No Half Measures - Part 5 free porn video

NO HALF MEASURES PART 5 By Jenny Walker © 2003 Author's note: This is a shorter instalment than previous ones. I feel that it leaves the reader in a nice position... apologies in advance! However, the next four chapters are almost complete and I will submit them after a suitable period of time. 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 29 I had vague memories of strange dreams. Noise, bright lights, shimmering bodies before me and indistinct faces peering down at me. When the world finally came into focus, I saw the interior of a hospital room. The next sight I saw made my heart leap within me. "Claire?" I croaked. She almost jumped and grabbed my hand. She smiled at me with what looked like relief, "Oh thank God, thank God." Her cheeks were tear- stained and her eyes were red and puffy. "What are you doing here?" I asked. My mind was having difficulty catching up with the sensory input it was receiving. Then, suddenly it synchronised and I remembered the events that had undoubtedly led to me being here. I shivered involuntarily. Claire looked at me with concern. "Do you remember anything?" I nodded and chewed my lip as a tear rolled down my cheek. It was like the dam had been cracked open and the horror and fear came flooding back. I began to sob uncontrollably and she just held me and hugged me as she tried to comfort me. I do not know how much time passed, but eventually I managed to regain some composure. "I came as soon as Jools phoned," she explained. "Oh Nicola, I am so sorry. I have been so self-centred and pig-headed these last weeks. Please forgive me?" I squeezed her hand and tried to smile, "I'm just so pleased to see you Claire." I paused and, before my voice cracked, I managed to say, "I missed you..." Another round of tears ensued and we held each other tightly. Through the tears, Claire said, "I promise you I'll never shut you out again." "And I'm sorry for not thinking of you and Dad and your feelings more." Once we got settled down again, a question came to me, "What time is it? And what day is it?" Apparently, it was early afternoon on Saturday. Claire was about to fill me in on what had happened when she remembered that she really should tell a nurse that I was awake. "And I promised Jools and Jon to let them know if anything changed." She popped out of the room and was not away long. A nurse followed shortly after and checked my vital signs. She asked if I felt OK and I assured her that I was alright. A few minutes later, the door burst open and Jon came hurtling in with Jools in his wake. "Are you OK?" he asked, taking hold of my other hand. I smiled and nodded. Jools just gave me a hug and wiped her eyes. Between them, they filled me in on what had happened. I had been brought to the hospital where I had been drifting in and out of consciousness. An emergency CT scan of my brain had been performed that was normal save for a hairline fracture of my skull where I had hit the table and had been knocked out cold. Eventually, I had settled into what seemed to be normal sleep and, although they had thought I was coming round at various times, I had not really been lucid until now. When I asked if Noel had been taken to the police station, they shared some uneasy looks. Jon told me that he put Noel out of commission, but refused to elaborate any further. Jools simply told me that Noel had also been brought to the hospital. Tanya followed in just behind Jon and had called Jools, the police and an ambulance. Again they would not go into details, but they assured me that there was no way he would be getting to me. When Jon excused himself, as he had to go to the bathroom, Jools smiled and squeezed my hand, "You know he refused to leave your side all night. I had to drag him off for something to eat just now." She nodded to Claire, "I called Claire as soon as we arrived here. She drove straight down and has been with you ever since." I smiled at Claire and then I thought of something. "Claire, what about Dad?" Her face fell. "Umm, I phoned him and told him about what had happened and he said to make sure to tell him how you got on." It was what she did not say that hurt me more. I had to ask, "Is he... will he... do you think, will he come and see me?" She winced and closed her eyes, "I don't think so. Not yet. But let's talk about this another time." She looked pale and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Jools noticed also, "Claire, I think you need to come and get some fresh air and a cup of coffee or something." Jon slipped back into the room as Claire shook her head, "I'm not leaving." Jon chipped in, "Go on, both of you. I'll stay with her." They all looked at me and I nodded, "Go on, I'm not going anywhere yet." When they left, Jon came over and took my hand again. I looked up at him. I did not know what to say, but I knew I had to say something. "Jon, I want to thank you... if you hadn't... if you..." My voice cracked again, I swallowed hard and screwed my eyes closed. "Shush," he said gently and stroked my forehead, "I did though. It didn't happen. You're alright." I nodded and blinked hard, "Thank you." Then I thought, "Aren't you supposed to be in Paris." He shrugged, "Yeah well, there was kind of a change of plan." "Tanya..." I began. He gently cut me off, "Tanya has gone home. Things aren't working out between the two of us. Don?t go thinking it's your fault or anything; it's just the way things are." I nodded and, after a few minutes silence, said, "Look, I know Jools and Claire are probably protecting me, but I want you to tell me exactly what happened after I blacked out." He sat down and looked uneasy, "I promised Jools I wouldn't freak you out." I squeezed his hand, "Jon, I have a right to know." He shook his head firmly, "There will be time enough. First you need to rest and recover." He didn't go; he just sat there with me. I must have drifted off to sleep again, for when I awoke, all three were sitting around my bed chatting. Jon grinned, "Glad to see my stimulating conversation didn't keep you from your beauty sleep." I managed to grin and then my face fell, "I think I'm going to need a bit more beauty sleep." I lifted my hand to my mouth, touched my lip and winced. "Can I have a mirror?" I asked. Jools shook her head, "Cara, I don't think..." I interrupted, "Look Jools, I'm fine. Just give me a mirror. I'm not a child." She shrugged and dug out a compact mirror from her handbag. I took it and appraised my appearance. I looked pale and ghostly, except for the red swelling at the right hand corner of my mouth. I had a nice fat lip courtesy of Noel's repeated administrations. I sighed and passed the mirror back. "It's not too bad," Claire said encouragingly. I smiled and waved a hand, "Yeah. Compared to what could..." I left the sentence unfinished and no one seemed keen to have it completed. "Cara?" Jools began uncertainly. "Mmm?" "We do need to sort out a few things about what we are going to do." "Going to do?" She nodded, "The police want to interview you about what happened." I grimaced, "Ah, yes. I suppose they do." Jools nodded and continued gently, "You need to think about what you are going to tell them. They have already interviewed Jon and Tanya and have accepted their version of events. Jon found Noel assaulting you and then Noel threw the first punch at Jon. The rest was self defence." I frowned, "Surely I'll just tell them the truth?" She nodded, "Of course, but..." She hesitated and then continued slowly, "If you tell them that it was attempted... rape...? I swallowed hard and closed my eyes as she went on, "...Well then they will arrest Noel, charge him and there will be a court case. You'll have to testify and the like." I took a deep breath and shook my head, "I can't do that. I can't think