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Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was not migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf. This story segment first appeared on BigCloset Classic on Wednesday, October 15, 2003 - 12:27 am. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 25
 
 
The car sped along the dark motorway as Jon put his foot down on the accelerator. I sat in the back with Jools beside me. It was the strangest feeling. Almost numb. It was as if I was detached from reality and watching the goings on as an outsider. I don’t know why it was. Perhaps it is a defence mechanism the mind has to prevent a total collapse. Jools had her arm around my shoulders and she gave me a little squeeze. I looked across at her and gave her a wan smile.

“You OK?” she murmured.

I shrugged, “I guess.”

My conversation with Claire had been brief and to the point; both of us were descending into a state of not being able to string many words together. My mother had been complaining of her ‘indigestion’ pain on and off all day. Claire had arrived in Cardiff around tea-time as she was planning to visit for the weekend. About an hour and a half before Claire phoned, apparently my mother had turned grey and collapsed complaining of pain in her chest. An ambulance rushed her to Cardiff Royal Infirmary and it became clear in the emergency department that she was having a heart attack. The cardiologists whisked her off for an emergency angioplasty. That was when Claire phoned me. Apparently an angioplasty is something to do with a balloon being put into the heart to open the blocked artery or something. That’s all I understood from Claire’s increasingly garbled explanation.

I had been in a bit of a daze after putting the phone down, but knew I had to be there. I was going to jump in my car and drive straight up there, but Jools had been able to talk some sense into me. She had said that even if I had not had a few glasses of wine, there was no way that I was going to be driving myself. After asking a few questions she realised that the only ones present who had not had any alcohol were Noel and Jon as they both were driving. Thankfully Jon immediately volunteered and Jools insisted that he drive her car, as it was infinitely more reliable than his.

The miles raced by and the rhythm of the car speeding along the near empty road had a strange soothing effect. I had been in quite a state when we first got into the car. Not quite hysterical, but not far from it. Now I was calmer, but inwardly I was still terrified. I did something that I had not done in a long time. I prayed. Hard.
 

*          *          *
 
It was just under two hours after leaving London when we pulled into the car park at the Royal Infirmary. Jon had not wasted any time. The journey normally took over two-and-a-half hours. I was guided along by Jools who followed the signs leading towards the Coronary Care Unit. I let Jools do the talking and when she asked at the enquiries desk where Esther Evans was, the nurse on duty, after confirming that I was close family, informed us that she was still in the procedure room. She directed us to the relatives’ waiting area.

Claire was sitting there looking quite forlorn and my father was pacing up and down. He looked grey and haggard, old beyond his years. He gave me a rueful smile when I came in. I didn’t know what to say or do so I reacted on instinct. I rushed over to him and hugged him. He hugged me back fiercely. “Are you alright?” he murmured.

I released him and stood back. “I think so,” I replied. “What about Mum? Where is she? What’s happening? Have they done the procedure yet?” I paused for breath.

“Take it easy,” he said gently. “Come on and sit down.”

I sat down beside Claire and she snaked an arm around me. “Heya,” she said.

“Hi Claire,” I said as I gave her a quick hug before returning my attention to my father.

He spoke slowly and deliberately, “Your mother is still in there. She’s been in there for over two hours now and we haven’t heard anything further yet.”

“How long will it take?” I asked.

He hesitated before responding, “The doctor said it should take just over an hour…if everything went smoothly.”

I absorbed what he said and the implications of what he did not say. I did not know what to do. I felt totally powerless. The three of us sat there beside each other and for a time did not say anything. I imagine we were each being haunted by our own fears and doubts. Jon and Jools remained at a discreet distance.

“What are you all dressed up for?” Claire asked.

Initially I was confused by her question but then I realised that, in my haste to leave London, I had not had time to change. I was still wearing the strapless short black dress. I looked down and realised that as my coat had slid open, I was displaying what I am sure my father thought was an indecent amount of cleavage. I self-consciously pulled my coat around me.

“I was…well we were…having a little celebration party.” I felt guilty as I said this. How could I have been celebrating whilst my mother was having a heart attack? “I’m sorry,” I added lamely.

My father sighed, “You weren’t to know. None of us did.”

What scared me more than the thoughts I had about my mother was that I could see fear etched into the lines on my father’s face. My father was always the rock in our household. The strong one. The one who always knew what to do. When a child sees fear in its parent’s eyes, it brings a greater terror than anything it has previously known.

In a wavering voice I asked, “Dad, what do you think is happening?”

His shoulders sagged a little and he turned to me as he shook his head, “Nicola dear, I really don’t know. We just have to wait. We have to trust. Trust in the skill of the doctors and in the will of God.”

I wanted to say that that was easier said than done, but restrained myself from doing so as I knew it would not help. Claire got up from where she was sitting on the other side of me and sat down on the other side of my father and leant up against him. He sat there in the middle of us and put an arm round each of us and pulled us in close.
 

*          *          *
 
After about half an hour of just sitting there, we saw a doctor in blue scrubs approach the nurse at the duty station and she pointed in our direction. As he walked over to us, we all got to our feet. I tried to read his expression but it was decidedly neutral. He stopped in front of us, “Mr Evans?”

My father nodded. The doctor asked, “And these are…?”

“My…daughters,” my father replied. As the doctor looked at me, I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes before he looked back to my father.

The doctor nodded. “I’m Dr. Saville, the Consultant Cardiologist on duty. As you know, your wife was brought in with an extensive anterior myocardial infarction…,” he paused, “…sorry, she had had a significant heart attack and one of the main arteries supplying blood to her heart had blocked.” He paused and when my father nodded he continued, “We took her into the cardiac catheterisation suite and confirmed the presence and location of this blockage by injecting dye into the coronary arteries. As someone explained to you earlier we were going to open the blockage by passing a balloon across it and blowing it up. We did this and we had just inserted what we call a stent, a metal cylinder to keep the vessel open, when your wife developed a serious cardiac arrhythmia, that is an abnormal heart rhythm I mean.” He paused again and we all nodded. I willed him to go on wishing he would get to the part when he would tell us everything was alright and we could see her.

“We had to administer electric shock treatments to try and get the heart back into its normal rhythm…”

“Lord no…” Claire moaned. We are all victims of our TV culture which with its medical dramas has told us more about certain parts of medicine than we ordinarily should know. My father put a hand on Claire’s arm, but did not take his eyes from the doctor’s face. “Go on,” he urged gently.

