some rest. The poor stage crew had to pack up the gear and drive through the night to leave themselves enough time to get things ready for the next concert. Although we were all tired, our spirits were high and we were looking forward to performing again.

 

After arriving in Manchester, we were ferried across the city to the Carling Apollo Theatre. The crews had done a magnificent job and were ready for us to do our sound check. It didn't take even half of the time it had taken the previous day. This was great as it permitted us a few hours rest back in the hotel before the concert. I for one zonked out fast asleep on my bed and had to be woken by Jools when it was time to eat a light meal before heading to the theatre.

 

The evening followed a similar pattern to the previous one. Gina had managed to get my outfits dry-cleaned overnight in our Edinburgh hotel. She got me ready and I was convinced that she had gone for an even sexier look with my make up. She laughed and denied it as she suggested that perhaps I was just getting sexier myself.

 

The buzz from the audience's response as we took the stage was possibly even greater than the previous night. We did the same set and I mainly used the same introductions with the occasional variation. We came off stage after the encore on a total high again. This time however, I insisted that there was to be no invasion of my dressing room. We were all tired, but because we could take it easy the next day, a little celebration was planned back at the hotel. I got changed and made myself presentable to face the waiting fans again. I was glad that Gareth was at my side, even though there were a large number of hefty door staff lined up outside to prevent the fans from becoming over familiar.

 

Back at the hotel, we had a function room to ourselves and we laughed, joked, relaxed and relived some of the moments from the previous two evenings. Playing live is an intensely emotional experience, particularly so when the audience are there because it is you they want to see and hear. A lot rides on the performance and when it goes well, it is amazing. We enjoyed wine and champagne and I wasn't aware how much I had had until I got up to go to bed. I managed to make my way out of the function room without drawing undue attention to myself, but when I walked towards the lift, I staggered and almost fell.

 

"Easy does it," murmured Gareth as he grabbed my arm and prevented me from hitting the ground.

 

I giggled. "Whoops, I nearly fell."

 

He smiled patiently. "Yes, you did. Now let's get you upstairs."

 

In the elevator, I leaned against him for balance. He slipped an arm around my shoulders as we exited on my floor.

 

I giggled again. "My, you're so strong."

 

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "And you're so drunk."

 

I grinned. "You shouldn't say that to your boss."

 

He shrugged and smiled. "You probably won't remember in the morning."

 

"So, planning to take advantage of me in my weakened state?" I said fluttering my eyelashes.

 

He smiled and shook his head. "I'll settle for getting you to your room unharmed."

 

Unfortunately I did remember the conversation the next morning and felt suitably embarrassed when I had to face Gareth. Like a true professional, he didn't even mention it.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

There was a review of our Edinburgh concert in the 'Sunday Times' and it was most favourable. I was not really surprised when I looked at the by-line and saw the name 'Keith Wilkinson' there.

 

"With surprising maturity, Cara Malone charmed and entertained her eager audience. Consummate professional that she has shown herself to be, she delivered a set brimming with raw emotion and flashes of humour," Jools read aloud to us as we were enjoying a lazy brunch.

 

"Jools, don't," I pleaded.

 

She laughed and ignored me as she continued, "With honest openness she talked about her mother's death and I was, by far, not the only member of the audience to shed a tear as she sang the heart-rending 'Waiting in Heaven'. She is a young woman who is as comfortable with her beauty and talent on the stage as she is in private…"

 

"Skip to the good part," Brian quipped.

 

Jools grinned and read again, "Many talented artists can suffer from poor backing, but this is not a problem that Cara Malone has to worry about. From the masterful guitar work of Jon Peters to the seemingly effortless yet compelling bass lines of Brian Garrett; add the precocious skilful fingers of Peter Crawford on the keyboards and the tight enthusiastic rhythms of drummer Kevin Noble and you have an ensemble to be reckoned with…"

 

The guys grinned and basked in their slice of glory. I chuckled and said, "You realise he was only giving me so much space because I'm supposed to be the star. However, it seems that you guys stole the show."

 

They laughed and Jon threw a croissant at me, which I deftly caught.

 

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Good catch…for a girl." He looked impressed.

 

I shrugged and grinned. "Lucky reflex." Jon winked slyly at me and I nearly laughed aloud.

 

"I think we've forgotten something important," Peter said.

 

"What?" we asked.

 

"Kevin hasn't spilled his guts about this mystery so-called girlfriend of his yet."

 

Kevin chuckled nervously as we all focussed on him.

 

"Well drummer boy," Brian said with a grin, "do tell all."

 

Kevin laughed nervously and ran his hand through his lank hair. He pushed his glasses back up towards his eyes. "What can I say guys, I'm a babe magnet."

 

This time, the croissants headed in his direction and he didn't catch a single one of them.

 

"Alright, alright," he protested, raising his hands. "Her name's Janine and I met her at a friend's wedding last month. She's a travel agent in Surrey."

 

Jon raised an eyebrow, "Come on, is that it?"

 

Kevin shrugged. "What else is there to tell?"

 

Brian grinned. "Vital statistics? Has she got good legs?"

 

I groaned. "You guys! Try and evolve above cavemen for a while, would you?"

 

They predictably ignored me and waited for Kevin to answer.

 

He smiled. "She's nice. I mean, I think she's pretty. I'm not saying she's a goddess or anything… but," he grinned dreamily, "we get on great."

 

I smiled. "You go, Kevin."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

It felt strangely nice to get back to my own house the next morning and to have Mrs. Pantridge there to welcome Gareth and me.

 

"How were your concerts, dear?" she enquired.

 

"Oh, pretty good, thanks."

 

"That's nice. Now what would you two say to a nice cup of tea and some freshly baked scones?"

 

"Yes please, ma'am," Gareth replied.

 

I echoed his sentiment and we sat around the table and enjoyed the luxury of warm scones, just out of the oven, dripping with butter.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I spent the rest of the week pottering about the house and doing some shopping here and there for items to make the house more homely. Gareth patiently trawled around with me and offered his advice when I solicited it. With the addition of some ornaments and a few pictures, I tried to make the place my own.

 

I loved my bedroom. It was furnished to a minimalist design. It had a large queen-size bed that I adored. There were two bedside tables and that was it. A large sliding mirror covered the entrance to a dressing room off my bedroom that had room for all my clothes and still plenty of space left over. There was a vanity unit there that allowed me to be messy, spreading my cosmetics everywhere, yet still keep the bedroom apparently tidy. On the other side of the dressing room was a large en suite bathroom with a free standing bath and separate shower cubicle that looked like it was large enough to take about four people at once.

 

On Friday morning, we made preparations to head for Birmingham. Gareth was going to drive and we planned to leave midmorning so that we would arrive in good time for the sound check early afternoon. I sat at the kitchen table enjoying a coffee with Gareth and Mrs. Pantridge as I opened the mail. I dropped my cup and it shattered on the granite-tiled floor spilling coffee everywhere.

 

"What the hell?" Gareth exclaimed as he jumped up. "Sorry ma'am," he apologised as he looked at Mrs. Pantridge.

 

I held a single sheet of white paper in my hand and my throat had gone dry.

 

It read, 'Hope you're going to put on a good show for me tonight, bitch!'

 

Up until that time, Gareth had not been specifically told about the notes. He knew that I had received some form of threats and had accepted this as part of the reason for me employing him. He gently took the note from me and I didn't stop him. As he read it, I could see his eyes narrow. He was about to rip it up.

 

"No," I said hoarsely.

 

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It's trash."

 

I swallowed and cleared my throat. "We should pass it on to the police. We did the same with… the other notes."

 

He nodded grimly. "There have been others like this then?"

 

I nodded and he gritted his teeth before speaking, "Let me think. We need to get to Birmingham."

 

He asked who the police officer was that had been in charge of dealing with this. I told him and he got on the phone and explained the situation. Apparently the officer was going to send a squad car over for one of his men to pick up the note from Mrs. Pantridge. He was also going to liaise with his counterpart in Birmingham, just in case.

 

"Do you think he'll be there tonight?" I asked.

 

Gareth shook his head. "I doubt it. He's just trying to yank your chain. Trust me, nothing will happen to you. I guarantee it."

 

I smiled wanly. My hands were shaking. I rubbed my eyes. "I don't know how I'm going to manage to go on stage tonight."

 

Gareth nodded solemnly. "You're shaken up. I don't normally recommend this, but in the circumstances…"

 

He brought me a glass with an amber liquid in it. I sniffed it. "What's this?"

 

"A little shot of whisky."

 

I shrugged and drank it. I nearly choked. I coughed and gagged. "God, that's awful."

 

He chuckled. "I know, but it will hopefully settle you a bit. If nothing else, it's so awful that it will take your mind off things."

 

I guess it did help a little, as did Gareth chatting to me on the journey along the M6 to Birmingham.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I told Jools about the note when we met her at the venue for the performance, the Birmingham Academy. She was incensed and cursed in a most unladylike fashion. She echoed Gareth's opinion that it was just a stunt and that there was little likelihood of the creep being at the concert. I agreed with them both, but I still felt disconcerted. The sound check was routine and I was glad for some time to rest in my hotel room. I assured Jools and Gareth that I wanted to be alone. Gareth insisted on having a room adjoined to mine and told me to leave the intervening door unlocked. I was happy to do so.

 

As I lay on the bed, I tried to clear my mind and get some rest. It was not to be. My mind was torturing me and I felt as if every nerve end was jangling with anxiety and fear. With some reluctance, I opened the mini-bar and took out a little bottle of wine, which I drank. It helped, but it was not enough. Unfortunately, all that remained were small bottles of spirits. I ignored the whisky, as it had been so repulsive earlier. I tried the vodka mixed with cola and found it to be surprisingly palatable. I did the same with the martini and even tried a gin and tonic. I felt a lot more relaxed and this time, when I lay down, I was able to sleep.

 

I woke to Jools shaking me and hissing. "Shit, shit! Cara, wake up!"

I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. "Jools, what is it?"

 

"You've got to get up, it's time to go. I've been trying to wake you up for several minutes."

 

I sat up on the bed and swayed a little. "Urgh, I don't feel the best," I murmured.

 

"No shit," she said coolly and pointed to the bottles arrayed on the floor. "Having a little party all to yourself?" she asked sardonically.

 

I looked away and shrugged. "It wasn't like that…"

 

Her expression softened and she put her arm around me as she sat down beside me. "I know… I'm sorry. I understand, I do, but you have to go on stage in a few hours. Here, let's get you some water to drink."

 

I drank several glasses of water, but repeatedly assured Jools that eating would be a bad idea. My stomach was recoiling at the very thought. Jools had told the others save Gareth to head on and said that we would be along later. When she had left it as late as possible, she took one arm and Gareth held the other and they brought me down in a staff elevator and out a back entrance to where a car was waiting. I still felt groggy and quite nauseated. Both she and Gareth said nothing as we drove to the Birmingham Academy.

 

"I'm sorry, Jools," I murmured.

 

She still didn't say anything.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"Are you OK?" Gina asked with concern when I staggered into my dressing room.

 

I forced a smile. "I'm not feeling too well today."

 

I hoped she wouldn't realise the cause of my 'illness'. Jools had made me chew several mints before leaving the hotel to try and remove the smell of the brewery as she put it. It wasn't totally successful.

 

Gina chatted away as she got me ready and I marvelled at her masterful skills. When she was finished, I looked as good as ever despite feeling significantly below par. I nodded vaguely when she reminded me that she was leaving early that night as she was going to visit a sister who lived in Birmingham.

 

The performance was awful. I essentially stood in one place, as I didn't feel up to moving around too much. I was afraid that I might lurch and even fall off the stage. I couldn't manage to play much on my guitar and I'm sure the sound was quite weak at times as a result. I remembered most of my words, but not all of them. There were a few awkward patches in some songs.

 

The guys must have realised that there was something amiss. Jon added a few impromptu solos at various points, which gave me the opportunity to try to remember my words. My vocals were lacklustre and I tried my best to connect with the audience, but even in my dulled state I realised that there was nowhere near the response from them compared to the previous weekend. Gareth had practically dragged me back to the dressing room for my costume change. Gina had looked worried but there was no time for her to express her concern.

 

The second half of the set was no better. I spent most of it sitting on my stool wishing I was anywhere else in the universe rather than where I actually was. I was aware of Jon's questioning glances becoming more frequent. When we exited the stage before the encore he pulled me aside.

 

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded.

 

"Not now, Jon," I replied and pulled my arm from his grasp.

 

I struggled through 'Not Dancing, but Flying' and was glad to finally escape the spotlight. Gareth whisked me back to my dressing room where I collapsed in a chair. Jon burst in shortly afterwards.

 

"What on earth happened to you tonight?" His eyes were blazing and he knelt down right in front of me.

 

"Sorry, Jon," I replied weakly, "I guess I wasn't quite at my best tonight."

 

"Quite at your best?" he repeated angrily. "It was awful. God, I was so embarrassed!"

 

"I'm sorry, I just wasn't feeling too well."

 

I saw him sniff suspiciously and then he looked at me intensely. "Have you been drinking?"

 

I shrugged and wished he would leave me alone. "I… err… I need to get changed."

 

He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "You're drunk! My God, I don't believe it." He paced around and then whirled back to face me. "What the hell were you thinking of? I just don't get it…"

 

A cough from the doorway interrupted him. Gareth slipped into the room and quietly said, "Jon, I think you should let her be now."

 

Jon bristled. "With all due respect, Gareth, I don't think it's any of your business."

 

Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Miss Malone? Do you want to get changed?"

 

I nodded. "Please."

 

Gareth turned back to Jon. "You can continue your discussion tomorrow."

 

Jon locked eyes with Gareth for a moment and then shrugged in disgust. As he stormed out he murmured, "Totally pathetic." He slammed the door behind him.

 

I did the pathetic thing and began to cry. Gareth stood there awkwardly for a moment before coming to my side and kneeling down.

 

"Hey, there, it's OK. He's annoyed, he didn't mean it."

 

I sobbed and shrugged. "He's right, I am pathetic."

 

"Now, that's enough," Gareth said firmly and I looked up with surprise. He shrugged and squeezed my hand. "So you had a bad night? That's life. More importantly, life goes on. All of them out there?" He gestured expansively. "They don't have a clue what's really going on and it's none of their business. You did your best in a bad situation."

 

"Thanks," I murmured as I managed a weak smile. I knew he was only trying to make me feel better though. I would have done a lot better if I hadn't intoxicated myself.

 

"Now I'm going to leave you in peace so you can get changed. We're not going to go through the fans tonight; I'll take you out another way."

 

He turned to leave and I called after him. "Gareth?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"Look… Gina's away and I don't know where Jools is." I paused. "Will you stay in the room, please?"

 

He shifted awkwardly. "Cara, I don't think that's…"

 

"I'm scared," I said softly. "You can stand in the corner and turn your back."

 

He sighed and relented. "Alright."

 

I slowly removed my make up and brushed my hair before changing my clothes. As I pulled on my jeans and top, I realised that, although Gareth was standing in the corner, there was a mirror against that wall and I had thought I caught him looking at me.

 

"You can turn around now," I said.

