ã€ŠEleanora&#x27;s Sundownã€‹


 Chapter 1 - Origins

    My name is Eleanora.

    My friends call me Ellie.

    I present myself officially as Eleanora von Saschen-Coburg und Gotha, the only Duchess in her own right in the kingdom, apart from Her Late Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II. I need no husband to rightly own the title of Duchess of Somerset, as did my grandmother before me.

    I may have been born with a freight train of names attached, but people know me solely on a first-name basis and my title is of no import. It is quite a station to get to in life, where a single name does all the talking for you.

    What have I done to deserve such an honour? The first decisions that led me down this path where I am now were rather¡­ unorthodox, to say the least, for someone with my backstory. But, then again, orthodoxy never really was my forte and I believe it must be something that runs down the family¡¯s mitochondrial DNA. We all stem from the same tree. And I do mean all of us¡­

    My Mami ¨C that is to say, my maternal grandmother -, Margaret, wished to break all norms when she threw a tantrum, urging my great-grandfather William to send her to Paris, where she wished to establish herself as an artist.

    Of course, being his only daughter and the apple of his eye, he reluctantly obliged and 17-year-old Margaret pranced her way to Paris, in 1938. Her brother, Teddy, was immensely proud of Maggie¡¯s resolve and he cheered her on to always fight for what she truly wanted.

    Bad luck did come a-knocking on Europe¡¯s door, when a moustachioed maniac decided to plunge an entire continent, nay, the entire world into a full-scale war.

    And so, in early 1940, after her brother had volunteered, Margaret made her way back home.

    Every day she would wake up in the hope of hearing the news that the war was over but, instead, all she heard about was her beloved Paris being taken by the Nazis and her second home of London being under attack.

    Never being one to back down, she took the car to London and volunteered as a nurse, almost giving her father a stroke, when he realised how his older son was fighting in the front and his youngest daughter was under a nightly enemy barrage.

    Mami survived the Blitz, but uncle Teddy did fall in El-Alamein. As well as his own namesake, his own uncle Teddy, had fallen in the Somme. Teddy, or Edward is now, of course, the most proscribed name in the household.

    As soon as the heir presumptive had passed, my Mami¡¯s wings were clipped. She was told she should forget all her wild dreams about being a rebellious artist. She had gone from a relatively carefree childhood, with no real strings attached and a free spirit to match, if you took away the expectation that she would, one day, find a suitable and proper husband, to heiress presumptive herself.

    The House, suddenly, fell upon her shoulders.

    I find it an interesting concept, that of The House. I dreaded it terribly for years but my own shoulders have long been crushed under it. Yet, still I rose and fear it no more.

    The House is not just our ancestral home of Somerset Hall. That may be its physical aspect, but the concept spans so much wider than the estate itself. The House is a whole dynamic yet, timeless concept, that passes from generation to generation, probably until the end of the World. And even so, I am not so certain about that.

    The House encompasses everything, from the estate to other types of property and even to what we, both individually, but also as a family, represent in the midst of all of this.

    We do not own The House. The house owns us, temporarily, until our inner fire fades away and then, it passes on to the next in line, consuming every one of us as a sort of immaterial, aristocratic and parasitic vampire.

    And what must we, the ones who get to hold that torch high, do? We must protect and preserve, be its guardians. Guardians of memory, history, the space, to honour and protect what we are and what we represent, serve King and country, keep the family assets and, if possible, be little greedy dragons and add a little thing here and there. Easy-peasy, right?

    So, my Mami, who had fed the dream of moving to the Continent, to travel and live a relaxed life on her allowance, maybe even fall in love, suddenly found herself, and overnight, chained and shackled as she never imagined her brother Teddy might have been. He made everything seem so easy, so light. He was the heir, he was the one that had been born for that. According to her, he was the embodiment of it all¡­

    In 1946, her father allowed her to make a European tour. Her education had, after all, been neglected during the war years and there were things someone in her station needed to have experienced, to present herself as a worldly and cultured person.

    But what she yearned for, was the trail of destruction that had been left behind. She managed to travel to Egypt first, as she wanted to see the place her brother had seen last. Back on the Continent, she stepped on rubble throughout the land and wept, as she was told the atrocities that had taken place.

    Margaret wandered, until she had to return home.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    She came back, a few months later to find that her father¡¯s health was faltering, after a lifetime of loss and heartache. At 25, Margaret Anne Charlotte Blackburn de Mercoeur-V¨ºndome von Saschen-Coburg und Gotha, became head of the Household: Her Grace, the Duchess of Somerset.

    Margaret dove deep into the post-war spirit of rebuilding. She diverted funds to bring doctors and teachers to our surrounding villages and towns, helping them establish themselves. She helped create an assistance network, for mothers to have reliable and free nurseries, so they could go to work, as many had been widowed and needed jobs.

    She was a whirlwind and she never stopped until, someday in the <mark>mid-1950s</mark>, when she screeched to a halt and asked herself where was the real Margaret. The now Duchess felt like she had lost herself along the way and did not enjoy the feeling.

    So, with a packed suitcase, Margaret left home once more, this time not to fill her eyes with misery and death, but with art and life. She visited museums and palaces, cathedrals and art galleries. She met with distant cousins and saw golden sand beaches and lush-green mountains. She basked in sunrises and sunsets until one day, when she laid eyes on my grandfather

    So far had Margaret run and she still ended up with an Englishman. Even more English than she was, with all the Continental blood running through the family veins.

    Mami used to say he was the most handsome man she had ever met. And, the most beautiful thing is, it was one of those passions that starts with a bang and which flame never sways.

    Boldly, Her Grace proposed and the two lovebirds got married in 1958. My mum, Elizabeth, came along in 1961, their only daughter.

    I think there might have been something that clicked into place in Mami¡¯s brain, when she laid eyes on my mum. Mami wanted her daughter to have the freedom that she had been denied. All the freedom. And so, my mum grew up to be the perfect wild child, from not having a bedtime, to not eating whatever she disliked.

    My grandpapa was on board with this. He was a staunch defender of Rousseau¡¯s theory of the noble savage and felt that only goodness could come from a child that had been born free, in touch with nature, unpolluted by societal norms.

    And all this freedom did make my mum a very unique person, but it gave her very few rules to live by, apart from her very own. Her primary education was entirely led at home by the best tutors my grandparents could find, trying their best to keep up with their moon child. She would go, tutors in tow, on scientific expeditions on the grounds and surrounding fields and woods, she would skip class and be found inside a cupboard, in the library, reading with a torchlight. She would walk on the rooftop, swim in the lake, take the boat herself to our Isle of the Dead (the family mausoleum, not an island with actual zombies, in case you¡¯re wondering), she would get lost in the ancient woods north of the house¡­ If there ever was a child that represented the spirit of the 60s, I¡¯m certain that child was my own mother.

    My grandpapa indulged her in every whim: if she asked for a microscope, it would be by her bedside the very next morning. An aquarium to keep tadpoles? Of course! Towers and towers of books, telescopes¡­ anything a curious child could ever have wanted, it was hers.

    On the weekends, they would drive to London, to New House. Concerts, art exhibits, museums, theatres¡­ Wherever there was life, you would find the three of them, enjoying it.

    I think there was only one thing in my mum¡¯s early education that went perfectly and not because of her tutors, but because of the method Mami used ¨C which she replicated with me, rather successfully ¨C and it was the grasp my mum managed to get on languages. Mami always said that we might be Englishwomen, but there were many more languages that were part of the family legacy and we would honour it by learning them. And so, at the beginning of a day, Mami would pick either French, German or English and that would be the day¡¯s official language and that was that. The only notable exceptions were if we had guests and to speak with the house staff who wasn¡¯t fluent.

    Being my family, tragedy is almost bound to strike every generation. In 1971, my grandpapa John died of lung cancer.

    It was the hardest of blows for both my Mami and my mum. Mami went on mourning for the rest of her life, really, but those first years were the hardest and her pain and grief were immense. For my mum, it was like losing her best and closest friend in the world, aggravated only by her own mum¡¯s withdrawal from society. Not only had she lost her father, she felt like her own mother had deserted her, and that led to a tumultuous relationship that they could never work out, even later in life.

    Lizzie rebelled, and not only in the flower child sort of way. She entered her teenage years with such anger in her, that my grandmother felt like she could not deal with tantrums and was only making it worse, so off to boarding school my mum went.

    This little formula for chaos, combined with the time¡¯s call for freedom and breaking up of Old World shackles, made my mum come out of boarding school with a complete sense of rejection of everything she was, and my grandmother represented. She deemed herself a socialist, she said she hated the idea of monarchy, said the likes of my grandmother were all that was wrong with the world and vowed to never have anything to do with any of it. According to mum, the Somersets would end with her.

    In 1979, mum headed North, to the University of Edinburgh, to study English and German literature. My Mami insisted she would go to Oxford ¨C which is, traditionally, the family¡¯s alma mater, as it¡¯s so close to home -, but blatantly unaware of the notions of reverse psychology, she only managed to make Lizzie run the other way.

    In the Summer of 1980, Lizzie dearest and a couple of close friends decided to do what Britons do best: a trip to Southern Spain. What could go wrong with this picture?

    Well, the chance encounter with a charming Portuguese man, who had decided to celebrate the fact that he could now call himself a college graduate, with a nice and sunny holiday.

    Sparks flew, when the star-crossed lovers met. My mum¡¯s rebellious spirit fed my dad¡¯s revolutionary one and vice-versa. He had grown up in a dictatorship and had lost his own father to it, so he had the cause my mum lacked. It was probably one of the things that drew her to him, his purpose and his drive. Where she had suffered from psychological imprisonment alone, my father had had the restraint and oppressiveness of real authority around him.

    My mum¡¯s friends flew back home. My dad¡¯s friends drove back. But Lizzie and Jo?o both stayed, lost in each other.

    They rented a car and went on a little Mediterranean tryst, all along the coast. They would, occasionally, call home and be greeted by the same speech of Where are you? Please come back home, before they would ask for more money for their adventure.

    - I think I¡¯m pregnant ¨C my mum said, out of the blue, as they swam in the warm and calm waters of the Mediterranean. I, Eleanora, was announced to the world in Italy, possibly hence my name.

    My dad was over the moon and he immediately started making plans so he could spend the rest of his life with his beloved and now, their baby¡­ He had just graduated, so he would find a nice job, they would get a nice house and they would live a nice life, as a happy little family.

    But what mum saw, in all that idyllic scenario, was not a happy little life. She saw a prison¡­ and her mental claustrophobia started setting in. He could stop right there, she would not move in with him and he would not move in with her.

    - What do you mean, no? - he asked in French, the language that was their bridge to understanding, their own love language.

    No apparently meant No, and she left him, broken-hearted with only a phone number scribbled on a paper napkin before she flew back home.

 Chapter 2 - Inception

    Mum stepped foot, once again, in Somerset Hall. But not to broker for peace or understanding, as that was not her style.

    - I know my father left something for me ¨C she said, not bothering with having a seat ¨C I need it now.

    Indeed, her father had left a small trust for her, which she would get access to when she turned 21.

    - Why would you need that now, Lizzie? I¡¯m paying for your studies, there¡¯s really nothing you would need the trust for, is there?

    And then mum dropped the atom bomb that Margaret was about to be a grandmother and that she needed the money, to get a place to stay. Mum said she was moving to London and that was that. She wasn¡¯t begging for anything, just asking for what had been legitimately left for her. When inquired as to who the father might be, she just said it was none of my Mami¡¯s business.

    And so, just a couple of months later, my little embryo self and my mum moved into a nice flat, in Notting Hill. I don¡¯t really know how good my mum was with finances but I am assuming they really weren¡¯t her major focus.

    There were some negotiations, back and forth, between Lizzie and Jo?o, in regards to their relationship and to my future. Jo?o wanted to be there for me and be part of my life, but Lizzie said she had no intention of feeling trapped with another person and that she needed her freedom.

    Peace talks failed and Jo?o found himself ringing the doorbell to what I guess was our flat now, somewhere close to Christmas of 1980.

    It just so happened that a very distinguished lady was just getting out of a car, with the exact same purpose as him and so, in a strike of Destiny, Maggie met the father of her grandchild.

    The langue franque was French, as my dad was always more of a francophone than an anglophone.

    - Have you given the name any thought, by now? - my Mami asked.

    Mum was in a mood for bao and had sent both intruders to fetch some for her, to the Chinese restaurant that was just next door.

    - I was thinking I¡¯d like Tom¨¢s, if it¡¯s a boy. It was my father¡¯s name.

    - Oh, no, darling. I¡¯m talking about family name.

    - What do you mean, Your Grace? My child will bear my name.

    - And that may be where you¡¯ve got it wrong, dear Jo?o.

    And so, an arm wrestling competition began, as they were both waiting on my mum¡¯s ¨C and mine¡¯s, of course ¨C bao. My father insisted his family name was perfectly valid and respectable and, as a Historian, he just went swiftly up his family tree, and gave her big names, like Charlemagne. My Mami laughed as they were, after all and unknowingly, cousins and tried to soothe him. My dad was never one to get worked up, but he was nervous about the whole situation.

    Her Most Serene Grace ended up winning the battle with an argument as simple as:

    - Would you like to give your unborn child an early start in life? An edge, of sorts?

    - Well, of course. Who wouldn¡¯t?

    - Then let the child bear my names. Let the child bear my titles. - and before he could have another word in ¨C Your name could weigh as much as if all of your family tree was made of gold. But you live in a Republic, the only thing it will be good for is as a mere conversation starter. Here, my name will be greeted with open doors. It is still worth something, even if it is just a name. If you truly want to start the child¡¯s life with a fighting chance, you open the first door. The Duchy of Somerset will unlock all others.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    My dad was handed a small and still warm aluminium foil pouch, with the freshly made buns.

    - And I will personally guarantee that your name and your History will not be forgotten. - she went on, unwavered - You have my word, Mr Sousa.

    And so, it was settled over some delicious bao buns, that I would be a Blackburn de Mercoeur-V¨ºndome von Saschen-Coburg und Gotha. The next heir presumptive in line, for the Duchy of Somerset. My mum couldn¡¯t care less, as long as that was the full extent of my grandmother¡¯s interference. And also, that way, the focus of the title inheritance would shift from her permanently. Win-win.

    In January, my dad fulfilled his promise of getting a job to help with future baby bean¡¯s expenses. The only problem was that the job would take him all the way to Macao, where he would be working as an attach¨¦ for the Portuguese government.

    In March, my mum asked her doctor if she could still take a trip, as her term was nearing its end.

    - Certainly ¨C the doctor said ¨C Just don¡¯t exert yourself and stay close to a hospital, in case you need it.

    She did, in fact, stay close to a hospital, but it just so happened to be the S?o Janu¨¢rio Hospital, in Macao. After an over 24-hour trip, between flights and transfers, she knocked on my dad¡¯s door, almost giving him a heart attack, when he saw his very much pregnant lover at his doorstep.

    - You¡¯re insane!

    - I thought you might want to be there ¨C she just said, with a wicked smile on her pretty face.

    And so I was born, on the last stretch of March 1981, in Macao. I was named Eleanora Beatrice Victoria Alexandria.

    The mystery remains if my mum¡¯s love for all things Italian Renaissance was somehow blurred by tiredness or if it was just my father who got the name wrong, because I ended up Eleanora and not Eleonora. Maybe a slight intermingling of Eleonora and Eleanor, who knows? But what¡¯s done is done, right?

    Beatrice is an obvious nod to Dante¡¯s beloved, the one he would go through Hell for, his own model of perfection. The Victoria Alexandria part still baffles me, though. I believe that, despite my mum¡¯s ideas, she was still able to admire a strong feminine figure, like Queen Victoria had been.

    The permanently enlarged pupil in my right eye was already there when I left the womb¡¯s motherly embrace. The doctors thought I could have suffered some sort of brain damage and I lived in the hospital for two weeks, undergoing every possible exam under the sun. But the anisocoria was there to stay.

    My dad said that it felt auspicious that I was honouring Bowie from birth. My mum couldn¡¯t be bothered, as long as I was healthy. After all, I had all my limbs and a head with, hopefully, a functioning brain in it, so all was good.

    In fact, I believe it was the anisocoria that put me on the rock and roll path early on. It was, after all, thanks to it that I took coke for the first and last time in my life, in the shape of eye drops. And maybe it has saved me a lifetime of addiction, as it made me able to say been there, done that, even if I did not get the t-shirt.

    My right pupil never really changes size, nor does it react to light. When it¡¯s dark, you can barely notice it¡¯s there but, under the flashing lights, the difference is striking. And it does impact my vision, so much so that I am not allowed to drive. But my brain is fine. Or so they say.

    Mami took the first flight all the way across the world as my dad called her, breathless, to say it¡¯s time! She stayed with us for two months and, having both those very important women in my life in the same space was, obviously, a very delicate time bomb. She left when the bickering became too much to handle, but only under the promise that my mum would not keep me there forever.

    We went back, mum and I, two months later. It was the first time that I stepped ¨C even if I really was just being carried ¨C on British soil.

    A few months later, my 20-year-old mum was starting to have some of her freedom issues. After all, a child is one of the heaviest ball and chains for one to drag around, is it not? Mami made a bold move, suggesting I could spend the weekends at New House, and my mum could at least take the weekend off and have some real conversations, with some real adults that could do more than just babble. She would have her freedom, and Mami would have her granddaughter to swoon over for a couple of days.

    I always considered myself a wanderer and that might stem from those times. I was conceived in Spain, I unknowingly travelled through France, into Italy, Britain¡­ Went for a spin in the far-East and came back to the island, where I managed to have two houses, under the age of one and still ended up going to Portugal, to meet an army of distant cousins and aunts, which left me terribly upset with all the attention that was given me ¨C seriously, if you¡¯re from anywhere in Southern Europe, you¡¯ll understand what I mean.

 Chapter 3 - Ellie bean, Tommy bean and... Clara bean?

    Things became a little more entangled when my brother Tommy came by. My mum was now working part-time with a small-time publisher and, while it was just me, she would pull her night owl act and work while I slept. With baby number 2¡­ well, you know how babies work and tend to disrespect every single routine a person might have¡­ Adding to that, the tantrum I, Ellie bean, was throwing over this new-found creature that had come to ruin my perfect and self-centred little world, was enough to make her miss some deadlines and a new battle plan was in order.

    On my end, I was working hard on crying louder than he did, so that he would go back to whence he¡¯d come from. Mami, on the other hand, offered help once more which my mum, whose pride stood taller than her namesake tower, said no, that she could cope.

    Spoiler alert, she could not cope.

    Mami went back unto the breach once more, and suggested that I might enjoy spending the week at Somerset Hall. After all, I was starting to explore the world and what better place to do so, than in Lizzie¡¯s little slice of childhood heaven? Of course, the caveat was that, as soon as Tommy started to get acquainted with the sorrows and pace of the world, I would waltz right back in, as if I had never left.

    Three houses, under four years old. Must be some sort of record.

