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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 Sunday, November 02, 2003 - 02:48 pm. 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 39
 
 
Our first gig was in the Edinburgh Festival Theatre. We had all flown up early that morning on the British Airways shuttle from Heathrow. Simon had travelled the previous day to ensure that there were no major problems with the sound and lighting crews. We arrived at the theatre and met the respective heads of each team. We talked through the running order and what we were planning and it seemed that copious notes were being taken. I didn't think that what I was saying was that important, but I suppose the various crews had to know exactly what was going to happen.

After lunch, we did a sound check. We spent a lot of time making sure that we were all happy with the foldback we were getting. We played a bit of each song, as the sound settings obviously were different for each one. We were assured by the chief sound engineer that it would not take as long for subsequent gigs as he would have a record of the settings each of us desired for all our songs. It was nice not to have to worry about such seemingly mundane yet vitally important things. I had enough on my mind. As the hours rolled by and the performance neared, I began to get more and more nervous. It must have showed.

"You OK?" Jon asked as we travelled in the back of one of the cars that Simon had hired to take us back to our hotel.

"Huh?" I replied intelligently.

He pointed at my hands. "You're fidgeting like mad."

I looked down at my hands and then looked up and smiled. "Yes, I guess I am." I sighed. "I'm actually really nervous."

He smiled. "Me too."

"You are? Mr. Cool Guitar Hero?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "That's how I hope it appears on the outside. Inside? I'm coming apart at the seams."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. We'll be fine, won't we?"

He nodded. "Sure we will. We're well prepared, we're ready and we're damn good."

I grinned. "Let's hope the audience agrees." I paused and wrinkled my brow. "I think the difference is that this time they are coming to see us. That is their sole reason for coming. Any time that we've played before, it wasn't as if we were the be all and end all. If that makes any sense."

He nodded. "I know what you mean. At least there's something I can take comfort in…"

"What?"

He winked. "They're coming to see the great Cara Malone; after all it's her name on the tickets."

I slapped him lightly on the arm. "Hey, not fair. I thought I was forgiven for all that."

He shrugged. "Doesn't mean I won't tease you about it."

I changed the subject. "So tell me about this new girlfriend of yours. I haven't met her or heard anything about her. I'm starting to think she's a figment of your overactive imagination."

He grinned and looked a little self-conscious. "What's to tell?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have to ask."

"Well… she's called Simone…"

"Classy," I interjected. Probably not her real name, I thought and then realised my hypocrisy in thinking that.

"…she's a model…"

"Impressive." Damn!

"Do you want me to tell you about her or not?" he said with mock irritation.

I laughed. "Go ahead, no more interruptions."

He nodded. "I should think not. Anyway, where was I? We met at a party a few weeks back and she sort of… came on to me."

I giggled. "Well it is the 21st century." Pushy trollop, I thought.

He shrugged. "I'm not going to complain about girls throwing themselves at me. Of course, I'm used to it…"

"Sure you are, you stud."

"So we've been seeing each other for a few weeks."

"What's she like?" I probed.

"She's tall, like really tall with long long legs. Waist-length blond hair, very pretty."

"She sounds gorgeous," I said. I disliked her already, but kept a smile on my face. "So when do I get to meet her?"

"She says she'll come along to one of our gigs."

"What does she model?"

Jon looked a little uncomfortable and hesitated before answering. "Err… she's a lingerie model."

I laughed and then clapped a hand to my mouth. I could hardly keep my mirth from showing. "A lingerie model? Every guy's dream! So tell me, did you order her off the pages of one of those catalogues that guys secretly look at while always pretending they never open them?"

"Hey," he replied indignantly, "We guys don't do that."

I raised an eyebrow, "I think I have inside knowledge."

He sighed and smiled. "Stop winding me up."

I did as he said, but only because we were pulling up outside our hotel. As we were shown to our respective rooms, I had a heavy-hearted feeling inside. Despite my outer façade of humour, I wasn't exactly jumping for joy over what I had learnt. Would I have felt happier if she had been a large hairy Eastern European female shot putter? Oh yes, most definitely. 'Bitch,' I thought. I wasn't sure if I was talking about Simone or myself. Probably both.
 