 

He turned around and gave me a funny looking smile.

 

I inclined my head and smiled. "Were you looking at me in the mirror?"

 

He laughed and blushed. Looking extremely uncomfortable he said, "Alright, guilty as charged. This is why I maintained that I should keep a distance. Hell, I'm only human. What do you expect a man to do when a beautiful woman is changing just inches behind him?"

 

I smiled. "Thanks."

 

He shrugged. "What for?"

 

I didn't answer him. "Can we go now?"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Jools caught up with me back in my hotel room.

 

"I'm so sorry, Jools" I said.

 

She shrugged and waved a hand at me. "You did your best," she said diffidently, "It wasn't that bad."

 

"Oh come on, Jools, it was awful."

 

She grimaced. "It wasn't great."

 

I lay back on my bed and repeated myself. "I'm sorry."

 

"What's done is done. I've been doing some damage limitation. I released a short press statement on your behalf to the journalists who were there. I said that you apologised that you weren't at your best, but you had been feeling under the weather the past few days."

 

I looked up at her. "Will they buy that?"

 

She shrugged. "Who's to know otherwise? It sure explains why things weren't too hot tonight." She sat down beside me on the bed and squeezed my shoulder. "You get a good night's rest and come back out fighting tomorrow night."

 

"Yeah, thanks Jools."

 

She stared at me keenly for a few moments. "What I'm about to say, I'm saying both as your manager and your friend and I don't expect ever to have to say it again." I nodded as I had a fair idea what was coming. She continued, "You don't ever - and I mean ever - drink before a concert, performance or interview or anything of the like. No matter what has happened, you just don't do it. OK?"

 

I nodded.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 40

 

 

I felt physically fine the next morning, but was inwardly ashamed and embarrassed. Nonetheless I dressed up nicely, made myself presentable and was about to head down for breakfast when there was a knock on my door. I looked through the peephole and saw that it was Jon. I steeled myself for another onslaught and opened the door.

 

"Hi Jon."

 

"Hey you," he said softly. "Can I come in?"

 

I let him in and he sat down on one of the chairs. I sat on the bed and faced him.

 

He took a deep breath. "Listen, I'm sorry for going off at you like I did last night. I… had no idea. Jools talked to me this morning and told me about the note. I'm sorry. The last thing you needed was me eating the head off you."

 

I smiled and shook my head. "No, Jon, you were completely justified in what you said. You were right. No matter what had happened, my behaviour was inexcusable."

 

"Don't be so hard on yourself."

 

I smiled ruefully. "I let you down - the guys, Jools, Simon… and all the fans."

 

He got up and sat down beside me on the bed. He put his arm around my shoulders. "You've had a lot to deal with these past few months. I'm astounded at how you do it. I think you're amazing."

 

I laughed and let my head rest on his shoulder. "I'm glad one person thinks that. I'm sure there's a few thousand Brummies who'd disagree with you today."

 

He squeezed my shoulder. "Stuff them. So you did a bad performance? Every artist does it from time to time. You'll bounce back tonight. C'mon, let's go and get some breakfast."

 

I smiled. "Thanks, Jon."

 

He shrugged awkwardly and we stood up to leave.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I felt embarrassed when I had to face the rest of the guys at breakfast, but they were polite and didn't mention anything about the previous night's fiasco. On the way down, Jon had assured me that he hadn't told them about me being drunk. I think that Jools had probably had a word with them and told them to go easy on me. I'm sure she wouldn't have told them any specific details, but they were surprisingly gracious and encouraging.

 

After breakfast, we checked out and Gareth drove me on to Cardiff. We were playing in St. David's Hall that evening and I felt a growing anticipation as we neared my capital city. Crossing the border between England and Wales – which is no more than a sign on the road of course – filled me with that indefinable feeling of being on home ground. There was always something comforting about it.

 

My thoughts inevitably turned to my father and I wondered how he was doing. I longed to see him and talk to him. I wanted to see his face and hug him, but I knew from Claire's ongoing updates that his opinion had not softened. In a foolish moment I wondered if he would come to my concert. I told myself to wise up; he probably had no idea how my career was going and most likely didn't even know I was playing in Cardiff that night.

 

The sound check was routine and the crews had the place in order. Jools had obviously warned Simon that he was not to say anything about the previous night that might upset me. Instead he was just encouraging and enthusiastic. When we retired to our hotel for a few hours break before the concert, Jools asked if she could rest in my room, as her room was not yet ready. I'm sure this was simply a ruse for her to keep an eye on me, but I agreed readily. It was the least I could do. We chatted, relaxed and watched a bit of TV.

 

"Jools, have you noticed how all the other band members have hooked up with someone and I'm the last one remaining unattached?"

 

Jools nodded. "So? I'm not attached either."

 

I grinned. "You're married to your work, big shot entrepreneur that you are."

 

She laughed. "Maybe so." After a pause she added, "Perhaps you should think about dating. It might help you to…"

 

I knew what she was going to say and I knew that she was probably right. "Yeah, I guess. It will seem a bit weird though. I mean, what do I do? Do I tell the person the truth about me?"

 

She wrinkled her brow. "Hmm, I don't think that would be wise."

 

"So I base a relationship on a false assumption?"

 

She frowned. "Hey, I'm not saying that you should go out and marry the first man you see. A few dates won't mean you have to tell him your deepest darkest secret."

 

I smiled. "Yes, you're right, but who said that I was definite about it being men that I wanted to date."

 

She sat up straight and looked over at me. "What are you saying?"

 

I laughed and shook my head. "I'm only teasing. I haven't thought about it much, but I reckon it would be a man. Anything else… is just too complicated."

 

She giggled. "Yes, and your life is anything but complicated.

 

I threw a pillow at her.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"Are you feeling better?" Gina asked as she helped me to get ready.

 

"Yes, much better, thanks."

 

As she did my make-up, I made sure that I was mentally ready for my performance. My head was clear and I was well rested. I had eaten properly and had drunk plenty of water that day. Although I was apprehensive after the dreadful show I had put on the previous night, I was confident that I could deliver my best that evening. The fear from the anonymous note still lurked in the back of my mind, but I was able to control it.

 

When we took to the stage, the roar from the crowd was deafening. I thought that the news from Birmingham must not have made it that far yet. I was determined to give them something to remember – in the good sense.

 

"Good evening Cardiff," I shouted, "It's wonderful to be home."

 

The cheers that resulted made the earlier shouting seem like background noise. I laughed and spoke again, "When I was younger, I remember coming up to Cardiff to concerts and sitting where you are now and dreaming of doing what I now do. Dreams come true, people!"

 

They shouted and cheered all the more. "If you want to make your dreams come true, it takes 'No Half Measures'… one… two… three… four…"

 

The adrenaline rush that ensued from the powerful sound that we were pumping out picked me up like a lone surfer on a killer wave. Standing on the crest of the wave, I felt as if I were singing with more energy than ever before. I was hammering out the chords on the guitar too. When it came to the solo, I walked over to Jon and we jammed away together in true rock guitarist style. I laughed as he mouthed, 'You rock,' to me.

 

The crowd responded well and the set went like a dream. Before the official last song, not counting the encore, I quietened the crowd down.

 

"This night has been awesome and has been incredibly special to me. Coming home is one of the most wonderful things in life. When you're away from that special place for a long period, you can forget how important it is to you. Being with you all tonight has reminded me to never stop coming home."

 

As they cheered wildly, Kevin counted us in and we started 'I'm Coming Home'.

 

"Same old faces,

Familiar places,

As I drive down the main street,

Corners where I

Laughed and cried

Shades of memories bitter sweet

No matter how long I've been gone

No matter how far I may roam

Wherever my sun may set and dawn

In my heart, I'm coming home."

 

When the last notes faded, we were deafened with the whistling, cheering and clapping. We left the stage waving and the noise continued unabated until we returned for the encore. I felt tears roll down my cheeks at the end as we waved to the crowd.

 

Jon gave me a bear hug in the wings of the stage. "You were awesome," he said with a smile.

 

I hugged him back and grinned. "We all were."

 

 

----------*---------

 

 

Some of the Sunday papers did not know what to conclude about my performances. One of them titled its article 'From the ridiculous to the sublime'. They were scathing in their account of my Birmingham performance, but effusive in praise regarding Cardiff. Most mentioned the fact that I had apparently been unwell in Birmingham and, despite some scepticism, the general conclusion was that given the great show in Cardiff, illness must have been the explanation for the earlier disaster.

 

Claire had been at the show the previous night and I had not had the opportunity to catch up with her at St. David's Hall. She was staying with Dad and came over the next morning to see me. She was bright-eyed and full of praise and admiration. She was obviously wondering what had happened in Birmingham and I told her the truth – all of it. I wasn't sure what concerned her more: me getting drunk or the arrival of another note. I assured her that I was fine and that I wasn't losing it or anything. I made her promise to come and stay with me in my new house the next weekend, and I gave her a complimentary ticket for the Wembley Arena show.

 

Inviting Claire to stay with me gave me another idea. Since the following Saturday would be the last show, I decided to throw a party in my house on the Sunday evening. It was almost Christmas and few people had been round to see my new place. I told Claire, Jools and all the guys about it and there was general enthusiasm for the idea.

 

Gareth drove me back to London after lunch and I was more than happy to crash out at home and relax. The weekend had been exhausting and I was in need of a good rest.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

As I was having a party and given that Christmas was just over a week away, I decided that I needed to get some festive decorations. It was great having Gareth around. How else would I have managed to get the large real Christmas tree that I bought into the house and planted upright in a pot? He didn't complain and actually seemed to enjoy helping me to decorate the place. I had suggested getting some professional caterers in to provide food for the party, but Mrs. Pantridge nearly had an apoplectic fit when she heard. She assured me that she was more than capable of doing the job herself. I told her that I had complete faith in her abilities, but I didn't want to burden her so. She dismissed such a notion and said that she would enlist the help of her sister and niece if I didn't mind. Mind? I was delighted.

 

On Wednesday evening, I was in the house by myself. Gareth and Mrs. Pantridge had gone for the night. I felt lonely and my conversation with Jools about relationships came to my mind again. I realised that at the party on Sunday night Jon would be bringing Simone, Brian would have Laura, Peter would bring Rachel of course and even Kevin was planning to bring Janine along. I went digging in one of my handbags and found what I was looking for. I lifted the phone and dialled the mobile number for Jon's cousin, Charlie.

 

"Hello?" a voice answered.

 

"Charlie?" I asked tentatively.

 

"Speaking," he replied.

 

"Hi Charlie, I'm not sure if you'll remember me, this is Cara Malone. We met at a party in Kent during the summer."

 

I heard a chuckle. "Oh now, let me see. Gorgeous, talented, famous rock star? Have I got it right?"

 

I laughed. "I'm not sure if you have, but I'll assume you remember me."

 

"Of course I do. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

 

"I was… well I was just wondering… are you in the country at the moment or have you just jetted to the other side of the world?"

 

"I'm in the country. I've actually given up my job to start my own business. Why do you ask?"

 

I felt flustered and uncomfortable. "I know this might sound very forward… I was just wondering… if you might want to get together some time… but if you're otherwise engaged, I'll understand."

 

I heard another chuckle. "Cara, I've been waiting for this phone call for months…"

 

"You're teasing me," I interrupted.

 

"Maybe, maybe not. No, I'd love to see you anytime. When suits you?"

 

I shrugged and then realised that he couldn't see that over the phone. "Oh, I don't know. What are you doing this week?"

 

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked.

 

I laughed. "Sitting at home on the phone."

 

"Want to go out and get a drink?"

 

"I'd love to," I replied. "Are you in London?"

 

It seemed that he was. I gave him my address and he promised to be there within the hour. After finishing the call, I flew upstairs and had the quickest bath on record and washed my hair. I slipped into a black and white checked miniskirt and fitted black body. I pulled on a pair of opaque, black stockings and my long suede boots. I didn't go overboard with the make-up, but was pleased with the overall effect.

 

I didn't have long to wait before the gate buzzer sounded. I checked the TV monitor and seeing that it was Charlie, I pressed the gate release. I opened the door and waited for him.

 

"Hi Cara," he said with a smile. "You look great."

 

"Thanks Charlie, you're looking pretty dashing yourself." He was too. His wavy blond hair was slicked back and he was wearing a fashionable sports jacket over a pristine white shirt and well-fitting slacks.

 

"Fantastic place you've got," he said with admiration.

 

"Thanks. Do you… want to see around before we go out?" I was dying to show off my house to anyone who was interested.

 

"Sure I do."

 

I showed him around and he made all the right comments. We headed out to a pleasant little pub nearby and found ourselves a little corner booth. There was a coal fire blazing in the grate and it really was very cosy.

 

"So why call me up all of a sudden?" he asked.

 

I grinned. "Do I need an excuse?"

 

He laughed. "I'm not complaining, but I'm interested to know why."

 

I shrugged. "I'm lonely. That's part of it. I… wanted some company."

 

"Is that all?" he enquired with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

I smiled and flushed a little. "If you must know, I've not exactly had a surplus of… male company. I'm cautious about who I see… what with the fame thing: I find it hard to know who really wants to be with me for who I really am." I realised that my words were very ironic in that no one, male-wise, wanted to be with me for who I really was, but Charlie was not to know that.

 

He grinned. "Why me, then?"

 

I sighed. "You're not going to let me off with this easily are you?"

 

He chuckled. "It's not every day that a beautiful girl phones me up out of the blue and asks me out."

 

I blushed. "That's not what I did."

 

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh no?"

 

I giggled nervously. "OK, maybe I did. Is that so bad?"

 

He shook his head. "Not at all. Was I the first person you called?"

 

"Yes, of course," I protested indignantly. "If you want to have me totally embarrassed then OK: I enjoyed meeting you last summer and I found you very attractive. Is that enough?"

 

He smiled and set his hand on top of mine. "More than enough. I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, but I was just curious."

 

I nodded and smiled shyly. "Look, if you don't want to see me, or if you've got a girlfriend or something, that's fine. I'm not assuming that you'd want to… spend time with me necessarily."

 

He smiled at me and didn't speak. "What is it?" I asked.

 

He shrugged. "Coming to see you tonight, I was a bit worried that you would be this big famous star with such an opinion of yourself that you expected men to drop everything when you called…"

 

"And?"

 

"You're just a shy, lonely, but let me say incredibly beautiful, girl."

 

I blushed and looked away. "Charlie…"

 

He laughed. "Cara, I'm delighted you called me. I'm not seeing anyone right now. I'm happy to spend time with you, whatever you want. We can take it as it comes. How does that sound?"

 

I looked up at him. "That sounds great."

 

We had a few drinks and chatted about what we had been up to. Not surprisingly, he was fairly familiar with the progression of my career. He had given up his pilot's job to start up his own charter flight business, focussing on UK businessmen who wanted to hire charter jets for short business flights. He was starting small and had managed to get a loan to cover the purchase of two small jets. He had employed another pilot and was hoping to expand further if things went well. This, he explained, was to both of our advantages as it meant that he would be around a lot more.

 

I enjoyed my evening with him and when he dropped me off back at my house, he gave me a peck on the cheek.