The doctor sighed before speaking his next words and I felt a sense of dread growing within me. “Mr Evans, I’m sorry, we did all we could. We worked on her for almost an hour and administered multiple shock treatments and various emergency drugs, but we were unable to restore a normal heart rhythm.” He paused again before making it absolutely final, “Your wife passed away a few minutes ago.”

“No!” Claire screamed. “No, no, this can’t happen. NO! There must be something you can do? You have to do something!” she wailed at the doctor. My father, with his own tears streaming down his cheeks, grabbed her and hugged her tight, speaking softly, “Claire, I know, I know, but they did everything they could.”

The doctor stood there looking miserable and no doubt wishing he was anywhere else on earth but here. I felt something similar. He looked at me and cleared his throat, “Miss, are you OK?”

The dam opened. “No,” I sobbed. I closed my eyes to try and hold the tears back before realising that nothing on earth could do that. In an instant Jon and Jools were at my side. They had heard what the doctor had told us. “She’s dead,” I sobbed, “she’s gone.” Jon pulled me into his arms and held me close and Jools hugged me from the other side. My body heaved as the sobs and sorrow wracked my very being. I do not know how long we stood like that. Time had no meaning. I felt a sense of panic mixed with fear and intense hurt. I was barely aware of Jools and Jon standing there holding me.

Eventually they released me and my father was there. When I looked into his eyes, I lost control again. I saw my own pain and grief mirrored in his expression and it seemed to double it. I buried my head in his chest and sobbed again. “Shhh,” he said gently. When I looked up into his reddened eyes I shook my head, “What are we going to do? How can this have happened?”

He swallowed and couldn’t even manage to reply, he just held me close. He guided me over to where Claire was sitting on a chair. She looked morose, almost as if she was in a trance. “Sit here,” he said, “I have to go and see what we do now.” I sat beside her and when she became aware of my presence she began to cry again. We held each other and we cried together. We cried for our loss, for our mother, for the times we would never again enjoy as a complete family, for the things we never said, for the things we wished we had not said. We cried for our father who had lost his soul mate of over thirty years.
 
 
My father returned. He had called a funeral director who was going to oversee all the necessary arrangements. He managed to pry Claire and me apart and putting an arm around each of us, began to lead us towards the room where my mother was. She lay still, her skin was grey but her expression was peaceful. There were many more tears shed in that room as we each said our goodbyes. My father put a hand on her brow and in a shaky voice murmured, “’Til we meet again my love.” Claire and I totally lost it after that. My father had to take us again by the arms and lead us out of there.

“That’s not her you know,” he said softly. “That’s the body that is left behind, her soul has left it, and she is in paradise now. You both know that don’t you? You both believe that don’t you?” We both nodded. I wanted to believe it, I really did. He led us towards the exit. The cool night air did nothing to assuage the fire that I felt was burning my heart out. Jools and Jon gave me a quick hug. “We’ll get a hotel somewhere. We’ll call by tomorrow sometime,” Jools said quietly as they headed back to her car.

We got into my father’s car and not a word was said on the journey home. What could be said? Nothing needed to be said. The shared grief was almost palpable. Even walking into the house felt strange. Already I thought I could perceive an emptiness there. I have no idea what it must have been like for my father to get into his bed alone that night. For him to realise that from now on, there would be an empty side in the bed which he had shared with our mother for most of their lives. I shrugged off my clothes, removed my corset and fell into bed feeling more drained than I could ever remember. I couldn’t even bring myself to remove my make up. As I lay in bed, I cried again, but no tears came. My eyes were now dry, no moisture remained, and it seemed all the more painful to cry like that. Sleep overtook me like a welcome drug, a temporary escape from the nightmare of reality.
 

*          *          *
 
It was after ten the next morning when I eventually woke up. Although I was physically rested, I still felt like an emotional wreck. The ghoul who looked back at me from the mirror did little to improve my sense of wellbeing. My smeared and caked make up on my pasty face made me look like something out of the Addams Family. It was when I got out of the shower that I realised that I had a problem. It was nothing compared to the events of the previous night, but a problem nonetheless. Notwithstanding the clothes that I had arrived in the previous night, I had nothing to wear. With nothing but a towel wrapped around me, I tapped on Claire’s door and slipped in. She was just finishing dressing and her glum face reminded me of the pain we shared.

“I couldn’t possibly borrow something to wear could I? I’ve nothing but the dress I was wearing last night.”

Despite the austerity of our circumstances, we both managed a weak smile. At the thought of me wearing the dress in the daytime, or having to wear the towel? We didn’t know. It was as if we were searching for some chink of light to penetrate the dark cloud that seemed to be hovering just overhead. It was a brief respite only. I gratefully accepted the loan of a white T-shirt, black slacks, and a pair of panties and returned to my room. Although I was thankful, I still was going to have to address this problem. Claire did not lend me a bra as there was no way I would fit into one of hers and ditto for shoes. I was not going to put on my five inch heels so I went downstairs in sock soles. I pushed open the kitchen door and Claire and my father were at the breakfast table. I sat down in my seat and inexorably my eyes and theirs were drawn to the one empty seat left at the table. I thought I was going to lose it again and pushed back my chair, “I’m not hungry.”

“Sit,” my father said gently but I was under no illusion that it was a request. “You need to eat, we all do. We will get through this.” We all made a token attempt at eating something.
 

*          *          *
 
Jools and Jon called by just before lunch and I was so grateful to see them. Not only because the company of close friends was a comfort, but because Jools came with several bags from different high street stores. She really did think of everything.

“I knew you would be a bit stuck for clothes. When I got up this morning, I realised I had nothing else to wear so I got something for me and several outfits for you.”

Jon grinned ruefully and shrugged, “I just wore what I had on anyway.”

Jools rolled her eyes and continued, “There’s enough there to do you for nearly a week I think.” She paused and hesitated, “Erm, well I took the liberty of buying something a bit more formal.”

“Huh?” I said.

She sighed, “I got you a black jacket and skirt suit with a white blouse.”

It dawned on me and a lead weight seemed to press down on me again. “Oh for the funeral,” I said grimly. I forced a smile, “Thanks Jools, I really appreciate this. I don’t know what I would do without you guys.”

She smiled and gave me a hug, “You don’t have to worry about that. We’re going to shoot back to London. This is a family time. I’ll ring you later and get the details of the funeral. We’ll be here for that. Won’t we Jon?”

