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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

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 28
 
 
I thought that Jools was going to choke to death or something. I was contemplating giving her a good thump on the back to dislodge the chunk of croissant that was presumably wedged tight in her windpipe. However she managed to control herself just in time. She wiped her eyes and laughed again.

“I don’t see what is so funny about it!” I protested indignantly. Over a lazy brunch, I had been recounting the events of the previous night to her.

She shook with mirth for about another minute before she could even attempt to speak. “Oh, I was just wondering when you were going to disappear in a blinding flash.”

I furrowed my brow, “What? Huh?”

She grinned, “You know like Sam in ‘Quantum Leap’? You had righted the wrong and having saved the world you jump off into someone else’s body to tackle the next great injustice.”

I pouted and despite my best efforts, I felt the laughter welling up inside me. Before long we were both in fits of giggles. This time it was safe though as all food portions were kept out of inhalation distance until we were capable of controlling ourselves. Jools handed me a tissue and I wiped my eyes as she did likewise.

With a smile on her face she looked at me and said, “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I shrugged awkwardly, “Jools, come on…”

“No seriously,” she interrupted, “you did not have to do any of what you did last night. I was wrong to question your reasons.” She paused and said softly, “You’re a good person.”

I wriggled a little in my seat, “Jools, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. It wouldn’t change what I’ve just said.” She regarded me thoughtfully, “I’ve watched how you’ve changed and blossomed over the last six months. It’s amazing: like watching a little green shoot slowly bud and then open into the most beautiful flower in the garden.” I wanted to interrupt her but was prevented from doing so by the choking sensation in my throat that had nothing to do with croissant. She continued, “You know I’ve always loved you, but these past few months, having you living here with me, have been so special to me.” She laughed, “You know I can hardly remember you as Nick.”

I felt a little pang of remorse at those words. Not regret, but more like the resigned acceptance at the passing of something that was not all bad. I felt a tear make a bid for escape from my left eye and I grabbed the tissue again. “Now look what you’ve made me do,” I gently accused Jools. She smiled and moved round behind me and hugged me.
 
 
As I lingered in the shower, I mused on her words. I think they resonated particularly deeply with me because even I was having trouble remembering what it was like to be Nick. I had not lost my memory or anything. I could remember all the things that had happened to me, but I found it hard to remember what it felt like to be Nick, to be a man. Was this a bad thing? I was not quite sure. I towelled my hair and let my mind interrogate me a little further. OK, so what things did you do as Nick that you now miss?

Images of my mother and her fussing over me as her son flooded into my mind and I swallowed hard and closed my eyes tight. I put that out of my mind as I rationalised that it was from a different set of issues that I was trying to deal with. I thought again. As hard as I wracked my brain, I could not come up with anything convincing that I missed that I could not enjoy now. The only thing that came close was the loss of being able to have a relationship with a girl as a guy. However when I probed that one further, I realised that in the current climate, if I wanted to pursue such a relationship as I was now, it would not be impossible.

I slipped on a short pale blue T-shirt and pulled on my jeans. As I brushed my hair, I regarded myself in the mirror. Any regrets? My head shook from the brushings and it was almost as if it was giving me the subliminal answer to my question. If this was the way I was meant to be, why had I not been born female then? My mind was not letting up. I pondered that one. Eventually I shrugged and told my mind to can it for a while.

Who knows why things worked out this way? Why worry about it? Here I was and things seemed to be working out pretty well. Was there any advantage though to me having been a guy and living as Nick, before becoming Nicola or Cara and enjoying this success? Would I have missed out on anything had I not previously been Nick? One answer to that question began to rear its head in the depths of my consciousness, but I shook my head and got up before I had to think about it any further.
 

*          *          *
 
Sunday evening brought the Chart Show yet again. I had told Jools that I could not bear the tension of the whole thing so I was only going to listen to it from number twenty onwards. Who was I kidding? At five o’clock I was sitting there listening to it with Jools. I felt quite sure that having entered at number eight, there was no way we would drop below number twenty in one week. Not sure enough to not listen though. As before I felt the tension grow as the countdown continued inexorably towards its destination. Finally it was time for the Top Ten. Jools and I held each other’s hands tightly in anticipation. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six: no mention so far.

“Top five?” Jools mouthed silently. I just tried to concentrate on remembering to breathe out after each intake of breath.

Five, four, three, “Moving up six places to number two this week is Cara Malone with ‘Not Dancing, but Flying’…”

I don’t know if we were dancing or flying but it involved jumping up and down and making a lot of noise. We were both shrieking. I do not think we were actually vocalising anything coherent. Certainly my mind was not producing anything that could remotely be classed as coherent. Eventually we calmed down, by which time the number one single had been and gone and the next show had started. Jools flicked the radio off and we sat down breathlessly.

“Number two this week,” she said, “next week…”

I held up a hand, “I don’t want to even think about next week. Let’s just wait and see.” I couldn’t stop myself from grinning though, “Number two though? My goodness!” I lay back on the sofa and kicked my feet in the air until I realised how silly I must have looked. Even then, I did not stop because I did not really care.
 

*          *          *
 
I did not expect that we would be required for a Top of the Pops performance that week and I was right. Nonetheless, the publicity bandwagon rolled on and Simon was ever keen that we strike while the iron was hot. So the week followed the pattern of the one before with interview slots and signing sessions. We were invited to perform ‘Not Dancing, but Flying’ on one of the late evening chat shows. Although it was broadcast on a Friday evening, it was not live and was recorded on Thursday evenings.

“So, that means you are not doing anything on Friday night?” Jools asked in a tone that made me suspicious immediately.

“Err no…why?” I asked cautiously.

She smiled innocently, “Did you happen to realise that Stealing Time are playing Wembley Arena on Friday night?”

My eyes widened. I had not realised this. Stealing Time were one of my favourite bands. From the USA, they combined melancholic guitars with melodic keyboards and strong rhythms and added this wall of sound to the fantastic lyrics of their singer, Aaron Kramer. I had caught them live a few years back and still remembered the spectacle.

I chewed my lip, “Wish I had known. I presume it’s a sell out?”