*          *          *
 
The concert was scheduled to start at eight p.m., but Simon had lined up a support act. The band was called 'Standstill' and I was introduced to them at the theatre. It was a strange sensation. Here I was, the supposed big star, when only six months previously I'd been an unknown yet they treated me as if I were something special. I tried to be normal and down to earth as I chatted to them. We talked about the usual things: their music, hopes, plans etc.

The concert had been billed as 'An hour with Cara Malone'. I was happy about that, as given that we only had one album's worth of songs, we weren't going to be able to offer the audience much more than that. I was also pleased when I heard that the tickets had been selling for eighteen pounds. I hated the rip-off prices that some groups charged for their concerts. In my opinion, few concerts were worth shelling out more than forty pounds for.

As the time approached eight, 'Standstill' went to make their final preparations and I headed for my dressing room. The guys had all been assigned individual dressing rooms for the first time ever, but I later learned that they actually didn't like that. Apparently, Brian and Jon paired up as did Kevin and Peter. They said it was too boring sitting in a room by themselves.

I suppose that was how it was for them. I was rarely alone for long. Jools was in and out all the time, her excitement growing by the minute. I had Gina with me to help me dress and to do my make up. I had specifically requested her for this mini-tour as I had got along with her so well during the video shoots. She was delighted to have been asked to help.

"So, what are you wearing?" she asked.

I grinned. "When in Scotland…" I held up a tartan kilt.

OK, it wasn't quite the traditional Scottish kilt. It was tartan and was pleated, but it was significantly shorter than a true Scotsman would feel happy with. It was a bright yellow and red tartan. I got dressed. I was wearing a matching yellow sleeveless roll neck top. Under the skirt, I wore black sheer stockings and then pulled on my knee length black leather boots.

"What do you think?" I asked Gina as I did a mini-twirl.

"Very sexy," she said appreciatively.

I blushed and smiled awkwardly. "Erm, thanks."

She grinned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

I shrugged. "No, I'm flattered thanks. You would tell me if you thought it didn't look good, wouldn't you?"

She smiled and nodded. "I promise. Now let's sort out your hair and face."

I sat down and let her get to work. She scraped the hair back from my face and braided it behind my head. The make up job was extensive and she kept reminding me that it was necessary to avoid looking like a ghost under the stage lights. My eyes looked smoky and my lips and cheeks were a matching red to my kilt.

"What do you think?" she asked when she was finished.

I smiled and winked. "Very sexy."

She giggled. "I agree. You'll be a knock out."

Jools burst in. "You ready yet?" She paused and looked at me before grinning. "I think that's a definite yes."

I grinned. "How are the little boys on stage doing?"

She shrugged. "They're not bad. With a bit of work, I might even agree to take them on as their agent."

We laughed.
 

*          *          *
 
When we eventually took to the stage, I was amazed at the noise that assaulted our eardrums. The crowd rose to their feet and were cheering wildly. As I looked into the darkened auditorium, it looked like a full house to me. Or as near as made no difference. I later learnt that it had almost been a sell out. I took the proffered guitar from one of the stage crew and walked to my microphone.

"Good evening, Edinburgh!" I shouted.

The crowd shouted back with even greater intensity.

I laughed. "It's great to start our little tour in a place so filled with Celtic passion. I'm not Scottish, but I do share Celtic blood so I hope you'll help us feel at home here with you tonight."

I turned and nodded to Kevin and he counted us in to 'No Half Measures'. The sound, certainly from where I was standing, was meaty and powerful. The adrenaline kicked in and I sang with gusto. The audience were still on their feet, and those that I could see seemed to be singing along.

After a few songs, I began to relax more and really enjoy myself. I had thought about different things that I might say to introduce some of the songs, but I found that I just went with what I felt at the time.

"I'm sure some of you have worked for hellish bosses at times or perhaps, ladies, you've come across a man who really thought he was 'it'." The cheers from the girls confirmed this. I laughed. "Well, this next song is dedicated to a onetime boss of mine and to lecherous men the world over: 'You Make My Skin Crawl'."

I took the microphone in my hand and used the width of the stage as I strutted along the front of it while singing. I gestured wildly, put a hand on my hip, inclined my head and tried to give the song the tongue-in-cheek feeling it needed.