    It was then, at what would also become my own little slice of Heaven, that I met one of my oldest friends, the piano, and it was love at first chord.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Mami was not adept at it, but she knew about enough to guide my first steps. She would sit me on her lap and press the keys, a gesture which I happily tried to mimic. It was an instant obsession, striking so hard that I just never even looked at crayons or other toys any more when I spent the weeks.

    Soon, the cacophonies of this little toddler Beethoven became too much to bear and Mami went behind my mum¡¯s back and got someone to refrain me from throwing her into early deafness: a tutor.

    I cannot remember who he was and what led him to undertake such a task, as to teach a three-year-old to play, but his method stood the test of time. So thank you, kind sir, for teaching me the language of music, the fourth one I¡¯ve learned in this life.

    Every day, at three o¡¯clock, I was led to the music room and, for half an hour, give or take, depending on my attention span, he began introducing me to the world of sounds.

    Of course, a child has no notion of rhythm and doesn¡¯t understand the subtleties a majestic instrument such as the piano has to offer, thinking instead that every single finger is a tiny, chubby hammer with which to smash the ivory keys. How else would it create sound, right?

    This little week-off/weekend-on pilgrimage was not going as bad as it would seem, at first. Tommy was becoming more tolerable, I even dared say a little less ugly of a baby, and we were actually starting to get along. Who knew, maybe he could end up learning a thing or two from me.

    <hr>

    We always spent Christmas with our dad, and 1987 was no exception. We went to Portugal, we stuffed our faces with sweets, we had a blast. But it was, actually, the first and last time the five of us ever were together: Mum, dad, Tommy and I and¡­ baby Clara, whom our mum announced to us, children, who were thinking that she had been, just maybe, going a little too overboard with the Mu-Shu pork.

 Chapter 4 - Shadows over Saturday night

    I think I remember most of the day my sister was born. I remember it was sunny, I remember watching the morning cartoons with Tommy, as we ate toast and my mum was telling us not to make a mess, because she was tired and really wasn¡¯t feeling like cleaning up after us.

    I remember marching up and down the hallway, with Tommy in tow, counting paintings and posters and exercising my new found voice, as I had just started having singing as well as piano lessons.

    I remember my mum helping my brother put his trainers on, and handing him a light jacket, as she told me she was feeling a little under the weather and was just hopping off to the doctor real quick. She told me to stay put, that I was a big girl. She told me she would call me as soon as she could. She told me not to go out and to not open the door, no matter who came knocking.

    I think I blamed myself for many years, for not realising she wasn¡¯t feeling well. I always blamed myself for so many things in my life¡­ In my mind, it doesn¡¯t matter if I was only seven years old. I always felt the need to be in charge of things, to be a responsible person.

    I watched, through the kitchen window, as mum and Tommy hopped in a cab and drove away.

    Daylight slipped away, the street lights came on. I raided the fridge for some yoghurt, as I was getting hungry. My last meal had been hours ago¡­ How long ago had they left? I had no idea, as I had not been paying attention. I looked out the window again, weighing my options: I couldn¡¯t go looking for them, because I had no idea where they had gone to, I had no money for the train to Somerset Hall¡­ I was alone.

    I opened mum¡¯s phone directory and dialled dad¡¯s number, waiting for what felt like forever for the international call to go through.

    - Hello? - A sleepy voice answered, in Portuguese, from the other end of the line.

    - Daddy, Mum went out with Tommy and she¡¯s not back yet. She said she was going to the doctor.

    My dad¡¯s heart must have rushed to a panic ¨C Ellie, darling. What¡­ How long have they been gone?

    - Maybe some hours. It¡¯s dark, now. We had had lunch.

    I could hear the alarm growing in his voice ¨C Are you alone, darling?

    - I am.

    - Listen to me, Ellie: lock the door and don¡¯t leave the house. I¡¯m going to call your grandmother and I will try and find out where mummy and Tommy are, alright?

    - Alright.

    - Be a good girl, my dear. I love you and I will call you back.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    He wasn¡¯t the one who called me back, but Mami did. She was just leaving Somerset Hall and she swore that she and Collins would fly to London to meet me.

    - Go to bed ¨C she said ¨C It¡¯s late and I will show myself in.

    I don¡¯t know what time it was when I woke up, but the bedroom was darkened by the blinds. I lifted my head and I saw Mami petting Tommy¡¯s head, as he was asleep on the bed opposite to mine.

    - Mami? - I called softly. She didn¡¯t turn to me, just motioned for me to be quiet, not to wake Tommy up.

    I slid down from my bed and walked the few steps that separated me from her.

    - Mami, have you found mummy as well? - I whispered. In my mind, they could have ended up separated, who knew, it was a big city, after all.

    - Your little sister was born ¨C she whispered raggedly, still avoiding my eyes ¨C She looks like an angel.

    There was something wrong, I could tell, even in the dark.

    - Is mummy alright?

    Tommy shuddered in his sleep and Mami leaned down to kiss him. That small gesture seemed to have lasted an eternity.

    - Lizzie¡­ - her voice cracked ¨C Mummy is not coming back, my love¡­

    I don¡¯t know how long it took me to process those words, but I know I could, all of a sudden, feel everything too much. The tag on my shirt, the way my pyjama trousers felt against my legs, the fuzzy carpet under my feet, the otherwise soft touch of my bangs, which now felt like sandpaper on my temples, the way my hair tie pulled the hair down, the air that passed through my nostrils, going in my lungs and all of me, just melting inside.

    Mami said, later, that she had worried I showed no outward signs of distress, other than quickened breathing and rubbing my fingers. She tried to hug me, but I rejected her touch. I bolted out of the bedroom and ran to my mum¡¯s room, slamming the door open and looking at the empty bed.

    My grandmother followed me, but I don¡¯t think she knew how to deal with any of this either.

    I ran to mum¡¯s office and then to the kitchen, starting to panic, until I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders and heard a ¨C Stop! You need to stop. - Peter Collins, our butler¡¯s son was looking me in the eyes as I was opening the floodgates and losing every thread of control.

    - Come with me ¨C he said, as he grabbed my hand and took me to the kitchen table. Peter was only 5 years older than I was, but he was my friend since I could remember. - You can cry, of course, but you have to be strong, too.

    Mami was leaning into the doorway as this whole scene played in front of her. She was covering her mouth, trying not to cry and maybe thinking what would happen next in our lives. You can never prepare yourself for such cataclysmic events, no matter who you are, or what you have in life.

    Peter grabbed a box of cereal, a bowl, some milk from the fridge, and handed me a spoon.

    - Eat ¨C he said, as he poured the milk over the cereal ¨C Do it for Tommy and for your new sister.

    I just put the spoon next to the bowl, not really able to see through the tears.

    - My mum¡¯s in Brighton. At the beach. - Peter said, as matter-of-factly as he could - That was her favourite place in the whole world. My dad says she¡¯s in Heaven, but I know that¡¯s not where she¡¯d rather be. ¨C he took a moment, for me to take a gasp for air - What was your mother¡¯s favourite place?

    - ¡­ It¡­ Italy ¨C my voice came out strained, amidst the sobbing.

    - Then, Lady Elizabeth is in Italy.

    I have no real memory of the next few days. I know my dad came by, as well as my grandmother Lu¨ªsa, his mother. I know we stayed at Somerset Hall. And I know that Clara eventually came home, as well.

    She truly was the most beautiful creature we had ever laid eyes on and, watching her sleep, in her cot, my brother and I forged a silent pact, in which we would protect that fragile, little baby with our lives, if it came to that.

    We followed my mum¡¯s coffin, from the town church to the family mausoleum and my brother and I saw them placing it in its neat little box, where she was to lay forever after, sealing it with a marble epitaph.

    Elizabeth Jane Rose ¨C 1961 ¨C 1988

    When I read those words, something finally gave in my mind and I felt the never-ending river of tears flowing.

    - You are not alone ¨C Mami said, as she kissed mine and my brother¡¯s heads.

    But I felt so. I felt as if we were hopelessly alone and lost in this world.

 Chapter 5 - The Second Earthquake

    - That is preposterous and it¡¯s not happening. I will not allow it ¨C my father¡¯s voice spilt from the library. I knew better than to eavesdrop, but I felt like I needed to know what would happen next, to grab on to a little tether of something that could ground me.

    - These are my terms and she is my heir ¨C Mami remained composed.

    - She may be your heir, but she is my daughter and she is coming with me and her siblings back to Macao.

    My breath quickened. Leave¡­ we were about to leave with dad.

    - Do I never get to have a word with this bloody family? - dad went on, raising his voice. This was out of character for him but, given all that had fallen upon us, it was only fair that he got to lose his temper as well ¨C Who do you think you are anyway, Margaret? The Sun King?

    - Would you rather that she remains blind and deaf to it all? I have been there, Jo?o. There is just too much to learn and she is getting an early start. Believe me, it will be better this way.

    - She is seven, for Heaven¡¯s sake, Margaret. Her education was only supposed to start at twelve.

    A third voice joined in. I knew that voice as well, Mr. Mason, our lawyer ¨C This is the worst possible timing to bring up such a thing, but you did sign an agreement, Mr. Sousa.

    - I know what I signed, Mr. Mason. But doesn¡¯t she get to have a childhood?

    - Do you think I am not grieving over the loss of my own daughter? - my Mami¡¯s voice was like steel ¨C Do you think, for just one second, that I enjoy this? - I heard the sound of papers being rattled in the air ¨C I was still hoping that Lizzie would come to her senses about this whole inheritance issue. Now, it¡¯s Eleanora¡¯s turn.

    - Lady Margaret¡­ - my dad was pleading.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    - She is to stay with me, Jo?o. If and when she asks me, whenever I think her education has been completed, she may go to you. Until then, you get holidays and birthdays.

    - Please¡­ You can¡¯t take my daughter away from me.

    - It has been decided, Jo?o. It¡¯s not the end of the world, as much as it may seem like it now.

    I ran up to my bedroom. The whole situation only became more and more nightmarish as time went on. I had just lost my mother, was I to lose my siblings as well? Why me? Why was I the one being left behind? We all belonged to the same family, so why was the burden all on my shoulders?

    I learned, later on, that with the verbal agreement Mami and daddy had drafted, came a more official one. As my mum shunned the possibility of ever inheriting the title and all that came with it, it was to skip a generation, falling onto me, her first daughter. The agreement stated that my education was to start at twelve and that, at that age, I would basically be under my grandmother¡¯s wing. When my brother came along, it was added that whatever my father¡¯s side of the family had, would skip me and have only my brother and future possible siblings as recipients, also granting them assets.

    There was, of course, the clause that no one expected would ever become true, in case of my mother¡¯s premature death, which was to grant my guardianship over to Mami, it did not matter how old I could be.

    I had one more week with them. A week to get to know my sister. A week to say goodbye to my dearest brother. A week until I also lost my dad. A week of nightmares and fear of abandonment.

    I hugged them farewell and watched as the car that would take them to the airport drove away, through the lawn and into the line of ancient trees, until I could see them no more.

    I went back upstairs, to my room and just spent days in silent despair, looming over the horizon for a glimpse of hope. I wanted no food, I wanted no lessons, I wanted no music. The only thing I wanted, was my family back.

    Peter knocked on my door, accompanied by his father. Maybe Mami thought that, if the boy had performed a miracle once, he could probably do it twice.

    - Dad told me it¡¯s time to feed the fish, in the greenhouse. Do you want to come with me? - he asked.

    I just shook my head, eyes still clinging to the horizon.

    - I believe we have newborn kittens down there as well ¨C Collins said ¨C If you were to ask me, Lady Eleanora, it may still be cold out there for them. Maybe we could relocate them, with their mummy. Your bedroom is always warm, after all, and kittens are known to provide great company.

    The healing process was slow and I don¡¯t know how it unfolded, but I do believe the kittens helped.

 Chapter 6 - An education

    I slowly went back to my learning routine. I was still home-schooled and, besides all regular curricula a seven-year-old must grasp, I also had to deal with family history and genealogy, etiquette and protocol, daily walks with Her Grace in the estate and surrounding properties and, honestly, this whole circus that had just come to town just left me so exhausted, that I had very little remaining time to think about my little life.

    The weekends were very full as well, as Mami always found some sort of cultural event to attend. We shared a love for opera and the theatre, for History and museums, nature walks, the lot.

    What I always did find time and headspace for, was the ability to calculate the time difference to Macao, to talk to my brother and, still unilaterally, to my sister.

    I believe that, whatever sins my grandmother thought she had committed with my mum¡¯s education, she tried to atone with mine and she did smother me with timetables and gentle discipline, but I don¡¯t blame her for that. If I ever did have something to hold against her, it would be the dome she did create around me¡­ There was not much staff at the house  by then, and my only friend was still Peter. I never really had any problems talking to grown-ups but I could never, for the life of me, interact much with other children.

    I do praise Peter for sticking up with such an insufferable person for all these years. You are such a good friend!

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    My Mami stayed true to her word and I did, indeed have birthdays and Christmas¡¯ with the rest of my family. It was good, yet heart-wrenching, to see how much they had grown, every time I met them. They both thrived with my dad and he was, himself, over the moon to have them. He was also a great father.

    They had two Macanese nannies, Maria and Jacinta, who taught them Patu¨¢ and Cantonese. Tommy promised he would teach me Patu¨¢, so the three of us could share a more secretive language, but I ended up never really learning it. He and Clara spoke it amongst themselves, for many years still, when they wished to keep the conversation from prying ears.

    I could almost see the rope made of love that stretched between continents, tethering me to them, and I wanted to pull on it so desperately it hurt. I just did not want to feel alone.

    But, looking back, I¡¯m glad they got to stay together. I would choose loneliness time and time again, if it meant they could have each other.

    But this sudden ripping of ties did have a strain on me. It was, in fact, devastating. According to my therapist many years down the line, there were two roads opening up in front of me: the one where I would try and shift the focus of attention onto me, jumping up and down and shouting until I had the limelight I craved, and the one where I would become overbearing and overprotective. I went down road number 2 and I know I would move Heaven and Earth for my siblings. For them, I would sacrifice everything I¡¯ve worked for and conquered.

    Of course that, if I already felt a need for control over my life, after these two earth-shattering events, I became even more of a control freak and it took me many, many years to break that pattern and to just let things flow and not micromanage every single aspect of my career.

 Chapter 7 - Big(ish) in Japan

    For three years I learned everything I needed to learn and then some. I had my protocol on the tip of my tongue, I knew my ancestors like I had breakfast with them every day, piano lessons went along beautifully, I had graduated to classical singing and I had also taken the violin, like the little overachiever I was.

    I followed my voice teacher, Frau Schreiber¡¯s motto that mastery of the art was 80% hard work, 10% rehearsals and 10% talent. Even today, I still take whatever time I can muster to practice.

    At the ripe age of 10, and after showing my Mami my violin progress, I told her, quite bluntly, that I wished to move in with my dad and my siblings.

    - Very well ¨C Mami said, from her yellow damask armchair ¨C And, do you believe that you already know everything you must know?

    - Perhaps not. But you cannot cook, and yet you manage the kitchen.

    - You cheeky girl ¨C Mami broke out laughing ¨C And when can I expect your presence, Lady Eleanora? This is your house.

    - Somerset Hall has been here for eleven centuries, Mami. According to my calculations, it will probably not disappear in the meantime and I will still manage to find it when I get back.

    - Eleanora¡­ - she admonished me. She enjoyed it when I came up with quick remarks, but this was a sensitive subject.

    - I have learned my duty, Mami. I will not forget my responsibilities, I promise. I just want a little more time with them. Please¡­

    She asked me for time to think and I gave her a week. It had been the time I had been granted and it would be the amount of time I would give her, in return.

    - You may go ¨C Margaret said, a week later, over breakfast ¨C But only if you promise me that you will not abandon your music studies.

    I almost tossed years of polite education out the window, at those words, but I knew what was expected of me and restrained my buzzing enthusiasm.

    - And ¨C she added ¨C only if you also promise that you will master, and perform for me, Vivaldi¡¯s Winter, over Christmas.

    I promised her I would and my farewell gift from her was the score for the Four Seasons.

    I was handed over to a flight attendant and off I went, not to Macao, but to Japan, as my father was now working at the embassy, in Tokyo.

    Swapping the English countryside for Tokyo was nothing less than brutal. I knew London, I knew Paris and Berlin, but the whole scale of Tokyo just hit me like a ton of bricks. Not only that, but the whole paradigm had shifted and not even social rules seemed to stay put for me.

    Luckily, Tommy was now used to it, after having been there for almost a year and he got to be the big brother, on the first day of school, holding my hand as we took the train to school, in Roppongi.

    It¡¯s a normal occurrence, in Japan, that children as young as him take themselves to school on public transportation. To me, the whole idea seemed wild, but Japan is, after all, one of the safest countries in the world.

    Tommy was so sure of himself, his auburn loose curls glistening in the morning light, looking so smart in his school clothes.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    - You don¡¯t speak on the train, unless you have to. And if you do, keep your voice down ¨C he told me before the sharp sound of metal announced the arrival of our train.

    We both stood out like sore thumbs and, as I learned the language, I could understand what people said about us, assuming we didn¡¯t speak it. And people do tend to let their tongues wag when they think no one can understand them.

    Besides the culture shock, I still had another shock waiting for me. It was, after all, the first time I was setting foot in a real school, with real children and real classes. Not that I was having fantasy classes before, but this was not even a different league, it was a different game altogether.

    Despite being an international school, I¡¯m guessing the new kid will always be the new kid, no matter what. And I happened to be the newest kid with a visible difference. I had never been overly conscious of my anisocoria until that moment.

    It got so bad that all I wanted to do was curl myself into a fetal position, in a random secluded corner, and never be seen again.

    The classes were not bad and I had been well prepared. It was the time in between, with all its cacophony of voices and sounds and weird social cues that left me grasping at straws.

    I must admit that I thought, once or twice, to concede defeat and go back to England, but I really disliked the idea of going back and admitting my project had failed. What I disliked even more was that my failure would, once again, keep me away from the ones I loved, so I endured that target over my head.

    And, while school was nothing less than miserable, the weekends were amazing. My father would take us out for breakfast and then let us loose in the bookshop, where we would meet him at the counter with piles of manga, letting him spoil us rotten. Then, we would go to the record store and that would be his domain.

    My father was always a melomane and there was not a week that went by where he did not buy, at least, a new record. His genre of choice was always rock, but he was eclectic enough not to close his ears to other sounds.

    I always went straight to the classical music section, but he rerouted me to Rock enough that I started paying attention. He bought me my first The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars and he introduced me to the giants of rock: The Doors, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones, Salem¡­ When my feet were wet enough, he let me dive off the deep end, with Joy Division, Sisters of Mercy, Bauhaus, The Cure, whatever came by and I felt was dark enough for me. If it wasn¡¯t for the gentle guiding hand of Mr Jo?o de Sousa, I might not be here today, so blame him all you want.

    Halcyon days cannot, alas, last forever and it all came to an end with a simple phone call, in late November 1993.