 

"Can I see you again?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

 

I laughed. "I'd like that." I paused and then asked, "Listen, I'm throwing a little Christmas party here on Sunday night. Would you like to come?"

 

"Sure," he replied. "Erm… just so I know… like where I fit in… am I coming as a friend… or a boyfriend?"

 

I felt my face redden and I smiled. "A boyfriend, if that's OK?"

 

He grinned. "I think you can safely assume that I'm happy with that. Goodnight, Cara."

 

I smiled and waved as he left. As I went inside, I thought to myself, 'I have a boyfriend!'

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"What are you so chirpy about this morning?" Gareth asked.

 

I laughed. "Oh, maybe it's because I was out with a man last night."

 

He frowned. "I hope not."

 

"What? Are you getting all jealous on me?"

 

He shook his head. "Of course not, but if you were out last night, then why wasn't I with you too?"

 

I shrugged. "Oh, I didn't think of that. I wasn't alone though."

 

He sighed. "Cara, I'm not trying to spoil things for you, but if I'm going to do my job then I need to be able to protect you. If someone, God forbid, is out there waiting to harm you, then the moment I am not with you is the time they will strike."

 

"You're scaring me," I protested.

 

"I know and I don't want to. I'm sure you were with someone you could trust, but would they be able to look after you if something bad were to happen?"

 

I thought and frowned. "Not like you would."

 

He nodded. "I'm not planning to cramp your style, but if you are going out, I can go along separately and discreetly. You won't even know I'm there. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

 

I smiled. "Thanks Gareth, I'll remember that in future." I paused and then added, "You really do care, don't you?"

 

He laughed and looked a bit uncomfortable. He shrugged and replied, "Let's just say that in my line of work, there are clients that you simply do your job for, and there are others that you do care about. You definitely fall into the latter category."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I could tell you in great detail about the concert in Wembley Arena that Saturday night, but I would probably bore you. It was pretty similar to what had gone before – á la Cardiff, not á la Birmingham, thankfully. We didn't quite fill the arena, but we weren't a million miles away from doing so. I was actually astounded when Simon later confirmed that just under ten thousand people had been there to see us. The noise from the crowd certainly was the most intense that we had experienced to date; however, there was not the same feeling of intimacy that I had enjoyed in Cardiff. Whether that was real or just the way I perceived it, I wasn't sure. We had delivered a good show and everyone was satisfied.

 

One little difference about the London show was that I added a song to the encore just before 'Not Dancing, but Flying'. As it was the week before Christmas, I thought we should do something seasonal. It gave me the opportunity to sing one of my favourite Christmas songs: 'Have Yourselves a Merry Little Christmas' as sung by Judy Garland in one of my favourite old films 'Meet Me in St. Louis'. It was peculiar: as Nick I had always been embarrassed to admit that I liked the old romantic films, however as Cara it seemed so natural to have such a preference and no one thought anything of it. The song was well received.

 

Simon certainly was happy that, overall, the success of this mini-tour had vindicated his original decision to go for it. No one mentioned Birmingham and it was as if we all were blanking it from our memories. I wasn't complaining about that.

 

Claire travelled back to my house with Gareth and me. Gareth bade us goodnight and we went inside. Claire was suitably impressed with my new home.

 

"My goodness, Nicola, it's fabulous."

 

I beamed. "Isn't it?"

 

She smiled. "Truly fitting for a rock superstar."

 

I laughed and idly swatted her on the arm. "Stop your teasing, would you?"

 

She giggled. "Never!"

 

"Well, you've your choice of bedrooms, so which do you want?"

 

She grinned. "What if I want yours?"

 

I smiled. "If that's the case, you'll have to share with me."

 

She was serious again. "Are you sleeping OK here?"

 

I shrugged. "It's variable." What was I going to tell her? It varied according to whether I tried to have natural sleep or artificially induced slumber. I had been along to see Dr. Carson earlier in the week and had mentioned my trouble sleeping. She had prescribed some sleeping tablets to try and help me. They did help, but they were even more effective when chased down with a little tipple.

 

"Come on, Sis," Claire said taking me by the arm. "Let's bunk down and have a good natter together."

 

There was plenty of room in my big bed for the two of us and we talked until the early hours of the morning. I told her about my evening out with Charlie and she was very interested to get all the details. I assured her that there was nothing much more to tell, but told her she could meet him for herself the next evening. We snuggled down together and sleep eventually visited me.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I introduced Claire to Mrs. Pantridge the next morning and we enjoyed a cooked breakfast from the hands of my now-cherished housekeeper.

 

"What are you going to do for Christmas?" Claire asked.

 

I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth. "Crumbs, I hadn't even thought about it." I set my fork down and frowned. "I don't know."

 

Claire smiled sympathetically. "Aunt Vera has asked me and Dad over for Christmas dinner. Uncle George is coming too." She paused, "Aunt Vera told me to ask you to come too."

 

I raised an eyebrow. "She did not."

 

Claire nodded. "She did. I know she wasn't exactly warm with you last year, but I think she's come round a lot. She hates the… rift between you and Dad. She really wants you to come."

 

I grimaced. "Dad's going to be there. Does he know that Aunt Vera has asked me?"

 

Claire looked away for a moment and then smiled at me. "No, she didn't tell him and she thought it would be better if he didn't know."

 

I nodded. "I can imagine. If he heard I was going, I reckon he'd be his usual stubborn self and refuse to go."

 

Claire sighed and nodded. "That's what we think."

 

I shook my head. "It's a recipe for disaster. I don't think I should go."

 

"Oh come on, what else are you going to do? Sit here by yourself all alone?"

 

I shrugged "I might go down to Devon with Jools."

 

"Nicola, you should be with your family. Look, who knows: it might help you and Dad to patch things up."

 

I was sceptical. "I don't know about that."

 

"Think about it, will you?"

 

"OK, I will."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The rest of the day was quite busy as we got the place ready for the party. Claire helped Mrs. Pantridge and her team in the kitchen while Gareth and I rearranged the furniture. By early evening, everything seemed to be ready. Except us, of course, so Claire and I took a bathroom each. I wanted to look good for several reasons. One was valid: I wanted to impress Charlie and look my best for him. The other was less noble: I wanted to make sure that this Simone model who was coming with Jon did not upstage me.

 

After bathing and washing my hair, I pulled on my corset. I enlisted Claire's help to tighten it. It had been some time since I had worn it and the restriction was unfamiliar. I urged her to do her worst. She asked why I was so keen to go all out. I shrugged and said that I wanted to impress Charlie. She seemed satisfied with that. I slipped into a new strappy little black dress that I had bought for the occasion. Between it and the corset, I was displaying a fair amount of cleavage. The dress came to just above my knees and I completed the outfit with sheer black stockings and high-heels on which I perched precariously.

 

I straightened my hair and brushed it until it shone. I swept it up on top of my head in the same way I had noted Gina doing it previously and then teased out a few strands on either side of my head so that they framed my face. I took no prisoners with the make-up but made sure I didn't cross the line between good taste and tartiness. After popping long silver pendant earrings into my lobes, I was done.

 

"Not bad," I murmured to my reflection.

 

I went downstairs to prepare to receive my guests.

 

Gareth turned round as I descended. "My God," he said without thinking.

 

I laughed. "I beg your pardon?"

 

He laughed and reddened. "Sorry, but you look… I know I shouldn't say it… but you look gorgeous."

 

I felt my face flush a little. "Thanks Gareth, but you should be used to how I look by now."

 

He shook his head and smiled. "You've outdone yourself tonight."

 

"You think so?" I asked self-consciously.

 

"Most definitely. He will be very impressed."

 

"Who will?" I asked a little sharply.

 

"What's his name… Charlie?"

 

I nodded, "Oh yes, Charlie, of course. Yes, I hope he is impressed."

 

I had asked Charlie to come around earlier than the others had been told. I know it was silly, but I didn't want to be welcoming all the guys with their partners and me being obviously unattached.

 

When Charlie arrived, he looked at me and did a double take. He gave a low whistle and came over to me. He took both of my hands in his. "You are…" He chuckled, "Words fail me, but you look incredible."

 

"Thanks," I murmured bashfully. I straightened his tie. "You're looking quite smashing yourself." He was dressed in a smart three-piece suit.

 

"Well, girlfriend of mine, I knew I would have a hard job keeping up with your style."

 

It felt strange to hear him call me his girlfriend and I sniggered.

 

"What?" he said with his eyebrow raised. "Did you forget I was to be your boyfriend for tonight?"

 

I winked. "Maybe not just for tonight."

 

He clapped a hand to his heart. "Oh, you're going to make me collapse with joy." He chuckled. "You should have seen the look on my colleague's face when I told him who I was going out with."

 

I laughed and waggled a finger. "I hope you aren't keeping company with me purely for the bragging rights."

 

He grinned. "Not at all, but it is one of the fringe benefits."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I welcomed my guests as they arrived. I met Kevin's girlfriend, Janine. She may not have been the prettiest girl, but she was by no means unattractive. Kevin was obviously besotted with her and I was amused to watch them together. Peter and Rachel arrived not long before Brian and Laura. They all made nice comments about my appearance and said that they loved my house. Jools and Beth arrived together and Beth and I squealed as we hugged each other tightly. Simon had arrived with a girl called Lisa.

 

Jon of course was late. Eventually he arrived with Simone on his arm. Sadly she was just as he had described. She was tall, statuesque and very beautiful in a classical way. She had long flowing platinum blond hair and well-defined facial bone structure.

 

"Simone, it's a pleasure to meet you."

 

"Likewise," she said in a polite accent. I found it hard to warm to her, but that was no doubt partly because of the ambivalent feelings I felt towards her.

 

I hugged Jon and air-kissed him. "Hey Jon."

 

"Hey you," he said. "You look wonderful."

 

I shrugged modestly. "Thanks."

 

"There's Charlie," Jon exclaimed. "What's he doing here?"

 

I cleared my throat. "Erm… Charlie and I are sort of seeing each other."

 

"Since when?" he asked in an almost accusing voice.

 

"Just this last week actually."

 

I noticed his eyes narrowing, but he didn't say anything further. He went over to introduce Simone to Charlie and the boys indulged in some backslapping.

 

Charlie called me over and slipped his arm around my bare shoulders. "So Jon," he said, "What do you think of me landing such a beautiful girlfriend?"

 

Jon shifted awkwardly and gave a half-hearted smile. "I think she must be losing her marbles to pick you."

 

Charlie laughed. "In that case, I hope the marbles stay lost for a long time."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We enjoyed a sumptuous repast from the hands of Mrs. Pantridge and her helpers. It was nice to see the large dining table filled and everyone enjoying themselves. Unfortunately, due to Claire's industrious ministrations with my corset, I was unable to over-indulge in the tasty delicacies set before us.

 

After dinner, everyone mingled around and relaxed in the lounge as they helped themselves to drinks.

 

Jon appeared at my side later on in the evening.

 

"Hi, enjoying yourself?" I asked brightly.

 

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure." He took me aside. "Listen, what do you think you're doing?"

 

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

 

"You and Charlie, what do you think I mean?"

 

I looked at him and shook my head. "I have no idea what you mean. Why don't you enlighten me?"

 

He sighed. "What game are you playing with him?"

 

I felt my hackles rise. "I'm not playing any game with him. So we went out once. So I like him. I don't know where it's going, but I enjoy his company. What's the problem?"

 

He took a deep breath. "Does he know about you?"

 

"Does he know what about me?" I asked with an acidic tone.

 

"About you… you know damn well what I mean."

 

My eyes flashed and I said in a low voice. "No, he doesn't know, but to be honest, it's none of your damn business."

 

"He's my cousin," Jon protested.

 

"So? He's a grown man."

 

"You're deceiving him."

 

I took a deep breath and tried to keep calm. "How am I deceiving him?"

 

Jon wrinkled his brow. "Because he thinks you're a beautiful woman."

 

I paused for a moment and in a quiet voice replied. "Jon, that's exactly what I am. If you disagree, that's your problem. Look, it's nothing serious… at the moment. If that changes, I'll do the right thing. Otherwise, I want you to stay out of it."

 

"Fine," he growled and turned to walk away.

 

Charlie was looking quizzically in my direction from the other side of the room and he sauntered over to me. He slipped his arm around my shoulders and murmured, "What was that all about?"

 

I shrugged. "Nothing much."

"Come on," he said softly as he guided me towards a vacant sofa. "It didn't look like nothing." He paused. "Is there some… history between you and Jon that I don't know about."

 

"Maybe… not really… sort of… no," I replied hesitantly.

 

He chuckled and took my hand in his. "You're not sounding very convincing."

 

I thought for a moment and turned to face him. "We shared… a moment… during the summer. It really was nothing more than that."

 

He looked puzzled. "Then what was that all about?"

 

I pushed a strand of hair back from my face and chewed my lip. "I'm not entirely sure myself."

 

"Want me to have a word with him?"

 

"No!" I said more firmly than I had intended. "No," I repeated softly, "I'll handle it, but I don't see there being any more problems." I wished I were as sure of that as I sounded.

 

I mingled a bit and enjoyed chatting with my friends. I ended up beside Simone and tried to engage her in conversation. I found her to be cool and I don't think it was just my prejudices about her.

 

"So what do you do, Simone?"

 

"I'm a model," she said bluntly with what appeared to be mild irritation. Perhaps she expected everyone to immediately realise what it was that she did just from looking at her.

 

"Really?" I continued, "That must be quite interesting."

 

"Yes, it is."

 

"Erm, what do you model?"

 

She looked down from the several inches that she had on me. "Why, designer clothes of course."

 

I had to bite my tongue. Here she was treating me as if I were the bimbo in this conversation. I forced myself to be polite. "So, you and Jon are going out?"

 

"Yes," she replied with an appearance of boredom.

 

"Umm… OK, well nice talking to you."

 

She gave me a plastic smile. "Likewise."

 

I walked away. "Icy bimbo airhead," I muttered to myself. Or so I thought.

 

"Pardon?" asked Jools with a grin as she appeared at my shoulder.

 

I laughed. "I wasn't talking to you."

 

"I should hope not, but who were you talking about in such complimentary tones?"

 

I grinned ruefully. "Simone."

 

She raised an eyebrow and made a clawing gesture in the air with her right hand. "Meow!"

 

I smiled. "No, I mean it, I tried to be nice. I'm not being a bitch. She's just not that warm as a person."

 

Jools waggled her eyebrows. "Maybe she is when you're up close and personal between the sheets, but of course we'd have to ask Jon about that."

 

I grimaced and recoiled at the thought. "Ugh, don't say such things."

 

Jools smiled knowingly. "Methinks that someone still has issues."

 

"Methinks that someone is prying," I said with a wink.

 

She chuckled. "You know me too well."

 

I had a good gossip with Laura and Rachel and yes, I'm afraid to say it was real girl talk stuff: that is, it was about men. They pumped me for details on Charlie, but I didn't have much to tell them. Their relationships were going well, it seemed. Brian's parents had died a few years back and this year, he was going with Laura to spend Christmas with her Mum.