He nodded, “We definitely will.” Jon gave me a hug too and whispered, “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Thanks,” I murmured and did a lot of blinking to try and absorb the increasing moisture around my eyes. They left. The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. The aunts, uncles and cousins arrived in at various times. I noticed the odd disapproving look coming in my direction, but I really could not have cared less about it. No one said anything though. At least they had some sensitivity to the situation. Dawn and Phil were the only ones I was actually glad to see. They, along with Claire and I, took a walk late afternoon. We did not really talk about anything and little was said. It was enough that they were there, and both Claire and I appreciated it.
 
 
The next day we stayed home from church. I do not think even my father could have faced the multitude there and he was not a man who was given to staying home from church. In the afternoon we had a visit from Reverend Patterson and Nathan, the assistant minister, was with him. They shared words of comfort with us and then began to talk about the funeral arrangements. I knew it was necessary, but I could hardly bear to listen. Claire could not either and just excused herself and went upstairs. In a bid to gain some respite, I got up and said I would make some coffee. I was boiling the kettle in the kitchen when I heard the door open. I turned around and it was Nathan.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly.

“Hi Nicola,” he said softly. “How are you doing?”

I shrugged, “As expected I guess.”

He nodded. “I can’t imagine how you are feeling. But I want to assure you that I will be praying for you and your family.”

I snorted a little. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head, “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t think such things.”

“There’s little point in bottling up your feelings at a time like this. You can say anything you want to me. If you think it will help.”

I gave a hollow laugh, “You might regret saying that. I was going to say something like it’s a bit late for prayers. Really like shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted isn’t it?” I did not mean to get worked up, but I could not help it. “A fat lot of use praying did me on Friday night! A fat lot of use it did my mother! All the praying in the world isn’t going to bring her back is it?”

He shook his head slowly and said gently, “No, it won’t.”

“So what’s the point?” I almost spat. I could feel my blood boiling, “I mean why? Why did this happen? My mother was as good as they come and when she could do with a bit of help from the God you believe in. Where was he? Can you answer me that?”

He paused before replying. With an almost pained look he shook his head, “You know that there is nothing I can say that will answer that question satisfactorily. I wouldn’t even try. And I’m not here to try and argue with you, I’m here because I care.”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, “I’m sorry.” I swallowed hard, “I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I just don’t understand….” I lifted my hand and wiped my cheek, “I’m sorry.”

He stood up and awkwardly patted my shoulder and I burst into a full flood of tears. I don’t know if it was augmented by the hormones in my system or whether Nick would have cried just as much. It was irrelevant anyway. He gently put his arm around my shoulder and stood there as I sobbed. When I finally stopped I apologised again.

“Nicola, don’t be sorry. There are things in this world that I don’t think we will understand until we look back from the end of time. All I know is that I believe in and look forward to a place with no more tears, no more pain and no more mourning.”

I sighed, “That sounds too good to be true.”

He smiled, “The fact that it is true makes it even better.”

“Nathan…look, thanks.”

He shrugged, “Anytime. We had better get some coffee back in there.”

As we got the coffee ready and began to carry it in, he said, “You know I happened to catch Top of the Pops on Friday night…”

I groaned and winced, “Nathan, oh no, I can explain…”

He laughed softly, “I thought you were wonderful.”
 

*          *          *
 
The funeral was scheduled for midday on Wednesday. To tell you the truth I cannot remember much about what happened on Monday and Tuesday. I think that is because nothing much did happen. It was as if we were in a strange sort of limbo. As if our lives were on hold. I did talk to Jools each day on the phone and it was good to chat to her.

Wednesday was a misty grey day with drizzling rain. It seemed to suit the way I felt. I dressed in the new suit Jools had bought. It fit me well and was more conservative than the usual cut of my clothes. It was far more appropriate though. My father, Claire and I sat in the living room in our good clothes for most of the morning. We had nothing else to do. We had nothing else to think about. We just sat there, for the most part in silence. In the notification in the local newspaper, my father had requested that only family and invited friends would come to the funeral. I idly asked why he had specified that and he looked at me strangely and asked me if I really wanted all the old family friends to come to the funeral and find that suddenly my mother was mourned by two daughters instead of a son and daughter. I shut up after that and felt suitably chastened.

When the time came, we got into the car and drove the short distance to church. The church was half full. Our extended family were there. Jools was there and Beth with her. I saw the rest of the band members. Laura had come with Brian and even Steve, Tom and Simon were there. The service was short and simple. The way my mother would have wanted it.
 
 
Although the church was not full, the rafters were swelled by the singing of the great Welsh Wesley hymns and I did my best to join in when I wasn’t choked with the emotion of the occasion. Reverend Patterson delivered a short address focussing on the character of my mother, the faith of my mother and the hope of my mother. He delivered a challenge to all of us present as to our character, faith and hope. Nathan prayed for those of us left behind. It was kind, compassionate and sensitive. When we stood at the end of the service and sang my mother’s favourite hymn, ‘Love Divine All Loves Excelling’, both Claire and I found it difficult to control ourselves. I eventually gave up and pulled out a tissue and just held it to my eyes.

After the benediction, the coffin was lifted and carried down the aisle and we fell in behind it. My father put his arms around each of our shoulders and walked slowly with us. I couldn’t bring myself to lift my gaze to meet the eyes of those present. There was a short walk behind the funeral car until it reached the end of the street. We got back into my father’s car and followed the hearse to the cemetery. The rain was heavier now, but it did not seem to matter. A small gathering had come from the church and they were standing around the graveside. Reverend Patterson read from Psalm 23 and prayed again.

As the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground, I was stung by the indignity of death, its finality and the horrific reality of it. I had never really felt this before. I remembered the deaths of some of my grandparents, and although I had been upset, I had really been too young to fully appreciate the significance. As the mud was scattered on top of the coffin I could not tell whether the moisture running down my cheeks was the rain or the rivers of grief that were pouring out of my soul.

I turned away and found Jools and Beth right behind me. We were all soaking wet and their eyes were red too. Beth hugged me fiercely for several minutes. She did not say a single word. She did not need to. There followed a succession of hugs and the physical comfort was greater than any that words could bring. Even Aunt Vera seemed kind and compassionate that day.
 