    - Ellie, darling ¨C my father called from his office ¨C Can you come here for a second?

    I went in, closing the door behind me and opened a little box he had on his desk, where he kept his stash of chocolate, and took one, before sitting down on the armchair opposite him.

    - Mami just called ¨C he said and the chocolate lost all its sweetness. I knew this moment would come and, the moment those words were let loose into the ether, I felt my stomach turning¡­ Not again.

    - I don¡¯t want to ¨C I said, sharply ¨C I¡¯m not going back.

    My father shook his head, while he fumbled with his pen ¨C You cannot make decisions when you don¡¯t know all the facts.

    I took a deep breath and sat back, on the chair, awaiting those life-changing facts that I knew in my heart, would not sway me.

    - Mami is ill.

    - What do you mean, ill? - those words brought nothing good with them¡­

    - She said she¡¯s been feeling under the weather for some time and she went to the doctor, in September¡­ It¡¯s cancer, my dear¡­

    That word¡­ So heavy, so slimy, so oppressive¡­

    - She¡¯s been undergoing treatment. But she asked for you to go back home.

    - Back home? But she¡¯s going to be alright, isn¡¯t she? Why would she need me?

    I know I was selfish. I think all children are inherently selfish, it¡¯s human nature. I regret having said those words then.

    - Her body is, apparently, not responding as well as doctors would like to. - my father always tried to be as objective as possible, even if it was horrible news.

    - What¡­ What does that mean¡­?

    He got up from his leather chair and circled the desk, kneeling by my side ¨C So far, it means nothing. But these things can change very quickly. And she¡¯d like you to be by her side.

    - But¡­ - I looked back at the door and my father knew exactly what that word entailed.

    - They will always be here for you, Ellie. But, right now, the person who needs you the most, is Margaret.

    Two days later, I was hopping on a plane headed for Britain. In my mind, a miracle would happen, the treatment would work, the cancer would be gone and I would be flying back in no time.

    Of course, reality is always more disappointing than fiction.

 Chapter 8 - Euterpe, be thou in this hall tonight

    Even if she looked the same, I felt my grandmother¡¯s bones, as she hugged me, the moment I set foot back at the Hall. She felt frail, like I imagined the fae living in the woods north of the house would be. But her voice remained steady and she seemed to be in good spirits, and that did calm my restless heart.

    What got it racing again, was the conversation she had with me, the next day, in the library.

    -There are¡­ certain things that I would rather you would only find out later in life but, alas, matters have been rushed ¨C she sat behind the large desk and grabbed some ledger books and binders.

    Money. Mami never talked about money. I had been taught it was not a polite topic of conversation and, honestly, I had never given it much thought.

    - The Hall¡¯s finances are, perhaps, as ill as I am ¨C she chuckled sadly, as she opened the ledgers and called me to stand by her side, so I could also have a look and a full grasp of it ¨C I have tried, for many years, to turn things around but too many mistakes have been made and the income is not¡­ plentiful, so to speak.

    I let my eyes skim through all those expenses I did not understand. How was I supposed to help?

    - I have been selling some land we had, outside the estate, for some years. - the talk was painful to her, taxing on both a mental and physical level ¨C The estate itself is intact so far, but you might need to break it up, in the future.

    - I won¡¯t do that, Mami.

    - Never say never, darling. I also never thought I would be selling what was handed to me, and here I am, signing deeds, living in an enormous house with very little staff to keep it. It does not mean I enjoy it. But one does what one must.

    The House was, in fact, understaffed for quite a few years now. We had the ever-faithful Collins, Edgar who kept the grounds and Hannah, who cooked and cleaned. I had always thought that we had no need for anyone else, as it had just been the two of us for quite some time now.

    Mami took me on a house tour to show what needed to be done. The roof needed some important work done, but she had been told that, with maintenance, it could withstand another winter or two. The unused apartments, on the second floor, were in need of some repair and what remained of the oldest part of the house ¨C a Great Hall and a chapel from the 15<sup>th</sup> century -, needed some serious and very specialized maintenance. Luckily for us, in this situation, the original house ¨C first of the firsts - was now sitting under where we stood.

    An old house, or a historical house, like Somerset Hall is far more expensive to maintain than a modern one. Every material needs to be the right one and repairs need to be done by specialists who really know what they are doing. Again, we don¡¯t make the rules, the House does.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    And so, I found myself sitting by the edge of the lake, looking over the Isle of the Dead and thinking that I was definitely not old enough to deal with any of that. What did I know about money and accounting? Virtually nothing. I was twelve years old, would be thirteen in a couple of months, so how long would it be until I actually finished my studies and could find a job? And what sort of job could pay well enough for me to keep up with my responsibilities?

    Mami had also said that there was only one person from the staff I could never send away and that was Collins, whose family history was so intermingled with our own, that we always took them for granted in the Estate.

    The first Collins working for the Somersets had been a stable boy, in the early 1800s, who had himself climbed up the ranks. His son had learned what it took to be a butler of the House and so they had always accompanied us, bearing the highest rank within the household. Peter did not share the family sentiment for a life within the Hall and Mami laughed, saying that he was keeping up with the times and avoiding a dying breed, so good for him.

    That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. From a certain age onwards, sleep had never come easily to me and, the more problems kept piling up, the less I mingled with Morpheus.

    So, there I was, humming Here comes the sun, when I had an epiphany. What was the one thing that I knew I could do almost flawlessly by now? Music! The only thing that had lit the way for all those years, the siren calling from the music room, Terpsichore herself, my muse.

    I could play, I could sing, I¡¯d written a thing or two. There was nothing that could keep me from doing it. And music could draw in a lot of money if done right.

    I shot out of bed, ignoring the shiver from the cold December air, and went straight to my desk. I sat there, looking at the blank music sheet. What made a song? What made a melody? I had no doubts about any of those parts. But what kind of music could I make¡­?

    I could feel the shadows in my soul creeping in, waiting for the moment they could unleash their symphony of darkness and I put pen to paper until my eyes hurt.

    I fell asleep immediately when I met my pillow again, and I dreamt of waves of sound, creating polyphonic whirls that danced around me. I could feel the melodies, the rhythms and the patterns and I sang along with them, softer, louder, sometimes painfully. My very own Requiem.

    I ran to the music room as soon as I opened my eyes and I didn¡¯t even care about changing. I needed to test what I¡¯d written in those late hours.

    I still do it like that. I envision what I want, write it down and test it. I repeat the process until I get a nice, sturdy skeleton. Then, I fill it up, with its vital organs, muscle, flesh, sinew, a soul, until I can shout it¡¯s alive! because, in fact, it is. Music is a live and organic thing and musicians just happen to be wizards that can create life from a wisp of a sound, just like painters can do so from colour, photographers from light and so on¡­

    From that night of hard work, there were two survivors that made it: Lost and Whispered Echoes.

    A week later, I showed my Mami what I had and told her about my plan, not really waiting for approval.

    - Is this really what you want to do? - she asked, as she took the scores and the lyrics and read through them again.

    I nodded, with that certainty only young adolescents have about anything.

    - You might need a bit more than this. Do you want to sell the songs?

    - I want to sing them myself.

    Mami did a slight, almost invisible, eyebrow raise. The little creature in front of her had managed to surprise the mistress of the house ¨C Very well. I will ask Mason if he has any idea where to go to next. - she held my hand ¨C You did a good job, my dear.

 Chapter 9 - London... Well, Bristol calling

    -You have to go to London ¨C Peter was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed in front of him, listening to me playing.

    - I know ¨C I said, letting silence take over once more. I was trying to get in as much work done as I could, before my family would come by for Christmas ¨C But I don¡¯t really know what to do. I will need a band and I don¡¯t know anyone¡­

    He lifted his chin slightly, pouting his lower lip ¨C I mean, we could try and get something on tape and send it off to some labels. I can bring in my guitar and we can work something out. Add some drums, some bass lines and it will be brilliant.

    Peter had had music lessons with me when he was younger, but the piano had never been his calling and he took up guitar some time after.

    - We could rent a studio down in Bristol for an afternoon or two ¨C he shrugged.

    - Do you think we could do that?

    - Of course, why not?

    He knew much more of the world than I did, at seventeen. I figured he knew what he was talking about and he did have the dream of becoming a musician.

    - Is it expensive? - I couldn¡¯t dream of asking for money now that I knew how things were.

    Peter smiled, cheekily ¨C Ask your father. Say it¡¯s your Christmas present. I bet you he won¡¯t say no.

    That did sound like the wisest course of action. But I wouldn¡¯t just outright ask for the money, I would ask for a loan and I would promise to pay him back.

    - Can I take a look at the scores? - Peter asked and he sat beside me. We talked about how we could introduce the different elements and my vision for all of it. - This is good. But always remember that this is your music. Make sure you always get to have the last word.

    He handed me the pages and he winked. Those words probably stayed with me more than he intended. So much so that the perfectionist in me got the nickname Little Monster, at Firefly.

    It¡¯s not as bad as it might sound, for me, at least. I ended up enjoying the idea of being contrary to what was expected of me.

    My dad loved the skeletons I had in my binder and immediately said he would loan me whatever I needed, that he would charge no interest. He did ask for an early, dated autograph, though, which may be somewhat exploitative as he said he just knew that first autograph would be worth a fortune someday, far outweighing what he was lending me.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Money issues aside, we did have a great Christmas, the six of us ¨C three siblings, my dad, Mami and grandma Lu¨ªsa -, and no one talked of illnesses or loneliness, grieving or loss. We just hung out by the fireplace, stuffing our bellies with cookies, went on scientific expeditions to the attic, ran about on the icy lawn and¡­ then it was all over again. Another wave of goodbyes, another round of farewell kisses, another stream of safe travels.

    Peter came by the day after they¡¯d been gone, with his guitar in tow, ready to show me what he had been working on. He was on his school Christmas break and I was floating around in limbo, still not knowing what would happen. We couldn¡¯t afford tutors , but I was not enrolled in a school either, as the move had been so sudden so, what better to do to pass the time than to work on some music?

    In the early days of January 1994, Edgar took Peter and me down to Bristol. Collins was not fond of the idea of Peter becoming a musician and he never encouraged him to do so. He had let him come along because I had asked him to and, yet, I could have sworn I saw his nose crinkling just a smidge when I did.

    The audio engineer started chatting with Peter as soon as we got there, asking him what he wanted and how he wanted it.

    - Oh, this is not for me. I¡¯m not the one paying for it ¨C Peter moved over and the man¡¯s eyes fell on me. I was always short for my age and have always looked younger than I really am. So, when he saw me, wearing an oversized black woollen jumper that made me look even smaller, he let out a belly laugh.

    - And what¡¯ll it be today, love? Postman Pat, Postman Pat and his black and white cat? - he sang, childishly.

    My initial reaction was to shield myself. I wasn¡¯t expecting mockery. But Peter just shot me a look that screamed stand up for yourself and, for the first time, I channelled my inner Margaret, stood up straight and handed him the scores.

    - This is what we have for today.

    The man knitted his brows as he skimmed through what I had given him ¨C Isn¡¯t this a little too grown up for you?

    - This is what we have for today ¨C I said it again, more assuredly this time. I went on to answer the questions he had asked Peter and we decided what and how we were going to record what we had

    As soon as we were actually recording, I managed to narrow my focus enough to let my insecurities disappear for a split second.

    We spent the afternoon working on Lost, recording and re-recording, adding dubs and layers of sound. It wasn¡¯t exactly how I had envisioned it, but we didn¡¯t have much time and we had to make do with what we had.

    Edgar sat on the couch, all along, just munching on some crisps and bobbing his head along with the rhythm.

    We made the trip back at night, eating the pasties Edgar had bought us, happy that it had gone so well. It really seemed that the world was smiling and welcoming us with open arms, such was the thrill.

    Mami was also very pleased, maybe not because of what I had done, but because I was happy. We had a late dinner together and she asked me to play Waltz no. 2, by Shostakovich, which had been hers and grandpapa John¡¯s first dance. She let herself close her eyes and travel back, before saying she was tired and wanted to go to sleep.

    I walked her to her room and went straight to the music room once again. We had another recording session soon and I wanted to ride that high for as long as I could.

 Chapter 10 - I did my waiting

    I have been asked less and less throughout the years what the meaning behind my songs is, mainly because my answer is always the same: while there are, indeed, stories behind most of them I will reserve the right to keep them to myself because, from the moment I release a song into the wild, it is no longer mine and it belongs to whoever listens to it.

    You see, songs and poems are indeed magical as they are very pliable and flexible and can easily fit into your own life experience, which may be significantly different from mine. As soon as a song finds that little spot in to someone¡¯s mind and makes it its home, then I can no longer claim it as exclusively mine.

    And I will not be the one ruining the way you experience music, just by explaining what is behind it. If you think those lyrics are about that time your uncle Bob took melatonin and almost drowned in the bathtub, then be it. Who am I to deny uncle Bob? I may, secretly, judge his actions, but I will never deny him.

    Of course, there are some notable exceptions, which I¡¯ve never hid, like the fact that Communion was an ode to Tommy and Clara and some others that you, dearest reader, will have contextualized in these pages.

    <hr>

    By the end of January, I had my little demo tape, with four songs: Lost, Whispered Echoes, Beyond the Veil and Fleeting.

    Mr. Mason had gotten me a list of record labels that might interest me and Peter added a couple more. They all got a copy of my humble songs, as did my dad, my grandmother Lu¨ªsa, my Mami, Peter¡­ Everyone I knew got a copy and I think I still may have one or two left stored in the attic. Maybe one day I¡¯ll shed some daylight on them and share them with the world, on YouTube, who knows?

    Copies sent, utter trust laid upon the Royal Mail workers and all I had to do next was wait. Wait and despair, apparently.

    February went by and not a word came from anywhere.

    March was nearing its end and Mami said, loud and clear, that she would send me over to Portugal because she could no longer stand my constant moaning about the wall of silence that I was facing.

    She did end up sending me over, but not as a punishment, as I was to spend Easter with my family, who would fly over to also celebrate Clara¡¯s birthday.

    I spent my own birthday in London and flew South, to enjoy family and good food, unaware that some songs of my demo had already found a niche in nightclubs in London and Berlin, and even in Tokyo.

    Only much later did I find out about all this and still had to do a bit of detective work to understand the specifics of such a wide net, in a time when analogue technology was still King. Or Queen, I¡¯m not judging.

    London is the easiest, really. Peter had a hand in it, obviously. He was a habitu¨¦ in the more alternative and rock clubbing circuit and, proud of his job, had lent the tape to a friend of his, who happened to be a DJ.

    Berlin was a bit more convoluted, but also not that difficult to solve. Mami had sent her copy to her cousins, down in Bavaria who, upon a first hearing, had decided to give it to a nephew who dressed in black, as it was more his thing. Said nephew took it to Berlin, showed it to his friends and the rest is History.

    In Tokyo, my proud father was gloating about his older daughter making a demo tape and lent it to a friend, in the embassy. The friend took it in his hands and made copies of his own, which he then passed along, ending up airing on pirate radios. Again, history.

    And while all of that happened and that wide network of people was working hard on sharing my music, I ended up staying with my grandmother, after everyone else had left. We went to her house, in the Douro Valley, as she was to supervise how the years¡¯ crops of almonds, grapes and olives were getting along.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    While she did so, I roamed among the vineyards, thinking what else could I do, where could I send more tapes to. Maybe I could send some overseas, to the USA. Someone, somewhere in the world, might enjoy what I had created.

    I ended up spending the rest of the month there with her, carrying my books around the garden, so I could keep on studying, all while my mind was focused on music alone.

    One day, the phone rang. It was Mami.

    - Is everything alright, Mami? - I felt suddenly guilty for being away for so long.

    - Everything¡¯s fine, darling. I¡¯m just a little tired, but I¡¯m not calling to chat about myself.

    My heart skipped a beat. Could it be¡­?

    - Someone called a few hours ago. They said they wished to speak to Eleanora. - I could hear the smile in her voice ¨C I figured you¡¯d like to know.

    I was so overwhelmed that I tried to pry for info my Mami definitely did not have.

    - My dear, I was never at Bletchley Park. All I know is that a Mr. Bishop called. He claimed to be from Firefly Records and he wanted to talk to you. Call him yourself, if you want some more information.

    - Take a deep breath ¨C grandmother Lu¨ªsa said, after hugging me, as I was struggling to get a proper sentence out in Portuguese ¨C Before anything else, just breathe.

    She guided me through a few cycles, so I could calm my nerves.

    - I know nothing about the music business, but I know a little bit about business in general ¨C she sat on the wicker chair by the phone ¨C And I know that, right now, you are looking too eager.

    I nodded. I was. I was ready to jump aboard the first chance someone gave me. I did not care.

    - Take your time to answer, say you¡¯ll think about it and don¡¯t take a proposition at face value. Let it mull for a while. - she smiled ¨C all those etiquette lessons will come in handy now. Right?

    My eyes darted all across the room, as I was keeping the waiting compass in between the beeps of the ongoing call. Calm and collected, I said to myself as a feminine voice answered and I told her my name and that I wished to talk to a Mr. Bishop. She told me she would put me through and I went back to the rhythmic sounds.

    - Johnny Bishop speaking ¨C a raspy voice answered. I could tell he was smoking as well.

    - Mr. Bishop, my name is Eleanora and I believe you called for me ¨C I said, trying not to run over any words, I could feel the butterflies in my stomach ¨C I sent a demo tape a few months back.

    I heard some fumbling in the background, like drawers opening and closing ¨C Oh, yes. Eleanora, I remember that¡­ Let me just see. Ah, here it is. Eleanora¡¯s Sundown. I do remember and I did call. I wanted to have a little chat with you.

    My heart was racing and my whole body was trembling.

    - I liked what you sent me, you know? It¡¯s very raw but, at the same time, it has this gentle and melancholy touch, you know?

    Of course, I knew. I¡¯d written it. But he was talking very fast and hardly let me get a word in.

    - Do you have any more of this? Did you record anything else?

    - I¡¯ve been working on a few more songs, but I have nothing else on tape. Not at the moment, at least. - I should have been working harder, I was beating myself over it.

    - Hmmm-mm¡­ - it sounded like he was taking some time to scribble something ¨C Do you reckon you and your band can come over, so we could have a more mano-a-mano talk?

    - Oh, I don¡¯t have a band, Mr. Bishop. I just had a friend helping me out with the demo.

    - Call me Johnny, love ¨C he said, carelessly. He sounded like the sort of person with a laissez-faire kind of philosophy ¨C But the tape says Eleanora¡¯s sundown. I thought this was a band.

    - I¡¯m afraid not, uh, Johnny.

    - Hmm¡­ - was the response. I really did not know what to take from the conversation so far. Maybe I should have waited and called when I went back home, with Mami by my side. But I wanted to be independent so badly¡­ - So, who played? Who wrote this? Who composed the melodies?

    - Well, I wrote and composed. My friend helped me out with the guitar and the bass. We used a sampler for the drums, that¡¯s why they sound sort of sketchy. Oh, and I played the keyboards.