 

"Sounds serious to me," I said with a large grin.

 

Laura laughed and blushed. "You know, I think it might be."

 

Jools clapping her hands and calling for attention interrupted us.

 

"Oh no, what is she up to now?" I murmured.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you have all enjoyed this little Yuletide soirée. If you look up, I'm sure you will appreciate the tasteful festive decorations that our hostess has arranged. The more observant of you will notice that a certain flower is prominent at various intervals. This flower has a certain significance that will become obvious to you when I mention its name: mistletoe. It is indeed an encouragement for a festive kiss. Let's face it though; it really gives us an excuse for a good snog! So for all you partners out there, it is a simple decision for you regarding who you will engage in said snog with. For us single girls – Claire, Beth and I – we will have to share the only single man in the room…"

 

There was a moment's silence as we all thought. The silence was interrupted by Gareth suddenly sitting up straight and murmuring, "Shit!"

 

Jools, Claire and Beth converged on him and draped themselves over him as they assaulted him. I made a note to reconsider Gareth's employment in my service. He certainly did not appear to be skilled in hand-to-hand combat given his attempts to fight off three girls. However, I doubted that he was putting in one hundred percent effort.

 

Everyone laughed and the partners slowly found each other. Charlie appeared at my side and grinned shyly. "Well, Miss Malone, may I have the pleasure?"

 

I stood and smiled. "Why certainly, kind sir."

 

He placed his hands on my waist and gently pulled me towards him. I slid my arms around his neck and he lowered his lips to mine. He kissed me softly but it was a slow lingering kiss.

 

He broke the kiss and smiled at me. "That was nice."

 

I grinned and flushed. "Yes, it was."

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Jon casting furtive glances in my direction. I controlled my facial expression lest I cause Charlie to look round.

 

"Kiss me again," I murmured.

 

"With pleasure…"

 

It was another lingering kiss, but a little more forceful this time. When we broke, I smiled and made an attempt to wipe the lipstick from his lips.

 

"You're adorable," he said in a low voice.

 

I laughed. "You flatter me."

 

He shook his head. "Not in the slightest."

 

At the end of the night, Charlie waited behind until all the other guests had left, save Gareth of course. We embraced again and he gently kissed me goodnight.

 

"I had a wonderful time tonight," he said, "May I have the pleasure of your company again sometime soon?"

 

"I'd like that," I replied. "Give me a call after Christmas. Later in the week, perhaps?"

 

"Count on it," he said as he headed for his car.

 

I went back inside and Gareth was checking that all the windows were locked.

 

I grinned. "Did you manage to escape the clutches of my man-eating sister and friends?"

 

He laughed and winked. "I've been in worse fights. Some fights you're better off losing. What about you? Had a good night?"

 

I smiled and nodded. "I have."

 

As I got ready for bed, I ruminated on the evening's events. I was puzzled by Jon's behaviour and worried that his obvious hang-ups regarding me were going to be extended to complicate my friendship with Charlie. I thought about the kisses that Charlie and I had shared. I had enjoyed them, but there wasn't the same intensity of feeling that I had felt… I shook my head and didn't allow my train of thought to follow such a path.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 41

 

 

The next day I received a surprising phone call.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Hi Cara? Guess who this is?"

 

I had no idea. "Err…it's an American voice, but beyond that, I haven't the faintest idea."

 

I heard a chuckle. "You've forgotten me already? It's Aaron."

 

"Aaron? Aaron Kramer?"

 

"The one and only."

 

"What are you phoning me for?"

 

Another chuckle. "That's the usual response I get when I phone nice girls."

 

I laughed. "Sorry, I'm just surprised to hear from you."

 

"Nicely surprised, I hope. I've been hearing that things are going well for you on your side of the pond."

"Yes, not bad at all. I've had a Number One single and my album's doing pretty well. We did a few gigs and most went OK. What about your tour, how's it going?"

 

"Hellish. I mean in the sense that it's killing me with exhaustion. It's going well, but that's actually why I'm phoning…"

 

"I'm not sure I follow."

 

"We've got the West Coast final leg of our tour in the New Year and we had a support band lined up, but the lead singer has fallen while skiing and broken his leg."

 

I thought I had an idea of where he was heading, but I didn't want to presume anything. "And?"

 

He chuckled. "I was thinking – who can we get to fill in? A lovely replacement came to my mind."

 

"Oh, who was that?" I asked. I was going to make him say it plainly.

 

"I think you know."

 

"I think you should just tell me," I replied with a smile that he couldn't see.

 

"Alright, I'll come clean – how would you and your band like to do support for us for our last concerts?"

 

"I'm certainly tempted. Have you talked to my manager or the folks at Sony here in London?"

 

Aaron snorted. "Like I'd waste time talking to company flunkies? Naw, I thought I'd go straight to the source and ask you first."

 

"Tell you what, I'm all for it, but I'll have to run it past The Powers That Be. I'm not such a superstar that I can just order everyone about."

 

He laughed. "Sure you are; you just haven't realised it yet."

 

"When are the concerts?"

 

"We kick off in San Diego on Friday the sixteenth and end up in Seattle on Sunday the twenty-fifth."

 

"Finish off in your home city," I mused.

 

"Yeah, hopeless old romantic that I am."

 

"It sounds great to me. How do we make this happen?"

 

"I'll get my tour manager to contact your manager and the Sony pimps and tell them to work it out. I can't wait, we'll have a ball."

 

I laughed. "I hope so."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Not long after that, I received another phone call and again I was surprised at who it was.

 

"Hello Nic-ola?"

 

The voice was familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. "Yes?"

 

"Oh, hello, it's your Auntie Vera here."

 

I was stunned into silence for a moment and then remembered that it was my turn to speak. I regained my composure and said, "Aunt Vera, how nice to hear from you. How are you?"

 

"I'm fine," she paused and continued, "Are you well?"

 

"Yes, I'm grand. What can I do for you?"

 

"Did your sister happen to mention anything to you about Christmas Day?"

 

"Yes she did…" I didn't quite know what else to say.

 

"Well… I was wondering if you would like to come for Christmas dinner?"

 

"I don't know… I mean, yes, it would be lovely and I'm very grateful to be asked… but it could be difficult."

 

"With your father, you mean?"

 

"Yes, we haven't exactly been on the best of terms."

 

"So I believe and I think it's absolutely ridiculous!" she exclaimed. This was more like the Aunt Vera I remembered. "It's awful that you two haven't spoken since… well you know. What would Esther think about it?"

 

I closed my eyes and winced. My mother was always such an advocate for family life. I knew that she would be bitterly disappointed if she knew. Did she know? I shook my head to clear such esoteric wonderings. "I don't think she would like it," I replied softly.

 

Her tone was softer now, "I know I wasn't exactly kind to you last Christmas, Nicola, and I'm not saying I completely condone what you are doing, but I know that families should be together. Not just at Christmas. Please come."

 

I was blown away by this honesty from her. "I… I guess I could come."

 

"That's great. I know that Phillip and Dawn will be delighted. Will you be staying with your sister Claire on Christmas Eve before travelling up to us?"

 

I thought about this for a moment and it did make sense. Then I realised that would mean that my father would be alone on Christmas Eve. Claire had to go and stay with him. "No Aunt Vera, I think Claire should stay in Cardiff on Christmas Eve with Dad. I'll just stay here in London and travel up on Christmas morning."

 

"Nonsense, child, you can't do that. Be alone on Christmas Eve? Besides, it's far too long a journey to do in one go." She paused for a moment. "Why don't you come and stay with us on Christmas Eve?"

 

I hesitated. "I don't know… I mean I don't want to put you to any trouble…"

 

"That's settled then," she interrupted. "It will be no trouble at all. Shall we expect you for tea?"

 

I was so taken aback that I agreed without thinking and we said our goodbyes. I later phoned Claire and she was pleased to hear that I was coming and especially so when she heard that I was staying over the night before. She agreed with me about her staying with Dad. I asked her if she had prompted Aunt Vera to phone me. There had been a guilty silence before she confessed that she had. She had thought that I would not go unless directly asked. She was probably right.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

My Christmas arrangements meant that I had more presents to buy. I don't know if you have ever been shopping along Oxford Street or not, but it is a very busy place at the best of times. Three days before Christmas is not the best of times. In fact, I would be hard pressed to think of a worse time. I imagine that some war zones are more peaceful than the centre of London in the run up to Christmas.

 

Gareth and I battled our way through the hordes of people frantically searching for that elusive perfect gift. I was reasonably focussed in what I was looking for and did manage to get most of the things on my list. We also headed to Knightsbridge where there was a higher class of frenetic shopping going on. Having spent a significant amount of money and with Gareth loaded down with bag upon bag, I eventually called it a day.

 

When we got home, Gareth brought in my purchases and we both wearily sank onto a sofa in the den. We gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Pantridge.

 

"Thanks Gareth," I said with a smile.

 

He rolled his eyes and grinned. "If I'm still working for you next Christmas, you're doing your shopping earlier. Understand?"

 

I laughed. "I promise."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

On Christmas Eve, I gave Gareth and Mrs. Pantridge their gifts and they seemed to be very appreciative. After lunch, I told them both to go home and enjoy their Christmas. Gareth was reluctant to leave.

 

"I said go!" I smiled as I put my hands on my hips.

 

He laughed. "As loath as I am not to obey my boss, I'm not sure I should leave."

 

"Why not? For heaven's sake, Gareth, it's Christmas. Go home."

 

He shrugged. "I don't mind. Christmas isn't a big thing for me."

 

"Well you're not working over Christmas. I couldn't afford your rates." I winked.

 

He grinned. "I don't suppose you'll let me work it for free?"

 

"No chance!"

"OK… but look, you be careful."

 

I smiled. "Gareth, the trouble that I'm going to have to deal with – you couldn't protect me from. You haven't met my family."

 

At last, he agreed to go. He said that he would be back first thing on Boxing Day and I knew better than to argue with him. I packed a suitcase with clothes and the bits and pieces I would need. Alright, I know I was only going to be away for one night, but a girl needs to be prepared for several eventualities. I chuckled to myself as I remembered that, for such a visit, Nick would have brought the one set of clothes he was wearing and a toothbrush. I put my case and the wrapped presents into my little car and set off on the long journey to Swansea. It was just less than two hundred miles away, but there was a slow stream of traffic escaping London that afternoon. It felt good to be among them. There was a certain camaraderie that I imagined. We were all escaping the big city. As much as I loved living in London, at times like that, I just wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I arrived at Aunt Vera's and Uncle Keith's just before six p.m. I had worn a knee-length red tartan skirt with a black top and matching red jacket. It was fashionable, but reasonably conservative. I didn't plan on making things any worse for myself than they had to be. As I stepped out of the car, I realised that I was exhausted from the drive. With a heavy feeling inside, I stepped up to the door and rang the bell.

 

Aunt Vera opened the door. "Nicola," she said with a smile. "It's good to see you."

 

"You too, Aunt Vera," I said as I entered. I wasn't sure what to do, but I gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled strangely at me.

 

"You look well, child," she said as she appraised me.

 

"Thanks," I said with the surprise on my face no doubt being evident.

 

She shook her head. "This is strange for me, but I have to admit you do carry yourself extremely well."

 

I grinned. "Aunt Vera, go easy on the compliments. You're starting to scare me."

 

"Oh, get away," she said waving a hand at me, but she smiled nonetheless. "Keith," she called, "Come and bring Nicola's things in for her."

 

Uncle Keith came out of the living room and stared at me. After a moment's silence he spoke, "Err… hello Nicola. It's nice to have you here."

 

I smiled and for good measure gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek also. He was a little stunned at first, but then hugged me back before going to get my things from the car. I was distracted by the sound of the wildebeest stampeding across the plain and turned around to find that it was actually my cousin Dawn thundering down the stairs. She nearly bowled me over as she encased me in a hug.

 

"Nicola! Hi! Hi!"

 

I laughed and steadied myself as I hugged her back. "Hi Dawn, how are you?"

 

"I'm great," she gushed. "Oh my God, I can't believe that the great Cara Malone is staying with us."

 

"Dawn," Aunt Vera said sternly, "Don't take the Lord's name in vain."

 

"Sorry, Mum," she said reflexively, not even looking at her mother.

 

I swatted Dawn lightly on the arm. "None of that nonsense. I'm just your ordinary cousin Nicola."

 

She laughed. "You? Ordinary? I think not! You look fantastic."

 

I grinned. "You're looking pretty good yourself."

 

I turned around again as I heard more feet on the stairs. It was Phil.

 

"Hi, Phil," I said brightly.

 

He grinned. "Hi, Nicola."

 

We hugged.

 

Dawn grinned. "Mum has a bit of a dilemma. She doesn't know where you're going to sleep tonight…"

 

"Dawn," Aunt Vera interrupted in a warning voice.

 

Dawn ignored her. "You see, there are three bedrooms. Mum and Dad's, mine, and Phil's. It wouldn't be appropriate to have you sleep on the couch in the living room, would it?"

 

I didn't want to get involved, but said noncommittally, "If you say so."

 

She continued, "So obviously I said you could share with me, but Mum wasn't too happy about that."

 

Aunt Vera stopped Dawn in mid-flow, "Dawn, I just said it was a strange situation and I wasn't sure what was best."

 

Phil slid his arm around my shoulders. "Mum, I'm happy to share my bed with her if you think that's a better option." He gave a lascivious wink and my poor Aunt's eyes nearly popped.

 

"Phillip! Behave yourself and let your cousin go." She sighed. "Alright, Nicola, would you mind sharing with Dawn?"

 

I stifled a laugh. "Not at all, that would be fine."

 

"Aww," Phil said as he pouted, "I'm all disappointed."

 

Aunt Vera glared at him as she headed for the kitchen. Phil, Dawn and I went into the living room and caught up with what had been going on in our lives. They told me that they had enjoyed the Cardiff concert. I remonstrated with them over them not telling me in advance that they were coming. I told them in future they had to let me know, as I would get them complimentary tickets.

 

At the dinner table, the conversation was initially a little stilted, but it soon improved. Phil and Dawn kept asking me questions about my music and what I had been doing. Before long, Aunt Vera and Uncle Keith actually joined in with questions of their own and I realised that they were more interested than they would like to let on. It was lovely to share a family dinner with them and it reminded me of what I had been missing.

 

After we had finished our meal, I helped Aunt Vera with the washing up. "Aunt Vera, I just want to tell you how grateful I am that you've allowed me to come and stay here." I paused. "I've missed the family feeling so much…" I broke off, as I suddenly felt choked.

 

She noticed and she smiled warmly. "Come here, child." She hugged me tight and whispered, "I'm sorry for being such an old biddy at times. It's hard for us old dogs to accept new tricks from you young ones."

 

I had to fight hard to keep the tears back. As Aunt Vera was my mother's sister, there was a certain familiar resemblance there and as we hugged, it felt so much like it had with my own mother.

 

The rest of the evening was spent helping them to do some last minute gift wrapping and watching an old Christmassy film on TV. I began to relax more and more. That is, when I was able to forget about the impending reunion with my father the next day.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

"You sure you don't mind sharing your bed with me?" I asked Dawn as she closed the door of her bedroom behind us.