 
I was shivering by the time we got home again and we took it in turns to have a warm bath and get into clean dry clothes. The pain had not gone, but its intensity had dulled somewhat. The funeral and the graveside service gave us all some closure. It did not end the grief, but it ended the beginning of moving on with our lives no matter how hard and inconceivable that appeared. I dressed in a pair of denim jeans and white sweatshirt and went downstairs. My father was in the living room just sitting there. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke.

“When are you planning on going back to London?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“I suppose you are going back to your music and your sordid performances?” There was a definite bitter tinge to his words, which took me totally by surprise.

“Pardon?”

He sighed, “I saw you on television on Friday night. It was not the sort of thing your mother and I would normally watch, but Claire insisted. I was disgusted. Your mother was too.”

“Dad, don’t say that. Not now,” I pleaded in a pained voice.

“I’m only making you aware of the full picture,” he said coldly.

“What are you saying? Are you trying to say that watching me had something to do with what happened?”

He shrugged, “She was upset. Seeing her only s…seeing you prancing about like a cheap tart. You draw your own conclusions.”

“Dad, no! Please. No,” my voice was rising in intensity, “But I thought she was having pains off and on all day.”

“Nothing compared to the one she got after watching your performance.”

I knew he was hurting and was probably just hitting out as a response to the trauma of the day, but it was sending me into a spiral of despair. “Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to do?” I cried.

He gave a mirthless smile, “I have no idea since you are going to do what suits yourself anyway, aren’t you?”

His words cut deep into me and a few tears began to roll down my cheeks. He saw this and snorted. He stood up and turned his back saying harshly, “Save it for the cameras.”

I sniffed and stood, “I know you are upset…”

He whirled around, “Damn right I’m upset!” I was shocked as never in my life had I heard my father utter a word which could in any way be construed as swearing.

I was actually scared at that moment and I took a step back, “I’ll leave you alone now.” I was planning to go to my room and let him cool down, but his next words chilled me to the core of my being.

“Yes, do that. Leave me alone. And don’t come back until you are prepared to stop your filthy charade and live a normal life. I’ve lost a wife, I don’t want to lose a son too.”

I could barely believe what I was hearing. I remembered his words at Christmas about how he would never reject a child of his. I falteringly tried to bring this up and he advanced towards me and shouted, “Haven’t you understood a word I’ve said?”

I turned and ran out of the room and up the stairs. I went into Claire’s room where she was just finishing drying her hair.

“What’s wrong?” she asked neutrally.

I told her about the exchange I had had downstairs and she nodded slowly. “Surely you don’t agree with him?” I asked.

She shrugged and sighed, “Nicola, I don’t know what to think, what to feel.”

“You think I was responsible for this too?”

“It really doesn’t matter about blame. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Claire,” I said slowly shaking my head, “Don’t do this to me. I need you. I need both of you…”

She interrupted, “Yes, well it always is about you, isn’t it? For once in your life can’t you see that it is not all about you? What about what I need? I’m hurting too. This affects me too.”

“Claire…,” I tried to interject before being cut off again.

“Answer me one question,” she said heatedly, “Hypothetically say, if all you have done over these last months was a contributing factor to what happened to Mum, would you have done it any differently? If you could go back and not do what you have done, would you?”

I screwed up my eyes, “Claire, I can’t answer that…”

She nodded and her voice was again even, “That’s what I thought. Can you let me finish getting dressed please?”

I went to the door and turned, “I’m going to leave now, but can I call you?”

She sighed, “Look I’ll call you in a while. I need some time to sort things out, OK?”

It was not OK, but what could I do. In a daze I went to my room and threw the few possessions I had with me into a bag and went downstairs. I grabbed my coat and walked out the front door. The feeling of grief is one of the most consuming emotions there is, but add to it the feeling of being absolutely alone and I think that is as close as you can come to rock bottom. The rain had stopped and I started walking. I did not really know where I was going at a conscious level. However I ended up at the local bus station. I went up to the counter and asked when the next bus to London was.

The clerk was sympathetic, “Sorry love, it’s not until seven tomorrow morning.”

I did not know what to do and could not think clearly. I trudged over to the chairs in the waiting area and collapsed into one of them. Before long, I found myself crying again. I had not known how I was going to get over losing my mother, but I knew that with my father and sister, I would be able to do it. Without them? It was as if I was descending a treacherous slope and someone had just cut my safety rope.
 

*          *          *
 
The next thing I remembered was waking up in my bed at Jools’ place the following morning. She was sitting beside my bed looking as if she had not slept. I was disoriented and confused as I sat up. “Uhh hi,” I murmured.

“Thank God,” she said. “Are you alright?”

I blinked a few times and rubbed my eyes, “I think so. What happened? How did I get here?” Part of me hoped that my memories of the last few days were nothing more than a bad nightmare, but that would have been too much to hope for.

Jools filled me in on what had happened. When she had got back to London, she rang Cardiff to talk to me and see how I was. She got Claire who said that I had left a few hours before. When Jools pressed her for information she gathered that the circumstances surrounding my departure had been less than ideal. She told me that Claire did seem concerned that no one was aware of my whereabouts. I was told to expect many messages from Jools on my mobile phone’s voice mail. Apparently I had not switched it on the previous day. Eventually Jools rang Jon and dragged him away from Tanya’s place to drive all the way back to Cardiff to look for me.

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“By chance, by luck or by some answer to prayer. One of the above. We drove around the streets near your parents’, sorry, I mean near your Dad’s house. We checked the hospitals, the police and then we drove to the railway stations and eventually the bus station.”

I nodded, “Yes I remember going there. But I don’t remember much after that.”

Jools exhaled slowly, “Jon and I were scared to death when we found you. You were just sitting there, eyes wide open, but otherwise totally unresponsive. You know, like almost catatonic. We spoke to you but you just looked through us. We gently got you to your feet and led you to the car. Jon wanted to take you to the hospital, but I thought if we got you home here, you would hopefully be alright.”

I screwed my eyes up and rubbed them again, “I don’t remember any of this. How can this be?”

Jools shrugged and spoke slowly but deliberately, “Sometimes when the body or mind has too much to deal with, it can shut down for a while. I don’t know, that’s what we thought. We got you home and you were still in this trance-like state so we just got you into bed. You went to sleep, but you were moaning and whimpering as you slept. I have to say, I’ve been close to calling the doctor a few times. It might not be a bad idea to go and see one you know.”

I shook my head, “No. I think I’ll be OK.” I paused, “Jools. Thanks. I’m sorry.”

She hugged me, “Don’t be silly. Don’t you know I love you? I’m just so relieved that you are OK.”