about it. I can't talk about it in front of a whole crowd of people, I just can't..." I started to tremble. Jools squeezed my hand, "Shhh. I know. I didn't think you would want to." Jon muttered, "He can't just get away with it though..." Jools shot daggers at him with a glance and he quickly shut up. She turned back to me and smiled. "Listen, for one thing, Noel is out of the band ? without question. You'll never have to see him again. I'm cancelling his contract and he is not going to sue for breach of contract. I'll make sure of that." I sighed, "What should I say?" She shrugged, "You could say that he assaulted you. If they ask if you want to press charges, just say no." I nodded, "I guess." She nodded affirmatively, "I'm going to have a few quiet words with the scum and let him know that if he ever so much as comes within a mile of you, if he ever says anything at all to anyone about any of this ? you will reconsider and slap a rape accusation on him." I screwed up my face, "But won't the police wonder why I didn't say anything now?" She shook her head, "It's very common for... victims... to shy away from making the accusation at the start. Sometimes it is only years later that the truth surfaces. Anyway, the threat should be enough to shut the asshole up." I nodded, "I just want to go home." ----------*---------- I felt much better the next morning and managed to shower myself and put on a little make up. I could not hide the ugly blemish at the side of my mouth so I was resigned to waiting until my body healed. I was sore all over from the manhandling I had received and the tension of the last couple of days. As predicted, the police had come to interview me the previous evening so I kept the story simple and short. They did press me on whether Noel had tried to do anything else to me beyond assault, but I held firm and denied anything else. They seemed disappointed, but not overly surprised when I also declined to press charges. I had been worried about what others had heard about the incident, but Jools assured me that the only people who knew were herself, Jon, Claire, Tanya, Brian, Laura, Kevin and Simon. Obviously, though the rest of the band had to be told what had happened. Simon had been informed as a courtesy so that he would understand why I was not available for any work for a while, but under no circumstances was he to tell anyone else. Jools also assured me that the hotel management had been discreet and would not want any adverse publicity. Claire and Jools had taken turns to sit by my side for most of the night. Jon had been intending to, but he was exhausted after all that had happened and had been despatched to go get some sleep. Finally, the doctors came and proclaimed me fit for discharge. "Claire?" "Yes?" "How is Dad... you know... how is he doing?" She shrugged, "OK, I think. I've been up to see him most weekends. He doesn't talk much about...Mum. Well not to me." She sighed, "It's not like he's lying in bed or moping. He's going to work, going to church, but it has hit him hard." I nodded and swallowed, "Will you tell him I miss him and I'm thinking of him?" I could see her swallowing hard. She nodded, just grabbed my hand and squeezed it, unable to say anything. The awkwardness and emotion of the moment was dispelled by the arrival of Jools and Jon. He was looking a lot brighter than he had been the previous day. "Looks like someone has had a good night's sleep," I said with a smile. He grinned, "I totally conked out. Anyway, how are you?" I shrugged, "I'm fine. Just stir crazy and ready to get out of this place." Claire spoke up, "I'll take you in my car." Jools interrupted, "But Claire, you look exhausted. Don't you have your big presentation tomorrow you? Maybe you should head directly home; it would be a lot quicker than having to go into London." "What presentation?" I asked. Claire waved a hand, "Oh, it's nothing much." she said obviously lying. I nodded, "Yeah right. No offence sister, but you look like hell and Jools is right; you should get on home and get some rest before tomorrow." "But, what about you?" she protested. I smiled, "I'll be in good hands. Don't worry, I'll phone you." She nodded vigorously, "Maybe I'll shoot down to see you next weekend or something?" "I'd like that." She gave me a fierce hug and kissed me on the cheek before waving and heading out. Jools took my hand and Jon took my case as we made our way out of the hospital. I felt a little shaky and was glad of the support. Once we got outside, Jools stopped as if she had just thought of something. "Jon, would you be able to take Cara home?" He looked a little surprised, "Uhh, yeah sure." I looked at Jools as she explained, "I still have to go and speak to our ex-keyboard player and tell him how things are going to be..." "I'm coming with you," Jon insisted. She shook her head, "Oh no, you're not. You probably would not be allowed near him." She gave him a meaningful glance, "Plus you need to stay with Cara." "Yeah, OK." Giving her a hug, I said, "Be careful, Jools," "Always," she replied. "I'll be home not long after you. Jon, you will stay with her until I get back?" "Of course I will." "I don't need a babysitter," I protested, but the looks that they both gave me made me realise that my protest was in vain. Had I been more alert to such things at the time, I might have suspected that Jools was engineering the situation to fit her grand scheme of things. Where that girl was concerned, one could never suspect enough! ----------*---------- We drove in silence for a period of time, but I was aware of Jon looking over at me from time to time. I grinned, "Jon, I'm fine." He laughed, "Yeah. Sorry." I shifted in my seat and turned towards him, "Look, I really want to know exactly what happened after I blacked out. I'm a big girl and I think I have a right to know." He thought and nodded after a moment. He looked almost embarrassed. "OK." He spoke slowly and deliberately, "If you must know, I beat the hell out of him. You know I'm not normally violent, but I totally lost it. He tried to take me on, but I was like so furious." I nodded and even surprised myself at the venom in my voice, "I wouldn't worry. The bastard deserved all he got." Jon looked surprised and then he nodded, "You'll not get any argument from me on that one." "But I want to know why he was in the hospital," I added. Jon shrugged, "Take your pick: broken nose and cheekbone, dislocated kneecap, fractured ribs." I raised an eyebrow and grinned, "My hero." He laughed and shook his head, "Anyone would have done the same, Cara. He is scum. I felt bad since I was the one who suggested bringing him into the band. I knew he had problems with the drink, I knew he kept looking at you, I knew he was an asshole..." "We both agreed to take him on Jon. It's not your fault." He nodded. We sat in silence for a while. He looked at me and then looked away. ?You want to ask something?" I said. He pondered and then began hesitantly, "I shouldn't ask, but... I was just worried... in case I was... too late. I mean did he... had he..." I shook my head, "He had roughed me up a little and...pulled my clothes off." I shuddered, "He touched me..." I couldn't bring myself to say it so I just gestured to my breasts. "He was going to... if you hadn't..." "Shh, that's OK. I just couldn't live with myself if he had..." His voice trailed off. He did not need to say anything more. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that Jon...? I said, "About the belt...I can explain." "Hey look, you don't have to explain anything," he said firmly, "I covered you up with your robe as soon as Noel...well as soon as he lay down and stopped moving. I didn't look and as soon as Jools arrived, she put your things back on for you." I nodded and gave a wan smile, "Thanks." ----------*---------- The next few days were quiet and relaxing. It was the nights that were the problem. I was not sleeping too well and, as clich?d as it might sound, I was having nightmares. I think I had even scared Jools a few times as I would scream out during the night. Some nights she just crawled in beside me and snuggled up close and it helped a little. It did not stop the dreams, but it was nice to have someone there when I woke up. Jon managed to come around each day at some point and I found that quite amusing. "Are you my guardian angel or something?" I quipped one afternoon. He laughed and looked a little embarrassed, "Nah, I think that's Jools." Both he and Jools made sure that I was not moping or descending into depression. I was dragged out shopping. Well OK, it did not take much dragging. Or Jon would bring his guitar round and we would just jam aimlessly and sometimes Brian and Laura came around too. Although at times I wanted to tell them all that I really was fine, I realised how fortunate I was to have such good friends. I banned the "Are you alright?" question from the house and made it clear that if anyone asked it again without good reason, I would not be held responsible for my actions. I was not sure how I was supposed to be feeling, I mean, apart from the nightmares. Was I not supposed to be suffering other aspects of post- traumatic stress or something? I did not know, but I was thankful that I generally felt pretty good. By the end of the week however, I was feeling bored and wanted to do something more productive with my time. As I had predicted, 'Not Dancing, but Flying' had started to slowly descend the chart, but I really did not mind too much. Claire arrived on Saturday morning as promised and I was delighted to see her again. I think I had been blocking out how much I had been missing her. She asked the forbidden question and I let her off on grounds of ignorance, but warned her that such leniency would not be forthcoming if she transgressed again. I asked about how her big presentation had gone and she grinned slyly and said that it had gone reasonably well. When I pressed her more about it, she could not stop herself from smiling and admitted, "They've made me a partner in the firm!" I hugged her and told her how delighted I was. She filled me in on all the details. After a while I asked, "How's Dad?" She shrugged, "He's OK. He was asking about you." "He was?" I said hopefully. "What did he say?" She shrugged, "He said he was glad to hear you were alright." There was something that she was holding back and I pushed her to tell me, "Come on, Claire, what else did he say?" She sighed, "You probably don't want to know." I shook my head, "Let me be the judge of that." She nodded, "Alright. Well, he made some comment to the effect that nothing like last weekend would have happened if you had come to your senses and taken his advice. Something like that." I nodded as I took this in. I forced a smile, "So I guess it's safe to say that Dad hasn't signed up for the Cara Malone fan club yet?" Claire looked a little shocked, but then she laughed, "You could say that. But me? That's a different story; I want some of your signed photos." "Huh, what for?" She smiled, "You should have seen the girls in work this past week when I told them that Cara Malone was my sister. They did not believe me." She giggled, "Actually, you should have seen the guys at work when they heard." She winked, "Quite a few of them would be keen to join your fan club." I laughed and blushed a little, "Too bad I don't have a fan club." Jools, who had just walked in, said, "Yes you do." "Huh? Since when?" She shrugged and smiled, "Since last week. You may have been doing precious little, but my business goes on." I screwed up my face, "A fan club?" "Well not exactly. You have an email list for updates that people can sign up to via the website. Also, people can register on the site to get some more detailed info and access to any special offers in future and the like." I almost hated my pride for asking, but I had to do it, "Umm, have many people signed up?" Jools grinned, "Apart from me, Jon and Claire?" I threw a cushion at her and she laughed, "Actually, about four hundred have signed up already." I raised an eyebrow and gave a low whistle. After a bite of lunch, Claire and I headed out to do some lazy coffee drinking interspersed with the occasional short walk. Rather disconcertingly, I noticed that more people were giving me a second glance as they passed on the street. Claire had noticed and had commented on it, "Sister dear, I think you need a disguise." I laughed, "Any suggestions?" "Well, dark sunglasses would be the usual, no?" I grinned, "Yes, so that anyone who had any doubt that I might be who they think I am would then be absolutely sure. Why else would I be wearing dark glasses? Total give-away, no?" She shrugged and laughed, "Your problem, sis. You were the one who wanted to be rich and famous." I snorted and chuckled, "I suppose I was." I thought aloud, "It hasn't quite happened the way I imagined." Claire raised an eyebrow, "No kidding." She paused, "Is it good, bad or just different?" I pondered for a moment. "Claire, it's good. It's better. I mean I know that what happened last weekend would not have happened if things had worked out for me as Nick, but I feel so good about myself in so many ways. I like the way I look, the way I can interact with people, the way people respond to me. I like who I am." She smiled and squeezed my hand, "I like who you are too. Just forget about my silliness recently." Sunday was a scorcher so Jools and I introduced Claire to our method of lazy sunbathing on the flat roof. Claire took to it like a veteran and we enjoyed a relaxing day of sun, music, reading, snoozing, snacking and chatting. It ended too soon and Claire got packed up to head back to Bristol. She promised to keep in touch and said she would try to come back down to visit sometime soon. She gently reminded me that as I knew the way to Bristol I could also come and visit her if I could make the time in my busy rock star schedule. ----------*---------- On Monday, I was adamant that I wanted to do whatever it was I should be doing. Jools shrugged and said that we could call in to Sony, as they wanted to begin work on the details for the album inlay card. Simon was pleased to see me. "Cara, fantastic to have you back among us. How are you feeling? You look great. Ready to get back to work? Ready to put the final touches to your new CD? Are you sure you?re OK?" He may have been concerned, but he was asking too much and Jools gently informed him that he was putting his life on the line by asking such things too many times. He got the message and desisted. He took me down to the presentation department where I was introduced to a guy called Mark. He would be responsible for the artwork and publicity for the new album. He looked like an arty sort of guy if you know what I mean; he was a little scruffy, but clean. He seemed pleasant enough and we began to work on what I thought the album inlay card should be like. Truth be told, I had little idea and was glad for the suggestions he tentatively put to me. There were some things that I knew needed to be written on the card. Two of the songs were special dedications: 'You Make my Skin Crawl' was 'For Gerry' my erstwhile boss in Trin's Dins and 'Waiting in Heaven' was 'For Mum'. I had a reasonable list of acknowledgements to include also. The next day, Simon was rather enthused when I met him. It seemed that the 'Sunday Times' had approached him about the possibility of doing an interview with me for their magazine. I was quite taken aback and a little hesitant about it, but he was adamant that it was a great opportunity and would be great for publicity. I knew