Jools nodded and sighed before nonchalantly adding, “Yeah, as you would expect. However one of the advantages of being a rising name in the music agency business is that one sometimes comes across promotional tickets.” She paused and raised her hands theatrically, “Of course, who would want them though?”

I squealed, “You have tickets? How many?”

She laughed, “Two. Why know anyone who might want to go?”

“Stop teasing me Jools, can I go?”

“Of course you can, if you can find someone to go with.”

I shrugged, “Well, I’ll go with you.”

She shook her head, “Not my cup of tea.” She hesitated, “Do you know anyone else who is a real fan? Someone else who would really enjoy the show?”

I gave a half-smile as I spotted her game. I did know someone else who was an even bigger fan than I was. The same someone who had introduced me to the music of Stealing Time: Jon. I grinned, “Alright, I see what you are up to. I will ask Jon, but only because he would kill me if he heard I had tickets and didn’t ask him.”

Jools shrugged and smiled, “Why else would you ask him?”
 

*          *          *
 
“You’re pulling my leg!” he exclaimed.

I chuckled into the phone, “No it’s for real. Jools got hold of them somehow. Why, you interested?”

“Too right I am!”

“Well, that’s settled then?”

He hesitated, “Erm, almost…”

I frowned, “What’s wrong?”

He sounded awkward, “Well, I’m sort of going to have to see if I can change some plans I had for Friday.”

I was puzzled for a moment, but then realised what was going on. “Oh I see. Look if you and Tanya have plans, don’t worry about it.” I paused and knew I should not say it, but could not resist it, “I mean, I’m sure I could find someone else to take the other ticket.”

“Now, hold on, don’t do anything hasty,” he backtracked.

I laughed and then sighed. I was being too nice recently I decided, but what could I do, “Look seriously, I don’t want to cause you any strife. You take both tickets and you and Tanya go on Friday.”

“You’re serious?”

I laughed, “Take them before I change my mind.”

He paused, “No. No I can’t do that. Look, I’ll make it up to Tanya. She’ll understand. But…thanks for offering.”

I felt relieved. As good as I had sounded in making the offer, deep down I still really wanted to go, “If you’re sure?”

“I am. You have to go. So do I. It’s the way it has to be.”

I laughed.
 

*          *          *
 
Once again the guys had been warned strongly of the need to make an effort in the presentation department. Once again, Jools was way ahead of me. She had decided to take things into her own hands and had, with the assistance of some of the Sony wardrobe girls, taken each of the guys on a brief but productive shopping expedition. I laughed when I heard.

“So what was it like?” I teased. We were in the TV studio preparing to record our performance for the chat show.

Kevin rolled his eyes, “Man it was awful. I felt like a little teenager being dragged around the shops by his Mum.”

“I hear that’s what you looked like too,” quipped Brian.

“It was alright,” admitted Jon, “A little embarrassing, but I think we all did alright out of it.”

Noel snorted, “A bit unnecessary. Come on like, we’re all grown men. We know how to dress ourselves.”

I shrugged, “I take advice on what to wear and how to look for different occasions so I can’t think that it would hurt you to do likewise.”

He just gestured aimlessly and said, “Whatever.”

We did our sound check and then went to get changed. It was time for make up after this. There was not quite the same degree of bashfulness amongst the guys this time, but I could not help myself from rubbing it in a little.

“Thanks girls, the guys really need your help,” I said innocently, “But I think Noel being a grown man feels he can do his own make up.”

He said something in a low voice which I could not quite make out, but before I could ask him what he said, Jon gave him a dig in the ribs and told him to shut his mouth.

It was fairly straightforward in the end. The host thanked his guests that he had been interviewing and then introduced me and the band. We played the song, the audience applauded and we were done. It did not have the same buzz as playing a live concert, or even like Top of the Pops had been. I suppose that was the nature of some TV appearances, particularly when it was not being broadcast live. I felt that that made a difference.
 

*          *          *
 
At the end of the week, I was delighted when Simon informed me that he thought we could stop the promotional rounds for the single. He felt we had enough market exposure for now and it was just a matter of seeing how many people bought it. It was a relief as the interviews were becoming tedious. The first time round, I had been glad that the questions were simple and superficial, but now I almost would have relished a more challenging interview. I was bored with it.

He had more good news also: we would be going back into the studio sometime next week to finish off the album. He was not sure exactly what day it would be as it depended on when the studio would be free.

We had been enjoying a good spell of early summer weather and the temperatures had been beginning to rise. I was not sure what I disliked more: dark and dismal, wet London winters or sticky and sultry, oppressive London summers. Thinking of the evening ahead, I knew it would be pretty hot inside Wembley Arena so I decided to wear something light. I eventually settled on a red halter-top and three-quarter-length, cream cotton trousers. Comfortable, yet certainly presentable. I added some light makeup and brushed my hair back into a ponytail before putting on a baseball cap.

I was beginning to get worried about people recognising me in public and I was not sure how I would or should react. When Jon arrived late he just honked the horn of his car and I went out and jumped into the passenger seat.

“You’re late,” I said with a smile.

He shrugged and with a cheeky grin retorted, “You’re surprised?”

I laughed, “No, not really. So did you have any trouble getting out tonight?”

He gave a wry smile, “Had to get a note from my mother.”

“That bad?”

He answered in an offhand manner that conveyed his lack of interest in continuing this line of conversation, “Nah, it’s alright.”
 

*          *          *
 
The arena was packed and we had decent seats. I mentally thanked Jools. Of course we had to endure the ubiquitous support act. I did feel sorry for them. One of the hardest things a new band had to do was be the support act for a big name. No one present wanted to hear them and hardly anyone would have heard of them. All the audience wanted was for them to get on with it, get it done and make room for the main attraction. I realised that sometime soon, we could be in a similar position and I did not relish the thought. My musings disappeared into the depths of my mind as Stealing Time took the stage.

Aaron Kramer swaggered out onto stage, “Goooood Evening London!”

The crowd roared in response as the band kicked straight off with ‘How Good It Feels to Be Bad’, one of their recent hits. They were slick and tight but not over professional in the sense of not merely delivering a polished practiced performance. There was life and energy in it. Aaron Kramer was not your typical iconic good-looking lead singer: he was scruffy, bushy-haired and unshaven. Not completely unattractive, I thought, but certainly not conventional. They worked their way through a mixture of songs from their current album and favourites from previous offerings. I sat back and revelled in the occasion of a seasoned band entertaining their audience.