 

"Mind? Of course not. Why would I?"

I shrugged. "I just don't want to freak you out."

 

She shook her head. "Don't be silly. Now come on and get ready for bed." She paused. "Do you want me to leave while you change?"

 

I laughed and shook my head. "No, I'm fine."

 

As I slipped off my top and my bra, I noticed her peeking at me. I bashfully held my nightdress in front of my chest.

 

"What is it?" I asked.

 

She grinned and apologised. "I'm sorry, but… wow! You've got fantastic breasts."

 

"Dawn!" I protested.

 

She giggled. "Sorry, but I sort of always wondered whether it was all padding or the real thing. Although, having seen some of the outfits you wear, I suppose I should have known."

 

I felt myself redden. "It's not quite the real thing. I did have surgery."

 

She grinned. "Looks real enough to me." She sat and brushed her hair and continued. "Last Christmas, I thought you looked great but I wondered if it was just a phase or something. Looking at you now, there's no doubt that you're meant to be Nicola, not Nick."

 

"Thanks… I think," I replied as I slipped into bed.

 

She climbed in the other side and switched off the light.

 

"Now enough about me," I said, "Time to get down to real business."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"I hear you're still seeing that chap Adam. So, it's been over a year now. Sounds serious to me. Fill me in on all the details."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We exchanged presents the next morning and the atmosphere was light and relaxed. I received some nice gifts and the others seem pleased with what I had bought for them. I had tried not to be too flashy with what I bought for them, but had perhaps gone a little over the top.

 

Of course, with it being Christmas morning, we went to Church. I wore a knee-length red jersey dress and my black suede boots. As we sat in the pew, I noticed that Phil's gaze kept drifting down to my legs.

 

I nudged him and grinned. "Keep your eyes to yourself."

 

He choked a laugh and whispered back to me. "I can't help it. I'm sitting beside a gorgeous celebrity."

 

I enjoyed the singing of the carols as always and it was comforting to hear the Christmas story presented clearly in the readings and the message that the minister brought.

 

When we got back home, I felt the tension rising within me, as I knew that my father and Claire would soon be arriving.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Dawn and I were helping Aunt Vera in the kitchen with the Christmas Dinner preparations. Uncle George arrived before long and made his usual loud dramatic entrance. He came striding into the kitchen with two bottles of wine clinking in his hands.

 

"Hello, nieces! How's about a hug and kiss for your favourite uncle?"

 

As Dawn obliged him, I grinned and, feigning an innocent look, said, "But Uncle George, I've already hugged and kissed Uncle Keith."

 

He laughed and shook his head. "I always said you were too smart for your own good. Look at you, kid. I have to say I've been mightily impressed with what you've achieved this past year. You'd be amazed how much it does for my reputation with my younger clients when I happened to mention who my famous niece is."

 

I grinned and gave him his hug and kiss. "Thanks, Uncle George, I'm glad someone's proud of me."

 

He gave me a knowing and sympathetic smile and squeezed my shoulder. "Now, who's going to join me in a glass of wine or do I have to make my lonely pilgrimage to Yuletide inebriation unaccompanied again?"

 

I chuckled. "I'll join you for the first part of your journey, but I think you'll have to finish the quest alone."

 

He winked as he poured me a glass. "Maybe you'll surprise us both with new-found stamina for this noble pursuit."

 

If only he knew, I thought, but made a mental note to show some restraint.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I had already accompanied Uncle George through my second glass of his wine, when the doorbell rang. The sudden adrenaline rush and apprehension that I felt made me drink the rest of my third glass fairly quickly. Aunt Vera had scurried out of the kitchen to answer the door and she had pulled the kitchen door half closed behind her. Dawn noticed my uneasiness and she slid her arm around my waist and gave me an encouraging smile. We listened to the greetings taking place in the hallway.

 

"Merry Christmas, Bill, Merry Christmas, Claire," Aunt Vera said.

 

"The same to you, Vera," I heard my father say. I shivered involuntarily at the sound of his voice and was filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I wanted to run out and give him a hug, but on the other hand I felt like fleeing out the back door.

 

Uncle Keith added his greetings too. I heard Aunt Vera clear her throat nervously before speaking. "Claire… did you mention anything to your father?"

 

"Mention what?" my father asked.

 

"No, Aunt Vera, I didn't," Claire said quietly.

 

"What are you all talking about?" my father asked.

 

"Bill, Christmas is a family time as you know and there's someone here who should be here. She's quite uptight about seeing you, but I know she's missed you. I'm pretty sure you've missed her too if you would just admit it to yourself."

 

"You've all been scheming behind my back, haven't you?" my father said in a low voice, but I could just about hear him nonetheless.

 

"Nicola," Aunt Vera called, "Do you want to come out here?"

 

I didn't, but I did as requested. I slowly opened the kitchen door fully and stepped into the hall with trepidation. I looked at my father and, seeing him standing there in the flesh, I felt as if my heart was aching. I forced a smile and in a croaky voice said, "Hello, Dad."

 

His eyes narrowed and he looked me up and down. He took a deep breath and looked back to Aunt Vera and Claire. In a soft voice he said, "I don't appreciate being set up like this." He looked back to me and, for a moment, I thought he was going to speak to me. However, he simply shook his head and walked on into the living room.

 

Aunt Vera shrugged sympathetically and murmured, "Give him time, dear. He'll come round."

 

Claire came over to me and gave me a hug. "Merry Christmas, sister of mine."

 

"Merry Christmas," I replied, but I didn't feel very merry. Inside I felt the bitter hurt of rejection all over again. I could feel the moisture building up around my eyes, but I blinked furiously to clear it. I was determined not to break down and give him the satisfaction of seeing me crying.

 

Claire sighed. "I'm sorry, Nicola, I really thought he would realise it was time to make up. He might yet."

 

I shook my head. "I doubt it," I said in a wavering voice. "Did he… did he even ask… did he want to know where I was going to be today?"

 

She looked away and then shook her head. "No, he didn't. I think deep down he wanted to, but you know how stubborn he can be."

 

I did and that was the problem. Unless my father chose to change his mind, there was little point in anyone trying to change it for him. I realised that as well meaning as Aunt Vera had been, there was little chance of her plan succeeding.

 

We busied ourselves in the kitchen, as dinner was almost ready to be served. Uncle George placed another full glass in my hand and I accepted it gratefully. Aunt Vera called everyone to the dining room and we all took our places. Thankfully she'd had the wisdom not to seat my father beside me: he was at the other side of the table. I took my seat and cast furtive glances in his direction. He was deliberately not looking at me it seemed.

 

Dinner was served and Uncle Keith gave thanks for the food. We began to eat and there was a definite awkwardness in the conversation. I began to wish that I had not come.

 

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Aunt Vera nudge Uncle Keith and raise her eyebrows. Uncle Keith grimaced and nodded. He tried to sound casual as he spoke, "So Bill… what do you think of your daughter's success this past year?"

 

I tried not to wince, but it was hard to keep my expression neutral. All eyes were on my father. He slowly finished the mouthful that he was eating and then set his knife and fork down. He regarded Uncle Keith thoughtfully and in a measured tone said, "I presume you are referring to my daughter, Claire, being made a partner in her firm. Yes, I am very proud of my daughter indeed."

 

I looked down and wished that the ground would open up and swallow me. Uncle Keith tried to redirect my father, "Err Bill, I wasn't talking about Claire…"

 

Claire interrupted with frustration evident in her voice, "Oh for heaven's sake Dad, would you just wise up and stop pretending that Nicola isn't here!"

 

"Don't talk to me like that, young lady," he said sternly. I could see Claire bristling and readying herself for another go at him.

 

I stood up and set my napkin down on the table. "That's enough," I said quietly, but everyone heard and focussed their attention on me. "I'm not going to be the cause of everyone fighting here." I looked at my father and with my voice shaking I said, "Dad, I love you and I miss you." For the first time he was looking straight at me and I went on, "As much as I love you, I'm not prepared to sit here and have you ignore me at best and belittle who I am at worst. Perhaps I was wrong to come here today, but all I wanted was to be with my family. I'm going to leave now and the rest of you can do what you want. I'm not going to be involved in any more attempts at 'setting you up' as you called it. If you want to talk to me, Claire will tell you where you can find me." I looked at him pointedly, but he just looked away after a moment.

 

I knew I had to get out of the room immediately before I broke down in front of them. I ran upstairs and grabbed my case and the presents I had been given. I was met by Claire and Aunt Vera at the bottom of the stairs.

 

"Don't go, dear," Aunt Vera said gently.

 

"Yes, please stay, Nicola," Claire urged.

 

I shook my head. "I can't… I can't deal with it. It's too much." I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and that was just the start of it. "I have to go right now."

 

Aunt Vera reluctantly opened the door for me and as I put my things into my car she called to me, "Nicola, anytime you want to come – you're welcome here."

 

"Thanks, Aunt Vera," I said in a choked voice, "Thanks for everything and I'm sorry things didn't work out as planned."

 

"Where are you going?" Claire asked with concern.

 

"Home," I said softly, "I'm going home."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

On the long drive I experienced a wide range of emotions. The first was mostly sorrow and self-pity as I cried my way across South Wales. It was just as well that the roads were practically empty as at times the tears flowing from my eyes significantly impaired my vision. Although I had been sceptical about how my father would react, I realised that deep down inside I had been hoping that he would be pleased to see me. I had hoped that we would be able to put our differences aside and begin to mend the relationship that I been missing so much. However, the reality of the disappointment was a crushing blow to my hope. Someone once said that if you lost hope, you lost everything. I could understand that.

 

Somewhere on the M4 south of Bristol, my sorrow turned into anger. I felt angry that my father thought he could just cut me out of his life, like removing an irritating wart or something. I was angry with myself for caring so much about what he thought of me. I was angry at the world for being such a messed up place. It was irrational, I know, but try telling anger that. As the rage boiled within me, I floored the accelerator and tried to burn out my fury with speed. It was cathartic and all going very well until I heard a siren and saw a blue flashing light in my rear-view mirror. Suddenly the anger left me and was replaced with another unpleasant emotion: fear.

 

As I pulled over onto the hard shoulder and stopped my car, I realised that I was in big trouble. Not only had I been driving significantly over the speed limit, but when I thought about it I was fairly sure that I would be over the legal limit for alcohol given the four glasses of wine I had consumed earlier. I sat there cursing myself for my stupidity and waited for the officer to walk up to my car.

 

He tapped on the window and I lowered it. "Could you please step out of the car, ma'am?"

 

I smiled weakly and nodded as I did what he requested. He was middle-aged and had a somewhat bored appearance.

 

"Have you any idea what speed you were doing, ma'am?"

 

I smiled and shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure, officer, but I guess it was over the speed limit."

 

He nodded. "Look, I'm not in the business of really wanting to pull people over on Christmas Day, but you were travelling at eighty-five miles per hour, which is fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit."

 

I bit my lip and winced. "I'm really sorry, officer." I was sure he was going to suggest an alcohol breath test.

 

He looked at me and frowned. "Have you been crying? Are you alright?"

 

No doubt my eyes were red and puffy. I smiled ruefully and nodded. "Yes, I know it's Christmas, but our family gathering wasn't exactly peace and goodwill."

 

For the first time he smiled. "I know how that is." He seemed to relax a little and I noticed him actually taking in the rest of my appearance. He shrugged. "To be honest, I volunteered to work today, but don't tell my wife that. I just can't stand her mother."

 

I laughed despite the terrible situation. I noticed him looking at me closely and dreaded that he was wondering if I had been drinking. "Err… what is it?" I asked cautiously.

 

He inclined his head. "You just look awfully familiar." He chewed his lip and then his eyebrows shot up. "Wait a minute! I know who you are."

 

I managed a tentative smile. "You do?"

 

"You're Cara Malone, aren't you?"

 

I grinned semi-apologetically. "Yes, I am."

 

He shook his head and smiled. "I thought you looked familiar. I suppose I should have worked it out earlier."

 

I saw my chance and smothering my shame, I went for it. I gave him a full smile and slowly pulled my shoulders back, which emphasised the outline of my breasts. Speaking with exaggerated shyness, I said, "What are you going to do, officer?"

 

He looked pensive for a moment and then shrugged and smiled. "Aww hell, it's Christmas, isn't it? Look, I'll let you off with a stern caution. I shouldn't really, but to tell you the truth, I can't be bothered with the paperwork." He winked conspiratorially and said in a quieter voice, "Plus I'm also quite a fan of yours."

 

I laughed softly and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, officer. I know you don't have to do this, but I really appreciate it."

 

He gave a goofy sort of grin and then regained his composure. He cleared his throat and, business-like once more, said, "Make sure you slow down, though, the roads may be quiet, but that doesn't excuse driving at speed."

 

I tried to look suitably chastised and I nodded solemnly. "I promise I'll slow down. Thanks again and…" I smiled a wide smile, "…Merry Christmas."

 

I saw him look at my legs as I swung them back into my car. He chuckled and said, "It sure beats seeing the mother-in-law."

 

As I drove off, I exhaled slowly. For the rest of the tedious journey, I made sure that I kept within the speed limit. The wallowing self-pity and the fiery anger had gone. In their place was a hollow tiredness.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

It was early evening when I finally arrived home. The house was dark, cold and empty. I turned the heat up and switched on most of the lights. I slumped down onto the sofa in the den and sat there staring at the wall.

 

"Humbug," I muttered to myself.

 

I was so tired, yet I felt certain that I wouldn't be able to sleep. I just wanted to switch off and float into a blissful unconsciousness where I would be shielded from the hurt and pain that was gnawing away at me like a dull ache inside. I wandered upstairs and into my bathroom. I opened the bathroom cabinet and looked at the sleeping tablets that Dr. Carson had prescribed for me. After a long pause, I took the bottle and went to sit at my dressing table. I opened the bottle and poured the contents onto the table in front of me. The bottle had been half full. I sat and stared at the tablets. I longed to numb myself from the emotional distress that was dogging me. I reached out my hand towards the tablets, intending to pick up a handful, but my hand shook so much that I quickly withdrew it. I realised that sweat had broken out on my forehead.

 

"I can't do this cold," I muttered.

 

I went downstairs and looked at my wine rack. "Shit," I murmured when I remembered that, between my party and my 'nightcaps' the subsequent evenings, I had exhausted my meagre wine collection. I opened the fridge, but there was only a solitary can of beer remaining from the party. I still didn't like beer and closed the fridge with frustration. Although, it was Christmas Day, there had to be a store open somewhere. I know that I was being driven by an irrational desire, but I didn't really stop to think. I grabbed my bag and keys and headed out.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I drove around aimlessly in my unsuccessful quest to find an open off-licence store. I headed towards the city centre figuring that I would have a better chance of finding one there. Eventually, in the Fitzrovia area, I spotted a dingy-looking store with its lights on. I went in and looked around. Initially I thought of picking up a few bottles of wine, but then changed my mind. I decided to go for something stronger and remembered that I had found vodka and cola reasonably palatable. I grabbed a bottle of cola and joined the queue. The vodka bottles were kept behind the counter. I had a baseball cap pulled down as low as it would go and hoped that no one would recognise me.