I got showered and dressed. Jools had made some breakfast. “You look awful,” I said to her.

She grinned, “I feel pretty tired.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“I plan to,” she hesitated, “Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday? I got the impression from Claire there was some stuff she wasn’t telling me.”

I sat for a few moments and gathered my thoughts. I told Jools the whole sorry tale and by the end of it, we were both in tears.

“I’m going to have to stop doing this,” I said as I wiped my eyes.

“No way!” Jools replied forcefully, “You don’t bottle it up. We talk and we cry, it’s the only way to deal with it.” She paused, “You know they are just hurting. They don’t know how to deal with it.”

I shrugged, “I know.”

“They’ll come round.”

I sighed, “I hope so.”
 

*          *          *
 
The next few days were dull and dreary. I wasn’t sleeping well. I saw many of the long hours of the night go by before sleep visited me. I got up late at some stage each morning after trying to make up for lost sleep. My appetite was poor and it was an effort to eat anything. I usually only forced myself to eat when Jools encouraged me to. I sat around listlessly, watching daytime TV but not actually seeing what was on.

I couldn’t even bring myself to play the piano or guitar. This was very unusual. Previously when I had been low, music was always the retreat. The haven where I could seek sanctuary and gradually let myself heal from whatever the insult was. Not this time. There were no more tears. I do not know if it is possible to exhaust the body’s store of tears. That is the way I felt. There were no intense burning emotions. Just a dull ache. A cold emptiness. This was worse.

Jools had done a fantastic job of erecting an invisible fence around me. There was no talk of work. There were no phone calls to see when I would be back on the promotional bandwagon. I did have some visitors, but it was almost too much effort to talk to them.

Jon called around each day. He would just sit there and occasionally hold my hand. He did not try to get me to talk and I was grateful for this. However I could not even tell him that. He would chat about what he was doing, tell me stories about people we knew. I knew what he was doing and although I did appreciate it, I was not sure if it really helped.

Laura called round a few times. She did not talk about work particularly but gently kept me up to date with what was going on at the studio. Who was in recording at that time. What they were like, and so on. Kate even called round once. Jools had phoned her to let her know why I had not been out for my morning runs.
 
 
After almost a week, things did not seem any better. Neither Claire nor my father had phoned. I had lifted the phone on several occasions and had even dialled half of Claire’s number before setting the phone back down. They had both been quite clear in their words to me. If it was the grief talking, then when it began to clear, it was up to them to get in touch with me. They did not though.
 
 
On Tuesday morning, Jools was up bright and early and when I surfaced she said, “Pack a bag, we’re going.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Going? Where? I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Well we are going,” she said kindly but firmly. “We’re going to Silsbury Manor. That is I’m driving you down, but you’re staying there. With Beth.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to move on from where you are right now. And being here hasn’t seemed to help. I thought that some time there might be good for you. It has good associations and memories doesn’t it?”

I nodded slowly, “I guess, but…”

“Good, that’s settled then,” she interrupted brightly, “we’re leaving after lunch so you’d better get with the packing.”

I knew better than to try and argue so I went and did as she suggested. I had no idea how long she was planning that I stay there. I imagined that she did not really know herself. I packed a large suitcase.
 

*          *          *
 
We arrived late evening and Beth was there waiting. She gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek when I arrived. I actually smiled when I saw her.

“Hey you,” she said.

“Hi Beth.”

“Come on in. Your old room is ready. You coming in Jools?”

She shook her head and I looked at her anxiously, “Jools, don’t leave. I need you.”

She smiled and squeezed my arm, “You’ll be fine here. I’ll ring each day. I’ve things I need to do. I’m going to head back up to London now.”

Beth led me on in and informed me that her parents were home. “What err…do they…know about me?” I asked gingerly.

She smiled, “They know you are a special close friend who has recently lost her mother and needs some time to deal with it. Nothing more. Oh well apart from the fact that you are a rock and roll superstar.”

I actually laughed before I realised it. It felt strange. Almost foreign. It felt good. Mr. Carstairs, or Alan as he insisted I call him, was a tall, distinguished man in his fifties with thinning silvery hair. He had tanned leathery skin and an easygoing manner that made me feel at ease. His wife, Rose, was petite and I could see that Beth took after her. She was soft spoken and welcomed me into their home. I expressed my thanks to them for letting me come to stay.

“Have you eaten?” Rose asked.

I frowned, “Err no.”

She smiled, “Mabel thought as much and has left a stew on the stove for you.”

I thought about protesting that I was not hungry, but realised that that would sound ungrateful. “Thanks,” I said and followed her and Beth into the kitchen. There was something about sitting at the kitchen table with Beth and her mother that stirred things up inside me. The emotionless void that I had been living in began to crumble and as I ate I felt the pain and grief returning. I think it was being in a family setting again. Seeing Beth interact with her mother reminded me of my loss and I could barely contain myself. Rose noticed this and gently suggested that Beth help me to my room with my things.
 
 
Upstairs I sat on my bed and raised my hand to my eyes. “You OK?” Beth asked gently as she sat beside me.

I nodded then shook my head, “I don’t know Beth.” I swallowed hard as a tear escaped my defences. She took me into her arms and held me close. “Shh,” she whispered, “It will be OK. Don’t hold back.” I didn’t. After a good cry, I really did feel better.

Beth told me that Jools had been increasingly worried about me over the previous week. I had seemed flat and cold and she was worried that I was not dealing with things. She was right. I did not know it or realise it at the time. I had just been opting out and switching off.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you and Jools. You both are amazing and I love you both to bits,” I said.

Beth blinked hard a few times and then laughed, “Stop it or I’ll be crying again before long.” She paused, “Been sleeping well?”

I shrugged, “Not really.”

She nodded and said, “Get yourself ready for bed. I’ll be back in a moment.” I was a little puzzled but did as instructed. I was sitting up in bed in my nightdress when she reappeared in her nightclothes. She closed the door and slipped into the other side of the bed. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

She smiled, “Hey, I know Jools and you snuggled up together the last time you were here. Now it’s my turn.” She paused and continued more seriously, “No really, I figured that a bit of physical comfort might help you sleep. If you don’t mind?”

I smiled and shook my head, “I don’t mind.”

She grinned and winked, “I promise to behave. Besides you’re not really my type anymore. Now before…”

I laughed and poked her. We lay down and snuggled and I murmured, “I guess you’re not really my type anymore either Beth.” There was a tinge of sadness in my voice. One year ago if I had been in this situation, things would have been a lot different. Would they have been better? I could not answer that. Just different.