Jon tapped me on the arm and said something which I did not hear.

“What?” I shouted.

He put his mouth to my ear and shouted, “You gonna sit here all night or do you want to see if we can find some room on the floor?”

Most of the arena was seated, but down on the floor there was standing room and it was a sort of free for all. At the moment it looked like a seething mass of something approximating humanity.

I put my mouth to his ear, “Sure, although it looks quite crowded.”

He grinned and shrugged and got up to lead the way. As we entered the standing area, I realised I had been wrong. It wasn’t crowded, it was jam packed with sweating, heaving, jumping fans. I looked at Jon with uncertainty and he laughed and gestured for me to keep moving. We squeezed our way into the middle of the crowd and before long, I was sucked into the rhythm of the jumping up and down masses. Although it was excessively hot and claustrophobic, there was something visceral about enjoying a live performance in this way. I felt arms go round my waist and I smiled and turned back to Jon.

It was not Jon. It was a large sweaty guy with no T-shirt on. He leered down at me and winked as he squeezed my waist. I felt a sudden rise of panic. I could not move, I could not get away and when I tried to tell him to let go, he feigned ignorance on the basis that he could not hear what I was saying. I was sure he had got the message, but was choosing to ignore it. I did not know what to do, but then I saw Jon squeezing through a small gap in the ranks behind ‘large sweaty guy’. Jon tapped him on the shoulder and shouted something in his ear. The oaf did not look too happy but after a moment he released me. I smiled my thanks to Jon and he grinned. He put his mouth to my ear, “Sorry, I got separated from you in the crowd.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” I remonstrated with a grin.

He smiled and nodded and this time the arms around my waist were a lot more acceptable than before. We bounced and jumped our way through the remainder of the set and several encores. When finally the concert was over, I just stood there exhausted, Jon’s arms still around my waist. I had that strange post-concert feeling where the silence is almost too deafening to bear. My ears and head were ringing, and my clothes were wringing. With mostly my own perspiration I hoped.

“Enjoy that?” Jon said in my ear.

I leant back and grinned, “Awesome.”

He put an arm around my tired shoulders and we headed out.

“Ewww,” I protested once we got outside, “I feel dirty and disgusting.”

Jon regarded me and winked, “That about sums it up.”

I poked him in the stomach, “Hey, that’s not nice.”

He laughed, “What? You want me to go and get your boyfriend from earlier? I’m sure he’d only be too happy to take you home.”

I shivered, “Ugh, no thanks.”
 
 
On the way home in the car, we did our pseudo-pretentious evaluation of the band’s performance and I let Jon do his talking about the technical aspects of the sound and set up. I got out of the car back at Jools’ and said, “Thanks for the ride and thanks for coming with me.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he grinned.

“We should do this again sometime,” I said without thinking.

His face fell, “Err well yeah.”

I realised I had said something wrong, but was not quite sure what. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged and laughed, “Look, let’s just say Tanya was not overly enamoured with me going with you tonight.”

I frowned, “Because you had to change your plans? I’m sure you’ll make it up to her.”

“No, it’s not just that…,” he sighed and grinned, “Never mind. I’ll see you in the studio next week. Night Cara.”
 

*          *          *
 
It was a gloriously sunny weekend and Jools and I unashamedly lazed around for most of it. She had balcony doors that opened onto the flat roof of her back office below and we did more than our fair share of sun worshipping. At first I felt self-conscious wearing the bikini that she had insisted that I buy. It was black and although it had generous bottoms (to help cover my ‘insurance belt’), the top was fairly skimpy.

“Oh come on,” she protested, “It’s not like anyone is going to see it.” She grinned wickedly, “Well except old pervy Mr. Harkins on the fourth floor of those buildings.” She shrugged casually, “But hey, got to give him something to stare at through his binoculars.”

I was not sure if she was kidding and did not want to ask. However, I managed to overcome my reservations and enjoyed languidly relaxing as our music blared and we read our magazines. It was a welcome oasis in the busyness of the past few weeks.

Sunday evening brought its usual tension as we listened to the radio. I was calmer this week. We had already made it to number two so in a sense the pressure was off. Neither of us talked about the next possibility…I could barely even think about it. It was not to be, however, as the countdown confirmed our second week at number two. There was a stalemate at the top of the chart.

“Maybe next week?” Jools said encouragingly.

I shook my head, “I doubt it. Statistically any song that hits number two and doesn’t get to number one the next week, isn’t going to get there at all.” I didn’t mind, I was happy and proud.
 

*          *          *
 
“Ah what sweet relief to once again rest our eyes upon the visage that brings inner joy and meaning to our erstwhile meaningless existences. Wouldn’t you agree, Tom?”

“Without a doubt, Steve, yon fair maiden is but like the mirage of the oasis in the metaphorical desert that has been our subsistence these recent weeks.”

I laughed, “Glad to see you guys haven’t been taking the time to improve your sense of humour in my absence…”

I had them hooked as Steve replied, “And pray tell why not?”

I winked, “Because it’s not your humour I need you for — it is your technical and audio skills and I’d hate to see the latter suffer in a vain pursuit of the former.”

Tom kept a straight face and turned to Steve as he quirked an eyebrow, “And I thought it was our bodies she needed us for.”

Steve sighed and with a deadpan expression said through clenched teeth, “You know it and I know it; she just hasn’t realised it yet.”

I laughed and was trying to think of some vaguely witty riposte when the arrival of Brian and Kevin interrupted us.

“Bloody hell,” Kevin swore, “I hate lugging these drums around. With a number two record you’d think we would have roadies by now.”

Brian dryly replied, “Bet you wish you had taken up the harmonica instead of the drums eh?” He wrestled his large bass amplifier on into the studio and held the door open for Kevin with his cumbersome burden. Noel arrived shortly afterwards and brought his stuff into the studio to begin getting set up. It was a while before Jon came wandering in.

“You’re late,” I teased.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned at me, “You’re surprised?”