 

"Nicola?" a voice asked from behind. "Is that you?"

 

I stiffened at the words. Had I been recognised? I thought about it quickly: if someone had casually recognised me, they would have called me Cara. It must be someone that I knew. I slowly turned and saw a black face with a large wide grin on it.

 

"Dang, it is you, I knew it."

 

"Sam?" I asked uncertainly.

 

"The one and only!"

 

It was Sam the kitchen assistant from 'Trin's Dins'. I smiled. "Wow, what are you doing here? Nice outfit by the way." He was wearing surgical scrubs under his overcoat.

 

He laughed. "I just got off work. I'm doing my house officer year in the Middlesex Hospital just round the corner."

 

"They let you be a doctor?" I asked as I winked.

 

He chuckled and then frowned. "Yeah and then they made me go and work Christmas Day… until now."

 

A face peeked around from behind him and nudged him in the ribs. Sam turned and laughed. "Oh, Nicola, I almost forgot, this is my little sister, Jessie. She's a huge fan of yours and never believed it when I told her that I used to work with you."

 

She nudged him again in the ribs. "Sam," she protested, "You're making me sound like a stupid little girlie fan." She didn't look like a little girl and I estimated that she was in her late teens.

 

He grinned. "Sure that's what you are. I mean you've got all Nicola's… or rather Cara's singles, and all those posters."

 

"Sam," I said with a smile, "Stop teasing her so." I turned to her and held out my hand, "Pleased to meet you, Jessie."

 

She took my hand and as she shook it, her eyes goggled. I laughed. "Jessie, I'm really just an ordinary person."

 

Sam nodded. "See that's what I told her. 'Jessie,' I said, 'That Nicola's a down-to-earth lovely girl.'" He grinned. "Dang, I could hardly believe it was you when I saw your first single released. I always knew there was something different about you."

 

I grinned and shrugged. "Sure, and you were playing the down-trodden kitchen boy when here you are now – the big shot doctor."

 

He rolled his eyes. "If you saw the menial tasks I had to do… I'm no big shot." He grinned and winked. "But maybe some day…" He furrowed his brow. "Say, what are you doing here, Nicola?"

 

I looked down at the bottle of cola in my hand and was immensely grateful that I had not yet managed to get my hands on the bottle of vodka. I shrugged, smiled and held up a bottle of cola. "Ran out of something to drink."

 

He nodded. "Why aren't you home with your family or something?"

 

We had stepped out of the queue as we talked. I winced and looked away. "The family gathering didn't go too well."

 

"If you don't mind me prying, can I ask what you are going to do now?"

 

I grinned ruefully and replied, "I was going to go home and drink my bottle of cola."

 

"Alone?" he asked incredulously.

 

I nodded and blinked a few times in quick succession, feeling uncomfortable.

 

"No way," he said firmly.

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

He grinned. "Jessie and I are heading home to have our Christmas dinner, and you're coming too. She's been waiting all day for me to finish work."

 

"What about your Mum, Sam? Don't I remember you telling me about how you could never bring home 'no white girl'?"

 

His expression clouded and he smiled sadly. "Momma passed away a few months ago." He paused and then, by way of explanation, added, "Cancer."

 

I bit my lip. "Gosh, I'm so sorry Sam. I had no idea… I didn't mean to…"

 

He shrugged. "You weren't to know." He sighed. "Didn't I read earlier this year that you lost your Mum too?"

 

I nodded. "Yes," I replied softly.

 

The three of us stood there together. We were relative strangers, yet in that moment, we were bound together by a shared pain, a shared knowledge. We didn't have to speak about it; we just knew what the others were feeling.

 

"Stinks, doesn't it?" Sam said softly.

 

"It does," I agreed sadly.

 

He shook himself and forced a smile. "Right, come on, I may be a doctor, but I haven't forgotten all my old tricks from the kitchen. It may only be a turkey joint fresh from the freezer, but there's plenty enough for three."

 

I smiled and shrugged awkwardly. "Sam, I don't want to intrude."

 

"Intrude? What you talking about, girl?" He turned to Jessie, "Do you mind if Nicola here joins us?"

 

Her eyes widened so much that I almost expected her eyeballs to land on the floor. "Hell, no," she said with something approaching awe.

 

Sam laughed. "That's settled then. Do you want to follow us to our lovely apartment?"

 

I grinned. "Do I have a choice?"

 

"None whatsoever!"

 

"OK then." I grinned. "I've got the drinks, though," I said as I held up my bottle of cola.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I followed them back to their place. It was a little two-bedroom apartment in the Lambeth area, just south of the river. I'd been in worse areas, but had been in much better ones too. The apartment was clean and well looked after. Sam, true to his word, was still no slouch in the culinary department and we enjoyed a delicious meal. The company was good and we laughed 'til we cried about the time we had spent working together in the restaurant. Sam had a natural free sense of humour that was irrepressible. He said that he had laughed and laughed when he heard to whom 'You Make My Skin Crawl' was dedicated. He still kept in touch with some of the kitchen staff and apparently, they had stuck an inlay card from my album on the wall and had highlighted the song.

 

At the end of the evening I yawned. "I should be getting home."

 

Sam looked at me sideways. "Going back to an empty house?"

 

I nodded and smiled. "'Fraid so."

 

He nodded and shrewdly remarked, "You're not that fussed about that, are you?"

 

I laughed and waved a hand. "Not particularly, but beggars can't be choosers."

 

He frowned. "Nicola, girl, don't say that."

 

I shrugged. "I was only kidding, really."

 

He thought for a moment and then nodded. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

 

I raised an eyebrow. "Sam, I couldn't. You've been more than kind already. I couldn't impose on you…"

 

He interrupted. "Tell me the truth: would you rather go back to your empty house on Christmas Day or would you rather stay here. If you'd rather go home, I'm not going to pressure you into staying."

 

I sighed and thought about it. When I thought about my house, I pictured the tablets that I had strewn across my dressing table and I shuddered. I smiled and said softly, "I guess it might be nice not to be alone." I winked, "But don't get any funny ideas, buster. I'm not planning anything that our mothers would have disapproved of."

 

He roared with laughter and clicked his fingers with mock-frustration. "Dang, and there was Sam thinking he'd been working a slick move." He got serious again. "You know I wasn't thinking anything like that."

 

I nodded. "I know." Then I smiled coyly and said, "So you don't think I'm attractive then?"

 

He chuckled. "Women! Can't win no matter what you do."

 

A thought struck me. "Have you room for me to stay here?"

 

"Well… there are two beds in Jessie's room, but you can have my room and I'll either bunk in with her or sleep on the couch."

 

"There's no need for that, Sam. I'm happy to bunk in with Jessie…" I looked over at her, "That is if you don't mind, Jessie?"

 

She laughed. "I don't mind at all. This evening has been so surreal for me." She paused and frowned, "Can you give me a minute though to remove your posters from the wall?"

 

I laughed, "Don't bother; I'll try not to look at them."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

CHAPTER 42

 

 

I got back to my house early the next morning. Gareth hadn't arrived yet. I'd woken when Sam had got up. He had an early shift that day and I had shared a quick breakfast with him. Thanking him profusely for his kindness, I had hugged him and given him a gentle kiss on the cheek as he left. Jessie had still been asleep, and I hadn't wanted to waken her. However, at Sam's suggestion, I had autographed the posters on her wall before letting myself out.

 

Back home, after showering and changing into a T-shirt and jeans, I went downstairs and found that Gareth had arrived.

 

"Morning, Cara, how was your Christmas?"

 

I grimaced. "Lousy, and yours?"

 

He laughed. "Pretty much the same. I bet yours was better though."

 

I shook my head. "I doubt that."

 

He raised an eyebrow. "In that case, maybe you should join me for some shared misery next Christmas."

 

I grinned as I put the kettle on to make some coffee. "It's a deal!"

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of busyness. We had decided to release another single and had eventually agreed on 'I Just Wanna Be Me'. There had been some discussion about releasing 'Simply Say' instead, but after considering it, we felt that 'I Just Wanna Be Me' showed a greater diversity and was significantly different from the last single I'd released. The guys had been squeezed into a slot in the studio to do a few different tracks for the single version: Jon jazzed up his guitar part more and Brian gave it more of a punchy bass line. My vocal was left unchanged, as it had been difficult enough to get it right the first time.

 

Herby had once again been brought in to weave his magic on the video front. In light of my recent success, Herby had made a case for having a larger budget for this video. He won his case unsurprisingly and we shot the video over three days. He had his plan firmly in mind from the word go and, despite my protestations, he would not budge an inch. Herby maintained that this had to be a fun video. Although it was obviously about me asserting who I wanted to be, there was opportunity for some tongue-in-cheek light heartedness along the way. For each of the three verses of the song, Herby had me in a different scenario that was obviously not me. I groaned when he outlined it to me.

 

For the first verse, he wanted me in a skimpy schoolgirl outfit dancing down the corridors of a high school. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you the original source of the parody. He even pressured me into wearing a blond wig. I maintained that I wouldn't do it and that I looked nothing like Ms. Spears. Herby persuaded me to follow his plan when he told me that I was indeed correct: he said I was much better looking than the aforementioned artist. Flattery gets you everywhere!

 

If I thought the first verse was bad, in the second he had me dressed up as Lara Croft. Again I protested that I couldn't pull it off. I told him that I was nothing like the buxom action heroine. Herby smirked, looked down at my chest and then, looking me in the eye and smiling sweetly, told me that he could think of at least two striking similarities. Only Herby could get away with such cheek and yet again, I was doing his bidding. The scenario was a dark alley and the guys in the band were being threatened by some hoodlums. I, as Lara Croft, was to swoop down from above on a rope, kick the bad guys' asses and then coolly accept the grateful thanks from the boys. Corny, I know, but Herby assured me it would be a riot. I was able to manage my part fairly well, but it took several takes for the guys to get the right amount of cringing and then adulation to satisfy Herby.

 

The third verse had me wearing a dancer's leotard, fishnet tights and high-heels as I danced on a stage with the stereotypical hunky boys dancing behind me. This was actually the hardest one to pull off, as I was not into that sort of dancing at all. I again protested to Herby and told him that I felt ridiculous. He just laughed and enigmatically said that it added to the overall effect. With the help of a choreographer, I managed to master the minimum amount of steps and moves that I needed.

 

More comfortable scenes accompanied the choruses. Herby's idea was that as I sang the chorus, he would display the 'real me'. So there were images of me playing a grand piano, wistfully looking out of a window as I sat on the windowsill and finally sitting around with the guys on a sofa as we laughed, ate pizza and threw potato crisps at each other.

 

When we met up to view the final product, I had to agree with Herby that the pain had been worth it. It was hilarious and yet not laughable. Herby had managed to strengthen the message of the song and bring it to life on the screen. I did mention to him that I still looked incredibly awkward in the scenes during the verses. He nodded and smiled and said that he knew that. Apparently he wanted to catch me looking uncomfortable and embarrassed. He gently told me that he was showing the world that although they might think of me as every man's fantasy, this video dispelled that notion and showed me as I really was – a woman. I wasn't sure whether he was taking the hand out of me or not, but he seemed sincere. I think perhaps he believed in the power of his videos a little too much, but I was touched nonetheless.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The single was released on the fifth of January and was getting a lot of airplay. Herby's work seemed to be appreciated by MTV as my video was played over and over again. That Sunday evening, I was blown away to hear that 'I Just Wanna Be Me' was a new entry at Number One! Jools had come over to my place to listen to 'The Chart Show' with me and, instead of dancing, I had to sit down as I thought I was going to faint. We had little time to enjoy any celebrations as the next few days were spent preparing and practising for supporting 'Stealing Time'.

 

In the midst of my hectic schedule, I had managed to spend a fair number of my evenings with Charlie. We had enjoyed dinners out, a few movies and a West End show. Gareth, true to his word, had 'accompanied' us on these evenings, but most of the time I couldn't even see where he was.

 

I enjoyed the time I was spending with Charlie, but things were getting a little awkward. At the end of each evening, we would kiss and cuddle. It was quite passionate at times. I don't mean to say that I didn't enjoy these times – it was OK. That was the problem: it was just OK. I realised that Charlie probably was beginning to feel a lot more for me than I was able to reciprocate. He would drop little hints about us being more intimate, but I gently fended off these suggestions. He didn't seem to mind too much. If the relationship was going to be more serious, then I knew that I would have to tell Charlie my deep dark secret.

 

The question was: did I want the relationship to become more serious? I had little time to sort this out in my mind, as we had to fly out to San Diego that Wednesday.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Compared to the damp chill of London in January, it was a joy to arrive in San Diego and find that it was sunny with temperatures around eighteen degrees Centigrade. There were cars waiting at the airport for us and they ferried us to our hotel. When we walked into the lobby, I saw Aaron heading in our direction. He ran over to me and gave me a big hug. I was quite taken aback when he gave me a kiss full on the lips - especially since the rest of our entourage were standing there watching!

 

"Hey, mister," I said when he broke the embrace. "That's quite a welcome."

 

He grinned and shrugged. "I missed ya. It's great to see you. I can hardly believe you're going to join us on the final leg of the tour."

 

I laughed. "I thought it was supposed to be me that should be star struck at getting to tag along with such megastars as you lot."

 

He laughed and slipped his arm around my shoulders as he led me to the lifts. "Not at all. We're going to have a ball."

 

He showed me to my room and then sort of lingered there. I unpacked some stuff and then turned back to him. With a smile I said, "Aaron, I wouldn't mind freshening up and getting changed."

 

He grinned. "I wouldn't mind that either."

 

I laughed. "You have to leave, mister."

 

He frowned. "Really?"

 

"Yes, really," I said as I gently led him to the door.

 

He shrugged, stole another kiss and winked as he said, "Maybe if we get to know each other better in the next week or two, you won't be looking to get rid of me so quickly."

 

Before I could find any words to reply with, he had gone and closed the door behind him. I smiled to myself, feeling quite bemused. I was fairly sure that I was going to be on the receiving end of more attention from Aaron and I needed to work out the best way to handle him.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Thursday was a lazy day that was spent relaxing, recovering from jetlag and doing a little bit of sightseeing. As I was quite keen to prevent Aaron from becoming too friendly too soon, I persuaded Jon to come with me as we checked out the area. We hired cycles and enjoyed pedalling around the bay and seeing a bit more of San Diego. The atmosphere between us was fairly relaxed, but I sensed an undercurrent of tension.

 

As we walked back to the hotel together later in the afternoon, I casually asked, "So how are things with you and Simone?"

 

He grimaced and shrugged. "Not good."

 

There was an awkward pause. "Err… sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

He grinned. "Nah, it's OK. I mean she's gorgeous and what's not to like about her?" I refrained from providing him with a list as he went on, "We just don't seem to connect. She's quite possessive and demanding."

 

"Are you… still seeing each other?" I tentatively asked.

 

He shook his head. "I don't think so. We sort of had a big argument before I left. She thought I wasn't paying her enough attention."