Beth switched out the light and with mischief in her voice and a smile that I could not see she said, “Well, close your eyes and pretend I’m him if that helps you sleep better.”

“Beth!” I exclaimed, “You’re bad.”

She giggled.
 

*          *          *
 
After having the best night’s sleep I had had in over a week, I woke up when Beth gently shook my shoulder. “Come on sleeping beauty,” she teased, “time to get up.”

I frowned, groaned and looked the bedside clock, “Huh? It’s only seven thirty. What’s the emergency?”

Beth grinned and pulled back the curtains, “Sun’s shining, surf’s up and the beach is calling to you for a lovely refreshing morning jog.”

I groaned again and pulled the covers back over my head, “You can’t be serious.”

She laughed and whipped the covers off the bed leaving me lying there in my nightdress, “Have you ever known me to joke about such a serious matter as physical exercise?”

I knew she was as stubborn as her older sister so I rolled out of bed and pulled on a T-shirt and pair of jog bottoms. By the time we got outside, I had to feign my reluctance because it was a beautiful morning. I felt like someone who had been living in a monochromatic, two-dimensional world and had now suddenly been dropped into this vibrant world of Technicolor. The singing of the birds, the salt I could taste on the fresh sea breeze, the warmth of the early morning sun on my back; it was all magnificent.

Before long, I was able to add the sensation of burning in my lungs and complaining muscles in my legs to that list. We ran hard and fast. I had not been running for a few weeks now, but it was gratifying that I had not lost all my previous fitness. No matter how hard I pushed myself though I could not keep up with Beth. That girl could run.

A glance in the mirror when we returned to the house confirmed that my cheeks were glowing radiantly. I felt a million miles away from the dark place I had been existing in. I felt a twinge of guilt that I had enjoyed myself. I knew it was irrational and I knew that life had to go on. I was alive and I felt good about it for the first time in what felt like a very long time. In reality, only ten days had passed since that fateful phone call from Claire.

Mabel was in the kitchen and when we walked in, she exclaimed loudly and gave me a large hug. I nearly got lost in her voluminous bosom. She insisted on making us a large breakfast. Beth was not overly approving as there was more fried food than she thought was fitting, but she managed to hide her disapproval from Mabel. I, for one, was glad. I was actually starving and gained pleasure from eating for a change. Mabel expressed her sympathy for my recent loss and began to chatter away telling me what was new around Silsbury Manor.

“And that song of yours, m’dear. Oi’ll have you know, we bought it, we did. Not that oi approves of that video m’dear.” She had a little twinkle in her eye, “The trouble oi had controlling my Sam when he watched that. It weren’t ordinary.” We laughed and ate with gusto and I enjoyed just sitting listening to Mabel as she twittered on.
 

*          *          *
 
The next few days were enjoyable and relaxing and I began to spend time playing piano again. I was just idly playing but I could feel that somewhere inside me, there were the beginnings of a song. I did not want to rush it. I knew it would not be an easy one. Sometimes you just have to wait for it to come to the surface.

I went for long walks across the fields in the afternoons, sometimes with Beth, sometimes alone. I did a lot of thinking and reflecting. Had I done wrong with all that had happened over the last six months? I made myself ask the difficult questions. In which situation would I be happier? Being myself as I was now with all that had happened particularly in the last few weeks? Or being Nick as I had been, my life as it was, and nothing different? It was painful to answer, but I knew the truth. Claire had been right. I would not have done anything different.

It was hypothetical but I had to ask and answer it to be able to move on with my life now. I hope I don’t sound callous. Make no mistake, I missed my mother deeply, but to say I would do anything, including going back to being Nick, to bring her back? I could not say that. If I had not chosen this path, would it have made any difference to what happened to my mother? I would never know. I thought of Nathan’s words to me. All things happen for a reason, but we may not understand it in this present life. I began to relate to those words now.
 
 
On Saturday morning, after our customary run, Beth suggested we drive up to Exeter for a day’s shopping. She said that I needed to do some work on my summer wardrobe as the weather was getting warmer. Who was I to argue? It was a lengthy drive, but as we chattered the whole way, the time passed quickly. We certainly made the best of it, as we must have been in every boutique and clothes store in the whole place. We spent a fortune. I now had a fairly decent summer wardrobe with light summer trousers, long flowing skirts, miniskirts, short sun dresses, sun tops, T-shirts, sleeveless blouses, sandals — you name it, we bought it. I know we probably got a little carried away, but I enjoyed it and could now understand better the female concept of ‘retail therapy’.

We grabbed a bite to eat in Plymouth on the journey back. I enjoyed the meal and left the waitress a hefty tip. I now had a greater appreciation for those in that profession as I had first hand experience of how hard it was. We arrived back at Silsbury Manor around nine p.m. Rose Carstairs rolled her eyes at us and tutted when she saw the amount of bags we carried back into the house. “Had a good day girls?” she asked with a smile on her face. We responded in the affirmative.

We were both exhausted and I turned in for an early night. Sleep was becoming a more familiar friend again and I was very relieved to make its acquaintance once more.

I joined the family at Seaton Parish on Sunday morning and enjoyed the service there. The vicar was speaking from Matthew chapter 11 and his text was “Come to me all you who are heavy laden and I will give you rest”. I found it helpful and comforting.
 

*          *          *
 
The next morning, I felt an inner pull to the piano. The song that had been lurking inside me was trying to break its way out. I sat and let my fingers roam over the keys as I looked out and feasted on the splendid vistas of the cliffs and surf-splashed beaches below. I felt as if I was not quite getting to where the song was. It always seemed just around the next corner out of reach.
 
 
After lunch, I let myself idly play again and it was quite a surprise when I found myself playing some hymns. Not only that, I found myself playing my mother’s favourite hymn, “Love Divine”. I continued to play it and gave it a slightly different arrangement, a slower more syncopated feel. I began to sing the words.

Suddenly it was as if the song crept up on me and jumped out in front of me. I played and paused to write words and arrangements down. It was not an easy song to write. At times I had to stop and go for a little walk, take a break and grab something to drink and the like. Just before dinner, I felt I had it finished. It was personal, emotional, but it was me.

There are some times when a song just has to be written. But does it have to be performed or shared? I often mused over things like that. Is a song any lesser for not being heard by others? I tended to think that it was. A song was made for being sung and for being heard.
 