I laughed and helped him get his effects racks set up. I was not suddenly overcome with an altruistic desire to perform so technical a task. Rather it was something to distract me from the disquieting reaction that I had to his joking and smiling at me. It was like an inner blush if that makes any sense. I did not think I was blushing on the surface, but it sure felt like that inside me. I do not think he noticed though.
 

*          *          *
 
I groaned, “You mean we have to go through all that again?”

Tom replied, “Well it won’t be just as bad, but we have to make sure we get the sound and settings right before we do any recording.”

I sighed and envisaged a repeat of the two-day technical soundfest that the guys had indulged in when we had first arrived at Air Studios.

Steve tried to reassure me, “It shouldn’t take anywhere near as long as before. Tom jotted down all the settings the first time so we should be ready to go before you know it. Right Tom?”

Tom feigned anxiety and began patting his pockets, “Yes I’m sure my notepad is here somewhere.”
 
 
I retired to the artist’s lounge after an hour. They were twiddling and changing to their hearts’ content. I took the opportunity to drag Laura away from her duties and have a good chat over coffee and doughnuts. To be fair to the guys though, shortly after lunch the sound was deemed good enough for recording to begin.

We began to work on ‘I Just Wanna Be Me’. It all went relatively smoothly and by the end of the day the drum, bass and keyboard tracks were all done. Steve felt that the song needed something more and wondered what I would think about adding a brass trio to it. When I thought about it, it was a great idea. It would give the song a little more punch. I was really appreciating the consideration that Steve had brought to the whole process. He wasn’t just there to get the songs recorded and finished with; he was sincerely interested in making each song sound as good as it could be. He and Tom worked well together. Tom had the depth of technical knowledge to bring Steve’s ideas to life.
 
 
I spent Wednesday evening feverishly beavering away on my keyboard to sort out the parts for the brass ensemble. When we arrived on Thursday morning, Steve had already tracked down three session brass players and I talked them through the song and showed them their parts. I was happy to accept the modifications they had suggested after they had played through their parts. Especially as it sounded a lot better with their suggestions included. Musicians generally know their own instruments better than anyone else does. It didn’t take long to get their parts recorded and it certainly did bring a greater depth to the song.

Jon was up next and he did his thing without too much fuss and so it was that shortly after lunch, it was over to me for the vocals. We were keen to get the song finished that day as that would give us Friday to do the song I had written down at Silsbury Manor. It was anticipated that we would be wrapped up and finished in the studio at the end of the week. Jools had seemed especially keen to find out if that would be the case. She was planning something, but refused to admit it.

Sometimes the more pressing it is for you to get something done, the harder it is. Sod’s Law. I just couldn’t get it right. The words and the notes were fine, but it was the mood of the vocals that wasn’t right. It wasn’t just my perfectionist urges. Even Steve knew that I hadn’t clicked with it yet. All the guys sat in the control room as we listened to my latest effort. I sighed and rubbed my eyes, “No. Still not right. What is it?” I thought to myself, “This song has to be almost tongue in cheek, it is supposed to be a little brash, it’s supposed to be fun. Yet I’m making it sound like a dirge.”

Kevin clicked his fingers and bounced up and down on his stool, “I’ve got an idea.”

“What? I’ll try anything,” I replied.

He grinned, “You go back in there and do it again, I’ll try my idea and see if makes a difference.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t sure what he was up to, but I noticed him talking animatedly to the other guys when I was safely ensconced in my soundproof booth. There was a lot of grinning and nodding and then they stood up from their huddle and spoke to Steve. He smiled and shrugged and then keyed his mike, “OK Cara, ready to give it a whirl? Just go with it OK?”

I shrugged, “Sure, let’s do it.”
 
 
As I started to sing, Kevin, Brian, Jon and Noel lined themselves up in front of the window of my booth and each had a microphone in their hands. They were miming along and making faces, posing and strutting around. I knew they were taking the Mickey out of me but as I watched and sang, I couldn’t help but be amused. I was smiling and almost on the edge of laughter as I sang away with all my might. I worked out what they were up to. They were trying to make me sound more light-hearted, more natural and relaxed. When we listened to the playback, I applauded them. It had worked. They had managed to bring out of me the exact vocal feel that I was wanting.

“I’m impressed guys, nice performance,” I laughed.
 

*          *          *
 
“Alright Jools, what are you scheming?”

She looked like she was going to give me the innocent look, but gave up and grinned. “OK, so are you going to be finished tomorrow? I hope you are or I’ll have some cancellation fee to pay.”

“Huh?”

“Party!” she squealed.

“Party?” I asked.

She nodded vigorously, “Party. An end of recording party.”

I smiled, “Sounds like a good idea. So what are the details then?”

Jools did not do things by halves. She had booked a hotel in Kent. Not just any hotel, but a five star, country manor house hotel. She had preliminary bookings on a few dozen rooms. I had asked who all was going to this party. She was being very inclusive with her invites: the band, the studio staff, folks from Sony, and any partners that wished to come. I thought it was a little short notice, but Jools got on the phone and did her sales talk thing on anyone who seemed the slightest bit hesitant about going.

When she was finished, she grinned triumphantly, “And you doubted me?”

I laughed, “Never. You are Jools of Borg and resistance is futile. So anyone not being assimilated, err I mean not coming?”

She grinned and shrugged, “I think everyone is signed up. Jon hummed and hawed a little as it seems he had promised to take Tanya to Paris for the weekend.”

I raised an eyebrow, “And he’s cancelling that?”

She shook her head, “I talked him into bringing Tanya tomorrow night and postponing their departure until Saturday. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

I winced a little, “I hope not.”
 

*          *          *
 
“Are you sure you are able to do this,” Jon murmured to me, having taken me aside shortly after I arrived at the studio the next morning.

I nodded slowly, “Yes, I think so. That is, if you think we should do this song.”

“It’s really up to you. If you are asking if I think the song is good enough, well heck yes, of course we should do it.”

I nodded thoughtfully again and said, “Well then, let’s do it.”

We joined the others in the studio. I felt like I had to say something about the song before we tried it. I got the guys’ attention and spoke hesitantly, “This song is not an easy song. It’s called ‘Waiting in Heaven’. It wasn’t easy to write and I don’t imagine I’ll ever find it easy to sing.” I paused, “But it’s a song I feel I have to sing. I’m sure you all will have a fair idea what I mean…” My voice trailed off and I did not really have anything else to say.