he was right and so agreed somewhat reluctantly. I was apprehensive about the level of detail that the questioning would stretch to. However, it was the 'Sunday Times' and it was not as if a tabloid was coming to do an expos? on me. I shuddered at such a thought. Simon made an appointment for the journalist to interview me at the start of the next week. Since my lip had returned to its normal shape, size and colour, Simon had scheduled another photo shoot with Rod, the Australian photographer. Jools had agreed with Simon that my 'portfolio' needed some new material and also the new album was going to require more artwork and photos. It was a similar experience to before; I modelled a range of outfits that ranged from elegant and classy to a little too revealing for my comfort. Rod was able to put me at ease with his brash and relaxed humour and again I had to eventually admit that I quite enjoyed the whole affair. It certainly was not like the ordeal that lay ahead of me. ----------*---------- I had received an appointment in the post to see the psychologist that Dr. Carson had referred me to. On the appointed day, I made my way to the address specified on the appointment card to meet with Dr. Henwick. I checked in at the reception desk and sat down apprehensively in the waiting room. I had worn a simple black jacket and trouser suit over a cream sleeveless top. My hair was tied back and my make up simple, however I was worried about what would be thought of me or what I would be asked. In retrospect, I had not been worried enough. I was in with her for just under an hour before I stormed out of her office, breezed through the waiting room and out onto the street. I was furious, I was upset and I was hurt. I felt like heading over to Dr. Carson's office to ask her just what the hell she thought she was doing sending me to such a witch. I walked and walked. Eventually, the fire within me began to dull to merely inferno level and I slowed down. I had been doing the walking thing where you do not pay any attention to where you are going and barely retain enough conscious thought to prevent yourself from being knocked down at each junction you stride across. I then did a foolish thing - I went shopping on impulse. Two dresses, three tops, one pair of shoes and one very expensive pair of earrings later, I really began to calm down. This was a good thing as my credit card was beginning to smoke from the friction of being swiped through so many different shops' card readers. Suddenly, I felt drained, both physically and mentally. I did not feel like heading home yet. I was not up to having to talk or anything. I knew that Jools was going out that evening, so I stopped off at a quiet restaurant and ordered some dinner. I was just finishing my coffee when I noticed a young couple that seemed to be hovering near my table on their way out. I caught their gaze and smiled. They nudged each other and drifted over to me. The girl, who looked as if she was about my age, spoke nervously, "Erm, excuse me. I'm so sorry to disturb you, but are you Cara Malone by any chance?" I smiled and nodded, "Guilty as charged." Her eyebrows rose up her forehead as she turned to her boyfriend and gave him a nod as if to say 'I told you so'. She turned back to me and blushed. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you; I'm sure it happens to you all the time. I just wanted to say that I really liked your first two songs. Are you releasing an album soon?" I really did not mind the interruption as it took my mind off the earlier events. I nodded, "Yes, it's all recorded and we are just working on getting it ready for release. I'm not sure exactly when that will be, but it should be sometime this summer." She smiled and shifted awkwardly and I made a guess as to what she was thinking. "Would you like an autograph?" I said hesitantly and a bit shyly. Her face broke into a smile, "Would you mind?" I laughed and shook my head, "Not at all. I... err... have some photos on me." I smiled apologetically, "I'm not really that vain, but my manager says that I'll never know when they might be useful. I guess she's right." When was Jools ever wrong? I pulled one out and asked for their names. 'To Sheryl and Jack, love from Cara Malone' I wrote. I passed it over and she beamed. "Thank you so much. You're really lovely in person and I can't wait to tell my friends about this." I laughed and waved a hand, "Hey, I'm really just a normal person." They were about to move on, when Jack hesitated. A little frown crossed his face and he said, "Can I ask you a question?" I shrugged, "Sure." "Erm, why on earth are you eating alone?" Sheryl nudged him in the ribs and gave him the 'shut your mouth, you rude oaf' look. I just laughed and replied glibly, "I didn't have any better offers." He shook his head with what looked like disbelief. Sheryl apologised, "I'm sorry; men can be so thoughtless sometimes can't they?" I grinned and gave her a knowing look, "They can't help it," I replied with a wink. They left and I chuckled to myself as I finished off my coffee. I was definitely going to have to be prepared for more recognition now. If all were as polite and undemanding as that pair, I would have no problem. However, I doubted that would be the case. ----------*---------- "What do you mean you don't want to talk about it?" Jools asked. I stirred my coffee, looked up at her and said in a more snooty tone than I had intended, "It's a fairly self-explanatory statement. Which part did you not understand?" Jools looked a little taken aback and it was a few moments before she responded. "I was just wondering what the psychologist said and was a bit puzzled that you didn't want to say anything about it. But if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "I'm sorry Jools." I paused, "It didn't go too well and I was fairly pissed off afterwards." Her expression softened a little and she nodded, "OK, then." She reached out and took my hand. "Well look if you do want to talk about it, I'm here. I'll just not hassle you about it." I nodded, and as Jools got up to go, I added, "I mean, I thought it would be fairly easygoing and friendly. It was anything but." Jools smiled and sat down again, she said gently, "Oh, so now you do want to talk about it? Sheesh, women! Never can make up their minds." I grinned at her and then shot her a mock frown, "You want me to tell you or not?" She laughed, "Go ahead, I'll not interrupt." And so I began... ----------*---------- "She seemed pleasant enough at first. She introduced herself and explained the nature of the interview and all, but when we got started, she just began pushing me and pushing me. Finally I cracked and eventually walked out. She started off by saying how nice I looked and that it was hard to imagine I was ever male at one time. But then, she immediately got stuck in. Dr. Henwick began by asking questions about my family and childhood. Basic questions at first; what brothers and sisters I had, where did I grow up, what sort of childhood did I have. I think she was hoping for me to breakdown and weep about the deprived upbringing I had had or something like that. I answered her questions honestly and simply. I had had a good childhood and I had been happy. My parents were loving and kind and I had not had any problems with them. No, I did not particularly feel that my sister was the favourite. It moved into the territory that I expected, as she asked, "Did you feel you had a close relationship with your father as you grew up?" "Yes," I replied. "And what about your mother? Were you close to her?" "Yes," I replied and the pain of thinking about her must have been evident. Dr. Henwick's eyes lit up as if she thought she was onto something, "Would you say that as a child you were closer to your mother or to your father?" I shrugged, "Well most children are a bit closer to their mother as they spend more time with her." "So are you saying you were closer to your mother then?" she reiterated. I nodded and sighed, "Yes." "Would you say that you were keen to have your parents' approval on the things you did?" she asked in a calculating manner. "Isn't that what every child would like ideally?" I retorted. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes, "Please just answer the questions." "Alright then, yes, I was keen to have their approval." She then asked the expected questions about what my parents had thought about my transition. She asked about when and how I had told them, their reactions, how Claire had reacted, how I had felt about how they had reacted. I was beginning to feel quite drained. I answered her questions almost mindlessly until she asked, "What does your mother think of what you are doing now?" The question hung there in the air like a sword above my head. I closed my eyes for a moment and in a low voice said, "I have no idea, she died two months ago." This stopped the seemingly incessant questioning for a few minutes. Dr. Henwick eventually cleared her throat and in an attempt at sincerity said, "I'm sorry to hear that." I shrugged as I thought that how she felt was quite irrelevant to me at that moment. She began slowly again and asked gently about how she had died and what had happened since. She must have picked up on my reluctance to answer her questions and she homed in on her target, "How does your father feel about you at the moment?" I looked her in the eye and wearily said, "I have no idea. I haven't talked to him since." She nodded slowly, "Does he... blame you... in any way for what happened." I looked away and bit my lip as I swallowed hard. After getting hold of myself I croaked, "I think he might." She persisted, "And do you blame yourself?" I snapped my head back round to face her and coolly said, "No. I don't know why these things happen, but I don't blame myself." After some more questioning she eventually put down her notebook. She said, "Nicola, I think I might be in a position to help you understand your motivations and actions a bit better." From the look I gave her, she could see that I was more than a little sceptical as she continued, "Please hear me out. Firstly, I am aware that your previous physical characteristics were not what society would have termed desirable for a man. That is obviously in great contrast to how you appear as a woman. I also understand that you were not having a great degree of success in your career. This was in contrast to your older sister. Although you had caring parents and a good upbringing you felt, no matter how irrational it might seem, that your sister was the favoured one. You sought your parents' approval, particularly that of your mother whom you were close to. These all contributed to the path you took. The lack of approval from your parents was difficult for you and has driven you further on your course and has no doubt been a driving force behind your pursuit of success in your new career. Now, the death of your mother has thrown that all into confusion along with the isolation from your father, as the very things you were seeking have moved even further away and you are not sure where to go from here..." I answered carefully, "I suppose I can see how you could think that, but that's not how I feel." "So then, you're going to tell me you were never male and have been a female trapped in a male body all your life?" asked Dr. Henwick. I was quite taken aback and answered without thinking too much, "Err, no, that's not what I was going to say." She didn't miss a beat and almost sounded sarcastic, "So when did you realise you were carrying excess baggage between your legs?" I really didn't know how to respond and I must have sounded quite unsure as I stammered, "Well, l-last year I guess." She raised an eyebrow and asked me, "What happened last year to suddenly make me want to change your gender." When I didn't reply, she kept going, "So tell me, did you have a girlfriend last year?" I shook my head and she asked more, "Have you had many girlfriends?" I shook my head again and was not sure where she was going with this. Dr. Henwick nodded to herself with what looked like satisfaction and, in a condescending way, said, "I think I understand. I imagine you weren't much to look at as a man. Let's face it, if you can look this good as a woman you must have been a bit of a pansy. So, let's add it all up then: you didn't have many girlfriends, unsurprisingly, so you started to look for action on the same team. Spot some nice hunky men that you took a liking to? But I imagine a gay man wouldn't be interested in a weedy man that looked more like a woman. So you came up with this idea: become a woman and see if you could get lucky?" I was flabbergasted and didn't know what to say. This time she sat silently waiting for me to respond. After a minute, I tried to collect my thoughts and came up with a cutting rebuttal. I said, "No, you're wrong." She quirked an eyebrow and said, "Really? Why don't you show me where I went wrong then?" I was actually starting to get a bit angry now and words became easier to find, "Yes alright, I wasn't the biggest or best looking of guys and no there weren't many women who were interested in me, but I wasn't gay. I had no interest in guys; I just felt my life was wrong and when I thought about it, I realised what it was and decided to do something about it." She gave me a sardonic smile and, in a quieter tone, asked, "Oh, so you aren't interested in men even now? Are you going to tell me you are a lesbian?" I sighed and quietly replied, "No, I'm not a lesbian." She inclined her head, "Well then...?" I didn't say anything so she started up again, "Because the way I see it, there is this weedy guy who can't get it on with the girls. If you can't beat them, why not join them? And then maybe get yourself a bit of girl-girl action?" I was getting really ticked off and I snapped, "Oh don't be so stupid. Didn't you hear what I said? I am not a lesbian." She nodded at me, "Well then, tell me what you are." I know it sounded contrived, but I gave her the answer she probably expected, "I'm a woman." She nodded to herself, gave a wry smile and, with a touch of sarcasm, said, "How sweet. So let me clarify, are you attracted to men? I imagine a fair few of them are attracted to you." I chewed my lip and then replied slowly, "I can't deny that I am better able to appreciate men now, but I don't really know how I feel beyond that." She wasn't impressed, "So you're trying to tell me you haven't slept with a man?" She looked me up and down and raised her eyebrow as if to say she couldn't believe that. I replied with indignation, "Of course I haven't. Read your referral letter properly and you might just realise that I haven't had surgery to let me do that sort of thing even if I did want to." She smiled that patronising smile and said, "Oh, so that's what you want: get the surgery and then bring on the guys." I couldn't believe the crap she was spouting and snapped, "Stop putting words in my mouth, that's not what I said." After a few moments she said quietly, "But do you want the surgery?" I chewed my lip and replied carefully, "I don't know, I haven't thought about it much; I don't want to think about it at the moment." She nodded again and in a sly tone said, "You know it's not absolutely necessary to have the surgery to sleep with a guy, but you've probably thought about that, haven't you? Plenty of guys out there don't care where they put it, eh? So have you not thought about getting a little action another way?" My eyes must have looked like saucers and I could feel my blood boiling as I shouted, "What the hell are you