After a few more songs, I slipped up onto the tall stool that had been placed on stage for me. Jon and Brian did likewise. "Have you ever been awake late at night and had that inner longing for a certain someone? Have you ever looked at the phone and felt it drawing you towards it. You know it's stupid and that they are probably asleep. You wish that they might be awake and thinking about you, but as much as you long for the courage, you can't bring yourself to lift the phone and simply say what you feel. If you know anything about that, then you'll know what this next song is about."

We moved into the mellow feel of 'Simply Say'. Jon played his jazzy sharp chords and Brian was playing his acoustic fretless bass. I smiled and sat there as I cradled the microphone in my hands and revelled in the placid richness of the song. It got a rapturous reception and we moved straight into 'Dreaming Your Life'.

At the end of the song, we had scheduled a long free solo alternating between Jon on the guitar and the saxophonist from the brass trio. This allowed me to slip off stage and rush back to my dressing room where Gina was waiting.

"My, you're dripping," she exclaimed.

"I know," I agreed ruefully.

I stripped off down to my underwear and Gina passed me a damp facecloth that I gratefully used to clean myself up a bit. I towelled off and got ready for my change of clothes. I was not a great believer in the multiple outfit changes of some female performers. Jools had reminded me that my ambivalence stemmed from my previous thinking as a male performer. For a guy, she had said, it wasn't relevant. So what if a male rock star drips with sweat and wears the same grimy clothes the whole tour. For a woman, it was different. I certainly appreciated the chance to get into fresh clothes.

I slipped on a short white-silvery dress. It had a slanted hemline that started just below the top of my thigh on the right and came to mid-thigh on the left. Up front, it was no less revealing.

"Goodness, I'm going to pop out of this," I murmured as I rearranged my breasts.

Gina giggled, "Nonsense, you've far too much up there for anything to pop out."

I laughed and flushed as I pulled on the knee-high white boots. Gina meanwhile was releasing my hair from the braids and brushing it out vigorously. She clipped it back behind my right ear and brought the hair from behind my head and draped it over the front of my left shoulder. She added lots of hairspray before she was happy with it. Next came a quick make up job. She took a large wipe and attacked my face to remove most of her earlier work. Then she touched up my foundation and added silvery eye shadow and a frosted pink lipstick.

We checked out my appearance. "Very nice," she murmured.

I grinned, thanked her and gave her a quick hug as I ran out the door. I took Gareth by surprise. He had been standing 'guard' outside my door. He quickly caught up with me and waited with me in the wings of the stage as the signal was passed to the guys to bring the previous song to an end.

"How do I look?" I asked breathlessly as I turned to him.

He looked at me and laughed. "I think the professional terms of our business arrangement prevent me from answering that honestly."

I grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You do that," he said with a laugh.

I strutted out onto the stage and the audience cheered wildly again. I sat up on my stool again and waited for the audience to settle. I raised a hand and before too long, there was as close to quiet as you could get in the theatre.

"As some of you may know, I lost my Mum earlier this year." I paused and swallowed. Now there was absolute silence in the hall. "This next song is not a cheap gag to get some mileage and sympathy out of what happened. If I ever thought that was how it appeared, I would never sing it again. It's a tribute to the most influential person in my life. The person I always relied on, the person who always loved me no matter what, even when she thought I wasn't doing the right thing." All eyes were on me and I looked to Jon briefly for reassurance. He smiled and nodded. "Losing her was like the sky falling in on my world. For a while, I didn't know where I was or what I was doing. What can you do when you lose someone so dear to you? The only thing you can do is have the faith that they are in a better place and that they are waiting for you and watching you." I looked upwards and murmured into the microphone, "Save a place for me, Mum."

The guys started and I did my best to keep myself together as I sang the song. It was an even more emotional task than when I had sung it in the recording studio. As I sang the final verse, the tears were unashamedly rolling down my face…
 
 

"Oh how I wish I could see you now, lifted beyond the stars  No more hurt, no more pain, almost too wonderful to be  Through my tears I steel myself, clinging to the edge of hope  Heaven is to be with you again — so save a place for me."

 
 
I wiped my eyes as the song finished and I smiled to the audience. "Thank you for letting me share that with you." The applause was deafening, there was no cheering or whistling, just applause.

'Forgotten How to Love' got an amazing response from the audience and again I could sense that a lot of them were singing along during the chorus. After 'I'm Coming Home' I thanked the audience and led the guys off stage. The cheers and shouts were unbelievable.