Jon stepped in and gently suggested, “Do you want to play through it for us so we can try to pick it up?”

I nodded and went to the piano, “It’s in G.” I started to play and 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…”

 
 
I felt as if there was a weight pressing down on me, but I managed to continue to work my way through the song to the end. The guys had had some difficulty in keeping up with the juxtaposition of traditional hymn verses and my contemporary ones, but by the end of the song, they had sort of grasped the basic idea.

Jon said, “OK, look do you want to take a breather and let us work on it and see what ideas we can come up with?”

I gratefully accepted and Laura seemed to appear from nowhere and join me for a little walk and a breath of fresh air. I knew that everyone was tiptoeing around me, but I was actually quite grateful. After half an hour, I made my way back into the studio.

Steve smiled as I entered, “I think they are basically done. Go on in and hear what they’ve got so far.”

They played through the song. Noel had gone for a wispy almost choir-like pad on the keyboard and Brian kept a gentle bass line rolling on his acoustic bass. Kevin added a subtle rhythm using brushes rather than sticks and Jon had his acoustic guitar and was doing near-classical finger picking. It sounded peaceful yet melancholic, gentle yet pensive. I liked it and told them so. I especially liked the way they dropped the instrumental right at the last line, waiting for the vocal to finish.

Steve had joined us, “OK folks, how do you want to record this?” Before waiting for an answer, he confirmed that the question had been somewhat rhetorical. “My thinking is,” he went on, “that we should try this one live. Tell you what, play it through a few times without the vocals and let us get the levels sorted.”

We did as he suggested and after several runs through, both we and he were ready. I took a deep breath and steeled myself to give this what it needed. I injected the sense of deep longing that the initial part of the song called for and as it was heading to the climax at the end I tried to turn that into a sense of anticipated joy.

“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.”

The music stopped and with great emotion I sang, “Heaven is to be with you again — so save a place for me.”

The red light went off and I felt myself quiver. Steve gave a big thumbs up through the window. In a shaky voice I asked Steve, “Definitely OK? Do we have to do anything over?”

“Sounds great,” he assured me.

I was glad as I was not sure I could manage having to do several takes of this song. I think Brian noticed that I was somewhat ill at ease. He rested a hand on my shoulder, “You OK?”

I patted his hand and nodded, “I’m OK. Takes a lot out of me.”

He squeezed my shoulder, “You did good. Not just today. All of it.”

I smiled, “Thanks. We did good.” I realised that we were indeed finished. Although the feeling of completion was a good one, it was tinged with a sense of regret. Steve and Tom had come in and I stood up and joined the group, “So Steve, Tom — am I never going to see you again?” I was being a little over dramatic.

Steve laughed, “Sure you will. Tonight at the party and I hope you’ll save a dance for me…or I dunno, maybe the master copy of your album might you know mysteriously disappear.”

I laughed, “Of course I will. Now remember gents, Jools says that dinner is at eight sharp and it is smart dress. She says that anyone who does not know what smart dress is will be summarily forced to join her on a last minute shopping expedition.” There were looks of what might have been terror on some of their faces and I laughed, “So anyone got any problems with that?”

“No ma’am,” they chorused.

“See you there then.”
 

*          *          *
 
“So what are you going to wear tonight?” Jools asked when I got back to her place.

I shrugged, “I dunno, my black formal dress I guess.”

Jools grinned and shook her head, “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

She took my hand and led me to my room. There was a large box on the bed and a note on top of it. “What’s this?” I asked suspiciously.

“Read it and see for yourself.”

I took the note and read it. “My dearest Cara, it pains me to the bottom of my soul that I will not be able to join you in your celebrations tonight. Heaven knows I love a good party as well as the next man…especially if the next man happens to be cute! Nonetheless, to help you to perhaps think of me during your happiness this evening, I thought I would give you this little gift. I think you will appreciate it. Your dearest Herby.” I chuckled. I then with growing curiosity, opened the large flat box and gasped. It was the silver ball gown that I had worn in the video for ‘Not Dancing, but Flying’. I lifted it out and held it to myself as I smiled.

“You like?” Jools asked.

“Oh yes,” I replied with feeling. I murmured, “I really did love this dress.”

Jools grinned, “I think a fair few of the guys loved it too.”

I laughed and nodded, “What’s not to love?”
 

*          *          *
 
Jools had driven us down to the hotel in good time so that we could check in and avail ourselves of some well-deserved pampering. After each enjoying a good soak in the baths of our respective rooms, we treated ourselves to facials and makeovers in the horrendously expensive beauty salon within the hotel. In the end, we just about had enough time to scamper back to our rooms and get dressed. I revelled in the satin folds of my dress as I pinned my hair up. A sharp knocking at the door disturbed me.

Jools shouted through the door, “Come on Cinders, you must go to the ball.”

I opened the door and grinned at her. “Hey you look great, Jools.”

She laughed and waved me off, “Yeah sure.” She changed the subject, “So I bet you were standing admiring yourself in the mirror when I knocked, eh?”

“I err…,” my expression gave me away and she giggled.

“You know Cara my dear, you are so feminine you put me to shame.”

She darted just out of the reach of my hands, which were grabbing for her with intentions to tickle the life out of her. Had I not been balancing myself on five-inch heels, I would have considered giving chase. As it was I let her have her little victory and we gracefully descended the main stairs to the function room that Jools had booked for dinner.

She had told everyone eight o’clock sharp, but had informed me that it did not apply to us. We entered at twenty minutes past the appointed hour. There was quite a crowd already present and although I knew a fair proportion and recognised some others, a substantial number of faces did not seem familiar at all. Our entry was noticed and a round of applause ensued. I felt mortified. Jools did not help.

“Curtsey, would you?” she hissed. I flashed her an ‘are you out of your mind’ look but she just nodded and hissed again, “Go on!” So I obliged and performed an elaborate curtsey for the crowd, which brought a large cheer. My face was flushed as I tried to mingle my way into the crowd and achieve a degree of anonymity. Easier said than done.