    - Wait, wait ¨C Bishop seemed all over the place. Was he really interested by now? - How old are you, anyway? Because you sound very young.

    The moment of truth. The moment he would hang up the phone on me¡­ - I¡¯m thirteen, Mr¡­ Johnny.

    - You¡¯re¡­ You¡¯re thirteen? Are you sure? Because this is not the kind of sound a thirteen-year-old comes up with.

    - Well, the reality is that I was still twelve when I did that. - why would I say such a thing? I had no need to be that honest¡­

    - ¡­ Well¡­ Are you at least tall? Because I can get you a band, musicians are passionate about not starving, but if you look like a kid, no one will take you serious.

    - Afraid not¡­

    - ¡­ Make-up might help, who knows? Maybe platform shoes, they¡¯re fashionable, right? Listen ¨C he went back to his fast-paced speech ¨C Can we set up a meeting in person? I¡¯d like to talk to you just a little bit more.

    We set up a date three days from that moment. I still had no idea whether that had gone well or not but, at least I was going in for the second round in this job interview, right?

 Chapter 11 - The beginning is always today

    The meeting had been set to 11 a.m. so we, as British, were there at 10:45.

    Mr. Mason came with us, as I was still underage and he wanted to make sure I would not be taken advantage of. He knew exactly what I was after, so he would take over, if legalese became the official language of the meeting.

    My Mami had told me I should have dressed better, as she eyed my Bauhaus t-shirt, black hoodie jacket, skinny black jeans and black Converse, still sporting Portuguese mud in its tracks. I told her it was a matter of artistic integrity and she asked me if I had gotten my integrity directly from an unfortunate homeless person.

    She, on the other hand, was impeccable as always. I had never seen that woman any less than, be it for a black tie event, or just to pick some flowers from the greenhouse. It must have been some sort of generational thing, as my grandmother Lu¨ªsa was exactly like her. I had, clearly, not inherited any of that class.

    - You are your own lawyer ¨C Mr. Mason whispered, as we sat in the small waiting room ¨C No one will explain your case better than you. And if you need help, I¡¯ll be here.

    Johnny Bishop¡¯s office was not big nor was it well furnished, but that really did not matter as he was giving me the chance dozens of others had denied me so far. He was sitting behind his own desk, with a scruffy-looking beard, blue-tinted glasses and a cigarette between his lips. We introduced ourselves and he did the same, pointing at Robbie Hallburn, a producer, and Annie Wilson, whose role I did not get at that point. Bishop motioned for us to sit and asked if he could get us something.

    - When you told me you were thirteen, I thought you were pulling my leg, love ¨C he laughed with gravel in his voice, as he flicked the ash dangling from his cigarette.

    - I would never even say she was thirteen ¨C Annie Wilson snickered, from her chair, by the window.

    - Nah, it¡¯s true, you don¡¯t look like it ¨C he kept going at his up-tempo speech ¨C I don¡¯t think we could even claim you were older, even if we wanted to.

    I had never given my looks all that much thought, but they were making me feel very conscious about myself. I was there because I wanted to make music and I was very invested in all of it, by then. - I don¡¯t want to look older, Johnny. I just want to know if you really are interested in what I made ¨C I don¡¯t know where I mustered the courage to speak up like that, but I might as well follow through.

    - Oh, and she¡¯s got a personality to go with it ¨C Robbie Hallburn chuckled.

    - This is really odd, you know? - Bishop paid him no mind, grabbed my demo tape and rolled it between his fingers ¨C You sent me this tape which is nothing short of amazing¡­ I can honestly say I have never heard anything like this. But then, you come into my office and you¡¯re just a child. And you bring along this lovely lady who looks like she just came from a meeting at Buckingham Palace, and this gentleman here, who I seriously believe is going to sue me for everything that I own, when we¡¯re through.

    My grandmother smiled politely and shifted a bit, in her seat. The whole conversation was making her uncomfortable, but she knew this was my battle, and she would not intervene unless it was absolutely necessary.

    - Robbie here has a very high opinion of this ¨C he tapped on the case, that read Eleanora¡¯s Sundown ¨C He was pleasantly surprised when I told him you wrote and composed it all. So, Ellie here, can I call you Ellie? - he gave me no time to answer ¨C is a little surprise at every step of the way.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    - Have you played for long? - Robbie asked.

    - I¡¯ve been playing the piano for almost 10 years ¨C I said, even if I knew I should not be counting those first tentative years where I was just massacring the poor instrument ¨C I also play the violin and I took up cello a couple of years ago.

    - Impressive, really ¨C he muttered ¨C And you have a lovely voice as well. I take it you took lessons?

    I nodded ¨C I was classically trained for a while, yes.

    He gave me that universal not bad look, pouting and slightly furrowing his brows. At least on that front, things looked promising.

    - Well, that¡¯s all fine and dandy ¨C our attention shifted once more to Johnny, who was taking another cigarette from the packet and lighting it ¨C But we do have a complicated situation here, Elz. Personally, I like it, I like it a lot. But ¨C he puffed a cloud of smoke to the side ¨C But I wouldn¡¯t put you out there just yet. Give it a couple of years.

    I blinked. That was not the plan. At all. ¨C A couple of years? Why not now? I put that tape together in two months, from scratch. What could possibly keep me from adding a few more songs and recording an album?

    He took a drag ¨C Your voice needs to mature, you need to grow up a little bit more. I¡¯m not gonna put a child running up the bar and pub circuit.

    - Mature? - I took that one personally ¨C I know my voice better than I know any other instrument. What more maturing can I possibly have to do? I¡¯m not a boy, my voice won¡¯t crack.

    Well, technically, the not maturing part was not entirely true. But the change was not as glaringly obvious as it happened with boys.

    - I¡¯d do it ¨C Robbie¡¯s voice wedged itself between the tension, which granted him a cocked eyebrow from Johnny who did not appreciate his authority to be undermined like that. Yet, he made a little head motion, urging him to elaborate ¨C I mean, don¡¯t take me wrong, Johnny. But I think the girl¡¯s got talent. If I thought that was just beginner¡¯s luck, I¡¯d back you up, mate. I¡¯d be telling her myself that she needed to get her head straight first but, what I heard is solid. Proper music. Sure, I¡¯d tweak it up here and there, but I¡¯d take a chance, yeah.

    Johnny cocked his head, blasting him a devilish smile ¨C And what would Mr. Hallburn suggest, then?

    He shrugged ¨C Just give her a shot. Get her a band, let them give a couple of performances and go from there. Honestly ¨C he pointed at the tape on the table ¨C with something like that, I can put a band together for you in a couple of days. Maybe today, still.

    Johnny scratched his beard, giving it some thought ¨C And what does grandmother dearest think of all this? - he turned to Mami, who looked absolutely statuesque.

    - As long as my granddaughter is happy, so will I be, my dear Mr. Bishop.

    - And what does the lawyer think?

    Mr Mason smiled ¨C Where do we sign?

    Johnny¡¯s laugh filled up the room and broke the ice that still lingered ¨C Alright, Elz, here¡¯s what we¡¯re gonna do. Robbie will get his arse moving and he¡¯ll get you a band. I will personally get you two or three shows, small stuff, in-between real acts, half an hour tops. <mark>d¡®you</mark> reckon you¡¯ve got 30 minutes¡¯ worth of material?

    I nodded ¨C I do. - I didn¡¯t, but I was willing to make it happen.

    - You¡¯re gonna work on it with the lads we¡¯ll get you ¨C he pointed at me ¨C You¡¯re gonna play those gigs and, if you drown, we¡¯ll talk again in a couple of years and I will guarantee I will get you a deal. If you manage not to bomb, then¡­ - he shrugged, as he put his cigarette out. He wasn¡¯t backtracking altogether, but it was something.

    Robbie clapped ¨C Good show, Bishop. 500 quid that you¡¯ll be saying I was right all along.

    Bishop bit his tongue ¨C We¡¯ll see about that, . Where do you live, Elz? Where do I send the band to?

    - Well, I live in Somerset¡­

    - No can do Somerset ¨C he cut me off ¨C I¡¯m not paying for their trips. Do you have a place in the City?

    I shrugged ¨C Belgravia, then.

    Bishop raised his eyebrows above the rim of his tinted glasses ¨C Belgravia?¡­ Did grandmother dearest really come directly from Buckingham Palace?

    Mami gave out one of her clear laughs ¨C Not today, Mr. Bishop.

    - Oh, I see ¨C he smiled ¨C Toff little girl has decided to rebel, then?

    - We¡¯re all rebellious in our own way, Mr. Bishop. This generation has decided to take up rock and roll. Who can tell about the next one?

    We all shook hands, after I¡¯d given them New House¡¯s address. Johnny lingered a little bit more on Mami¡¯s and took a bow ¨C Your Highness.

    - It¡¯s Your Grace, dear. Don¡¯t mess up protocol. You might find it useful someday.

    I took a final glance at Johnny¡¯s face. His mouth was slightly opened, but there was not a shadow of a doubt that he had loved the whole interaction. I think Mami really did seal the deal with all her grace and wit.

 Chapter 12 - Hail, hail, the gangs all here

    Mami had left, earlier that morning, as she was feeling tired and nauseous.

    I was also feeling a little nauseous myself, but only because I had no idea what to expect. Hallburn had called, the previous day, saying he had gotten just the musicians I needed and that he would send them over so we could start working on our things ASAP.

    I had always figured bands to be more organic, like childhood friends who decided to give music a try, people with lasting bonds, who already had a connection. This felt artificial, but I really had no other way of doing it. Collins would never allow Peter to join me and my plan was really not to create a German electronic music duo.

    I was sure I was driving Edgar crazy, pacing up and down the hallway, at New House. He had been arranging the furniture in the drawing room, so we could have space to set up our little practice joint. Of course this was not an ideal setting, but it was the only thing we had.

    - There¡¯s nothing to worry about, Miss Eleanora ¨C he tried reassuring me, when the doorbell rang and I felt my stomach shrinking ¨C It will be fine.

    Edgar calmly walked the steps to the door, crossing the black and white floor tiles, under the watchful eye of great-great-grandpapa Teddy¡¯s bust, who had had the house built.

    Four pairs of very wide eyes greeted him, as the door swung open. The boy standing in front of him, somewhere in his early twenties, was very tall and lanky, with a lazy mohawk threatening to topple over to the side. He had a very calm and deep voice ¨C Uh¡­ Hi. We must have the wrong house, I don¡¯t know. We¡¯re looking for a girl called Eleanora.

    - Oh, you¡¯ve come to the right place, then ¨C Edgar smiled at them and stepped over, so I could greet them.

    - I¡¯m Eleanora ¨C I shook the boy¡¯s hand ¨C Please come in.

    - I¡¯m Simon ¨C the boy did not shy from my handshake ¨C Are we trespassing? Is this even legal?

    - As legal as can be ¨C I smiled at him and motioned for him to come in.

    A slightly younger boy with round cheeks and a shy smile said he was Alfie. A shorter one, with very fluffy blond hair, was Martin and lastly, very stylish in his slick black hair and sunglasses, Freddie.

    I took them to the drawing room after they had unloaded their rickety van, along with Edgar. There was a battery of cables and amps, a drum kit, the remaining instruments and everything in between we might need.

    They were mostly silent, as they put it all together, stealing inquisitive glances amongst themselves and looking around the blue damask room, with its ornate high ceilings.

    Edgar brought out some things to eat and that seemed to have unleashed the tapped conversations.

    - And Hallburn called, yesterday morning, and asked if we¡¯d like to earn a couple of quid ¨C Martin said, as he munched on half of an egg sandwich ¨C I mean, who doesn¡¯t want to earn a couple of pounds, right?

    - And a bonus lunch, apparently, so I¡¯m in ¨C Freddie picked a salmon sandwich from the tray.

    - I think Si¡¯s the only one who¡¯s heard your demo ¨C Martin kept going ¨C He was our liaison with Hallburn.

    - What did you think of it? - I asked Simon, who was downing a glass of fresh juice.

    - Juice is great ¨C he clinked the bottom of the glass on the table ¨C and the demo was very, very good. I think you¡¯ve managed to get some very interesting bass lines.

    Alfie chuckled ¨C No one cares about the bass, mate.

    - Yeah, usually no one cares about the bass. But it was just that that made me say yes to Hallburn, on the spot.

    - And the couple o¡¯ quid ¨C Fred chimed in, taking a napkin.

    - Would you say no to a couple of quid? - he gave him a sideways glance, but turned his attention back to me - But how do we go on about it, kid? Hallburn said something about some gigs and¡­ we would see how it went? What¡¯s all that about?

    I went over everything that had been said at the meeting and made sure to say this would be a make-or-break sort of deal. We definitely could not bomb this one.

    As Simon had been the only one who had heard the tape, I played it for the general audience to get a grasp of what we were about to embark on. I also had copies of the scores ready for them and, luckily, some better and some worse, they could all read music.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The first chords of Lost echoed in the room. This was the first time I was watching strangers listening to my music and it was absolutely nerve-racking. All I could envision were sneers from those older and more experienced musicians. But there were no sneers¡­ There were, instead, feet tapping along to the rhythm, heads bobbing. To my utter surprise, they were enjoying it.

    Whispered echoes came along and I could see Simon twitching his fingers in sync with the bass line. Eleanora from the tape shouted and, in the room, muted glances were passed around. I saw some grins. But they looked like the good kind of grin.

    Time for Fleeting, raw and primal. A call of the wild and untamed emotions. And, to top it all off, the ethereal scenario of Beyond the Veil, ghostly and eerie.

    - This is bloody brilliant ¨C Martin had an ear-to-ear grin. He looked as happy as a little child who had just been given a shiny new toy and his hair danced with every word ¨C I don¡¯t know how you did that on your own, but it¡¯s pure genius.

    Alfie got up and sat behind the drums, trying to recreate some passages, from the sketchy sampler that were desperately in need of a human touch, as he kept muttering oh, this is good, to himself.

    Simon sat back on the armchair, spreading his legs, as if had just emerged a victor from a battle ¨C I¡¯d told you lot this was a banger.

    - You said it was a banger, you didn¡¯t say this was a career opportunity ¨C Freddie walked over to the window, his hands in his pockets, as he peeked at the street ¨C How old are you? Because now I feel intimidated by a little girl ¨C he laughed.

    Martin came over and sat facing me, leaning forward, with a reassuring look I ended up learning only he could have ¨C How do you want to do this, El? Can I call you El?

    I laid the battle plan I had envisioned. As we had only 30 minutes to show what we were worth I¡¯d thought it best if we added a couple of cover songs to the mix. There was a lot to prepare already, and we might as well go along with at least two songs everyone was familiar with and not dabble too much with the unknown.

    We went back and forth for a while, until we only had two songs left, from all of those we had put on the table: The Man Who Sold the World, by David Bowie and Rebel Yell, by Billy Idol, so we could show some range. We would darken up Bowie and amp up Idol.

    I also took the chance to tell them that, if all went well, I was not looking for a band to provide me with input. This was my project, my vision and, more importantly, my music. The famous phrase this is not a democracy was first uttered within New House walls and they all said they were fine with that as long as they got paid.

    And so, we went to work straight away as no one knew how long we would have to make things perfect.

    Robbie Hallburn called the next day, telling me we had a grand total of 9 days to get our set ready to be shown to the world. And so, from that phone call onwards, every day, the magnificent four stood at our entrance, ready for another nose to the grindstone day.

    Funnily enough, it was easier to get my own tracks right than the covers. Those needed a few extra tweaks to turn out perfect but I think we managed to do a good job. So good that we became very proficient in covering songs, which did turn out for the best in more than one occasion.

    That Saturday, Peter joined us. He appeared excited but I knew him well enough to see the tinge of sadness in his eyes that it was Freddie, and not him, who was manning the guitar. Even so, he had been, and would be, a key player in all of my career. He may never have been a part of the band on stage, but his presence would be a constant for a very long time. He was one of those people that made things happen, his own sort of magician.

    That night, he went out with my band and the only thing I could do was watch them all climb down the steps and drive away. Although they did bring exciting, albeit hungover, news the next morning.

    - You will not believe what was on yesterday, in the Underground ¨C Alfie nibbled on a slice of lemon cake, very slowly, to check if his stomach agreed with it.

    - I do not. But I assume you¡¯re about to tell me ¨C I took the microphone stand to the middle of the room and turned the knob, to adjust its height.

    - She¡¯s not gonna believe you ¨C Peter grinned like a Cheshire cat, his face half-hidden by a gigantic mug of black coffee.

    Alfie bit his lip, echoing him ¨C She¡¯s not gonna believe me.

    - Oh, ye of little faith ¨C I said into the microphone, a little louder than I needed to, and I could feel those headaches cringing all around me. That pulled a smile out of my little sadistic bastard self.

    Simon had his eyes closed and groaned loudly ¨C My dear, if we had so little faith in you, believe me, we would not be here on a bloody Sunday morning. - he gave Alfie a little smack on the back of the head ¨C Go on, tell her, don¡¯t be a prick.

    Alfie gave me a wide smile, which only made his already puffy eyes narrow even more ¨C Lost. They played Lost, last night.

    I felt my eyebrows furrowing and, for a moment, I thought he was pulling my leg and waited for the mockery that did not come.

    - People went crazy ¨C Martin said, in the croaky voice of someone who was on very little sleep and had been singing his heart out all night ¨C They knew the lyrics and everything.

    Simon yawned loudly ¨C I mean, we were drunk, sure. But I don¡¯t think we were all hallucinating.

    - How¡­? - was all I could say, before my eyes fell on Peter, who was avoiding me, suddenly finding the portrait of great-aunt Josephine extremely interesting ¨C How?

    - Does it matter, really? - Freddie was fiddling with the guitar, which was still turned off. He always had a grumpy type of hangover ¨C Focus on the good part, El. People loved it. By the way, I stole this for you ¨C he got up and took a paper that he had folded twice and handed it to me.

    I was still looking straight at Peter and yes, he had all the looks of a guilty man, ready to take on the scaffold. He had access to the demo, he was a frequent flyer of the Underground and, yes, two plus two was still four. I unfolded the poster and there it was, Eleanora¡¯s Sundown, in small script among the other bands.

    I decided to turn a blind eye to Peter¡¯s little transgression. That A4 poster right there was, so far, a crowning moment and I would ride that little wave of pride for as long as I could.

    That night, I folded it again and put it in an envelope, addressed to Japan. Sharing is caring, right?

 Chapter 13 - Down in the safe, soft womb of Earth

    It was my first time setting foot in a nightclub. To be completely fair, I don¡¯t think it was even legal for me to be there.

    We hauled our gear inside, after being greeted by Robbie Hallburn, who introduced us to Steve Wallace, the vampire owner of the Underground nightclub. I¡¯d heard about it so many times, from Peter, that I almost knew what to expect from it all: a place where all rock-loving bats could go for their weekend sacrament of sound, a dark womb of an ancient shadow mother.