In the wings, Jon hugged me. "You were amazing."

"You were pretty good, yourself," I replied with a big smile.

I hugged each of them in turn and we waited to go back on for our encore. After a suitable period of time, we walked back out and the noise level increased in intensity.

"Thank you so much," I said into the microphone. "You have been by far the best audience we've played to on this tour." There was a loud peal of laughter. "No seriously, you've been very generous and it's been wonderful to share this evening with you. I'll always remember it. Truly it brings meaning to the feeling I tried to capture when writing the next song. This is 'Not Dancing, but Flying'."

This time there was no doubt about the audience participation. In the penultimate chorus, I motioned for the guys to drop the volume a bit. The voices of nigh on two thousand people could be heard singing along with me. The guys picked it up again for the final chorus and then dropped out completely as I sang the last few words with the crowd…
 
 

"And whenever I will think or dream of you,  We're not dancing, but flying."

 
 
"Thank you and goodnight Edinburgh."

We stood at the front of the stage and waved. I blew a kiss to the crowd and walked off arm-in-arm with Jon and Brian. We were rushed straight back down to the dressing rooms. They all piled into mine on a high.

"Awesome," Kevin said, "that was better than sex."

Brian laughed, "Like you would know!"

Kevin grinned, "Actually as it happens, have I mentioned my new girlfriend?"

Jon grinned, "That is something we will have to hear more about it. Man, though, how good was that?"

Peter's face was glowing, "I've never felt anything like that in all my life."

I grinned. "And you've lived a long time!"

He laughed and shrugged. "If I never experience that again… well I can still die a happy man."

Jools came bursting in and nearly bowled me over. "Bloody brilliant!"

I laughed. "So it came across alright?"

She stood there almost lost for words. She shook her head and smiled. "You had them eating out of your hand."

Simon was the next to invade my dressing room and he was effusive with his praise. I think he was more relieved that we hadn't bombed. This had been his venture and having stuck his neck out, he was glad his head was still attached to it.

After a while, I lifted my hand. "Alright, enough!" I got their attention and continued, "I'm exhausted and you're all in my dressing room. I'm going to strip off and get changed so you'd better clear out."

They all sat there and most of them had goofy grins on their faces. I tried to keep a straight face but it cracked into a smile and then I laughed. "Oh go on, get out of here before I have to get Gareth in here to knock your heads together."

They got up and headed out laughing. Jools and Gina remained behind to give me a hand.

"I'm too tired to take off my make up," I complained.

"Now, now," Gina said waggling a finger, "Think of how you'll look tomorrow morning if you don't let me do it."

I sat down and let her clean me up. I was about to change into a sweatshirt and jeans when she was done.

"What do you think you are doing?" Jools asked.

I shrugged. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I did think that leaving here in my bra and panties alone would be a little daring even for my standards."

She grinned and rolled her eyes. "No, I mean you can't just wear those clothes."

"Why not?"

"Because chances are, there are adoring fans waiting around at the stage door hoping to catch a glimpse of their idol as she comes out. Perhaps even get an autograph."

I groaned but Jools went on, "It comes with the territory, darling."

So I changed into a long-sleeved black rib-knit top that fit me snugly and a denim miniskirt, tights and boots. Given this possibility, Gina decided that I needed a faint touch of make up and she quickly sorted me out.

I smiled tiredly. "Well, am I good to go again?"

It seemed that I was. I let the guys go out the door first and the shouts and camera flashes told me what I already knew — that Jools was right once again. Gareth went out before me and then ushered me out. He stayed right by my shoulder as he motioned me forwards. It was an intense experience to have all these people waiting for me and cheering like I was royalty or something. I smiled and waved. I then went and shook hands with some of them and signed autographs on whatever was presented to me. I was embarrassed at the young girls who gushed about how much they loved me. A few of the guys professed similar emotions too, but I sensed they meant it slightly differently. I signed one guy's 'No Half Measures' CD and then he blushed as he asked would I kiss the cover. I smiled with bemusement, but did as he asked, leaving a lipstick imprint on it. He was speechless and just grinned inanely at me.

It was a relief to finally reach the sanctuary of the cars that were waiting for us. Jon and Jools climbed into the back of the car that Gareth had guided me towards.