Every person that I knew stopped me and congratulated me on the completion of the album and introduced me to more people that I did not know. I tried to smile and be polite, but I thought it was all a little over the top. I mean, the way they were behaving you would have thought the album had already topped the chart or something. A glass of white wine appeared in my hand as if from nowhere and I continued to do the meet and greet thing. I suppose it was expected of me as the nominal host for the evening. Truth be told, I was quite touched by the number of people who had turned out: I estimated there to be around fifty, if not more. However, I was actually quite relieved when a gong sounded to indicate that we should take our seats for dinner.
 

*          *          *
 
The meal was top notch. I had been dreading that the seating arrangements would have been of the sort that tried to mix people together who did not really know one another. Thankfully it was not like that at all: at our table were Jools, myself, Jon and Tanya, Brian and Laura, Kevin, Noel, Simon Andrews and his date, Helen. Jon had also invited his cousin, Charlie and he was seated beside me. Charlie apparently was a transatlantic commercial airline pilot and was enjoying a brief layover in the UK. Jon had been keen to spend some time with him and given that he and Tanya were heading to Paris the next morning, he had asked Jools if he could bring Charlie along. It was the more the merrier as far as Jools was concerned. Spirits were high and the conversation was light-hearted and enjoyable.

After what Jon had implied recently, I was a little worried about my interactions with Tanya. She did not seem just as friendly as she had the first time I had met her, but then again, perhaps she was just a little overwhelmed by the occasion. I soon realised that, in contrast, Jon’s cousin was not overwhelmed in the slightest. Tanya and Jon were sitting on the other side of him. He leaned conspiratorially over to Jon and in a voice that he knew I could hear said, “So this is the blind date you brought me here for Jon?” He was indicating in my direction. Jon looked a bit thrown by the statement.

I just laughed and nudged Charlie, “You should be so lucky.”

He flashed me a grin, “What can I say, I’m a lucky guy.” He was a little smaller than Jon and had blond hair with a tanned complexion. Although he had a cheeky sense of humour, he was polite and courteous and certainly capable of making good dinner conversation. When our sumptuous feast was finally over, the staff cleared the tables and a D.J. began to play some music.

“Want to dance?” Charlie asked. “I mean if we are blind dates, surely we should dance together.”

I laughed, “You don’t give up do you?”

He grinned, “Not when the lady is as lovely as you are.”

I began to flush but tried to recover, “Oh so you know plenty of ladies that are as lovely as you allege I am?”

He smiled, “Actually I don’t think I’ve come across any.” This time there was no wink or cheeky smile accompanying his words. This time, I did not have a comeback and was quite taken aback. He seemed amused by how disconcerted I was, “Speechless? Come on, let’s dance.”

He took my hand and led me to the floor where a growing number of people were beginning to dance. Thankfully Jools had insisted that the music be kept somewhere below the deafening level of decibels normally encountered on such occasions. “So you’re an airline pilot?” I asked. “Sounds very exciting and glamorous.”

He chuckled, “Not really. The majority of the job is pretty mundane. And you don’t really want it to be exciting. Exciting usually equates with problems — and that’s not what you want when you have five hundred people sitting behind you with their lives in your hands.”

I nodded and mused, “I wanted to be a pilot when I was a little kid.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Really? Not the usual ballet dancer or nurse or something?”

I realised that I had maybe been a little indiscreet in sharing that memory but it was easily covered over, “Hey, don’t be sexist. Are there no female pilots then?”

He laughed, “Oh there are. More and more. I’m glad you didn’t become a pilot.”

“Why?” I asked suspiciously.

He chuckled again, “Because I would hate to have you sitting beside me as my co-pilot.”

“Why?” I asked this time with a degree of indignation.

“Because when I’m flying I need to keep all concentration on the job at hand, and having you beside me would be just too distracting.”

I felt flustered and a strange mixture of discomfort and yet pleasure at his words. I smiled, “Thanks, I think.”

“Anyway,” he continued, “think of the loss to the world of music if you had become a pilot.”

“You’ve heard my music?” I asked with more curiosity in my voice than I would have liked.

He nodded, “Oh yes, Jon has kept me up to date with all that has been going on. I have to say though I am delighted to finally meet you. I kept plugging him for details on what this girl Cara Malone was like. It was hard to get him to say much. I suspected he was just trying to keep you for himself, but it seems I was just being overly paranoid.”

I smiled, “Jon and I are good friends. We go way back. The way I interpret it, he was just trying to protect me from his flirtatious cousin.”

Charlie laughed at that. “Oh this is not flirting. Flirting implies something light and not serious at all.”

“I’m not sure I want to ask what it is then.”

He shrugged and gave the cheeky grin, “I’m just enjoying the company of an intelligent charming woman. And what are you doing then?”

“Well I’m certainly not flirting!” I protested.

“Oh no?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I’m just being the hospitable host that I should be.”

He sighed theatrically, “So I’m just another nonentity in the midst of the social tedium that superstars like you have to endure.”

I giggled, “At least you’re an attractive nonentity…” I stopped and winced, “Did I say that out loud?”

He grinned, “Yeah but if you want to try again, I think one of the waiters at the back of the hall didn’t catch it the first time.”

I gave him a gentle slap on the arm and looked at him with bemusement, not quite knowing what to say. In the end we both just laughed. We danced some more and before long, we were interrupted as I realised that it seemed that others wished to dance with me. So began a long list of seemingly unending willing dance partners. I danced with Simon, who was actually quite proficient on the dance floor and I also made sure I gave Steve and Tom their promised dances. There were a number of people whom I did not really know and it was an effort to do the same polite conversation thing over and over again. It was also an effort to continually have to accept their compliments and praise. I’m sure they were being sincere, but when people said the same things over and over again, it was hard not to doubt. At the end of the next song, Kevin tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “May I?”

“Oh yes, thank God,” I murmured.

He laughed, “What?”

I grinned, “I’m just fed up with dancing with strangers. It’s nice to see a familiar face.”

Kevin was not a brilliant dancer, but I did not really care. “Having a good time?” I asked.

He nodded enthusiastically, “Oh yes, fantastic party. Totally class.”