trying to do? What do you want me to say? You want me to say I want a guy to sodomise me? You want me to say I've thought about it? Well yes then, I have. I have thought about it. Just this past week it hasn't been out of my mind." She looked surprised at my outburst but quickly regained her composure. She asked the question I was expecting, "So why have you been thinking about it this week?" I leaned closer to her and in a low voice hissed, "Because it was just a week ago that some bastard tried to rape me that way." As mad as I was, I derived some satisfaction from the look on her face. She seemed flustered and hesitatingly said, "Err, do you want to talk about it?" I laughed, "Talk about it? With you? Oh please! Have a guess, what do you think?" She guessed right and we sat in silence for a few minutes. She tried to smile as she reached over and put a hand on my arm. ?I know how traumatic an experience it must have been for you. I think it would help to talk it through. I?m sure it has had an impact on your self-image and your feelings of self-worth...? I jumped up and interrupted her. With more force than I expected I shouted, "Oh please, give it a rest. I don't need this crap! I am who I am and I am happy with myself. If others can't accept me, that's not my fault, it's theirs. You say that I'm not sure where I?m going? I am very sure: I am getting out of here. You may get some kick out of this, but I'm damned sure it's not helping me." ----------*---------- After a few moments of silence, when Jools was sure I had finished she prompted, "What did you do next?" I winced and with some embarrassment murmured, "I kicked over the chair and stormed out slamming the door after me." She looked at me and I could see that she was struggling to keep a straight face. "You didn't?" she asked. I nodded, "I did." Jools couldn't help herself and clasped her hand to her face to prevent herself from laughing out loud. "Jools it's not exactly funny so I can't think why you are feeling like laughing." My body betrayed me and I could feel the corners of my mouth tugging at my lips, but I tried to resist. Jools raised an eyebrow, "Then why are you having the same feeling?" Her mouth twitched some and before long we were both laughing. She squeezed my hand and wiping the tears from her eyes asked, "You really kicked over the chair?" I shrugged, grinned and with a tinge of regret said, "Yeah, but I don't think I kicked it hard enough to break it." We laughed again. After a few minutes, we calmed down and the mood became more reflective. Jools asked, "Why exactly did Dr. Carson want you to see this cow?" I sighed and chewed my lip, "You know something? I'm not really sure. I can't think what good it has done. More like a lot of harm." "What do you mean?" she asked gently. I shrugged, "I dunno really. I just don't know what the report to Dr. Carson will say or what the implications will be." "Well, it's not as if she can suddenly stop you from being who you are." I nodded and forced a smile, "No I guess not." Jools grinned, "I hope your next interview turns out a lot better." "Hmm?" I asked. "Keith Wilkinson from the 'Sunday Times' is coming first thing Monday morning to interview you. Simon phoned to confirm the time yesterday afternoon." I screwed up my face, "Yeah. It can't really go any worse." "One piece of advice," Jools said with a twinkle in her eye. "What?" I said suspiciously. "Don't kick any chairs over!" she said and then jumped up from her seat to move out of my reach as I lunged for her. ----------*---------- CHAPTER 30 I was more nervous than I would have liked to admit. I had also spent more time choosing what to wear than I would have liked to admit, but eventually I settled on a black knee-length skirt with white embroidering and a sleeveless black satin top. I brushed my hair out and wore it down. I redid my make up several times. I wanted to get the look just right. Not too much, not too little. I knew that a photographer would be coming with the journalist, but it was not the prospect of my photos in the 'Sunday Times' magazine that made me so self-conscious about my appearance, rather it was the way I could be portrayed. I had read similar interview articles before and, if the person interviewed did not make the right impression, the journalist could paint a word picture far more damning than any photograph. Although the interview had been scheduled for ten a.m., it was nearer to eleven before the doorbell rang. I went to answer it. Jools had gone out as I had insisted that I did not want anyone else present during the interview; it would be too distracting. I opened the door and two men stood there. One said, "Cara Malone?" I smiled, "Keith Wilkinson?" He nodded, smiled and shook my hand. He introduced his photographer, Michael. I let them in and asked them where they wanted to conduct the interview. Keith smiled, "Somewhere comfortable, if you don't mind?" I grinned and nodded, "Sounds good to me." I led them upstairs and invited them to have a seat in the lounge. "Can I get you any coffee or tea or something?" I asked them. ?Coffee would be grand ? just black," said Keith. I turned to Michael who said, "I'll have the same, thanks." I was glad to have the temporary distraction of making coffee so that I could try and get myself settled down inside. As we drank the coffee, we chatted idly. I figured this was the 'settle them down and warm them up' chat, but I was happy to go along with it. Keith was keen to get the photos out of the way first of all if I did not mind. It did not matter to me so I agreed and he nodded to Michael. Michael looked around the room and then looked closely at me. I laughed nervously, "I feel like I'm under the spotlight here." Michael grinned, "Sorry, I'm just trying to work out a few good shots. Can I push this chair away a bit?" I nodded and he moved one of the chairs. He got down to floor level and looked across the room before nodding. He pointed to where he was, "You wouldn't be able to get down on the floor here, err, on your stomach?" I smiled and rather self-consciously got down onto the floor. I lay on my stomach and propped myself up. "Are you sure you know what you are doing?" I said with a wink. He laughed and looked a bit uncomfortable, "Err, yeah...sorry, I know this is unusual, but I think the lighting looks really natural in this room at this point and your outfit contrasts nicely with the white carpet." He adjusted my pose several times and took a number of shots. "Keith, move off the sofa please; Cara, lie down on it casually and look relaxed, would you, luv?" I assumed the position he asked of me, but felt a bit awkward. "Easier said than done." I don't think I was getting the relaxed look right. Michael paused and then said, "I want to ask you a question, tell me what is twelve multiplied by eleven?" I was surprised and gave a little frown as I concentrated. Math was never my strong point. He began snapping photo after photo and commented, "Perfect!" I grinned and said, "I guess you don't really care about the answer then?" He laughed, "You can send it in to me on a postcard later if you want, but your look of concentration was just what I was after." When Michael was satisfied that he'd gotten his shots, he packed up his gear and was ready to leave. I showed him down to the door and said, "Now make sure you make me look good." He laughed, "The camera never lies and in your case you have nothing to worry about." I closed the door and headed back upstairs. Keith had his notebook out and I smiled awkwardly as I sat down opposite him. I asked, "So, now we start for real?" He laughed and winked, "You think I haven't started already?" I laughed too. He was older than I was; I estimated somewhere between mid to late thirties, but he had the sort of face that was hard