*          *          *
 
On Tuesday after breakfast, Beth grabbed me. “Doing anything this morning?”

I grinned and said, “Oh now, let me check with my secretary to see what my busy schedule has for me today.”

She giggled, “I’ll take that as a no then. I think it’s time you had a session in La Belle Femme again.” That was of course her salon.

I raised an eyebrow, “Really? Think I’m in need of some essential maintenance?”

She chuckled, “Oh not at all. I don’t play on the essential needs that people have, I try to exploit their wants and desires. Pays more cash that way.”

I laughed, “So you’re appealing to my vanity then?”

She nodded, “Guilty as charged.”

I inclined my head, “In that case, I think you have your first exploitee of the day.”

After the short drive into Plymouth we walked into her salon, which was not too busy at this time of the morning. Walking in the door brought back the memories of my previous visit to La Belle Femme. I had walked in the door as Nick and had left as Cara. It felt strange to be revisiting it.

“So what do you want done?” Beth asked.

I grinned, “What can you offer?”

She laughed, “How about a package that I call ‘the works’?”

“Sounds good to me.”

She started with a repeat of the all over body wax and I was already beginning to regret signing up for the works. It did not take me too long to be reminded of how painful the waxing was. Beth insisted that it was an essential for the summer months. Although it was just as painful, this time it was not as embarrassing. However, Beth did tease me about my navel piercing.

“You’re just jealous,” I retorted.

“You think so?” she asked. “What makes you think I don’t have one too?”

I shrugged nonchalantly, “I peeked inside your nightdress the other night when you slept beside me.”

She gasped, “You did not!”

I winked, “No, but I had you going didn’t I?”

I could swear that she ripped off the next piece of wax with vengeful gusto, but thankfully it did not take too much longer before she declared my body hairless. Next was my hair. Beth took a quick look at it.

“You know, it has really got quite long. I think we could give it a bit of a cut and although it is hard to see where they are now, you don’t need those old hair extensions at all. Say if we cut it up to here,” she held her hand a third of the way down my back, “I think that would do it.”

She was right. My hair had got really long. Although I loved the long wavy tresses, it was hard work looking after it. She introduced me to Eve who she assured me was her very best hair stylist. After a wash, cut and set I had to agree with Beth. My hair looked great. In styled sleek glossy waves, it cascaded over my shoulders to just below the level of my shoulder blades. It did make me look quite different. It was so much tidier also. I was passed on to Nina who did my make up for me and then started on my nails. She was going to apply a fresh set of acrylic nails to my fingers.

“What about a nice long set?” she asked.

I shook my head, “No, I can’t have them too long. Affects my work.”

She smiled, “Oh come on, you can learn to work with them, no? What do you do?”

I paused, “I’m err…a musician. So they would make the old guitar playing awkward you know.”

She stood stock still and stared at me. “Blimey!” she exclaimed, “I know who you are. Cara…you’re Cara Malone aren’t you?”

I smiled self-consciously, “Err yes.”

She smiled animatedly, “I thought I recognised you at first. But I reckoned I had just seen you in here before at some time. I can’t believe this! I loved your song and have hardly been able to get it out of my head. Wait ‘til I tell the others.” She began to look around the salon.

“No please,” I said with a little more urgency in my voice than I had intended. I got her attention and I continued, “Don’t draw attention to me.”

She nodded slowly and smiled, “Oh of course. You must get this all the time. Sorry, I just got a little carried away. You’re the first star I’ve ever worked on. This is unreal!”

I just smiled. Little did she know that she was the first person to recognise me like this. I did not tell her that though. It felt strange to sit there as she gushed about me and my song. I figured that it would be something that I would have to get used to if things continued to go well.

As I sat there relaxing while Nina applied the nails and painted them a blood red colour, I suddenly realised that I had no idea what had happened to ‘No Half Measures’ after it had risen to number eight in the charts. Two weeks had passed since then. For all I knew it could be at number one by now. I dismissed this as I did not think it was likely. However I did have a yearning to check out what it had done since then. I thought that this was a positive sign. I was actually thinking about the future and getting back to doing what I enjoyed.
 
 
I stepped out of the salon a new person in more ways than one. Not only did I look different with my new hairstyle and freshly done make up and nails, I felt different inside. I was ready to get on with my life. I still bore the ache of loss for my mother and I still knew the pain of the distance that now lay between me and my sister and father. Beth must have noticed something as she drove me back to Silsbury Manor.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked as we got out of the car and entered the house.

I smiled and shook my head, “Not worth that much. Actually I was just thinking about getting back to London and moving on with things.”

Beth smiled, “That’s wonderful, although I’m not going to pretend that I won’t miss you. It’s been great having you here. You know, you’re like the second sister I never had.” She winked.

I laughed and hugged her, “That’s the way I feel about you and Jools.” I stepped back and paused, “Look…thanks.”

She waved a hand, “For what? I didn’t do anything.”

I shook my head, “You did more than you could know. This last week has been just what I needed.”

“When do you want to get back to London?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. As soon as I can, but I’ve no car here. Should I ring Jools? No, sure I can just get the bus.”

Beth laughed, “Cara Malone, rock superstar take the bus? I don’t think so.”

I protested, “Beth, I don’t think of myself like that.”

“I know, but you have an image to uphold and music stars don’t take buses. Listen, I’ve nothing much on tomorrow. I could run you back up if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to put you out…”

“Pfft!” she said, “Don’t be silly. That’s settled then.”
 

*          *          *
 
From talking further to Beth I had learnt that ‘No Half Measures’ had slipped to number eleven the week after entering the Top Ten and then last week it had slid further to number eighteen. I was not too disappointed. At the start of all this I would not have believed how far we would get had someone predicted it.

After lunch, I was trying on some of my new summer outfits and admiring myself in the mirror. Yes I know it sounds vain, but I was feeling good about myself and was not ashamed to indulge it a little. I had just slipped on a cropped, white halter top and pastel yellow miniskirt. New hair, new makeup, new nails, new clothes: I began to understand how good that can make a girl feel. And add a bit of new jewellery which I had also splashed out on.

My self-indulgent reverie was interrupted by Mabel, calling from outside my door. “Miss Cara, are you there m’dear?”

I called for her to come in. She stuck her head around the door, “There’s a young man at the door for you Miss Cara. ‘Andsome young man too at that.” She smiled.