    Steve was nothing short of a gentleman, as he showed us the ropes and told us that, after the show, the drinks would be on the house, except for me, the child who had apparently escaped nursery school. He introduced us to his girlfriend, Pat, who momentarily lifted her eyes from the accounting she was working on at the counter. She was an exquisite sort of beauty that had all the elements of a timeless Persephone.

    Steve left us to do our soundcheck, under the hopeful gaze of Robbie Hallburn, who really was hoping to cash in on his bet that we were, in fact, worth at least 500 pounds.

    As the boys checked their instruments, all I could envision was that now empty room, soon to be packed with people. I felt a tug in my gut that told me all that was a dreadful idea, and that I should back up as quickly as I could and find a safe spot where I would cower and become an asocial hermit for the rest of my life. That I could do, if I tried hard enough.

    I sang a little bit. The sound wasn¡¯t all that bad. Of course, it was no Royal Albert Hall, but we could work with that.

    From the corner of my eye, I saw Pat sitting up straight and turning back, her eyebrows furrowed, cocking her head to look at the stage, as if she was trying to pinpoint something. When we were done, the girl got up and graciously waltzed her way to us.

    - I¡¯ve heard your voice before, haven¡¯t I? - she asked, looking up.

    I could see Simon pursing his lips beside me.

    - I don¡¯t think so. It¡¯s our first show, really. So it¡¯s probably just a coincidence ¨C I told her, secretly appreciating that my anonymous voice had some sort of recognizable elements.

    - No, I don¡¯t think so, doll. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ve heard you before¡­ But where?¡­ - her face lit up, suddenly ¨C wait. Did you say this was your first show?

    I nodded, and I tugged at the sleeves of my holey woollen jumper. I had some sections of it held on by safety pins, trying to get it from fraying any further but it had been my mum¡¯s, so I would not part ways with it.

    - I like your look ¨C she smiled, looking at me from top to bottom ¨C very casual, shy, minimalist punk. I really like it. Are you doing your own makeup?

    - Uh¡­ I usually end up looking like a raccoon who¡¯s lost a vicious battle with a can of paint, but I will try to make it look like it wasn¡¯t an accident. - I laughed, embarrassed at how inept I really was with all of it. All of it, really, including life in general.

    She crossed her arms ¨C Let me do it for you, then. Consider it a break a leg gift, for your debut. I¡¯m really good, I¡¯m a makeup artist by day and accountant by night ¨C she laughed, showing a row of perfect white teeth behind the dark crimson lips.

    I agreed to the terms of that makeup Batman and that was how I ended up with a life-long friendship and successful work relationship of many years, with the infinitely talented Patricia. Her inspiration always seemed never-ending and I owe so many of my now iconic looks to her.

    I was such a bundle of nerves that I barely recall what the bands that played before us sang. Peter kept saying everything would be fine so many times, that I threatened to strangle him with the microphone cable and end the Collins¡¯ legacy if he said it¡¯s gonna be fine just one more time. That seemed to have done the trick, because he went from there to reminding me to drink some water every five bloody minutes, which may not seem like it, but felt like an improvement at the time.

    The crowd was still cheering on the previous band and we were just by the steps that would lead us to the stage. I felt a warm and heavy hand on my shoulder and looked up, to see Steve Wallace, who towered over me.

    - There are only two ways to face a stage for the first time ¨C he said, not facing me. It felt like an oracle was about to disclose information I had been seeking, after having sailed the Aegean sea for 10 years ¨C You either face it with terror and fear of exposing your soul, or you see it as an opportunity, every single time you step on it. And you get to make that choice. No one will be choosing for you.

    I looked over at the crowd and I nodded. For me, it wasn¡¯t a matter of having a choice. I knew now how to face it.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    - Oh, and another thing ¨C he sounded strangely grounded, all of a sudden ¨C You really can¡¯t be here after you finish your set. I¡¯m sorry, but it¡¯s the law. You¡¯re just too young. - Such a pragmatic man.

    Steve took his hand off my shoulder and he himself climbed the steps.

    - And now, my night-winged companions, a premiere in our Underground lair. Directly from Highgate, as the crow flies, this is¡­ Eleanora¡¯s Sundown.

    I truly had thought that, the moment one stepped on stage, everything around you would just fade away but that could not be farther from the truth. In fact, just about the opposite happened: nothing faded away, everything was amplified tenfold. It was as if the world had been put under the most potent microscope Man had ever built and I could see every single little detail it had to offer. I felt like a deer in headlights. Maybe a deer in limelights would be more accurate, if deer had any tendency to step on stages.

    I felt my trembly legs, as I walked the few steps to the centre of the stage, heart beating like a wild drum in the jungle that was my chest. I heard each new breath coming in and out of my nose and felt the little atoms of oxygen mixed with the smoke of what smelled like a thousand cigarettes.

    My teeth were clattering against each other, as if I had just stepped outside on the coldest winter day only in my pyjamas, and my arms weighed a ton, as I lowered the mic stand.

    - This is Lost ¨C I said softly, my voice coming out of the sound system all the way to the back of those dark walls.

    Freddie played the first lonely chords, followed suit by Simon¡¯s distinctive bassline. I really had no notion that you could see the audience so well, up on a stage and I felt a little rush when I saw confused looks being darted all around. Those people really had heard Lost before.

    Alfie¡¯s drums came in, as well as Martin¡¯s keys and, soon enough, my own instrument was looking for a place in the metaphorical sun. I closed my eyes, trying to focus solely on the sounds that emanated from behind me and not on the faces of the people who stood in front of me, but I could feel that shift in the air that any musician can pinpoint: the moment when you realise that people know your music and, even better, that they enjoy it.

    The crown of glory of that night of firsts came in the form of applause. A bit shy, sure, but that was meant for us, for all of us and it felt better than a million pounds.

    The other songs came out naturally. Whispered echoes unfolded, taking away some of the pent-up energy I had that made me tremble. Fleeting, wild and unstoppable, making the audience dance. All those hours working so hard had been worth it.

    I could see what Steve meant, as I managed to choose the opportunity and cast away the fear.

    We told the twisted and thorny tale in Beyond the Veil and we were more than halfway there. No turning back now.

    We let the simple, yet pungent arrangement in The Man Who Sold the World shine through. I could see, from the corner of my eye, as Steve Wallace sang along with me and that was confirmation enough that we were doing a good job. I would never dishonour Bowie¡¯s legacy in my life and, if I only had one good music in my setlist, let it be the one to shine.

    We ended up hammering it all with Rebel Yell and it sounded like we wanted to bring the house down. With all that adrenaline pumping, it felt like we could.

    I felt the sweat running down my back as I took two steps back, trying to tell up from down. I took a bow and made my first exit stage left as the musicians were wrapping up their ends of things.

    I had to lean against a wall, to keep from crumbling and I could see Robbie Hallburn spilling his beer everywhere, as he tried to get to us as fast as he could, pushing people as he went by.

    - What the fuck was that?! - he was beaming and slurring his loud words ¨C Fucking hell! I knew I was right. You razed this fucking place to the ground.

    Peter came by as well and hugged me ¨C That was mental, Ellie!

    The rest of the guys came down from the stage and Hallburn was all over them, showering them with praises that were both clearly deserved and needed. They had worked very hard those past few days.

    - I knew I¡¯d heard your voice before, doll ¨C Pat came up with Steve in tow, her long bell sleeves waving as she talked excitedly ¨C I knew it.

    - That Bowie cover was¡­ - Wallace kissed the tips of his fingers ¨C Wonderful job, really.

    The rest of the band would be, justifiably, celebrating that victory but I needed to head home, so Peter hailed a taxi to take us to New House. Leaving after such an emotional moment left a sour taste in my mouth, but I had no other choice, so we stood there, waiting for our ride, on the pavement, in front of the club.

    A tall, thin boy, a little older than Peter was hanging about as well, smoking a cigarette and he nodded, when we passed him by.

    - Your music was great ¨C he said, and I thanked him, with a smile. He pulled out his packet of cigarettes and offered it to Peter, who gladly took one ¨C I¡¯d heard it before. Is that really your song, Lost, I mean?

    I told him that, yes, that really was my song. A small claim to a small fame.

    - Wicked sound, yeah¡­ - he tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it, turning around to make his way back inside. But he hesitated for a moment, as he looked at the flyer sellotaped to the door and, in a slick motion, he ripped it off ¨C Can I get an autograph? When you¡¯re famous, I¡¯ll sell it for a buttload ¨C he laughed.

    - Ah, shit ¨C Peter laughed, as he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and took out a pen, which he handed to me ¨C I don¡¯t get to have the first autograph.

    I signed Eleanora and wrote 05/94 ¨C I hope you do and I will want to know for how much ¨C I told him as our ride pulled over. He gave me a little salute and went back inside, neatly putting the piece of paper in the inner pocket of his vinyl coat.

    So, boy-now-man probably well into your 40s, if you are reading this and if you did sell that first autograph, reach out and keep your end of the deal. Tell me how much it was worth, even if it was just a simple trade for a kebab in a hazy, late-night somewhere.

    A few years later, a tape of that first performance came into my possession. I had no idea they taped the performances and when I got to watch it from an outside perspective for the first time, it was surprising how all the emotions resurfaced. And we were all so young and green, it was actually endearing.

    I had it digitalised, posted on YouTube and now we can all cringe together, as it has been widely shared.

    But, truth be told, for first-timers, we weren¡¯t all that bad.

 Chapter 14 - The art of war

    There would, obviously, be no rehearsal the next day, so I took the time and went back to Somerset Hall, ready to wear Mami¡¯s ears off. I had so, so much to tell her and I still had the red-hot blood of victory pumping through my veins

    But, when I got there, I was pulled back down to Earth and had a bucket of icy water poured down on me, when Collins told me that Mami had been feeling unwell and had gone to bed, just after breakfast. To be so suddenly reminded of her illness was enough to curdle to a halt the victorious crimson flow that I had going.

    So I sat down and did what I do best, in moments of gloom and solitude, and bloom in the form of art. I built the rudiments to another song, to add to my grim repertoire.

    <hr>

    A week passed and we were gracing the stage of the Underground, once more. It seemed like Hallburn had an arrangement with Wallace, to try out new bands in his space. And we clearly were grateful for filling in for 30 minutes, if that allowed us to prove our worth.

    The second show went better than the first one, mainly because I wasn¡¯t so much caught by surprise as I had been, a week prior. I managed to spot Johnny Bishop among the crowd, undoubtedly checking in on his possible future investment, not willing to just take Hallburn¡¯s word for granted.

    Our final show would be in a place called The Guild and that did not go as smoothly as the other two, as I had some technical issues with my microphone. But, all in all, two out of three (seeing as it was not a fault of my own) was not a bad ratio, for an absolute rookie.

    I found myself in Bishop¡¯s office once again, dutifully accompanied by Mr. Mason. This time, I had brought hope along, even if not Mami as well.

    - Read everything as thoroughly as possible, love ¨C Bishop handed me a stack of papers filled with clauses and jargon, which I read and handed to Mr Mason as I finished them ¨C What I¡¯m proposing, is a one-year deal.

    - Why only a year? - I asked, still reading through what seemed like an infinite repetition of the same terms.

    - Because ¨C he lit a cigarette ¨C I¡¯m not looking to get burned. And I don¡¯t want you to get burned either, Elz.

    I lifted my eyes from the Legalese and arched my eyebrows at him.

    - Your music¡¯s good. It¡¯s great. - he clarified ¨C But I think you¡¯re too young to be diving head first into this world. It¡¯s rotten, ya know? - he took a glance at Mr. Mason that did not even flinch. - And it can rot you as well.

    - Do you doubt I can do it? - I asked. I understood his intentions, but I felt like he could be underestimating me. The brashness of youth, as they call it

    He took a deep breath ¨C Oh, I have no doubts about your abilities, I¡¯ve seen you on stage, as green as you may be. And I know there are a lot of artists that have started their careers as young as you. - he took a long puff, making the orange ember at the tip of the cigarette shine bright ¨C But I¡¯ve also seen older people sinking like they¡¯ve hit an iceberg. And, to be honest, love, I think it¡¯d be a waste if you were to sink. - he clicked his tongue three times, as he contemplated the view out of his window, nothing worthy of note, but enough to cleanse the mood ¨C So, I¡¯m offering 2000 quid, in advance, which you will pay back with sales. Hallburn will produce your album and promotion and distribution will also be on us but.. I would advise you to get a manager. You¡¯ll need someone who¡¯ll fight to get your name out there, as soon as the album breaks into the market.

    Mr. Mason¡¯s quiet, but steady voice broke Bishop¡¯s monologue ¨C I do understand the recoupable advance, but I cannot agree with the royalty partition of 90/10.

    - What do you mean, Mason? It¡¯s the usual rate.

    Mr. Mason cleared his throat ¨C The usual rate, Mr. Bishop, falls between 10 to 30%. And I would like to fight for a little something more.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Bishop laughed coarsely ¨C Do you know the kind of artists that get 30%? Absolute top-tier ones.

    Mason¡¯s face did not even flinch. His bluff game was also top tier ¨C I may quote you on the number of times you¡¯ve praised my client¡¯s work, including expressions like some of the best I¡¯ve ever heard, and so on and so forth. If she is that good, it won¡¯t be another 5% that will harm the label. But those 5% will, instead, highly benefit my client. Motivation is key, after all.

    Bishop grinned, stealing a glance at me ¨C Oh, he¡¯s good, isn¡¯t he, Elz? - I nodded ¨C 12,5%.

    - 15%, Mr. Bishop. A drop in the ocean.

    He chewed his cheek for a while, probably mulling the numbers in his head ¨C So be it, 15 won¡¯t make that much of a difference.

    I took back the contract and skimmed it again. There was something amiss ¨C What about the musicians?

    - What about them? Don¡¯t you like the ones Hallburn got you?

    - Oh, they¡¯re great ¨C I said ¨C We worked very well together. But this deal only mentions me. What about them?

    He just shrugged, not all that bothered with any of it ¨C They¡¯re your musicians.

    I was taken aback by that. My musicians? How was I supposed to keep them? - So, just to get all our ducks in a row¡­ I get 2000 pounds, which are recoupable¡­

    - Right.

    - But I have to pay the musicians with the money I do not own? I don¡¯t even have any equipment¡­

    Bishop took off his tinted glasses and rubbed his eyes. Perhaps he had thought this would be an easier talk ¨C I told you the business was filthy rotten.

    Mason started talking, but Bishop cut him off.

    - Listen, let¡¯s strike a deal, then. This is what, May? - he checked the calendar on his desk ¨C Firefly will give you an advance, so you can pay for the lads and the equipment you might need.

    - Recoupable¡­

    - I¡¯m running a business here, doll. So you ¨C he pointed a finger at me ¨C will have to prove your worth and work hard if you want to make it big. And I would be flattered, if I were you. I¡¯m only doing this because I really think you can get somewhere.

    I stole a glance at Mason who only shook his head, as if to say, it would be my decision.

    - How long? - I asked, turning to Bishop once more.

    He leaned back, running his fingers through his scruffy beard, scrunching his nose at the calendar ¨C You¡¯re just a first-timer, so let¡¯s set wider goals¡­ Four months to work on the album, two months until it takes flight. So six months until we start cashing back what was given in advance.

    Six months. That meant I had until the end of November to get it all figured out. All I could see, so far, was a large pea souper of a future and it made me very uneasy.

    - Miss¡­ - Mr Mason called. I did not understand if he wanted me to make a decision or to stall the negotiations, somehow, so we could regroup.

    - I want it all rewritten ¨C I said, as I laid the stack of paper back on Bishop¡¯s desk. I had made up my mind, as awful as it could be. He nodded ¨C And I want some extra clauses added.

    - Oh! - Johnny laughed so hard he started coughing ¨C So demanding. Pray tell, Eleanora.

    - I want it outlined that I want creative control over my music and the album art. I want to have the final word.

    Johnny arched an eyebrow. Who did I think I was to ask for so much? ¨C What if Hallburn thinks some things might work better differently? He¡¯s the producer, he knows how the market works.

    - I will consider it.

    - Right¡­ - the scepticism was palpable ¨C And¡­?

    - I get the masters after 10 years.

    His laughter filled the room once more. Not a I find this funny laughter, more of a this girl is delusional laughter - No.

    - I¡¯m not done ¨C I said ¨C I get 100% of the royalties as well, after 10 years.

    Bishop just scoffed ¨C Mark my words, love. In ten years time, no one will be listening to rock music. It¡¯s a dying breed.

    I just shrugged, following in the advice of grandmother Lu¨ªsa and never be too eager ¨C If there¡¯s nothing to lose, then, you won¡¯t mind adding that clause as well.

    He opened his mouth to retort, but turned to Mason instead ¨C Has she been having lessons with you?

    - I think it¡¯s a perfectly reasonable thing to ask for. - he said, cool as a cucumber ¨C 10 years is a long time, Mr Bishop. If the album is successful, it will be 10 years of 85% royalties pouring into the label. If it¡¯s not, what difference will it make?

    He hesitated for a hot minute ¨C 20 ¨C was he conceding defeat?

    - 15, then. It is only fair, is it not? - I was not expecting to win this one. I was just trying to get a sort of upper hand.

    - 20 or we can drop the whole act right here, right now, Elz. I¡¯m serious.

    I just shrugged again. Twenty years was better than an eternity ¨C I want it in writing, then.

    - You people kill me ¨C he took the contracts back ¨C be back here tomorrow to sign this shit and cash your check. But listen carefully, I really dislike squandering money about. - he looked me in the eyes ¨C I want nothing but hard work from you, miss princess.

    We shook hands and Mason and I headed back downstairs. Six months that I had to prove I was worth it. Six months and a debt over my head. How could I be trying to earn some money and still manage to get even more in the red? I felt a tightness in my throat.

    - What should I do, Mr. Mason? With the money, that is?

    He did not falter ¨C Wise investments, miss. See what you need most. Perhaps a van?

    We took a taxi that left me at Paddington station ¨C How much do I owe you, Mr Mason? I don¡¯t want my grandmother paying for this.

    - Nonsense, miss Eleanora. I hardly said a word.

    I took the train back home, with the weight of those six months looming over me.

    That night, I laid the foundations for the album¡¯s sixth song, The World¡¯s End.

 Chapter 15 - Alea jacta est

    With a signed contract, ¡ê2000 in the bank, a new rehearsal place, away from the neighbours where we could be as loud as we wanted, and four happy musicians, it was time to hit the studio. We set up a day with Hallburn and I took all I already had with me: my first four demo songs and the two new ones, May and The World¡¯s End.

    - I¡¯d wager for, maybe, four more songs, if you want it to run for an hour. Maybe set the absolute lower limit to 50 minutes ¨C Hallburn crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the worn swivel chair ¨C Do you have anything else? At all? Maybe you could all do a little jam session and come up with something.

    Martin shook his head, smiling ¨C No, no Hallburn. Boss has set us up straight since day one ¨C he leaned forward, his arms on his knees ¨C what was it? This is not a democracy?