to judge age-wise. His dark hair showed flecks of grey around the temples and he was smart, but casually dressed with a sports jacket and matching slacks. "Am I your first?" he asked. I blinked, "Sorry?" He smiled, "The first journalist to interview you?" I got it and nodded, "Yes. I've done some radio and one TV spot, but I guess this is the biggest interview so far." He had an easygoing manner, which helped to put me at ease. He talked about my songs, the music, and the song-writing process. He asked about my earlier musical experiences and influences and he asked how the recording of the album had gone. He asked about my plans, hopes and dreams. After a while I almost forgot I was being interviewed as it felt more like a conversation. "Now your videos and performances," he said. "Yes?" I asked. He grinned, "You have quite a... how can I say..." He thought and shrugged, "I can only say it one way: 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 smiled and thought. I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, "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." He gave a half-laugh half-choke. He cleared his throat and grinned, "I reckon I asked for that. Let me assure you that such an implication was far from my mind. I was wondering ? who is the real Cara Malone? Who are you when you are not under the spotlight so to speak?" I crossed my legs and gave that some thought. I gave a little laugh, "That's a hard question to answer and any answer I give could sound very pretentious. 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. I don't know what else to say." He nodded and smiled, "Now can I ask you the question that men up and down the country are dying to hear the answer to?" I winced and tentatively said, "I'm not sure what you're going to say, but I suppose you can ask." "Do you have a boyfriend?" I smiled and pushed a strand of hair back from my face, "Err, no. Not at the moment." He raised an eyebrow, "Any serious romances in the past?" I hesitated before answering, "Actually not really." He regarded me thoughtfully, "I find that hard to believe." I laughed self-consciously, "So do I." I paused, "The time, the place and the person has not been right. When they are, I hope I'll recognise it." He grinned, "Anyone in mind?" I laughed and folded my arms, "Well, that is part of the real Cara Malone that will have to remain a mystery for now." He laughed too, "Fair enough. Let me ask another less pointed question. If you could have a date with another famous musician, who would it be and why?" I cringed a little, "Seriously?" He grinned, "Oh go on, humour me." I sighed and thought for a moment. I shrugged, "It's hard to answer, but if you have to have an answer I'll go for Aaron Kramer." "From 'Stealing Time'? Really?" he asked with interest, "I mean he's not what you would call the most conventionally attractive." I laughed, "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." He was writing away in his notebook and grinned at me. Next he wanted to get some basic background information and began to ask about my childhood, growing up, schooling and the like. I tried not to be hesitant about my answers as it could seem suspicious, but I felt very uneasy on these topics. When he seemed satisfied, he looked over at me and in a gentle tone said, "I understand your mother died recently." I nodded and he went on, "I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm sure she meant a lot to you." I sighed, "Yes. I had a very close relationship with my Mum. I loved her deeply and I still find it hard to believe she is gone." He looked at me closely, "How does your father feel about your success? Is he proud of you?" I looked away and thought for a moment before turning back. In a quiet voice I answered, "I would love him to be proud of what I'm doing. We don't quite see eye to eye on a few things at the moment. I really don't want to talk about it any further." He nodded and seemed to understand. He smiled and closed his notebook and standing up said, "Well thank you so much, it was a pleasure to meet you. I think that's about everything I need." We shook hands and I led him down to the door. Just as he was heading out, he turned and said, "Oh, there is just one more question I forgot to ask. I heard a rumour that your keyboard player, Noel Dawson, has left your band recently. Is that true?" I tried to keep my face from reacting and I nodded, "Yes, that's correct." He inclined his head, "Can I ask why?" What would I say? My head filled with various different answers, none of which were very plausible. In the end I had to say the old clich? that I knew would sound like I was trying to palm him off. "Err, creative differences." He raised an eyebrow and looked a little sceptical, "Is that all? I've heard that Noel can be hard to get on with. Was there anything else that made him leave?" I swallowed, shook my head and forced a smile, "No. That's it." He looked at me closely for a moment and then smiled, "Well, thanks again. If I can get my act together, the article should be in the 'Sunday Times' magazine in just under a fortnight." I said goodbye and closed the door. I leaned back against it and took some deep breaths. I knew I had not been overly convincing just then and I began to dread what a good journalist might be able to unearth. I expressed my concerns to Jools later, but she tried to reassure me. She was sure that he would just go back to his word processor and hammer out a middle of the road article that would be fairly bland, but hopefully overall quite positive. I had hoped she was right, but my fears were heightened a few days later when Simon Andrews phoned. ----------*---------- "Cara?" "Hi Simon, what can I do for you?" "Well, I've got a Mrs. Forbes on the phone who says she wants to speak to you. She claims to be an old school teacher of yours or something - from Pembroke? Now we get all sorts of cranks phoning in to try and talk to their heroes and the like, but this lady is very forceful and doesn't sound like the typical prankster." I smiled and could well imagine Mrs. Forbes being forceful, "It sounds genuine to me, Simon. Can I talk to her?" "I said I would get you to phone her if you so desired. Let me give you her number." I wrote it down, thanked him and I dialled her number. "Principal Forbes, who's calling please?" "Mrs. Forbes, it's Cara Malone... err, Nicola Evans I mean." "Nicola dear," she said with warmth, "I'm sorry to disturb you and that man Andrews. He was a little obstructive, but I had no other way to get in touch with you so I just phoned Sony and told them I had to talk to Cara Malone." I laughed, "I think Simon met his match in you. What were you phoning about?" She became more serious, "Well, I thought you should know about this. There was a journalist here this morning asking questions about you." "Keith Wilkinson from the 'Sunday Times'?" I guessed. "Yes, how did you know?" "He's supposed to be doing a feature on me. He interviewed me the other day and during it was asking where I went to school and the like. I'm sorry, I didn't realise he would come bothering you." "Don't worry about us, dear. He asked at the school office if anyone knew a previous pupil called Nicola Evans. The girls in there are young and don't know too much if you ask me. They looked up the records, which I had... well you know... and told him you were in the class of 1998. That was before they saw my annotation that any enquiries about you were to be directed to myself. I came down and had a little chat about you and told him you were a wonderful student, a delightful young girl and that we were all proud of your success. He asked if we had any old school photographs of you that he could use in his article. I of course said that releasing such material would not be