 

I made sympathetic noises. Personally, I thought that no one could ever pay Simone enough attention. She had appeared to me as the sort who craved worshipful devotion and would never be satisfied.

 

"What about you and Charlie?" Jon asked slowly. "How're things going?"

 

"Good," I said after a moment's hesitation. Jon seemed to pick up on that.

 

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

 

"Yes," I said a little defensively. "He's a great guy and I enjoy being with him."

 

Jon sighed and stopped walking. I did likewise. "Cara, be straight with me, are you really interested in him?"

 

I frowned. "Yes… I mean I think so… I don't know. Yes, I like him, but we're taking things slowly. Why do you ask?"

 

"I just don't want him getting hurt."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

He shrugged. "Either when he finds out about… you, or when you decide that your little game with him is over."

 

My eyes widened and my voice got louder, "I beg your pardon? What the hell are you talking about?"

 

"Oh come on, you're not really interested in Charlie. I don't know what you're trying to prove or what you want out of it…"

 

I interrupted and spoke in an icy tone, "What business is it of yours? I resent your implications and I have no idea what you're getting at."

 

He looked me straight in the eye. "He's my cousin. I think you're just using him."

 

My blood began to boil. "Using him? For what?"

 

He looked away and shrugged awkwardly. I persisted, "Come on, Jon, share your great insight with me."

 

He shook his head and started walking again. "It's nothing; I just wondered if… with him being my cousin and all… and with what happened between… us."

 

I laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh. "Oh please! Do you have such an inflated opinion of yourself? Don't be so vain. Why don't you stop thinking that the world revolves around you?"

He looked up at me and his eyes flashed. "That's rich coming from you."

 

We had arrived at the doors of our hotel and I just strode on through the entrance and left him standing there. I went to my room and flopped down on the bed and closed my eyes. A voice inside my head said, 'That went well.' I told the voice to shove it.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next day, we went to the concert venue and did our sound check. I was somewhat awe-struck at the size of the auditorium. We were going to be playing to much larger crowds here than we had done at home. Of course, they weren't coming to see us, but it was a great opportunity nonetheless. Simon was fussing around and doing his networking thing. He had been delighted when I told him about Aaron's invitation to join them. He saw this as a second chance to work on the U.S. market. Correspondingly, his American counterparts had teed up 'Forgotten How to Love' for a single release the following week.

 

Jools had sensed the icy atmosphere between Jon and me. I suppose it was quite obvious, as even during the sound check I had snapped at him at one point. She took me to check out my dressing room.

 

"OK, spill it. What's going on?"

 

"What do you mean, Jools?"

 

"Come on, you and Jon. You were a total Miss Frosty out there with him."

 

I shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it."

 

She squeezed my arm. "Hey, it's me. You can talk to me."

 

I smiled thinly. "Jools, hard as it may be for you to believe, when I say that I don't want to talk about it, I actually mean it sometimes."

 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine, but I wish you and Jon would just get on with it and get it over with."

 

I turned my head sharply to look at her. "What do you mean?"

 

She smiled gently. "You two may be the last ones to realise it, but it is so clear that you both have feelings for each other."

 

I screwed my face up. "That's crap, Jools. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you really have no idea on this matter."

 

She just raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We had been allocated around thirty-five to forty minutes for our set. We had whittled our list of songs down to a shorter running order from what we had played back in the U.K.:

 

No Half Measures

Living Life in Colour

You Make My Skin Crawl

I Just Wanna Be Me

Simply Say

Forgotten How to Love

Not Dancing, but Flying

 

Gina helped me to get ready as always. I had insisted that she be brought on the trip. Simon had initially protested about costs and had maintained that there would be make-up artists and wardrobe assistants on the 'Stealing Time' crew that we could make use of. I had put my foot down and he eventually gave in. I wore a white vest top and black leather miniskirt. Gina brushed my hair out to give it more body and did a top notch job on my make-up.

 

When we stepped out onto the stage, there were cheers and shouts. It certainly was loud given the thousands of people present in the arena, but it didn't have the enthusiasm of a crowd welcoming the band that they had come to see. That was to be expected. We delivered a good performance and I tried to connect with the crowd as I talked to them between the songs. Towards the end of our set, I thought that the response was more genuine and the cheers more enthusiastic.

 

When we came off stage, Aaron grabbed me, hugged me and kissed me. "You were great, babe."

 

"Babe?" I said as I screwed up my face and raised an eyebrow.

 

He grinned apologetically. "You don't like babe?"

 

I shook my head. "Definitely not."

 

He chuckled. "You were great anyway. Now how are we going to go out there and follow that?"

 

I laughed. "I don't think you'll have any problem."

 

He looked at me and gestured to me. "After seeing you, they aren't going to want to look at me."

 

I winked. "Want to borrow this skirt when I'm done with it?"

 

He guffawed. "I don't think I'd look half as good in it as you do."

 

I smiled and inwardly noted that I'd once thought along similar lines myself.

 

Of course, he had nothing to worry about as the crowd went wild when they took the stage. From the wings, we had an excellent view of the band giving a gutsy, adrenaline-packed performance. It helped me to realise that despite my taste of success, there were still more heights to aim for.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next night was pretty much the same as what had gone before. The difference was that, as there was no concert the next day, there was a private bar back at the hotel for the bands and crew after the performance. Jon was animatedly talking away to Ben, the 'Stealing Time' lead guitarist. No doubt they were discussing whether a two or three millisecond digital delay effect was better for a lead guitarist. Aaron predictably tried to monopolise my company and I eventually just decided to relax and enjoy myself. I was aware that he was bringing me a fair amount of drinks.

 

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I asked with a smile.

 

He chuckled. "Is that the only way I'm going to have a chance with you?"

 

I raised an eyebrow. "More like if you get me unconscious."

 

He shrugged good-naturedly and winked. "You'd better start drinking up then."

 

I managed to get into my room alone after fending off several kisses in the corridor outside. Gareth clearing his throat loudly after I had said goodnight to Aaron for the third time helped me achieve my goal.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

On Sunday afternoon, we flew up to Los Angeles. 'Stealing Time' had chartered a Lear jet and we were invited to fly with them. It was a plush executive jet and just when I had thought that first class was the best way to travel, I had to re-evaluate my decision. The rest of the guys in our band were relishing the opportunity to mingle and chat with these legends of rock.

 

We had two concerts in L.A. – on Monday and Tuesday. Aaron had suggested that I should join them on stage to sing backing vocals for 'Never Knowing What to Say'. It made sense since I already knew the song. He insisted on a practice nonetheless. I was not overly surprised when I found that it was a private little practice with him on the piano. I had left Gareth outside. We ran through the song a few times and I even improvised a slightly different backing line for the final chorus. He liked it.

 

"Have dinner with me tonight?" he suddenly asked when we finished.

 

I was caught off balance. "I… err… I don't know."

 

He smiled with his trademark boyish charm. "Oh, come on. What harm is there in just having dinner with me?"

 

I laughed. "Alright, but it's just dinner, OK?"

 

"Absolutely," he affirmed solemnly as he held his hand to his heart.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

He took me to an upscale Beverly Hills restaurant that evening. It was very posh and I was glad that I had worn a fashionable red dress. Aaron had even put on a jacket and smart slacks for the occasion. Being Beverly Hills, the management didn't bat an eyelid when they had to find a secluded spot for Gareth to place himself during the evening. I don't think that Aaron was too enamoured with my discreet escort, but he didn't mention it. We enjoyed a wonderful meal and he accompanied me back to my room at the hotel.

 

"Can I come in for a drink?" he asked pleadingly.

 

I smiled. "I don't know if that is a good idea."

 

He shrugged. "Oh come on, just one drink."

 

I sighed and against my better judgement agreed. "OK, but you'd better behave. Remember Gareth is just on the other side of the adjoining door."

 

Gareth coughed discreetly to remind Aaron of that fact as I let him into my room.

 

We had a drink or two and chatted amiably.

 

"What's the deal with Gareth?" Aaron asked.

 

I shrugged. "I had some… threats."

 

He frowned. "Threats? What do you mean?"

 

"It's probably just some weirdo and it may be nothing. Some anonymous notes and the like. Not pleasant."

 

He nodded. "That sucks. Well it looks like you'll be OK with Gareth around."

 

I smiled. "That's the plan."

 

What he said and did next surprised me. Aaron looked at his watch and got to his feet. "I'd better be going," he said and then gently kissed me on the lips.

 

I think he noticed the bemused expression on my face. He chuckled. "I'm a man of my word. We had a few drinks and I behaved myself." He opened the door and looked back at me. "Believe me, I'd love to stay and 'misbehave', but maybe another time." Then he was gone.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The L.A. concerts went well and we played to sell-out crowds both nights. Our performances were good and generally well received. We even got a mention in some of the newspapers' write-ups and the comments were positive. I did my guest appearance during the 'Stealing Time' set for 'Never Knowing What to Say' and Aaron enjoyed embarrassing me as he introduced me. He said that I was a 'beautiful Welsh flower' and that he was in danger of falling in love with my voice and me. I knew that he was teasing me so I laughed it off.

 

Although I was enjoying the tour, I was feeling a growing discontent within me. Charlie and I had been talking on the phone and I think he sensed something of my ambivalence in regard to our relationship. The bottom line was that I was not really missing him. I think I knew what I had to do when I got home, but it made me all the more irritable. Would I ever find the happiness that I wanted? I know it sounds petty given the success that I had achieved. It wasn't enough. What more did I want? I wasn't sure.

 

I still wasn't sleeping that well either. I had been blaming that on jetlag initially, but as the days passed, that excuse was less valid. A drink in my room with Aaron became almost a nightly ritual. He was very restrained, and although his goodnight kiss became a little more amorous each night, he didn't push for anything more. He did drop plenty of hints and kept telling me how enchanting I was. I took it with a pinch of salt. I liked him and it was quite flattering for someone who was practically my hero to take such an interest.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

On Wednesday morning, we flew up to San Francisco. We were to play two gigs: Thursday and Friday. Jools and I did the tourist thing that afternoon. We wandered about and did some browsing and buying.

 

"Are you OK?" she asked.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You just don't seem to be yourself these days."

 

"I'm fine," I assured her.

 

"Really?"

 

I sighed. "Yes, really, I'm alright. Yeah, so maybe some things in my life aren't exactly as I would like them to be, but that's life, isn't it?"

 

She didn't look convinced. "You and Aaron are spending a lot of time together."

 

"I suppose we are," I replied noncommittally.

 

"Do you think you should?"

 

I turned to look at her. "Why not?"

 

She shrugged. "Charlie?"

 

I looked away. "That's one of the things in my life that isn't working out as I had hoped."

 

"That may be, but I'm not sure that Aaron is… a good influence."

 

My eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

 

Jools shrugged. "I know he drinks fairly heavily and I just… worry about you."

 

I sighed. "So we're back to that again?"

 

She looked uncomfortable. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

 

I shook my head and snapped at her. "Jools, when will you get it through your head that I don't need mothering. I had one mother and although she's gone, the position isn't being advertised so stop trying to fill it." She looked shocked by my words. I even shocked myself, but I didn't show it.

 

"I'm… just trying to be a good friend… I know I'm your manager too… but I'm talking to you as a friend."

 

"Well then maybe I'd prefer 'Jools the manager' to talk to me. I'm a big girl and I don't need you to tell me what to do anymore."

 

"Fine," she said acidly. "I'm contracted to be your manager so there's no getting around that. I'm not contracted to be your friend and if that's the way you want it…"

 

We made the journey back to our hotel in an uncomfortable silence.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The San Francisco shows were a great success and we were all on a bit of a high as we made the last leg of our journey up to Seattle. The weather was not as favourable as it had been back in San Diego. It was cool and wet - just like home. Having played in San Francisco on Thursday and Friday nights and with the final two concerts being played in Seattle on Saturday and Sunday, there was little time to rest. We checked in at our hotel and then went to the concert arena for the sound check.

 

When I got back to the hotel, there was a plain white envelope in my room that had been pushed under the door. I picked it up and opened it. My blood ran cold and I sat down on the bed as I read it once more.

 

'I'm enjoying your shows, you hot little bitch.'

 

I'm not sure how long I sat there, but eventually I got up the strength to knock on the adjoining door to Gareth's room.

 

He opened the door, took one look at me and was immediately concerned. "What's wrong, Cara?"

 

I handed him the note and he exhaled slowly as he read it. "Damn," he murmured.

 

I felt quite hysterical and my voice was shaking. "He's here, Gareth. He's here. The envelope was pushed under the door; he knows I'm here. Hell, he even knows my room number."

 

Gareth shook his head and spoke softly, "You don't know that. Alright, so he knows which hotel you are staying in. That wouldn't be too hard to find out. He may have just handed the note in at reception and asked them to deliver it."

 

Gareth called Jools and Simon and they joined us in my room. They were both concerned and dismayed.

 

"Who's doing this?" I asked.

 

"I don't know," Jools answered softly.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We had only two more concerts to do but I wasn't sure how I was going to manage. Jools and Simon had tried to encourage me that it would be alright. The first concert that evening was OK. I wasn't on top form, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as my Birmingham debacle. After the show Jools tried to reassure me that it wasn't too bad. She said that she and Simon had arranged for us, as in our band only, to have a week's cooling off at an exclusive mountain resort for a few days. All I had to do, she said, was to get through one more concert.

 

Back at the hotel, Aaron tagged along with me hoping for our usual nightcap and chat together. Although I wasn't in great form, I didn't want to be alone so I was happy enough for him to come in. I was also happy enough to join him in several drinks, but I didn't want to talk about the note.  Once again, he stood up to leave. He took me in his arms and kissed me tenderly.

 

"You know I'm really falling for you, Cara," he said softly.

 

I laughed and shook my head. "No you're not."

 

He smiled. "Oh yes I am. I've been good, haven't I?"

 

I grinned. "You have indeed."

 

He winked, kissed me once more and said, "Tomorrow night's our night." He left me alone.

 

I had a fair idea that he thought that since the next night was the last of the tour, he had hopes of something more happening between us. I was too preoccupied to think about it further. I got ready for bed and the elusive pursuit of a good night's sleep.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The next morning when I got up, I was filled with fear and dread. There, on the carpet in front of my door, was another plain white envelope. I sat and looked at it as if it might go away if I ignored it. I thought about getting Gareth in to open it, but then reasoned that if it made reference to my 'secret' it would be better if I opened it. So I picked it up and opened it. I read the words and this time the fear I felt was even more palpable.

 

'Tonight's our night for making it alright, bitch.'

 

I hammered on Gareth's door and he came bursting in a moment later. "What is it?" he asked. He noticed that I was only wearing a skimpy nightdress and turned away. "You're not dressed."

 

"I don't care about that," I said. "There's another note."

 

He turned back and took it from me. He sighed. "Look, whoever's doing this is trying to freak you out."

 

I shook my head. "I'm really scared Gareth… I think I know who it is who is sending these."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I went through it all again after Jools and Simon arrived in my room. While waiting for them, I had taken the opportunity to pull on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

 

"You think you know who sent the notes?" Simon asked.