    - It¡¯s not a democracy ¨C I reassured.

    It sounds more pedantic than it really was, trust me.

    Alfie laughed, as he twirled his drumsticks between his fingers ¨C Thus here we are, living under a dictatorship¡­

    Hallburn tilted his head, which made me believe I was causing quite the conundrum in his head ¨C Are you really not giving your musicians artistic freedom?

    - Does a composer give the orchestra artistic freedom? - I asked, not taking my eyes off the notebook I was skimming for something else we could use. This one did sound pedantic, I¡¯m sorry.

    Alfie broke out in song, in his own gibberish version of the USSR anthem. He could be oblivious to the actual words, but he did not sound all that bad.

    Simon tried to fix his mohawk that was getting too long and kept stubbornly leaning on to the right ¨C Mate, you¡¯re getting paid, aren¡¯t you? - he gave up and just flicked it ¨C So, shut up and just play.

    - Is that what fuck authority means to you, punk boy? - Freddie said with a sneer, his cigarette between his fingers ¨C Because I know I wouldn¡¯t mind having a word in.

    - Pfft¡­ lead guitarists¡­ - Simon mumbled something more about main characters, after giving Freddie the two-fingered salute, and just moped on the couch.

    I closed the notebook and took out the scores I¡¯d scribbled ¨C Look, it¡¯s not like you can¡¯t voice your opinions. I never said I was completely closed off to changes, but this is my music.

    Hallburn threw his hands up ¨C Alright, alright. I¡¯m just trying to understand where all that is coming from.

    I got up and handed him the scores to something else ¨C I¡¯ve been working on this, but I¡¯m still lacking lyrics for it.

    - Has anyone ever told you you have dreadful penmanship? What¡¯s it called? I can¡¯t read it.

    - I¡¯ve heard it once or twice ¨C I leaned over his shoulder ¨C Bond. Seriously, you couldn¡¯t read Bond?

    Stolen story; please report.

    - Like in James? - he laughed.

    - Like in an unbreakable bond. Imagine Siamese twins, or like selling your soul at a crossroads sort of bond, I don¡¯t know.

    We exchanged views on some technical aspects of it all. I really thought Robbie was getting the hand of what I wanted, when he charged in, once more.

    - But, what¡¯s keeping you from working with them? Is it that you don¡¯t want to credit them on the songs?

    - It¡¯s nothing like that.

    - Just leave the girl alone, Rob ¨C Simon broke up his moping track ¨C If she wants to do it alone, let her. It¡¯s none of your business.

    I was now travelling back home on the weekends, so I could spend some time with my grandmother. Dr. Hughes had told her to stay put and not overexert herself with travelling, if she could help it.

    She always asked for private concerts, so I could show her the progress I¡¯d made, and I would sit at the piano and play the acoustic versions of my songs for her.

    - You can¡¯t say you have a bad life ¨C she blurted out of the blue, one afternoon after I¡¯d finished up a song ¨C But it¡¯s not been easy, has it, darling?

    I rested my hands on my thighs and smiled at her ¨C Some people have it so much harder, Mami. I really cannot complain. I¡¯m not hungry, I¡¯m not cold¡­

    Mami rested her elbow on the arm of her seat and touched her temple ¨C It¡¯s human nature to complain, darling. No one would blame you if you did. - she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was looking frail ¨C I want you to make me a promise.

    I reached out and closed the fallboard over the keys, as quietly as I could. The conversation was taking a serious turn and my guess was that music was no longer an option, at least for the time being.

    - I may not know much about the world you¡¯re just stepping in to ¨C she said ¨C But what I do know is that you may be entering it alone.

    My heart skipped a beat. I was not ready to go down that route ¨C Mami¡­

    - Let me finish, my dear. From what I gather, there is a lot to lead one astray. And I want you to promise me you won¡¯t lose your focus and you will not be tempted by things you should not be tempted with.

    I was confused. Was she talking about drugs? Did my Mami even know anything about it, to begin with?

    - You and your siblings are the only direct family I have left. - Mami went on, not minding the confused look on my face ¨C And I¡¯d hate to step out of this life knowing that I did not warn you enough about what might be waiting for you out there. You are too young to be doing this alone.

    I shook my head ¨C I¡¯ll be fine, Mami¡­

    - What is your focus? - she said, in that tone she would use when she was testing me.

    I hesitated ¨C The House¡­?

    - Family. - Mami corrected me - For years, I thought the House was my focus, as well. But then I realised that, if all of this was to be gone tomorrow, all I would have left would be you and Tommy and Clara. You are what matters most and I would have liked to have understood that sooner ¨C a teardrop ran down her face ¨C I would never have separated you, if I did.

    I got up and walked over, hugging my vanishing grandmother. It was all I was able to do for her.

    - Now, promise me. - she whispered in my ear ¨C Promise only me, that you will be careful and you won¡¯t lose your way.

    - I promise, Mami¡­

    In between my journeys back and forth, the time we spent in the studio and the hours I tried to dedicate to study so I wouldn¡¯t be behind in all of it, we still managed to wedge in a different side quest. Steve Wallace had told us he had a friend who owned a pub and asked us if we would like to fill in some hours, a couple of days a week, just playing some covers. We would get paid just enough for gas and maybe some chips for the five of us, but it could prove to be good training grounds for a budding band.

    So, every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, there we were, playing classic rock covers, sometimes venturing into 80s rock, all with out little twist of lemon, just to make the songs a little bit our own, as well.

    But, if I thought that it would take the stage fright away from me, I was deeply mistaken. And it was not a bad thing, after all, as I learned that, the more relaxed I went on the dais, the more I was prone to err. So, a little touch of nerves was just the right thing to keep me on my toes.

 Chapter 16 - A misfit

    I took two weeks off, in July, to fly to Japan. I had passed my exams (perhaps just a little too averagely for my liking, but things had been a little too hectic and I had done the best I could), the studio sessions were going well and I was now to enjoy my family with nothing else on my mind.

    I made a somewhat big dent in my advance money, to buy my brother¡¯s birthday present. It was a shady type of second-hand store deal but still, I managed to get him a Nikon 35Ti camera, as he had told me he had started to go to an after-school photography club. The shop owner told me that the camera was, not only great, but also almost brand new and so I trusted him. I do not think I would have done it, if Peter and Simon weren¡¯t with me as well, my guides to the questionable world of second-hand and thrift stores.

    Tommy and Clara had both grown so much in a mere matter of months since I had last seen them. Clara was now well into her magical girl phase and had started to answer only to Kiki, as it was easier to pronounce at school, so I just went along with it. She had only recently discovered a passion for painting and drawing and, of course, I was going to capitalise on that for Christmas. Whatever they showed interest in, I would do my best to provide, always.

    And she was good at it too, for a six-year-old. My dad also thought that she showed some promise and had enrolled her in art classes, on Saturday mornings and, very soon, they became her own happy place. Dad had even semi-converted my bedroom into an office/studio for both of them, as I wasn¡¯t using it anyway.

    I did feel a little cast aside, but I could point no flaw in that logic, so I held my peace.

    Besides, Tommy was over the moon with the present and promised me that, one day, he would be the author of one of my future album covers. I promised I would cash in on that promise and we have probably created a promise paradox that is still unfolding, somewhere.

    I took my time to enjoy their presence, their happiness and their free spirits because I knew I would need it in the time that would come.

    I told my dad all my woes and he said he would help me, if and when I needed him to, but I told him that I should be the one solving the problems I had gotten myself into.

    - Well, if you ever decide to put that blasted Somerset pride aside, you know I¡¯ll be here for you ¨C were his words, when he left me at the airport.

    <hr>

    We doubled our efforts at the studio and Hallburn was certain we would not need all the allotted time we had set to record the album.

    So, for me, that meant that things were all going wonderfully. And, in my still very much childish mind, that led to a series of utopian scenarios in which all my problems would go away¡­ The album would be released, I would earn enough money to maintain Somerset Hall, my grandmother¡¯s cancer would magically disappear and I would still have many years with her. Who knew, maybe I would even travel the world, singing my songs for people of all nations to hear¡­ Such a sweet Summer child with musical UN dreams¡­

    I had a photo shoot set for mid-August, but I had also been told that I had an appointment with stylists two days prior to that. Whatever that would mean.

    Peter had his driver¡¯s license already and he was really keen on keeping up with it all, as much as he could before going to Uni, in September, so he came along with me.

    Annie Wilson was the one who would lead me down this makeover road, and she took both me and Peter to a room, where she introduced Paul, who would be responsible for hair and make-up, and Colleen, the stylist. There was a full-length mirror, a rack with a bunch of clothes and a vanity with the largest assortment of makeup I had ever seen.

    - Paul ¨C Annie called, as I sat on the chair in front of the vanity, the bright lamps highlighting every aspect of my face ¨C Tell Eleanora what you¡¯re planning for her.

    - Wait, wait ¨C I lifted my hand ¨C Just rewind it a little bit for me and tell me why do I need a makeover in the first place?

    Annie rested her face on my shoulder, both of us looking in the mirror ¨C Have you taken a good look at yourself? Do you think anything about you says you¡¯re an artist? That you¡¯re edgy?

    I locked eyes with my own reflection. All I saw was a thin, pale girl, with long, braided, blond hair, a round face and a pair of large, blue eyes. - Is anything wrong with how I look?¡­

    - Paul! - she called again and Paul came over and unbraided my hair.

    - I was thinking ¨C he said as he parted my hair in two and rested each half over my shoulders, running his fingers incessantly through it ¨C we could cut it into a straight long bob, maybe some long bangs for impact, and we could dye it jet black.

    I saw myself furrowing my blond eyebrows ¨C I don¡¯t want to dye my hair¡­

    - What do you mean, you don¡¯t want to dye your hair? Paul is a pro, he knows what he¡¯s doing ¨C Annie¡¯s voice was harsh.

    - It would make you look more like an adult ¨C he said, still running his fingers through my tresses ¨C We could go platinum, it could suit you as well. Maybe some highlights to frame the face.

    I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with how it felt my individuality was being questioned ¨C No, no, leave my hair alone. I¡¯m not even sure I want to cut it . Style it for the photo shoot all you like, but don¡¯t touch it any further.

    Annie huffed ¨C Why are you being so difficult? Do you really want to get your photos taken looking like that? - there was almost a note of disgust in her voice, as she pointed at me from the mirror.

    I gave her a sly smile ¨C Just pretend it¡¯s a case of capillary integrity.

    - I¡¯m going to have a word with Johnny. - she threatened, hands on her hips, as if she was chiding a little child ¨C He will set you straight.

    - You may have all the words in the world with him. I have the final decision on the album art and, seeing as I¡¯m on it, I believe that extends to the hair department as well.

    I heard a stifled snicker from where Peter was sitting. I could not see him, but I knew him well enough to know exactly the sort of sardonic smile he was sporting.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    - Hallburn was right when he said you were a little monster to work with ¨C she spat, contemptuously.

    My mouth just dropped at those words and I turned back and saw that Peter was just as surprised. Except for a few episodes in school, in Roppongi, no one had ever called me anything like that to my face. I felt a wave of haughtiness and straightened my back, facing the mirror. She would get nothing out of me now.

    The stylist tried to break through that murkiness that was hovering in the air, showing me some clothing she had picked for me. Except she had clothes in red, blue, all those very 90s colours.

    - I don¡¯t wear colours, I¡¯m sorry ¨C I told her and she back-pedalled to the rack and brought me some options in black, which included some platform boots and a long skirt which I took a liking to.

    - What are we doing about the eyes? - Paul asked, grabbing a brush and putting it back down immediately, as if he was still unsure of what to do.

    I told him I thought about doing a dark, heavy eye with a red lining.

    - No, I meant your eye ¨C he pointed at his own eye. - We¡¯re doing contacts, aren¡¯t we?

    - Contacts¡­? - I realised he was talking about the anisocoria and felt the warmness of anger in my chest ¨C Is it not presentable, Paul?

    - Let¡¯s face it, it¡¯s weird and it won¡¯t read well, in photos. And it could look normal, you know? You¡¯d be much prettier if you did.

    I saw Peter getting up, but he stopped when I lifted my hand ¨C Listen, Paul¡­ It¡¯s Paul, right?

    He nodded.

    - Take the rest of the day off, alright? In fact, take all the time off. I already have a makeup artist, thank you.

    I shook the stylist¡¯s hand and thanked her for being the only reasonable person in the room. I then left, hearing Peter¡¯s steps just after my own.

    - What the fuck was all that about? - he groaned as we were walking down the street ¨C Ellie? Ellie? - he called and grabbed my elbow, making me stop and face him ¨C Don¡¯t let any of that get to you.

    - Peter ¨C I said, but he cut me off.

    - You¡¯re not a doll for them to dress up as they like. You¡¯re here to make music, not to be their little goth and edgy Barbie.

    - Peter¡­

    - If you don¡¯t feel like any of that is you, then you have your final word¡­

    I pulled my arm back, releasing his grip ¨C I don¡¯t. That¡¯s why we¡¯re going to find Patricia right now.

    - Oh¡­

    I started walking down the street again, headed for the nearest tube station ¨C I¡¯ll ask her to do my hair and makeup. It¡¯s fine.

    - But¡­ - he ran after me, falling back in line ¨C What they said¡­

    I smiled ¨C About being a little monster? To be quite honest, I liked it. A girl needs to build a reputation for herself to be taken seriously in this world, doesn¡¯t she?

    - What about the rest of it? - there was concern in his voice. He was always overprotective.

    - About looking normal? - I asked and he nodded ¨C I wasn¡¯t born to be normal, my dear.

    Of course, that was just bravado because, after we had secured Pat and having headed back home, sitting alone in my room I felt like the biggest misfit in the world.

    I had been taught to be pleasant and nice and, in my grandmother¡¯s words, to talk to people as if I always had honey in my mouth, meaning to always say nice things. But lately, I felt so combative and contrary that I seemed to be tossing everything she had taught me out the window.

    And my eyes¡­ I could not hide my eyes, could I? Could I pull an Elton John? Because, if all went well, I was to have my face plastered on several places in about two months time. Would people take one look at my photo and say I was not normal?¡­

    I got up and tiptoed to my grandmother¡¯s bedroom, and sat at the foot of her bed as I had gotten into the habit of doing, when it became only the two of us and my night terrors flocked in.

    - What¡¯s bothering you, my dear? - I guessed poor sleeping habits did run in the family¡­

    - I didn¡¯t mean to wake you up, Mami.

    - Sleep tends to not come easily when you get to a certain age. Or ever, in your case ¨C she laughed softly ¨C Come here and tell me all your woes.

    And so, I poured my heart out to her. I told her everything that was troubling me. It came easy when it was her.

    - Let us divide and conquer all your problems, then. - she said, as I laid my head on the pillow next to hers ¨C To be agreeable does not mean to allow yourself to be stepped upon. You may have all the honey in the world, but remember that bees have stings and they are allowed to use them. And remind yourself of the name you carry. You know it well enough.

    She shifted a little bit and flattened the bed linen.

    - About your eye¡­ Do you think anisocoria has ever held that handsome man David Bowie from ever stepping on a stage?

    I laughed at the thought of Mami finding David Bowie handsome ¨C I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t think so. But his is different from mine.

    - Does it matter if you were born with it, or got it later in life? Or are you afraid of being judged for being different?

    I nodded, shyly. Of course I was afraid of being judged, what teenager was ever bold enough to go about life uncaring about what other people thought?

    - In the olden days, our family built a name based on the prowess on the battlefield. When that changed, we kept building our name in the political arena and now¡­ You will be the one building the family name on stage, with your talent, and your uniqueness. Don¡¯t be afraid to be different, my dear. That is what makes you, you.

    <hr>

    Pat¡¯s jaw was almost dragging on the floor, as she parked her car in front of the Hall.

    - You never told me you were rich! - she shouted, as Collins opened her door and she got out, twirling to take everything in.

    I pursed my lips, trying not to smile at that graceful black-clad sylph ¨C That¡¯s because I¡¯m not. I only have enough money to buy an old van and that¡¯s that.

    She faced me, with a serious visage ¨C Who are you, really?

    I curtsied, as best as I could ¨C Eleanora. I had no idea you had amnesia, dearest Pat.

    I showed her in and she just kept stopping to gape at everything ¨C Are you like a Countess, or something like that? Like Elizabeth Bathory? That would be soooo goth.

    - I am nothing, really ¨C I said, as I opened the door to the yellow drawing room, letting her through and she stopped short when she laid eyes on Margaret, sitting in the sunlight, with a book on her lap, a fluffy cat by her feet ¨C My grandmother on the other hand, is the Duchess of Somerset.

    Pat opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, so she just curtsied clumsily.

    - You don¡¯t have to do that, my dear. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m Margaret. ¨C she smiled, and apologised for not getting up ¨C A friend of Eleanora is a friend of mine.

    - How¡­ How should I address you¡­?

    I made a flourished bow to my grandmother ¨C Well, if you¡¯re looking to be extremely formal, that would be Your Grace. If you want to take it down a notch or two, Lady Somerset and, if you¡¯re already acquainted, Lady Margaret.

    Mami shook her head ¨C Incorrigible¡­ - she then turned all of her attention to Pat ¨C It is a pleasure to meet you and to have you here, Miss Lewis. I trust the trip went well.

    They exchanged pleasantries and Collins served a sort of late breakfast, as Pat had been late and gotten lost along the way, having skipped her own. She showed me the sketch she had made, from the ideas we had talked about earlier on and it was just what I had envisioned, with a bold and very distinctive eye and subdued lips, almost invisible, so the focus would go straight to the gaze. My insecurity boiled over once more and my darling Patricia picked up on it right away.

    - Don¡¯t you like it?

    I told her about what was getting to me, even after the pep talk from my grandmother, and Pat just listened and nodded, not a shade of judgment or dismissal in sight.

    - Let¡¯s do one thing then, doll. When is the photographer coming ¡®round?

    - At two.

    - Then, let¡¯s do it this way first. If you like it ¨C she turned to my grandmother ¨C and if Lady Margaret likes it as well, we¡¯ll keep your idea. If not, we¡¯ll do it over until we get it right.

    She sat me by the window, where the light was shining in and started working her magic, both on my hair and on my face. I did not see the end result until she took a mirror from her case filled with everything we could ever need, and more, and held it in front of me. She had straightened my hair, which now cascaded in a stream of gold, semi-concealed by a black veil, until it hit my waist. The red lining around the black khol made my eyes seem brighter and bluer.

    - So, how do you like it? Should we have a do-over?

    I shook my head. It was just perfect. Misfit or not, I just had to embrace the weirdness, because that would be the only way forward.

    We did the photoshoot in the greenhouse and it came out so great that we ended up using those photos as my first promotional material. The cover, from The Hanging Gardens came from that very shoot, a very enlarged photo of the lower half of my face.