"Enjoy the adoration of your fans?" Jon asked me.

I laughed. "Sort of, but it's a bit overwhelming. Did you have your fair share of girls screaming after you?"

He grinned. "And then some."
 

*          *          *
 
We weren't permitted much of a sleep in the next morning as we had to get to the airport and fly down to Manchester. At least we had got some rest. The poor stage crew had to pack up the gear and drive through the night to leave themselves enough time to get things ready for the next concert. Although we were all tired, our spirits were high and we were looking forward to performing again.

After arriving in Manchester, we were ferried across the city to the Carling Apollo Theatre. The crews had done a magnificent job and were ready for us to do our sound check. It didn't take even half of the time it had taken the previous day. This was great as it permitted us a few hours rest back in the hotel before the concert. I for one zonked out fast asleep on my bed and had to be woken by Jools when it was time to eat a light meal before heading to the theatre.

The evening followed a similar pattern to the previous one. Gina had managed to get my outfits dry-cleaned overnight in our Edinburgh hotel. She got me ready and I was convinced that she had gone for an even sexier look with my make up. She laughed and denied it as she suggested that perhaps I was just getting sexier myself.

The buzz from the audience's response as we took the stage was possibly even greater than the previous night. We did the same set and I mainly used the same introductions with the occasional variation. We came off stage after the encore on a total high again. This time however, I insisted that there was to be no invasion of my dressing room. We were all tired, but because we could take it easy the next day, a little celebration was planned back at the hotel. I got changed and made myself presentable to face the waiting fans again. I was glad that Gareth was at my side, even though there were a large number of hefty door staff lined up outside to prevent the fans from becoming over familiar.

Back at the hotel, we had a function room to ourselves and we laughed, joked, relaxed and relived some of the moments from the previous two evenings. Playing live is an intensely emotional experience, particularly so when the audience are there because it is you they want to see and hear. A lot rides on the performance and when it goes well, it is amazing. We enjoyed wine and champagne and I wasn't aware how much I had had until I got up to go to bed. I managed to make my way out of the function room without drawing undue attention to myself, but when I walked towards the lift, I staggered and almost fell.

"Easy does it," murmured Gareth as he grabbed my arm and prevented me from hitting the ground.

I giggled. "Whoops, I nearly fell."

He smiled patiently. "Yes, you did. Now let's get you upstairs."

In the elevator, I leaned against him for balance. He slipped an arm around my shoulders as we exited on my floor.

I giggled again. "My, you're so strong."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "And you're so drunk."

I grinned. "You shouldn't say that to your boss."

He shrugged and smiled. "You probably won't remember in the morning."

"So, planning to take advantage of me in my weakened state?" I said fluttering my eyelashes.

He smiled and shook his head. "I'll settle for getting you to your room unharmed."

Unfortunately I did remember the conversation the next morning and felt suitably embarrassed when I had to face Gareth. Like a true professional, he didn't even mention it.
 

*          *          *
 
There was a review of our Edinburgh concert in the 'Sunday Times' and it was most favourable. I was not really surprised when I looked at the by-line and saw the name 'Keith Wilkinson' there.

"With surprising maturity, Cara Malone charmed and entertained her eager audience. Consummate professional that she has shown herself to be, she delivered a set brimming with raw emotion and flashes of humour," Jools read aloud to us as we were enjoying a lazy brunch.

"Jools, don't," I pleaded.

She laughed and ignored me as she continued, "With honest openness she talked about her mother's death and I was, by far, not the only member of the audience to shed a tear as she sang the heart-rending 'Waiting in Heaven'. She is a young woman who is as comfortable with her beauty and talent on the stage as she is in private…"

"Skip to the good part," Brian quipped.

Jools grinned and read again, "Many talented artists can suffer from poor backing, but this is not a problem that Cara Malone has to worry about. From the masterful guitar work of Jon Peters to the seemingly effortless yet compelling bass lines of Brian Garrett; add the precocious skilful fingers of Peter Crawford on the keyboards and the tight enthusiastic rhythms of drummer Kevin Noble and you have an ensemble to be reckoned with…"

The guys grinned and basked in their slice of glory. I chuckled and said, "You realise he was only giving me so much space because I'm supposed to be the star. However, it seems that you guys stole the show."