At the end of the song, I sighed, “Want to take a break? I’m bushed and my feet are killing me.”

“Sure,” he said and he grabbed some drinks as we made our way to the edge of the room to sit.

We chuckled as we watched Brian and Laura make sweet faces to each other as they danced around together. Jon and Tanya were also doing something similar. I sighed, “Seems everyone is getting fixed up left, right and centre. What about you Kevin? Has your rock’n’roll drummer star status done wonders for you?”

He laughed nervously, “No, not quite.” After a moment he said, “Look Cara, I mean, like I was just wondering…” he hesitated and bounced up and down on his seat a little, “I mean it’s probably unlikely, but you know, I just wanted to make sure…” Another pause, “I mean do you think, would there be any chance…you know…of you and I…?”

I turned to him, smiled gently and softly said, “I don’t really think so Kevin…”

He nodded up and down and hurriedly said, “Yeah, I mean that’s what I thought, but I just thought I’d better check you know.”

I laughed and gave him a hug, “You’re a dear. I guess we’ll get sorted some day.”
 

*          *          *
 
When the D.J. was taking a break, most people took the opportunity to indulge in a little liquid refreshment and I happened to notice Noel getting into the spirit of things in that regard. I was distracted by a voice over the P.A. system.

“Excuse me ladies and gentlemen.” It was Simon and he had grabbed a microphone. “I would just like to say a few words.”

There was a chorus of jovial boos and a few jeers, but Simon was not put off his stride, “Now, now, just a few words. Firstly I’m sure we’re all enjoying ourselves tonight,” a chorus of approval, “and I’d like to thank the organiser-extraordinaire who arranged this all for you, the delightful and terrifying Ms. Julie Carstairs.”

I laughed and we all cheered and applauded. Jools got up and gave a formal bow.

Simon continued, “But also, I want to say a few words about the reason why we are here.” I fidgeted a little in my seat, “I heard a demo tape of a young female singer last November and I was haunted by her stirring voice and enchanting tones. Before I met her, I was praying that she would not be, how do I say it with political correctness, I hoped she would not be ‘cosmetically challenged’.”

The audience roared with laughter and I felt myself beginning to redden a little. “Well you know, it would have made my job more difficult. Thankfully my fears were unfounded as when I met this nervous young girl, I found it hard to decide which was more beautiful: her voice or her appearance.” People were looking over at me and grinning and I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me, but he was not done yet. “It has been a privilege for me to have been a part of bringing this talented young woman into the public eye and I’d like to invite you to join me in toasting the continued and future success of Cara Malone.”

They all stood and clinked glasses and I felt like I would wilt under all the eyes that looked my direction. Worse was to come as the call went around, “Speech!”

I shook my head, but Simon grinned and walked over to me, took me by the hand and helped me to my feet. He gave me the microphone and winked.

I sighed and when the noise had died down began hesitantly, “I don’t know what to say…I’d far rather sing into a microphone than try and make any sort of speech.” I paused and gave Simon a mock-irritated look, “Thank you Simon for your lovely words. Even if you have revealed your obvious intoxication tonight in the amount of exaggeration you spouted there.” A round of laughs. “Seriously folks, I’m not a speechmaker. I’m not the wonder woman that Simon tried to make out. I’m just fortunate to be able to do what I love to do with people that I want to be with. That’s you all. This night is not about me, it’s about us, so let’s enjoy ourselves. No more speeches I say, bring on the dancing again!” This met with widespread approval and a large round of applause as I gratefully returned the microphone to the D.J. and the music got back under way.
 
 
As time went on, I was beginning to get really tired and thought I would give up on the dancing. That was before Charlie asked me again. “I’m really tired,” I moaned.

“OK,” he said looking disappointed, “I just really wanted to have another chance to dance with you before the night was over. To remind myself it wasn’t a dream.”

He looked so forlorn that I laughed. “You’re just trying to make me feel sorry for you, aren’t you?”

He grinned, “Is it working?”

I chuckled, “All right, but this is the last dancing I am doing.”

It was a slower dance and he held me gently around the waist and I tentatively put my arms around his neck. We danced and he did not say anything. After some time, I felt I had to say something, “So, what happened to the eloquent gentleman I was dancing with earlier? Who are you and what have you done with him?”

He laughed and shook his head, “I’m just enjoying the moment.” He paused, “I think I’m going to have to take my cousin to task. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me more about you.”

“Charlie, please.”

“No, I mean it. Look I can be frivolous and I enjoy a good bit of banter, but I can also be serious. Can I go on?”

I sighed and smiled, “I guess.”

“I’m not going to deny that you are a very attractive woman, but it’s not just that. You must get that all the time.” He actually looked a little ill at ease, “It’s just that I’ve enjoyed your company and…” He chuckled, “Damn, I don’t usually have any problem with this…”

“With what?”

He sighed, “What I’m trying to say is, I’d really like to see you again. And before you put up your defences because I’m sure you get a lot of guys coming on to you, I’m not going to pressure you or anything. All I want to ask is if you will take my card and maybe think about giving me a call sometime. I’m not going to pester you or anything, but I’d love to see you again.”

I blinked a few times and smiled awkwardly, “OK, I’ll take your card, but things are pretty hectic in my life at the moment, so I’m not promising anything.”

He smiled and as the song finished, he produced a card and pressed it into my hand, “I’m so glad I came tonight.”

I paused and grinned, “I’m glad you came too.”
 

*          *          *
 
As the party began to break up, Jools and I headed back upstairs. She insisted on coming into my room. “Jools,” I whined, “I’m tired and I want to go to bed.”

She giggled, “Nonsense, you’re young and so is the night. Besides…,” she pointed to an ice bucket containing a bottle in the corner of the room.

“What’s that?” I said and went to investigate. “Champagne?”

She giggled again, “I thought we could have one last little celebration and catch up on the evening’s goings on.”

I sighed and smiled, “All right.”

Jools took the bottle and tried in vain to get the top off. Eventually she managed to pop it and the champagne began to fizz out. We both laughed and she filled our glasses. We chatted and giggled together. She was angling for details on Charlie, but I tried to fob her off.

“So you’re saying he wasn’t interested.”

I sighed, “Well yes, I think he was interested.”