appropriate." "What happened then?" I asked. "Well he thanked me and left. That was all, but I thought that I should let you know dear." "Thanks, Mrs. Forbes. I appreciate your concern." "If anyone else comes nosing around I'll let you know and I'll chase them off personally," she said. I laughed, "I'm sure you will." I set the phone down and realised that Jools' hope that not too much extra research would go into this article was definitely unfounded. ----------*---------- I had been planning to tell her about this when she arrived home that day, but it slipped my mind. This was her fault. She came in the door singing, "Da da dad ah-did America, Da da dad ah-did America..." "What are you on?" I asked with a smile. "America!" she said by way of explanation. "Huh?" "We're going." "What?" She grinned, "We're going to America." "Who is?" "You, me, the band." She explained that Simon had been liasing with his US counterparts over the past few days. He had been trying to see if there were any potential opportunities to promote my music in the states. It seemed that things were a little quiet in July on the music entertainment front and he, with his colleagues, had managed to set up a few promotional opportunities in just over a fortnight's time. "The Carl Dennis Show?" I said with incredulity. Courtesy of the explosion of satellite TV coverage in the past number of years, we had been exposed to a lot of the late night American chat shows. There were a few big names and whilst Carl Dennis was not perhaps the best known, he was certainly up there. "Wow," I commented. Jools grinned, "Yep, so that's New York and then there is some radio stuff around there too. But then..." She burst into a rendition of 'California Girls' before I smothered her with a cushion. "California?" I asked. She grinned, "Some TV slots in L.A." "So what did you tell Simon?" She shook her head, "I said we wouldn't be interested..." "Jools!" I protested. She held up a hand, "Unless... we could build in a week's holiday in California for the band after the work was done. After all, it's been a stressful few months." "And?" I asked. She blew on her nails and polished them, "Well, you know me." "You pulled it off?" She grinned and in an awful accent said, "Bettah git packin' doll, we goin' to 'Merica." ----------*---------- Jools had arranged for Jon, Brian and Kevin to come over the next day so we could break the good news to them and to make sure that they kept the specified fortnight free. They were predictably enthused. "Man, that's class," exclaimed Kevin as he practically bounced up and down on his seat. Brian had a wide grin on his face and even Jon was chuckling to himself. "We do have a bit of a problem," Jools said. "Don't tell me we have to pay our own way?" Jon quipped. She laughed and shook her head, "Don't you worry Mr. Guitar Hero, you'll be lifted and laid all the way." The guys sniggered a bit amongst themselves at that. I sighed, "Oh come on, for heaven's sake you KNOW she didn't mean laid like... well like you schoolboys thought." They shrugged apologetically and grinned. Jools and I rolled our eyes at each other and she continued, "Anyway, as I was saying, we have a problem. Some of the promo slots will be to perform some songs, and we are down a keyboard player." Brian's face fell, "Aww, damn. There's no way we can get a keyboard player who knows our stuff so soon. Does this mean the trip is off?" Jools looked at me and I cleared my throat, "I may have an idea of someone who could step in." "At this short notice?" Jon asked. I nodded, "I think he is free and would be keen." "Who?" asked Kevin. "There's this guy I know called Peter Crawford..." "Peter Crawford?" Jon interrupted, "Never heard of him..." "Wait, is he the guy playing with the Hi-Tones?" Brian interjected. "Ahem!" I said to get their attention. "If you would let me finish, you'll find out who he is." They grinned at me and I sighed dramatically, "The lack of respect is overwhelming. Peter Crawford is a guy I met last month at a record signing in Oxford. He's just left school and well he's sort of into my... our music." They were intrigued and predictably wanted to know more. I was reluctant to tell them the story as I was more than a little embarrassed, but Jools had no such reluctance or embarrassment and proceeded with glee to fill them in on the details. They chuckled and laughed as she told them and I felt my face grow redder and redder. It wasn't unpleasant laughter though. At the end of the tale, Jon looked over at me and shook his head, "You really are something else." I shrugged and smiled, "I was just trying to help him." Kevin sighed, "Wish there had been such a Fairy Godmother for geeks when I was at school." "So you think he'll hop on board?" Brian asked. Jools looked at Brian, "I think if Cara asked him to swim the Atlantic to go on the trip, he'd do it three times over." "Is he any good?" Jon asked. I nodded, "Very good. He's got a good ear and well... he already knows 'No Half Measures' and 'Not Dancing, but Flying'." "Ring him and get him signed up then," Jon said. ----------*---------- "Peter?" "Uhh yeah?" a sleepy voice replied. His mother had told me that he was still in bed despite the fact it was nearly lunchtime. "I know you've left school, but that's no reason to sleep your life away." He sounded more awake, "Who's this?" "I'm disappointed. After the time we spent together, you forget me so soon?" "Cara?" he said in a high-pitched voice. I giggled, "Oh, you haven't forgotten me then." "No chance of that. How are you? What? Why are you phoning me?" "I was just wondering how you were getting on and whether or not you had any plans for the summer and maybe beyond." He sounded puzzled, "Err nothing much. Mum's at me to ring round colleges for September, but I've no real intention of doing that." "What if I were to tell you that I know someone who needs a keyboard player for their band? Would you be interested?" "Uhh yeah, maybe. Depends who it is I guess." "What if it was me?" "Are you pulling my leg?" he exclaimed. "No, straight up. Our last keyboard player... had to leave and we're in a bit of a bind. I've heard you play and you're good. Better than good actually. Plus, you're a decent guy and I'd love to have you aboard." The phone made a clanking sound, and I said, "Peter? Are you there?" "Damn. Sorry, I dropped the phone. Is this for real?" I laughed, "Yes Peter, it is. Listen though we are really short of time. We have to go America in under a fortnight for some promotional stuff and to play a few songs here and there... so there isn't much time to think about this." "Yes," he said. "Yes?" "Yes, I'm in. Count me in, definitely." "Well, what about your Mum?" He laughed and almost whined, "Cara! I'm over eighteen. She'll be disappointed that I'm not going to college, but she'll get over it. Man, I can't believe this." I grinned, "What about Rachel?" A pause and I could hear a smile in his voice, "Uhh, what about her?" "Just wondering how she is," I said innocently. He laughed, "We've been going out since the formal and a lot of thanks are due to you." "Nah, I was merely a catalyst. Anyway, would she be interested in joining us for a week's holiday after the work is done. In California?" He sounded as if he had inhaled the phone, "Woah! I'm sure I could persuade her." There was a pause, "Damn." "What?" I asked. "I'm still asleep aren't I? I'm going to wake up in a few moments and Mum is going to tell me I have to cut the grass and wash the car." I laughed, "This isn't a dream Peter. Can you get down to London as soon as possible? Brian, our bass player can put you up at his place. We need to sort out contracts, do some practising and the like." ----------*---------- Peter had caught the early morning train down and arrived outside our apartment just