They laughed and Jon threw a croissant at me, which I deftly caught.

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Good catch…for a girl." He looked impressed.

I shrugged and grinned. "Lucky reflex." Jon winked slyly at me and I nearly laughed aloud.

"I think we've forgotten something important," Peter said.

"What?" we asked.

"Kevin hasn't spilled his guts about this mystery so-called girlfriend of his yet."

Kevin chuckled nervously as we all focussed on him.

"Well drummer boy," Brian said with a grin, "do tell all."

Kevin laughed nervously and ran his hand through his lank hair. He pushed his glasses back up towards his eyes. "What can I say guys, I'm a babe magnet."

This time, the croissants headed in his direction and he didn't catch a single one of them.

"Alright, alright," he protested, raising his hands. "Her name's Janine and I met her at a friend's wedding last month. She's a travel agent in Surrey."

Jon raised an eyebrow, "Come on, is that it?"

Kevin shrugged. "What else is there to tell?"

Brian grinned. "Vital statistics? Has she got good legs?"

I groaned. "You guys! Try and evolve above cavemen for a while, would you?"

They predictably ignored me and waited for Kevin to answer.

He smiled. "She's nice. I mean, I think she's pretty. I'm not saying she's a goddess or anything… but," he grinned dreamily, "we get on great."

I smiled. "You go, Kevin."
 

*          *          *
 
It felt strangely nice to get back to my own house the next morning and to have Mrs. Pantridge there to welcome Gareth and me.

"How were your concerts, dear?" she enquired.

"Oh, pretty good, thanks."

"That's nice. Now what would you two say to a nice cup of tea and some freshly baked scones?"

"Yes please, ma'am," Gareth replied.

I echoed his sentiment and we sat around the table and enjoyed the luxury of warm scones, just out of the oven, dripping with butter.
 

*          *          *
 
I spent the rest of the week pottering about the house and doing some shopping here and there for items to make the house more homely. Gareth patiently trawled around with me and offered his advice when I solicited it. With the addition of some ornaments and a few pictures, I tried to make the place my own.

I loved my bedroom. It was furnished to a minimalist design. It had a large queen-size bed that I adored. There were two bedside tables and that was it. A large sliding mirror covered the entrance to a dressing room off my bedroom that had room for all my clothes and still plenty of space left over. There was a vanity unit there that allowed me to be messy, spreading my cosmetics everywhere, yet still keep the bedroom apparently tidy. On the other side of the dressing room was a large en suite bathroom with a free standing bath and separate shower cubicle that looked like it was large enough to take about four people at once.

On Friday morning, we made preparations to head for Birmingham. Gareth was going to drive and we planned to leave midmorning so that we would arrive in good time for the sound check early afternoon. I sat at the kitchen table enjoying a coffee with Gareth and Mrs. Pantridge as I opened the mail. I dropped my cup and it shattered on the granite-tiled floor spilling coffee everywhere.

"What the hell?" Gareth exclaimed as he jumped up. "Sorry ma'am," he apologised as he looked at Mrs. Pantridge.

I held a single sheet of white paper in my hand and my throat had gone dry.

It read, 'Hope you're going to put on a good show for me tonight, bitch!'

Up until that time, Gareth had not been specifically told about the notes. He knew that I had received some form of threats and had accepted this as part of the reason for me employing him. He gently took the note from me and I didn't stop him. As he read it, I could see his eyes narrow. He was about to rip it up.

"No," I said hoarsely.

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not? It's trash."

I swallowed and cleared my throat. "We should pass it on to the police. We did the same with… the other notes."

He nodded grimly. "There have been others like this then?"

I nodded and he gritted his teeth before speaking, "Let me think. We need to get to Birmingham."

He asked who the police officer was that had been in charge of dealing with this. I told him and he got on the phone and explained the situation. Apparently the officer was going to send a squad car over for one of his men to pick up the note from Mrs. Pantridge. He was also going to liaise with his counterpart in Birmingham, just in case.

"Do you think he'll be there tonight?" I asked.

Gareth shook his head. "I doubt it. He's just trying to yank your chain. Trust me, nothing will happen to you. I guarantee it."

I smiled wanly. My hands were shaking. I rubbed my eyes. "I don't know how I'm going to manage to go on stage tonight."