“So were you interested?”

I shrugged noncommittally, “I hardly know him. He seems like a nice guy though.”

“Going to see him again?” she pressed.

I thought for a moment and spoke quietly, “I don’t know. Perhaps. But not right now.” My mind drifted to other things and I think Jools had a right idea of what I meant. Or who I meant.

She grinned slyly, “You do know who I placed in the room beside you don’t you?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know what you think you are trying to do. I think the old saying that ‘two’s company, three’s a crowd’ is applicable here.” She just shrugged. After a few glasses of champagne and more giggling, I decided it was time for bed. “You have to go now,” I demanded as I tried to keep a straight face. “It’s two a.m. and I’m exhausted.” She finally relented and did not look too steady as she made her way back to her own room.

I shimmied out of my dress and hung it up. I shivered a little and pulled on the fluffy towelling robe as I removed my makeup. There was a knock at the door and I sighed. I walked over and opened it saying, “Jools, I said I want to go to bed…” It wasn’t Jools though.

“Uhh hi Cara,” Noel said.

Self-consciously I pulled my robe a little tighter around me. “Noel? What do you want?”

“I err…can I come in for a minute?”

My mind was trying to process this as he walked past me. “Noel, it’s late and I need to go to bed, what’s going on? I think you should go.”

He gently but firmly took the door from my hand and closed it. “I just want to talk for a moment,” he said.

I was beginning to feel more and more uneasy, “Noel, let’s talk tomorrow. We can meet up for breakfast or something.”

He shook his head, “Can’t wait any longer.”

“What is it?”

He just looked at me and raised his hand and stroked my cheek. I flinched and pulled myself away, “What are you doing?”

He gave a lop-sided smile, “You look so beautiful.”

“Noel, please. What on earth is going on?”

He nodded, “OK. I just think it’s time you and I got together.”

I stared at him wide-eyed, “What the hell are you talking about?”

His voice took on a harder tone, “Oh don’t give me that. Don’t you think I haven’t noticed? The way you smile, those ‘come on’ eyes of yours…”

I interrupted and my voice sounded shaky, “Noel, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about. I think you must be mistaken.”

He shook his head and put a hand on my arm, “I’m not mistaken. I’ve had to watch you shake that fine ass of yours in front of me for months now and I’ve decided it’s time I got some of it.”

My heart was pounding and I felt the fear as if it was a cold hand on the back of my neck, “Noel, please. I want you to leave. Now!”

He gripped my wrist firmly and said, “I know you want it. Playing your little teasing game again?”

“I’m not playing any game. Please let go of me!”

He shook his head and leered, “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

I could smell the alcohol off his breath, “Please Noel, you’re drunk, you don’t know what you are doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” he said and grabbed me, pulled me close and forced a kiss onto my lips.”

I pushed him away and slapped him hard across the face. “Get off me,” I screamed.

He held a hand to his reddened cheek and growled, “Bitch!” He raised his hand and cuffed me on the side of my face. I gasped as tears stung my eyes. “Please Noel,” I sobbed, “stop it! Are you out of your mind?”

He gave a hollow laugh and dragged me further into the room. I tried to resist, but I was no match for his strength. I began to panic and I realised that he had no intention of stopping. The thought of whatever he was planning chilled me and I screamed out, “Help, someone please help….” My cry was cut short as he slapped me hard again on the same cheek.

“Shut your face bitch. You’ve been asking for this and I’m going to give you what you need.” He viciously ripped my bathrobe open and pulled it off me. I tried to resist but I found whatever strength I had seemed to be fading. I did not know if I was sort of paralysed by fear or something, but I could hardly bring my muscles to act.

He leered appreciatively as he looked at me in my bra and panties. I felt like I was going to throw up and he reached up to my bra. “No,” I croaked and raised a hand to stop him. He swatted it out of the way and violently snapped my bra open and pulled it off. I raised my hands automatically to cover myself but he pulled them down.

“Oh god no, please Noel stop it, please stop it,” I sobbed.

My stomach churned as I felt his hand touch my breasts and squeeze them. His breathing was heavier and he smiled a nasty smile, “Oh yes, this is what we’ve been wanting.”

I found it hard to breathe and I opened my mouth to scream again, but he clamped one hand over it and with the other hand, reached down to pull off my panties. He practically ripped them from my body and then stood back, “What the f-,” he swore. He slapped me again and suddenly seemed to be in a rage as he shouted, “What the hell is that?” He was pointing to my chastity belt. I was thankful that I had continued to wear it when I was out and about.

“It’s to stop psychos like you,” I screamed at him.

He grabbed me by the hair and pulled hard. He laughed, “Oh it’s not going to stop me. If one door is closed, I’ll just have to open another one.” He spun me round and pushed me face down on the bed.

I felt sick to the pit of my stomach as I realised what he was planning. I heard his zipper going down and in a frantic panic I screamed and screamed, “Help, help! Please, someone help me!!” He savagely rammed my face into the bedding, smothering my screams until I could barely breathe. I thought I was going to pass out and I felt as if I wanted to die when suddenly I heard hammering at the door.

“Cara? Are you alright? Are you in there?”

“Shit!” Noel cursed and pulled me to my feet and clamped his hand across my mouth again. I felt a surge of strength and I sank my teeth deeply into his hand. I refused to let go and bit harder and harder. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed and pulled his hand away before hitting me hard again across the mouth.

I could taste blood in my mouth and did not know if it was mine or his. “Help! Please, help me!” I screamed again before he put an arm across my throat and pulled it tight.

“Shut up you dumb bitch,” he hissed. The knocking had stopped and I felt my heart sink thinking that whoever it was had not heard and had left.

Suddenly there was a splintering sound and the door crashed open. Jon burst into the room in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. He looked with incredulity at the scene before him.

“What the HELL do you think you are doing?” he shouted to Noel.

Noel tightened his arm across my throat and shouted back, “Stay out of it man, it’s none of your business. You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t care for her.”

Jon’s eyes went wide and his nostrils flared. He snarled, “The hell I don’t!” and began to advance towards us. Noel cursed again and released his grip on my throat and threw me to the floor. The last thing I remember was my head crashing against the side of the coffee table before darkness enveloped me.

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