 Chapter 17 - Oh come, one and all, to the debutantes ball

    Oh, come one and all, to the debutante¡¯s ball

    - This is absolutely brilliant ¨C Simon stood in front of me, with a copy of The hanging gardens in his hand and he just kept turning it over, as if he wanted to see and memorise every single detail. He had a box of freshly made copies, all shiny and new by his feet.

    - Listen to this ¨C Alfie flipped the pages of the insert, skimming through the lyrics and some photos ¨C Alfie Wright: Drums. Our names! On an album. Our names, gentlemen!

    Johnny Bishop put another box of CDs by my feet ¨C You¡¯ve delivered, girl. I grant you that ¨C he took out a pocket knife and slashed the tape that kept the box sealed, opening it and taking hold of a copy that he tossed on my lap ¨C Now comes the hard part. You gotta sell all this shit, Elz.

    I nodded. I was thrilled to have made it that far, but I was also scared out of my mind.

    - How are things going otherwise?

    - Peter has gotten us a van and we have two scheduled concerts already. It¡¯s not much, but it will get there ¨C I was trying really hard to sound more optimistic than I really was.

    - Not bad, for a start. But I hope you¡¯re ready to give up the luxury of Belgravia, for the shittiest pubs in the land. Because I really need you to bring in the moolah ¨C Bishop took back the CD he had given me, amidst the smoke from his cigarette, and put it back in its box, all neat and tidy with its plastic brothers and sisters.

    Freddie put down an empty beer can on the floor by his seat ¨C Yeah, we know, we know. Someone¡¯s got to pay you. We know, Bishop.

    - She knows ¨C he underlined the word she, waving his finger around like a bossy school teacher ¨C Little miss additional clauses here knows the rules of the game.

    Simon chuckled ¨C What was it again? Little Monster?

    - The Little Clause Monster ¨C Bishop laughed loudly, before putting his hand on my shoulder ¨C I¡¯m just kidding, kid. You know that. How are we on the agent?

    - I¡¯m working on it ¨C I said, as nonchalantly as possible.

    But the truth was, I was not working on it. I was, instead, fighting an idea for quite some time now, weighing pros and cons before making a move, because Mami had mentioned that Peter had decided to take a gap year, at the last minute. For me, it was obvious that he should be involved with all of this project because he had been there at its inception. He had been the one who had pushed me forward and I wanted to repay him the kindness he had given me.

    But I just kept postponing the talk because I knew how Collins felt about all of it, even if Peter was of legal age by now and there was really nothing he could do to stop him, if it ended up being what he wanted. Even so, I had too much respect for the man to just step over him like that.

    I took my chance when I went back home, that weekend. It was already dark when I stepped out of the train, into the rain and there he was, waiting for me on the platform, with an umbrella that he swiftly held over me.

    We walked to the car, silently and I waited until he turned his blinker on, to somewhat get it out there.

    - May I ask you something?

    - But of course ¨C he looked in his side mirror, as he got the car on the road.

    - I don¡¯t want you to be cross at me.

    - I could never be cross at you, Lady Eleanora.

    I bit my lower lip ¨C Well, you may still be. I want to make Peter a job offer.

    Collins took a deep breath ¨C I¡­ There is nothing I can say to Peter to stop him, of course, but I do not like the idea of him in the music world¡­

    - Hence my condition ¨C the rows of houses passing us by were sparser, as we went further into the countryside ¨C I know he¡¯s taking a gap year and I really think he should be going to Uni eventually, because Peter¡¯s a brilliant person.

    Collins nodded ¨C I would very much like him to go, as well.

    - So ¨C I went on ¨C I would like to ask him to be my agent for a year. I can¡¯t offer him a salary, but I can discuss commissions with him¡­ I just know that Peter is really good at talking to people and¡­ And I really think he truly believes what I¡¯m doing. I can think of no better person to work with.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Another deep breath ¨C Don¡¯t you be cross with me now, Lady Eleanora.

    - I could never¡­

    - I know my opinion doesn¡¯t really matter, but I do believe this is all too sudden ¨C we turned into the dirt road that would take me home ¨C Lady Margaret is not well and you being so far away is only making her feel worse. I know Her Grace believes in you and so do I. But I also believe all of this should wait.

    We turned left, passing the two short tower structures that indicated the beginning of the estate.

    - But that¡¯s just the thing, isn¡¯t it, Collins? It truly cannot wait and Mami knows it well. If I do wait¡­ I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll all end up without a job and I will end up having to sell all of this¡­

    - This should not be falling on you ¨C he shook his head and I could see him clutching the wheel. It was something he truly needed to get off his chest, apparently.

    - But it did ¨C I said, matter-of-factly ¨C There is no one else and I would never let my siblings live with this sword of Damocles over their heads. So, there¡¯s only me left. And I am trying my best to fix things¡­

    The rain had stopped, as he parked the car by the entrance steps. I opened my door and stepped onto the wet gravel, breathing that fresh and delicious post-rain smell.

    - Peter must be down in the kitchen ¨C Collins said, as he walked to the boot, to take my bag ¨C You should go down there if you want to have a word with him.

    It was confirmation enough for me ¨C Thank you, Collins ¨C I smiled at him, from atop the steps.

    - No, my Lady. Thank you.

    - 20%? No, that¡¯s too much, Ellie ¨C Peter sat at the large wooden table in the kitchen. We both had plates with sandwiches and a packet of crisps opened in front of us.

    I put my sandwich down ¨C Well, 20% of nothing is still nothing¡­

    There were some leaflets from several universities on the table, as well. He might be doing a gap year, but he was still looking at different options.

    - Eventually you will earn something. And I think that¡¯s too high of a rate.

    - 20% for you, 40% for me, the rest is for the band. All costs come out of my percentage.

    He grabbed the leaflet for Business in Edinburgh ¨C That is a horrible business plan. I¡¯ll take 10, we¡¯ll allocate another 10 for expenses. You¡¯re being a numpty, as per usual.

    - Hey, I¡¯m still in the room ¨C I laughed, as I took a crisp from the packet ¨C Let¡¯s do it like this, then: you take 10% and I¡¯ll give you another 10% for guitar lessons.

    - I¡¯m taking guitar lessons?

    - Who¡¯s being a numpty now? - I frowned at him ¨C You¡¯re giving me guitar lessons.

    Peter opened his mouth to say something but he knew he could not win that battle and that we would just be going back to the rate I had suggested, so he did the only thing he could, he reached out his hand and I got myself an agent. None of us knew what we were doing, so it should be fine, right?

    <hr>

    Firefly had organized the album launch party at the Underground and I was starting to think that that was where we were doomed to play, for the rest of our careers. Not that it was bad, but one starts craving diversity at some point.

    Bishop invited other artists from the label and also some small-time zine reporters, always on the lookout for new stuff. The rest of us ended up inviting every single person in our lives and gave them carte blanche to pass the invitation along. We still had a few people short of a full house, but we were happy to see some familiar faces among the crowd.

    Mami wanted to be in the front row, along with Edgar and Collins. I offered her some earplugs, but she said she would not mind going deaf, but she wanted to listen to every single note, which is quite endearing in a rather masochistic way.

    Pat had taught me how to recreate the make-up look from the album cover, so I would be able to do it myself when she was not there. In that small amount of time, in between getting the album on our hands and getting Peter as our agent, he had managed to schedule 15 gigs for us and everyone was elated. The pay was very close to nothing and we were praying Mr. Kay¡¯s former van could take the miles of road in front of it, because we were about to roam up and down the country, as much as we needed to.

    We had stickers with the logo, t-shirts and posters, all with my face on them and I was having a hard time convincing myself that that was, indeed me. The dissociation was a hard phase to get over.

    That night was like a slightly less graceful and much louder debutante ball for me. It was the first time we were playing the whole album live and we did our very best to do it justice.

    We walked off stage to the sound of the kind of applause that tells you that the show was great. My grandmother gave me a very tight hug.

    - I am so proud of you, my dear ¨C she shouted, as her ears really were buzzing ¨C And I¡¯m so happy to be able to see your project come to life.

    - Hi ¨C a tall, lean man, with ruffled black hair came by us and reached his hand ¨C I¡¯m Alan Winnick, from Rock Revolution. I really liked your sound. Could we talk for a little while? I¡¯d like to give you some space on our zine, if you¡¯re interested.

    My grandmother nodded and said she had to go, anyway, as she was getting too old to be hanging around clubs.

    Adam asked me some basic questions about the album, about my inspirations, about the rest of the band.

    - Why Eleanora¡¯s Sundown?

    - Because Sunset would be too clich¨¦ ¨C I laughed ¨C No, but seriously. Sundown¡¯s just that fleeting moment after the sun¡¯s gone, in the horizon, just before nighttime sets in. It¡¯s a very brief moment, but it can be chock-full of all sorts of emotions, from fear of the dark, to excitement for what could happen. I think it¡¯s a very underrated time of the day.

    Alan laughed and I was glad he could see the tinge of humour I was adding to it, and not taking it literally.

    - And who is Eleanora, and how did you get to where you are today?

    - Well, Eleanora Blackburn is a girl who was born in the far East and who has lived a very dull life, in between London and Somerset, until she found out she had music running through her veins.

    - And she had to do a little blood-letting?

    - A music-letting, yes.

    We kept talking for quite some time and he thanked me, praising what we had done and showing me his copy of the album, which he asked for me to sign.

    Peter came by just after Alan had left and started introducing me to so many people, it got to a point where my head was spinning and I had no more mnemonics to pair faces with names.

    I still think it was a great start, for such an odd band of .

 Chapter 18 - On second thought, lets not go to Camelot. It is a silly place

    We had just done another gig, still in the London area and were about to load all our stuff back. It was becoming more of a routine and it was a good thing too, because everything needed to be put back in the van like a game of Tetris, otherwise, stuff wouldn¡¯t fit and we would have to start anew.

    - ¡­ and I¡¯ve managed to get some more contacts, which is quite promising ¨C Peter was doing his report, as he was hauling an amp ¨C and I¡¯ve sent the album to radio stations and some magazines, as well. So, I¡¯m hoping we can have more of a full schedule around next week.

    - That¡¯s good ¨C Martin slurred a bit as he had gone straight to the bar after the show ¨C And are we getting paid for that?

    - Not much. But, right now we have to take it and just keep moving forward, right? - he put the amp in its proper place and no one would be able to add a single cable more, to that wall of things.

    - Did we sell anything? - Simon asked, as he took the cigarette right from Martin¡¯s fingers, leaving him no room for any complaints.

    - A couple of cassettes, some CDs, one or two T-shirts and some odd stickers¡­ But, as I was saying, right now, we¡¯re putting our name out there, which is what matters.

    - What about you, star of the show? - Simon blew the smoke up ¨C You doing alright?

    I shrugged as there was not much else to tell ¨C I got a copy of Rock Revolution this morning. There¡¯s a piece on it about us

    Alfie took the plastic beer cup from Martin and poured it on the gutter, much to Martin¡¯s dismay at what seemed like a coup against his gentle and harmless soul ¨C You¡¯re on your way to becoming a proper star ¨C he laughed and then looked around ¨C Where¡¯s Freddie?

    - Ocupado ¨C Martin stared at the empty cup Alfie had shoved back into his hands ¨C Chicks are always all over the guitar player, everyone knows that.

    Peter raised his eyebrows and motioned towards me. Did he really think that, one, I did not see that and, two, that I was that sheltered?

    - What? I just said he was busy. He could be in the loo, for all I know.

    - I bet a fiver he is ¨C Simon put the cigarette out under his steel-toe boots ¨C What¡¯s our schedule now, Collins? Blackburn?

    - Tomorrow we¡¯ll have a gig in One ¨C I said ¨C And two days after that one, we¡¯ll be at the Ram¡¯s Horn.

    - That place is sick! - Alfie sat in the back of the van, with the door open.

    - And another one at the Black Hole ¨C Peter added.

    - And that one sucks ¨C Alfie said again ¨C Not a night goes by there¡¯s not a bloody fight there.

    The weeks that went by could be arranged like an 80s training montage, with motorways and back roads, good shows and technical issues, the van being unloaded and then loaded ad aeternum, service station sandwiches and following tummy aches, hangovers and laughter and snoring in stereo so much that I needed my earplugs in the van as well, all of it as the landscape flew us by.

    But the truth is that the training montage became more of a mist, somewhere along the way, not because we were tired or it became repetitive, but because I had had bad news.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Every day, I would find a payphone and call back home, no matter where I was. I knew Mami was getting weaker, even if she refused to become bedridden, and no longer went downstairs. She always managed the strength to get out of bed and get dressed.

    One day, around mid-November, the person who picked up the phone was Dr. Hughes, who told me my grandmother¡¯s condition had worsened and he had just sent her up to London.

    - Is she¡­ - I could not bring myself to say it.

    - She will have the best doctors looking out for her ¨C he said ¨C But I cannot give you much hope, Lady Eleanora.

    - How long¡­? - I could feel the tingling in my throat and the prickling of tears in my eyes.

    - It could be days, or it could be weeks. She is a very strong woman.

    That hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew this moment would come, but I had never allowed myself to think it could be this soon. I closed my eyes hard, trying not to cry.

    - When can I see her?

    I hung up the phone and just stood there, lost on what to do next. The doctor had said that, given her condition, he would send word that I could see her whenever I could get there.

    I tried normalising my breathing. I had to work in two hours, and I could be in London in four. What was my schedule for the following days? I could not remember. My mind kept running to the image of my grandmother alone, on a hospital bed.

    - What¡¯s wrong? - Peter never strayed much from me and I must have shot him a hopeless gaze, as he realised soon enough ¨C Lady Margaret?

    - They took her to the hospital ¨C he was leading me outside so I could breathe some fresh air ¨C Dr Hughes said¡­ he said¡­ - I tried, but the words would not come out.

    - Let¡¯s cancel this. We¡¯ll leave right now.

    I shook my head ¨C I can¡¯t. She would never forgive me.

    - Ellie¡­

    - I¡¯m doing this for her, Peter. For her legacy. - I wiped the tears that were stubbornly pooling in my eyes ¨C If I fall now, I will not get up again¡­

    I don¡¯t know if it was pity on Peter¡¯s eyes, but I turned my gaze away from him.

    - I¡¯ll get you some water.

    The day was yet to break when I got to the hospital and was led to Mami¡¯s bed. There was the constant beeping of monitors but the lights were dim enough so she could have some rest. She was asleep, but I took her hand anyway.

    - Oh, my dear ¨C her voice came out very weak and hoarse ¨C I told them not to tell you.

    - They could never do that, Mami¡­

    She chuckled, softly. Her wit never faded ¨C It¡¯s so hard to find good staff, nowadays.

    I leaned over and kissed her forehead, straightening a strand of now white hair that fell out of place.

    - You came alone ¨C she whispered.

    I shook my head ¨C Everyone¡¯s outside. Peter, Simon, Alfie, Freddie and Martin. We came as fast as we could.

    Her eyes were fighting against sleep ¨C Did you bring the violin, my dear? - I had not¡­ - There are some songs I need to listen to, before I go.

    I promised I would not be caught off-guard again and, from then on, I have never travelled without it.

    She nodded off and I stayed with her for another hour, until a nurse came by and sent me home, so I could rest. I did not want to leave her side, but I eventually walked out, to everyone that was waiting on tenterhooks.

    Another week went by. We would leave to work wherever we had to go, and came back the next minute. We were barely sleeping.

    Before the weekend, doctors gave my grandmother permission to go home, where she would be more comfortable than in a cold and sterile hospital wing. We all knew what that meant.

    Collins and Edgar set up a bed on Mami¡¯s yellow drawing room, and made it as comfortable a space as possible.

    My grandmother Lu¨ªsa also came by, as my dad had asked her to be there for me, if he could not arrive in time.

    On the night my Mami passed, I opened the windows for her and played Vivaldi¡¯s Winter and Shostakovich¡¯s Waltz no. 2. When I lowered my bow, Margaret had become a part of the House¡¯s Pantheon.

    Collins came in, as soon as he understood the eerie silence, followed by the crying. He took the violin and the bow from my hands, he was crying as well ¨C Your Grace¡­

    - Don¡¯t call me that¡­ No, no¡­ Please¡­ - I crumpled on the floor, as my mind tried denying the meaning of those words.

    Grandmother Lu¨ªsa came in the room and sat on the floor with me, pulling me close in a tight hug, rocking me and shushing my tears. - You have to be strong.

    That was always what everyone kept telling me.

    I did not want to be strong, but I had to appear to be so as, come the following day, I had to play the head of the House, to the flurry of condolences that seemed never-ending. From friends, to distant relations, peers¡­

    My father offered to organize the wake and the funeral, as soon as he got there, with Tommy and Clara, but I said I would take care of it all. I was the one who knew how the House¡¯s funerals were to be conducted.

 Chapter 19 - Laying the law of the land

    The water was still, mirroring the grey sky above, not a ripple to be seen, not a sound to be heard. The mausoleum door was open, as Edgar was inside, preparing everything so my grandmother¡¯s body could be put to rest.

    We had had the wake and the funeral for whoever wanted to pay their last respects. And a lot of people came, more than I thought would show up and it made me happy, to think that Mami was loved by so many.

    But now, when the time came to say the last goodbye, only her close ones would be present.

    I heard the rustling of more than one set of feet stepping on the grass behind me.

    - Lady Eleanora ¨C Mr Mason¡¯s voice called and I turned my head only enough for him to understand I had heard him ¨C There are some details that we need to go over, if you don¡¯t mind.

    I turned around and saw that Mason was with Mr Carmichael, his associate from the firm ¨C It can¡¯t be that urgent.

    - The sooner we go over everything, the better.

    Begrudgingly, I led them back to the Hall, and into the library, to what was now my desk. I took off my coat and placed it on the back of the chair, motioning for the men to sit as well.

    - Does it have to do with the house¡¯s finances? - I asked, feeling a sharp pain in my right temple. I hadn¡¯t slept properly in a long time.

    - It has to do with it as well ¨C Carmichael said ¨C But we also need to see over your own will.

    I managed a disdainful smile ¨C My¡­ will¡­? - both men nodded, their professional facade never crumbling ¨C We haven¡¯t even read my grandmother¡¯s.

    Not to leave me hanging, Mr Mason took out a binder from his briefcase and handed me said document, which I read through, not paying much attention to it. I already knew she was leaving everything to me, with the condition that I would grant both my siblings use of the houses if they so wished. She knew they would not be left penniless and it was part of the deal she had struck with my dad and my mum.

    - Just rewrite it and make my siblings my beneficiaries. They¡¯re my next of kin. ¨C I handed him the will once again ¨C It¡¯s a no-brainer, really.

    - But that takes us to the financial matters at hand ¨C Mason put the document back ¨C There are taxes that need to be met and they do have deadlines.

    I sighed ¨C And I neither can afford them, nor can they wait. - I knew just where I stood. I had gone over everything over and over again in the past few months.

    - Not right now, you cannot ¨C Carmichael went straight to the point.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    - Both houses are listed as historical buildings ¨C Mason cut in, slightly more polished than his associate. He had been the one who had been more in touch with our situation for the past couple of decades ¨C But you have other properties.