 

I nodded. "Read this one that arrived this morning." I handed it to Simon who read it and then passed it to Jools.

 

"I don't understand," said Simon.

 

Jools frowned. "The words are a bit strange, but I don't see how this tells you who sent it."

 

I wanted to make sure that I wasn't just being paranoid. I wanted to be sure that I hadn't made a mistake. "Call Jon to come down," I said.

 

"What is it?" Jools asked. "What's Jon got to do with it?"

 

I refused to elaborate and waited for Jon to arrive. Jools brought him up to speed about the note that arrived the previous day. I handed him the latest note and he read it. His eyes narrowed.

 

"Shit," he murmured under his breath as he looked back at me. "No way…"

 

"Do you recognise the words?" I asked him.

 

He nodded slowly. I knew that Jon would recognise them.

 

"What the hell is going on?" Jools demanded impatiently.

 

"Jon, tell them," I said.

 

Jon ran a finger around his collar and breathed out slowly. "This is a line from a song. The song is called 'Making You Mine'."

 

"Whose song?" Simon asked.

 

Jon chewed his lip. "It's by 'Stealing Time'."

 

His words seemed to hang there in the air as everyone digested this. I had recognised them immediately as had Jon. We were both such fans that I'd known he would make the connection.

 

Jools shook her head. "It could be a coincidence?"

 

I swallowed hard. "I wish it was, but there's something else."

 

"What?"

 

"Last night… when Aaron was in my room… when he was saying goodnight, his last words to me were 'Tomorrow night's our night'."

 

Simon's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "My God!"

 

Jools chewed her lip. "Can this be for real? How?"

 

Jon spoke up. "There's another line in that song…"

 

"Oh God, yes," I interrupted and closed my eyes. "I'd forgotten about that."

 

Jon continued. "It's a fairly crude song from their earlier days, but at one point it says, 'I'd love to make you my bitch'." He hesitated for a moment. "All the notes… call Cara a bitch."

 

Gareth was pacing up and down the room. "Right," he said firmly, "What are we going to do?"

 

"We have to call the police and tell them all about this," Jools said.

 

Gareth nodded. "It may sound like a lot of coincidence and hearsay to them."

 

Simon spoke up, "Perhaps, but they'll have to take it seriously. Give them the note. Maybe there will be some fingerprints on it."

 

I frowned. "There weren't any fingerprints on the previous notes were there?"

 

Jools said, "There weren't any that the U.K. police could identify. Apparently there were some incomplete prints though."

 

Gareth had called the police and they promised to send someone over immediately. I took Jools and Jon off to a corner of my room.

 

"I can't work this out," I said. "If it's Aaron, what does he want? How could he know about… me being who I am?"

 

They both shook their heads. We couldn't figure it out, but we had to act on what we did know.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

The police came and listened to the story. Jools spoke clearly and concisely and told them about the threats and the notes. Of course she neglected to mention the one that called me a transsexual bitch. The officers agreed that our suppositions were circumstantial, but did warrant further investigation. The difficulty was in checking the fingerprints. They telephoned the precinct and got a message back to confirm that none of the relevant databases had prints on record for Aaron. They were reluctant to arrest him on such a flimsy premise, as he was a prominent celebrity. They came up with another possibility.

 

That afternoon as we were doing our sound check, the officers arrived at the arena. I had been avoiding Aaron as best as I could and Jon and Gareth had been sticking to me like glue. The officers called for our attention and informed us that some sound equipment had been reported as stolen from the arena the previous night. Apparently some of it had been recovered from a pawnshop that morning. This was obviously a ruse, but who was to know any different? The police had obviously had a word with the owners of the venue so that they would play along.

 

The lead officer said that they had no specific suspicions, but it would be helpful and an act of good faith if the bands and crews would allow their fingerprints to be taken to see if any matched with those found on the recovered items. It sounded plausible enough and despite some low murmurings about police intrusion, everyone seemed to cooperate. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Aaron being printed. Most people were in good humour and found the whole procedure amusing. Obviously the police needed prints from Simon, Jools, Jon, Gareth and I for our prints to be eliminated as we had all handled the note.

 

I just wanted to get away from the venue and forget about the concert, but Jools said I had to act as normally as possible. Apparently it could take several hours for the prints to be processed and matched.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

There had still been no word back from the police, as I got ready for the evening's performance. Jools and I sat by ourselves in my dressing room. We had asked Gina to give us a few moments together.

 

"Cara, I've been thinking," Jools began.

 

"What?" I said when she stopped speaking.

 

She shook her head. "I don't know if I should say this, but I've been troubled all day about it. It doesn't seem to add up. How could Aaron know about you? I can't think of any possibility to explain it. So I did some lateral thinking."

 

"And?" I prompted.

 

She sighed. "OK, who else on this trip knows about you?"

 

I shrugged. "Just you, me and Jon."

 

"Who else apart from you recognised and obviously knew the song lyric on the note?"

 

"Jon…" I said hesitantly. "Jools, wait a minute, what are…"

 

"Bear with me," she said. "Who might be jealous of your association with Aaron? Who still has feelings for you, but is troubled by your… secret?"

 

"This is ridiculous, Jools."

 

"When did the first note arrive?" she asked.

 

I paused and replied. "When we arrived back from America in the summer."

 

"What happened when you were in America?"

 

I looked at her for a long moment. "Well I met Aaron for the first time."

 

She nodded. "But what else happened?"

 

"Yosemite," I replied softly. I thought and then shook my head. "No, I can't accept that. It's not possible."

 

We looked at each other for a long time without speaking. "I hope to God it's not," she eventually replied.

 

I felt sick.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

We were just about to leave the dressing room, as it was time to take to the stage when Simon knocked the door and came in with two of the police officers.

 

"What is it?" Jools asked sharply.

 

"Ma'am," one of the officers began, "We've processed the prints from the note and found a match."

 

"And?" I asked breathlessly.

 

"Excluding the prints from those who had handled the note in your room, we found another set of prints. These matched the prints we took from Aaron Kramer this afternoon."

 

"Shit," Jools hissed.

 

I felt a mixture of emotions. I felt fear as it was now confirmed that Aaron was behind the notes that had tormented me; I felt confusion as I still didn't understand it, but above all I felt relief as I realised that Jools' wild theory had been wrong. I also felt guilty for almost believing it.

 

"What are you going to do?" Jools demanded.

 

They shifted awkwardly. "We're going to arrest him… after tonight's performance."

 

"After?" Jools said with incredulity.

 

"Err… yes ma'am. We talked to Mr. Kramer's manager who has assured us full cooperation after the show. Mr. Kramer has not been informed and should not suspect anything."

 

"So you're saying tonight's show goes on as planned?" I asked with a tremulous voice.

 

"Yes ma'am," they confirmed.

 

They left the room and I looked at Simon and Jools. "I don't know if I can do this."

 

Jools squeezed my arm. "I know, but you have to. We'll be with you. Gareth is here too."

 

I sighed. "I want to get away from here right after our set. I don't want to do my backing vocal on their song and I don't want to be anywhere near… him."

 

Simon said, "Tell you what, how about I charter a helicopter to take you straight to our retreat lodge after your set. That way, you won't be anywhere near him at all."

 

I smiled gratefully. "That sounds good."

 

He nodded. "OK, it will be expensive, but I think I'll be able to justify the expense. There's a helipad on the roof. Let me get to it and see what I can rustle up."

 

He left and Jools hugged me. "You can do this. It's nearly over now."

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

Despite the day's events, our performance was surprisingly good. Perhaps it was due to the amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins. To be honest, I didn't really care. I just wanted to get it over and done with. When we came off stage, Aaron was there waiting. He grinned at me and gave me a hug. I had to steel myself not to flinch. He sensed something though.

 

"What's wrong?" he asked.

 

I shrugged and forced a smile. "Just tired."

 

He smiled sympathetically. "See you later?"

 

I nodded and Gareth gently propelled me past Aaron and back to my dressing room. I got changed into a sweatshirt and jeans and waited there with Gareth and Jools. When 'Stealing Time' were on their fourth song, Simon came in and told us that the helicopter had arrived.

 

We went up to the roof. It was only a small helicopter. Simon apologised that it was all he could get at such short notice. There was only room for two passengers. Jools wanted to go with me, but she agreed that it made more sense if Gareth accompanied me.

 

As the helicopter lifted off the roof, I looked down at Jools and Simon below us and gave a wave and tried to smile bravely. I shivered and I felt Gareth put his arm around me.

 

"Are you OK?" he shouted.

 

I shrugged and nodded. I was quite happy to snuggle up against him. Although the day had been traumatic and tense, I was glad to be leaving all that trouble behind. Jools and Simon had promised to drive up to the retreat later that evening after making sure that Aaron was taken into custody. Jon and the rest of the guys had hired a car and were going to set out immediately. Our journey took about twenty minutes and thankfully the weather was good without too much wind. The resort was in the Snoqualmie Pass area. With it being a luxury resort, it had its own helipad.

 

We thanked the pilot and went to check in at the resort office. We got the keys for our lodge and walked to the edge of the resort park, where it was situated. Gareth opened the door and we entered. He turned the lights on and switched on the gas fire. It was a beautiful wood alpine-style lodge. It was by no means basic, though, as it was furnished luxuriously. Apparently it had five bedrooms and the adjacent lodge was booked for our party also. As the room started to warm up, I began to relax as we enjoyed a cup of tea in front of the fire. The peace was not to last.

 

With a loud crash, the front door burst open and two men dressed in black with ski masks over their faces rushed into the room. They had guns in their hands and in American accents told us to put our hands up. We slowly stood up. Gareth had reached down to his lower leg just before moving to stand up. A gun appeared in his hand and with a loud report, he shot one of the men in the forehead. I screamed and as Gareth lined up a shot on the second man, his target ducked down and fired at Gareth. Gareth was hit in the chest and the force of the impact threw him back to the floor. I screamed again. There had been no sound from the second shot, as the gunman must have had a silencer on his weapon.

 

The remaining gunman cursed and grabbed me. He forced a gloved hand over my mouth and with his other hand pulled a radio from his pocket and spoke harshly into it. "Corey's down, man, come give me a hand."

 

I tried to struggle and kick, but he was too strong for me. He held me firmly and a similarly dressed man came in the door panting for breath.

 

"I thought I heard a shot," he said.

 

"We've got to get out of here," the first one said. "Someone else might have heard it too."

 

"Shit," the new arrival said as he spotted his accomplice who was lying on the floor, his eyes wide open, obviously dead. "What do we do about Corey?" he asked.

 

"We have to take him with us. Pick him up and carry him out to the car."

 

"Aww man…"

 

"Just do it, we don't have much time."

 

I was dragged kicking and struggling to where they had a four-wheel drive utility vehicle parked. It was just down the track from our lodge. The dead man was unceremoniously dumped into the boot of the vehicle. There had been a short discussion about where to put me. Apparently the boot had been reserved for me, but they reckoned it was better to have a captive than a corpse in the back seat of the vehicle.

 

My hands were cuffed behind my back and they forced a rag into my mouth and tied it behind my head. They pulled one of their ski masks off and put it over my eyes so I couldn't see. I was belted into the back seat of the vehicle and they jumped in and drove off at speed.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I could hardly believe what had happened. I couldn't see or speak as the vehicle sped along bumpy roads. We had travelled in silence for the past few hours. Initially my captors had cursed and sworn about their dead friend. They didn't say a word to me. From what I had heard, they hadn't expected Gareth to have a gun. I hadn't known that he had one. I thought about Gareth and had a sinking feeling that he was dead. I thought the bullet had struck him on the left side of his chest and he hadn't moved afterwards.

 

I had plenty of time to think as we journeyed on, but it didn't help. I couldn't work out who my captors were. If Aaron had been on stage playing, who were these guys? One thing I knew was fear. Until now, fear had been an ethereal vague sensation of worry about something that might never happen. The real thing was different. I had never really experienced it before, except perhaps for when I sat in the hospital waiting for news about my mother. Initially fear can be paralysing and that had been how it affected me back at the lodge. As I sat in the back of that vehicle, it was strangely numbing. I couldn't do anything about my situation and I knew things were bad, yet I had a strange clarity of thought.

 

My mind turned to trying to put the pieces together. If it hadn't been Aaron who had been stalking me with those notes, who could it have been? Who knew about the resort we were heading to? Who knew that I was going to be there sooner than the others? Who knew about all the other things needed to write those notes? My mind turned back to my discussion with Jools earlier that evening. Jon? It was ridiculous. Although he was an answer to all the questions I had just asked myself, I couldn't believe it. I gave up and realised that I was going to have to wait to see what happened.

 

I was not sure how much time had passed, but it felt like several hours. The roads had got worse over the past hour or so and the vehicle had slowed in speed. Eventually we came to a halt and my captors got out. They pulled me from the car and took the mask off. I looked around and blinked in the darkness. I saw a wooden building surrounded by snow-covered trees and a frozen dirt track leading back in the direction we had obviously come from. It was the only way in and out that I could see. I was roughly dragged towards the building and brought inside.

 

There were another two men there. None of them wore masks now and they didn't seem to be afraid of letting me see their faces. This scared me. They were fairly average in most respects. Strong, well built, some of them with scars. The sort of men who looked like they were very familiar with trouble.

 

"Where's Corey?" one of the men in the cabin asked.

 

"Dead," replied the man who had shot Gareth. "Bodyguard iced him. Between the eyes."

 

"Shit," the first man cursed. "What did you do, Joe?"

 

"I killed him," he replied. I shivered.

 

The attention turned to me. Joe, the man who had dragged me in seemed to be in charge. "She's a pretty one, isn't she?"

 

"That's what the boss said," added another. "I wouldn't mind getting a piece…"

 

Joe shook his head. "Remember what he said. No one is to touch her…" he grinned, "…for now." He removed my gag and I spat to clear the taste of the cloth from my mouth.

 

"Who the hell are you?" I asked with a bravado that I didn't feel inside.

 

They just laughed at me. "Don't worry your pretty little head about that, sweetheart."

 

I was taken into another room that contained nothing but a wooden chair. One of them undid my cuffs, but only for a moment. He made me sit on the chair and cuffed my hands around the back of the chair, feeding them through the woodwork so I was chained to the chair.

 

"What do you want with me?" I screamed.

 

They laughed again. "All in good time," Joe said as they left and closed the door.

 

 

----------*----------

 

 

I'm not sure how long I was left sitting in the chair. As uncomfortable as it was and despite my fear, tiredness must have overcome me. I had nodded off and was woken by the creaking of the door. I looked up and blinked. My heart leapt within me when I saw who it was.

 

"Simon, oh thank God. Quick, you've got to help me before they find you."

 

He shut the door and leaned up against it. His lips twisted into a sardonic smile and he laughed a nasty laugh. My mind caught up with me and I realised that Simon would have had no valid way of knowing where I was. His next words chilled me to the core of my being:

 

"Oh you really are the silly little bitch, aren't you… Nick?"

 

 

 

To be concluded next time…

 

 

 

 

[ Author’s note: If you are so kind to take the time to leave a comment, could I request that you try not to give away the major spoiler that has hopefully just caused your jaw to drop.]