Gareth nodded solemnly. "You're shaken up. I don't normally recommend this, but in the circumstances…"

He brought me a glass with an amber liquid in it. I sniffed it. "What's this?"

"A little shot of whisky."

I shrugged and drank it. I nearly choked. I coughed and gagged. "God, that's awful."

He chuckled. "I know, but it will hopefully settle you a bit. If nothing else, it's so awful that it will take your mind off things."

I guess it did help a little, as did Gareth chatting to me on the journey along the M6 to Birmingham.
 

*          *          *
 
I told Jools about the note when we met her at the venue for the performance, the Birmingham Academy. She was incensed and cursed in a most unladylike fashion. She echoed Gareth's opinion that it was just a stunt and that there was little likelihood of the creep being at the concert. I agreed with them both, but I still felt disconcerted. The sound check was routine and I was glad for some time to rest in my hotel room. I assured Jools and Gareth that I wanted to be alone. Gareth insisted on having a room adjoined to mine and told me to leave the intervening door unlocked. I was happy to do so.

As I lay on the bed, I tried to clear my mind and get some rest. It was not to be. My mind was torturing me and I felt as if every nerve end was jangling with anxiety and fear. With some reluctance, I opened the mini-bar and took out a little bottle of wine, which I drank. It helped, but it was not enough. Unfortunately, all that remained were small bottles of spirits. I ignored the whisky, as it had been so repulsive earlier. I tried the vodka mixed with cola and found it to be surprisingly palatable. I did the same with the martini and even tried a gin and tonic. I felt a lot more relaxed and this time, when I lay down, I was able to sleep.

I woke to Jools shaking me and hissing. "Shit, shit! Cara, wake up!"

I opened my eyes and blinked a few times. "Jools, what is it?"

"You've got to get up, it's time to go. I've been trying to wake you up for several minutes."

I sat up on the bed and swayed a little. "Urgh, I don't feel the best," I murmured.

"No shit," she said coolly and pointed to the bottles arrayed on the floor. "Having a little party all to yourself?" she asked sardonically.

I looked away and shrugged. "It wasn't like that…"

Her expression softened and she put her arm around me as she sat down beside me. "I know… I'm sorry. I understand, I do, but you have to go on stage in a few hours. Here, let's get you some water to drink."

I drank several glasses of water, but repeatedly assured Jools that eating would be a bad idea. My stomach was recoiling at the very thought. Jools had told the others save Gareth to head on and said that we would be along later. When she had left it as late as possible, she took one arm and Gareth held the other and they brought me down in a staff elevator and out a back entrance to where a car was waiting. I still felt groggy and quite nauseated. Both she and Gareth said nothing as we drove to the Birmingham Academy.

"I'm sorry, Jools," I murmured.

She still didn't say anything.
 

*          *          *
 
"Are you OK?" Gina asked with concern when I staggered into my dressing room.

I forced a smile. "I'm not feeling too well today."

I hoped she wouldn't realise the cause of my 'illness'. Jools had made me chew several mints before leaving the hotel to try and remove the smell of the brewery as she put it. It wasn't totally successful.

Gina chatted away as she got me ready and I marvelled at her masterful skills. When she was finished, I looked as good as ever despite feeling significantly below par. I nodded vaguely when she reminded me that she was leaving early that night as she was going to visit a sister who lived in Birmingham.

The performance was awful. I essentially stood in one place, as I didn't feel up to moving around too much. I was afraid that I might lurch and even fall off the stage. I couldn't manage to play much on my guitar and I'm sure the sound was quite weak at times as a result. I remembered most of my words, but not all of them. There were a few awkward patches in some songs.

The guys must have realised that there was something amiss. Jon added a few impromptu solos at various points, which gave me the opportunity to try to remember my words. My vocals were lacklustre and I tried my best to connect with the audience, but even in my dulled state I realised that there was nowhere near the response from them compared to the previous weekend. Gareth had practically dragged me back to the dressing room for my costume change. Gina had looked worried but there was no time for her to express her concern.

The second half of the set was no better. I spent most of it sitting on my stool wishing I was anywhere else in the universe rather than where I actually was. I was aware of Jon's questioning glances becoming more frequent. When we exited the stage before the encore he pulled me aside.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Not now, Jon," I replied and pulled my arm from his grasp.