Who was it? For an instant I wondered if it could be Paul. Beth had gently asked if I wanted to meet up with him again. The way I was feeling when I had first arrived, I had not thought that I would feel up to it.

“What does he look like?”

“Oh let me see now. Tall, fair hair, a little nervous.”

Jon. It had to be. I smiled, “Tell him, I’ll be right down.” Mabel left and I found myself checking my appearance in the mirror again. “What are you doing?” I murmured to myself with bashful amusement.

It was Jon. He was standing awkwardly in the hall as Mabel chatted to him amiably. “’Ere she is now; nice to meet you young man.” She made herself scarce.

“Hi Jon,” I said.

“Err hi,” he said. He looked me up and down and raised his eyebrows.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head, “Nothing. Just like, wow. You look great and I’m not just saying that.”

I grinned, “Thanks.” I thought I could feel my cheeks reddening a little.

“How are you doing?”

I shrugged, “Better thanks. Much better. Come on in and sit down and tell me what you are doing all the way down here.”

He hesitated, “I don’t really know. I just…well I was worried about you. The way we found you in Cardiff and the way you were back in London. Jools had told me that you were doing OK down here. I dunno, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

I was really touched. “Thanks Jon. That means a lot to me.” We relaxed and chatted as he filled me in with the news of the last few weeks. Suddenly I had an idea.

“Jon, are you heading back to London tonight?”

He shrugged, “Well yeah, that was the plan.”

“Got room in your car for a hitch-hiker?”

He grinned and winked, “I’ve high standards you know. I only stop to pick up pretty girls.”

I pouted, “Jon!”

He laughed, “Sure, no problem. You sure you want to head back to the big smoke?”

I nodded, “I’m ready. It’s time to get things back on track.” I paused and began hesitantly, “Listen Jon, I wrote another song.” Another pause, “I haven’t let anyone hear it yet. It’s very personal. Will you listen to it and honestly tell me what you think?”

He nodded, “Sure.” I think he probably had a fair idea what the song was about.

We went to the music room and I sat down at the piano. I sat for a few moments to compose myself before beginning. The song was an ethereal almost Celtic-like piece. In my mind, I could hear not only the piano, but wispy pan-pipe-like sounds, gentle bass and rhythmic drums. I began to sing.
 
 

“The centre of my world and my anchor in this life  The fixed point of my days as I walk upon this earth  The constant, the love, the one who always knew  Knew me inside out from the day of my birth      Love divine, all loves excelling,  Joy of heaven to earth come down;  Fix in us thy humble dwelling;  All thy faithful mercies crown!  Jesus, Thou art all compassion,  Pure unbounded love Thou art;  Visit us with Thy salvation;  Enter every trembling heart.      Always there through the good, the bad, the high and low,  Your words the balm for wounded heart or just the simple bruise  Selfless love, always giving, meeting all my needs  I never dreamed that you would be, someone I could lose      Breathe, O breathe Thy loving Spirit,  Into every troubled breast!  Let us all in Thee inherit;  Let us find that second rest.  Take away our bent to sinning;  Alpha and Omega be;  End of faith, as its Beginning,  Set our hearts at liberty.      A boat cut free from moorings, tossed upon the open sea  I’m struggling and fighting, an effort for each breath  They say a knife can be so sharp, you barely feel the pain  Not so the knife that cuts so deep, the pain that follows death      Come, Almighty to deliver,  Let us all Thy life receive;  Suddenly return and never,  Never more Thy temples leave.  Thee we would be always blessing,  Serve Thee as Thy hosts above,  Pray and praise Thee without ceasing,  Glory in Thy perfect love.      The empty seat, the missing voice, the chasm in my heart,  You were the glue that held together, all things in their place,  I wake at night, with breathless hope, that all was but a dream  But reality stings in my eyes, I can no longer see your face      Finish, then, Thy new creation;  Pure and spotless let us be.  Let us see Thy great salvation  Perfectly restored in Thee;  Changed from glory into glory,  Till in heaven we take our place,  Till we cast our crowns before Thee,  Lost in wonder, love, and praise.      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 finished and sat there unmoving. After a few moments, I looked over at Jon. He swallowed and stood and walked over to me. “Are you OK?” he said softly.

I nodded, but could not say anything. He put a hand on my shoulder, “That was intense.”

“Too intense?” I asked.

He smiled gently, “Well, it felt as if you reached into my heart and ripped it open, so pretty intense--yes. Not too intense though. Very moving.”

I nodded, “It was one of those that had to come out. I wasn’t sure, but it just felt right: the transposition of the hymn verses with my own words. I had to write it, I have to sing it.”

“I know. That melody, my goodness! It’s haunting. It almost made me shiver.”

I smiled, “Sorry.”

“No don’t be. I just want to check, are you sure you’re up to singing this song?”

I shrugged, “I don’t know. But I have to.”

He nodded and squeezed my shoulder, “I’m sure she’d be proud you know.”

I looked ahead and could not say anything. I blinked furiously in a vain attempt to avoid the inevitable.
 

*          *          *
 
I had invited Jon to stay for dinner. This was no problem to Mabel who was delighted to have the opportunity to try and pick up on some gossip. She kept fishing to find out who Jon was and did not seem content with my explanation that he was just a colleague and good friend. It was the only explanation she was getting though. There was nothing else to tell her.

After dinner, Beth and I had a mini-tearful goodbye with lots of hugs. I thanked Alan and Rose for letting me stay and they assured me that I would be welcome anytime. I knew they meant it and I was glad. The way things were at the moment, I could well be in need of some family hospitality in future days.

Jon and I set off. His car really was in bad shape and the noises it made were not ordinary.

“Seriously, when are you going to get rid of this thing?” I asked.

“Hey, I like this car. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“But now you are a successful rock guitar hero don’t you think you need something more befitting your status?”

He laughed, “Maybe, we’ll see.” He did inform me that Jools had a paycheque for me. The profits of the sales of our song were beginning to filter through. Given the damage I had done to my credit card at the weekend, I was glad to hear this. He also told me that Simon would be delighted that I was back on the go again. He had been starting to press Jools more and more to find out what I was doing and when I would be available again. Jools, true to form, was as yielding as a solid brick wall. Apparently, Simon felt we should maintain the momentum and get the second single out. He was probably right. Plus we had an album to finish. As we neared London, I felt my anticipation begin to grow. I felt invigorated and ready to take on the world.

---