I struggled through 'Not Dancing, but Flying' and was glad to finally escape the spotlight. Gareth whisked me back to my dressing room where I collapsed in a chair. Jon burst in shortly afterwards.

"What on earth happened to you tonight?" His eyes were blazing and he knelt down right in front of me.

"Sorry, Jon," I replied weakly, "I guess I wasn't quite at my best tonight."

"Quite at your best?" he repeated angrily. "It was awful. God, I was so embarrassed!"

"I'm sorry, I just wasn't feeling too well."

I saw him sniff suspiciously and then he looked at me intensely. "Have you been drinking?"

I shrugged and wished he would leave me alone. "I… err… I need to get changed."

He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. "You're drunk! My God, I don't believe it." He paced around and then whirled back to face me. "What the hell were you thinking of? I just don't get it…"

A cough from the doorway interrupted him. Gareth slipped into the room and quietly said, "Jon, I think you should let her be now."

Jon bristled. "With all due respect, Gareth, I don't think it's any of your business."

Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Miss Malone? Do you want to get changed?"

I nodded. "Please."

Gareth turned back to Jon. "You can continue your discussion tomorrow."

Jon locked eyes with Gareth for a moment and then shrugged in disgust. As he stormed out he murmured, "Totally pathetic." He slammed the door behind him.

I did the pathetic thing and began to cry. Gareth stood there awkwardly for a moment before coming to my side and kneeling down.

"Hey, there, it's OK. He's annoyed, he didn't mean it."

I sobbed and shrugged. "He's right, I am pathetic."

"Now, that's enough," Gareth said firmly and I looked up with surprise. He shrugged and squeezed my hand. "So you had a bad night? That's life. More importantly, life goes on. All of them out there?" He gestured expansively. "They don't have a clue what's really going on and it's none of their business. You did your best in a bad situation."

"Thanks," I murmured as I managed a weak smile. I knew he was only trying to make me feel better though. I would have done a lot better if I hadn't intoxicated myself.

"Now I'm going to leave you in peace so you can get changed. We're not going to go through the fans tonight; I'll take you out another way."

He turned to leave and I called after him. "Gareth?"

"Yes?"

"Look… Gina's away and I don't know where Jools is." I paused. "Will you stay in the room, please?"

He shifted awkwardly. "Cara, I don't think that's…"

"I'm scared," I said softly. "You can stand in the corner and turn your back."

He sighed and relented. "Alright."

I slowly removed my make up and brushed my hair before changing my clothes. As I pulled on my jeans and top, I realised that, although Gareth was standing in the corner, there was a mirror against that wall and I had thought I caught him looking at me.

"You can turn around now," I said.

He turned around and gave me a funny looking smile.

I inclined my head and smiled. "Were you looking at me in the mirror?"

He laughed and blushed. Looking extremely uncomfortable he said, "Alright, guilty as charged. This is why I maintained that I should keep a distance. Hell, I'm only human. What do you expect a man to do when a beautiful woman is changing just inches behind him?"

I smiled. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "What for?"

I didn't answer him. "Can we go now?"
 

*          *          *
 
Jools caught up with me back in my hotel room.

"I'm so sorry, Jools" I said.

She shrugged and waved a hand at me. "You did your best," she said diffidently, "It wasn't that bad."

"Oh come on, Jools, it was awful."

She grimaced. "It wasn't great."

I lay back on my bed and repeated myself. "I'm sorry."

"What's done is done. I've been doing some damage limitation. I released a short press statement on your behalf to the journalists who were there. I said that you apologised that you weren't at your best, but you had been feeling under the weather the past few days."

I looked up at her. "Will they buy that?"

She shrugged. "Who's to know otherwise? It sure explains why things weren't too hot tonight." She sat down beside me on the bed and squeezed my shoulder. "You get a good night's rest and come back out fighting tomorrow night."

"Yeah, thanks Jools."

She stared at me keenly for a few moments. "What I'm about to say, I'm saying both as your manager and your friend and I don't expect ever to have to say it again." I nodded as I had a fair idea what was coming. She continued, "You don't ever - and I mean ever - drink before a concert, performance or interview or anything of the like. No matter what has happened, you just don't do it. OK?"

I nodded.

---