    - The farms, yes. - I said, referring to the two properties that stood just outside the Estate. Those farms had always been part of a rental system, that was how those things worked and how big houses, such as Somerset Hall, managed a steady stream of income.

    Mason nodded and handed me the documents.

    - How long have the current tenants been renting? - I asked, looking at numbers and numbers that only made my heart tight and my headache. I was so helpless that it felt as if I was drowning.

    - The Mayfairs have been renting for about 20 years. And the Conti for five.

    I laid the deeds on the table ¨C Get them appraised and approach the tenants to buy. Give them the right of first offer, before putting the properties for sale.

    Mr Mason¡¯s eyes widened, in disbelief ¨C But¡­

    - Will the money be enough to pay for all the taxes and assure Collins and Edgar¡¯s wages for a whole year? - My voice came out commanding, as I¡¯d never known it to be.

    Carmichael and Mason worked for some long minutes on both optimistic and pessimistic estimates ¨C Certainly, but¡­

    - Will the House be secure?

    Carmichael nodded, once again.

    - And I¡¯d like to pass the deed of Collins¡¯ house to Collins himself. - There was a nicely sized house allocated for the butler, and his family, in the nearby town and there had already been generations of Collin¡¯s living there. It seemed only right to pass it on to its rightful owners.

    Mr Mason¡¯s voice went up a notch and he sounded alarmed ¨C You can¡¯t just start disposing of properties on a whim.

    - It is not on a whim, as you put it, Mr. Mason. This has been thought out and planned with Lady Margaret herself. I am thirteen years old, with a legal guardian, these are clearly not my brilliant ideas.

    Carmichael intervened ¨C What about New House, in Belgravia?

    - You can¡¯t dispose of New House ¨C Mason was adamant ¨C That house has an immense historical value and was one of the first ones to be built there¡­

    I reached to the necklace I was wearing, on which a small key dangled, and used it to open the drawer in front of me ¨C I know the story, Mr Mason. I¡¯ve studied it thoroughly. ¨C I reached inside and took an envelope, which I handed to the lawyers ¨C I will take this deal for now and I am hoping to rent the property, for at least a year, so if you could handle the details, I¡¯d be extremely grateful to both of you.

    The letter was from a major studio, that wished to rent out the house for two months, for an historical production. They paid well enough, so I could pay Hannah compensation, after sending her away.

    - Rent the property? - Mason was more appalled with every word that came out of my mouth ¨C Who would you rent a property like that to? Some Sheikh loaded with petrodollars? A financier with no respect for its history? I am sorry, Lady Eleanora, but you are prostituting your family legacy.

    Despite how grey the sky was, the light was bright and hurting my eyes. It made my vision slightly blurry and I blinked hard, to try and clear it ¨C Should I just plain old sell it, then? - they were getting under my skin. Maybe not just them, but everything ¨C Get me someone who¡¯s willing to pay. As soon as I get an offer, I will have someone over to bring my furniture home. - I motioned to get up ¨C Are we done here, gentlemen?

    There was only silence, from across the dark wood desk.

    - If we are, the City awaits you. As for me, I have my grandmother to lay to rest and Heaven knows that was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

    Only Mami¡¯s three living descendants entered the mausoleum behind her and watched as another amazing woman in our family was sealed behind a marble epitaph.

    Margaret Anne Charlotte

    1921 ¨C 1994

 Chapter 20 - I look inside myself, and see my heart is black

    The remainder of that year was a very dark time, for me. We would be doing performance after performance, just relentlessly storming unto the proverbial breach, and I was made aware that our music was already airing on some radio stations. Nothing much, but it was a start.

    Peter had stuck to the idea that we should be recording a music video and had already talked to some friends, who knew some friends who came by the Hall on a very cold December morning. We all went into the foggy woods, North of the house, and shot our very first videoclip, for Lost. Peter kept talking about how it could get us a foot in television and the possibilities that such a feat could entail.

    He also estimated that, with the sales growing at the rate they were, our debt to Bishop could be settled around February or March. But it could be sooner, if we just kept on working hard.

    With the money from the film production, I was able to pay Hannah what she was due, and an extra bonus for all the years of good service, and send her away. There was no need for so many people tending to me and the house. My very big and very empty house.

    I also knew that both tenants were willing to buy the farms and that left me more at ease, regarding Collins and Edgar¡¯s paychecks.

    This was also the time when I started both frantically writing music and devouring books. I needed to make my brain numb to the pain and the only way was either to empty it of everything it had in there, or get lost in fiction.

    I would buy new and used books wherever we passed by and always came back with piles of them, which Collins then double-checked, to see if we already had them somewhere in the house. If we did, he would set them apart, and Peter would take them to his old school, as donations to its library.

    Do you know how musicians always seem to have a very special, alluring and magical aura? Well, they do, but only if they don¡¯t reek of desperation. And my four boys were now confident enough on stage to attract all sorts of attention towards them.

    By the end of the year, our names started being tossed about and they rode that wave as best as they could. And by that, I mean that boys with instruments become magnets for thirsty girls.

    And so, whatever area we were given, as backstage, was starting to not be just our own . The girls swooned all over the boys and they enjoyed every second of their attention. They would, at times, vanish and, even if I knew what was going on, I truly felt none of the appeal of any of that. Not even the attention bit, which seemed to be a major turn-on for so many people. But I never blamed them, after all, road life was so tiring that I understood they needed to release some pressure.

    But, in those days, especially, all I wanted was to be left alone.

    It had been our last show, before Christmas, and we had all our gear ready to be packed up. We were just waiting for the person in charge to drop by and pay us what we were owed. And were they taking their sweet time, probably trying to find an excuse to leave us hanging¡­ It had already happened, in the past.

    I was feeling angry and tired and depressed, all at the same time, so I just sat in a corner reading a book, as we all stood by. I was never good neither at managing, nor at hiding emotions, so I always preferred to self-isolate myself, as a cautionary measure.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    - Great gig ¨C a boy who seemed to be around Peter¡¯s age came by and sat next to me. I was really not in the mood for a conversation, so I thanked him, shortly, before turning my attention back to the pages once more.

    He took a sip of his beer ¨C You doing alright? You don¡¯t look like it.

    - I¡¯m just tired ¨C I shook my head. That was the utmost truth. I was absolutely knackered.

    - Yeah, life on the road probably isn¡¯t easy ¨C wasn¡¯t he the chatterbox¡­ - I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d manage it. Probably not without some pick-me-up here and there.

    - Hmm-mm¡­

    He reached into his jacket and showed me something on the tip of his finger.

    - What¡¯s that? - I asked, furrowing my brows, looking with disgust at that bottom-of-the-pocket pill.

    - A little pick-me-up. To help you out. You¡¯ll perk up in no time.

    If I had to describe what happened next, I would say a bird of prey came down from the sky and snatched the guy¡¯s hand with lightning speed. I think he was even more surprised than I was, as he got up with a jolt.

    - What the fuck do you think you¡¯re doing, mate? - Peter was furious and I don¡¯t think I had ever seen him like that in my life ¨C Do you know how old she is, you wanker?

    The guy managed to free his hand and started backing up ¨C I don¡¯t know, mate. I swear I don¡¯t know.

    Peter grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back, baring his teeth ¨C You¡¯re going to grab your fucking drugs and you¡¯re gonna get the fuck out right now, mate. Or I swear I¡¯ll call the cops and tell them all about you handing out speed to a thirteen-year-old.

    - Easy, mate ¨C he put both his hands up, trying to appease that fury that was unleashing upon him. ¨C I didn¡¯t know. Come on. How was I supposed to know?

    The other four were already on both of them, trying to get Peter to let go of him and de-escalate the situation.

    - Get the fuck out, before I bash your fucking teeth in.

    Simon was not-so-gently pushing the guy away and telling him to piss off, otherwise his odds would turn very sour. Five to one sour.

    -And you. You were chatting this wanker up!? - Peter¡¯s anger turned on to me, as he swatted Martin¡¯s hand off his chest.

    I had been frozen in place in the few seconds that whole vicious interaction had taken place, my brain lost as to how to react to it all, but that outburst from my friend broke the spell and also drew some outraged heys, from Martin and Alfie.

    - Chatting¡­ - the outrage! I got up ¨C I don¡¯t know who you think you are talking to, but I would advise you to mind your tone.

    Alfie got himself between the two of us ¨C El¡­ Peter¡­ Let¡¯s just calm down, alright? There¡¯s no need to fight.

    I pushed Alfie out of the way and pressed the book spine to Peter¡¯s chest, making sure to look him in the eyes ¨C Never, in your life, raise your voice to me again.

    Freddie grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me back ¨C El, Alfie¡¯s right, there¡¯s no need to fight. Come on, let¡¯s get you outside. You need to get some air.

    - I don¡¯t need some air. I just need to get out of this bloody place ¨C I was adamant with all of them for the first time in my life ¨C I want to get paid and I want to go home, so grab your bloody things and get moving.

    - I¡¯ll see what¡¯s happening, love ¨C Martin tried soothing me, turning to the girls next ¨C Come now, girls. Show¡¯s over. - he winked at them ¨C We¡¯ll always have next time, alright?

    I went out and felt the fat drops of rain that were already working together to form a large puddle right by our beat-down van. I truly just wanted to curl up in my bed and forget about all of this for a while.

    - El ¨C Peter followed me outside.

    - No ¨C was the only thing that I said to him. The last thing that I wanted right now was to keep on fighting because I was in that very bitter mood that would make me say things I did not want to say out loud.

    - Just let me explain ¨C he stood by my side.

    - We will talk later.

    - You sound like your grandmother on a foul day ¨C he muttered, before turning on his heel and getting back inside.

    I could understand that he was tired and feeling on edge, but so was everyone else. And yet, in all those years I had known him, I had never seen him having that sort of reaction. Ever.

    Some pieces started clicking, in my mind. Could Mami also have made him promise he would look after me? It would not be unlike her, to never leave loose ends behind. Come to think of it, it was the most likely scenario. But it did not grant him the right to talk down to me. That I would never allow.

 Chapter 21 - Werden wir Helden

    Peter¡¯s calculations had hit the nail on the head and we did break even with Firefly very early in the year. Of course we were no top-sellers, but we did get by enough that I had no more of that debt hovering over me, even if I was almost virtually broke, as I kept channelling whatever I could earn to pay the boys¡¯ wages. It was an unusual arrangement, to keep them strictly as session musicians and not actually form a band, but it kept them happy and motivated.

    Bishop was as happy a clam, regardless of whether clams are even aware of the concept of happiness or not, when I had dropped casually that we¡¯d been invited for a small live show on a local radio. He also took the chance to summon my presence for a meeting back at HQ.

    - What¡¯s new, pussycat? - he asked, as soon as I passed the threshold, not even giving me enough wiggle room to greet him.

    I gave him a feline smile ¨C Straight for the killing.

    He motioned for me to have a seat and to unravel all the news I had for him. Well, he¡¯d be happy to know that our little video had aired on TV (rather late, but it did have air time) and that Peter was actively negotiating the opening act for Obsidian¡¯s tour, which would mean a bigger audience and proper venues, with proper sound systems so that our songs would not actually seem like a blurb of sound coming from a gramophone horn.

    - Obsidian, eh? - he pouted approvingly. He had shaved recently, but still felt the need to scratch his inexistent beard ¨C Not bad, Little Monster. I like that.

    - I would like it to happen very much as well. What about you? Because this was clearly a conversation we could have had over the phone, and you insisted on summoning me as if I were a crossroads demon.

    His laugh bounced all over the room. When his money was no longer on the line and only profits loomed on the horizon, Bishop became so much younger and lighter ¨C Well, little devil, I summoned you, to inform you that your album is selling like hotcakes.

    - That¡¯s wonderful news ¨C I cheered up as well.

    - In Germany.

    I arched my eyebrows ¨C In Germany¡­?

    - To be fair, in Germany and in Poland ¨C he brought out the numbers to show me ¨C So, it¡¯s selling like hot schnitzel, I don¡¯t know.

    - Schnitzel¡¯s Austrian ¨C I said, mindlessly, as I looked at what he was showing me. It was true. For a debut album from a bunch of unknowns, the numbers were amazing.

    - I don¡¯t know what they eat in Germany ¨C he shrugged, not really bothered by his culinary faux-pas.

    - Currywurst, Wei?wurst, sp?tzle¡­ Loads of delicious bread.

    - Doesn¡¯t matter ¨C he cut me off ¨C What matters is that you have a market opening, so get your bloody foot in the door and pry it open. Get Peter to book you a couple of shows over there.

    - Do you think we can do it? - my insecurity was striking once again.

    - Why? Are we scared? Widdle scaredy Duchess of Somerset?¡­ - he taunted me, making his voice whiny and annoying ¨C Because if you just want to keep on playing in Widecombe-on-the-Moor, darling, that can be arranged.

    - I don¡¯t think I even know where that is¡­

    - Dartmoor, darling. Devon. Lovely, but not for you. - he reached for his cigarettes, but the packet was empty. He crumpled it and tossed it in the rubbish, before fetching another one from the drawer ¨C You need wider horizons. So, my advice would be for you to brush up your German and charge head-on. Hmm, by the way¡­ - Bishop handed me a folder with concepts for a future photoshoot.

    - That¡¯s a lot of pink¡­ And a lot of skin.

    - Just a concept, darling ¨C he downplayed it ¨C No one here will be sexualising your image, don¡¯t worry about that. Just meet up with the stylist and go from there ¨C he touched his forehead with the tip of his index finger, leaving a trail of smoke, from the fast movements ¨C I remember the clauses, love.

    I laughed and asked if I could keep the concept art, which he agreed on.

    I made a beeline to find Peter and tell him the good news.

    - Germany? - there were books and notes scattered all over the table. Peter was studying hard for his exams. He had his goal set on St. Andrews University and was making sure he would not fail ¨C This is interesting¡­ I did send copies to local media.

    - Hmm-mm ¨C I said as I stole one of his cookies and took a bite out of it. Delicious, as only Collins could make them.

    He drummed his fingers on the table, re-checking Bishop¡¯s numbers ¨C How are we going to go about all this?

    - Same way? Get in, play and get out? - I laughed.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    - Sure ¨C he said, as he swatted my hand when I tried stealing another cookie from him ¨C But you¡¯ll do the talking. - he took the last one and broke it in half, handing me a piece.

    In March we were landing in Germany, for a couple of shows and praying our gear had made it in one piece. We had considered driving down there but had unanimously decided that such a journey could be the end of our already struggling van.

    Freddie was telling us about how his great-grandfather had come from Silesia and Alfie was going on and on about how there was this myth that continental girls were far more relaxed than the girls back at home and Peter was just warning him that he needed to impress the audience and the media before he impressed the ladies.

    - What I do need is a coffee¡­ - Martin yawned. Even his bouncy hair looked sleepy ¨C Getting up at five in the morning is inhumane, to say the least. There must be something in the Geneva Convention about this¡­

    I offered myself as a tribute to fetch everyone a fresh cup of caffeine, as they waited on our luggage, and Peter trotted along.

    - You do know you don¡¯t have to be with me literally every step of the way, don¡¯t you? - I asked, as I rummaged through my bag for my purse.

    Peter just shrugged.

    - What was it, that Lady Margaret made you promise?

    - None of your business, young lady ¨C he gave me a half-grin.

    - Because there is more to life than being my agent slash bodyguard.

    - I don¡¯t mind it a bit. Go on, Fr?ulein Eleanora ¨C he let me in front of him ¨C I told you you¡¯d be the one doing all the talking.

    A healthy dose of caffeine later and with the relief of knowing that all our worldly stage possessions that we managed to bring over were intact, we headed out and realised that the logistics were really tough, when you have close to nothing to land on and are working on guesses.

    - This is shit ¨C Simon complained, as four of us cramped in a taxi- Peter had managed to get a van, to get our stuff to the venue, but had failed to realise that there was not enough seating for everyone ¨C This is the first and last time that we¡¯re travelling like this.

    - I know ¨C I said, trying to calm him down. Simon was always someone who was very quick to anger and to get it all out, even if everything was perfectly fine the next minute ¨C But this is just an experiment.

    - To feel the pulse of Deutschland ¨C Peter added.

    - You can feel its pulse however you see fit, Collins, but logistics¡¯ your department, so get your shit straight.

    - Si¡­ - I gave him a sideways look and saw how Freddie clenched his jaw at Simon¡¯s outburst. I knew Si meant well, but his delivery was always on the rough side.

    - I¡¯m sorry¡­ - he said, running his fingers down the strap of his bag ¨C I just think this could have been a bit better thought out, blondie.

    I shrugged ¨C Well, it is what it is. So, let¡¯s not make a big fuss out of it. Next time, it¡¯ll be better.

    Si chewed on his cheek as if he was keeping himself from lashing out more. But while he was right, we were all still learning how things worked.

    - Where did you learn to speak German, by the way ¨C he asked, a lot calmer, this time. His storm had passed.

    The hotel we were staying at was a step above bad, but many below good. The only really good thing about it was its central location and so, I took everyone away from that dump and out for a stroll. We went to Alexanderplatz, up to the Brandenburg gate, the inevitable Checkpoint Charlie and the inevitable photoshoot there and ended up having currywurst in a Biergarten.

    - This is the life! - Martin sighed with satisfaction, as he quenched his thirst with a nice cold beer ¨C Travelling the world, eating nice, hearty food¡­

    - The world ¨C Simon laughed ¨C You¡¯re two hours away from home, Curly.

    - It¡¯s a lot more world than we¡¯re used to, OK? - Freddie pointed his fork at him ¨C Besides, when was the last time you left London? And not just for a gig somewhere. - he raised his eyebrows over his sunglasses and got no answer ¨C Thought so.

    - The true globetrotter is Ellie here ¨C Alfie laughed, and took a big gulp of the amber liquid, as if he was utterly parched.

    - Talking about being a globetrotter ¨C I turned my attention to Peter ¨C How are we with Obsidian? Are we about to embark on an odyssey of taste-testing every variation of mushy peas in the kingdom? Going to France, perhaps, for some petit pois¡­?

    - I¡¯m calling Anthony tomorrow ¨C Peter was talking about his, much more experienced, counterpart, with whom he was negotiating ¨C But I have this gut feeling that we¡¯re bagging the opening act.

    If he had a good feeling, that was good enough for me. Peter was never one to dangle the carrot of false hope before our eyes and he usually only talked about things when he was about 90% sure they would work.

    That night would be our international debut and the house was sold out. We were trying to enforce a business as usual policy, but this was a milestone, nonetheless, and we were understandably nervous.

    - Lady, gentlemen ¨C Peter came barging in from the front of the house. His cheeks were flushed and he was sporting a wide smile ¨C First off, the merch booth is on fire.

    Wonderful news. We loved it when merchandise just flew off the booth. It meant quick money.

    - And second, I was just talking to Christoph, he¡¯s the owner ¨C he clarified ¨C and he was just telling me that both shows sold out really fast and that he would definitely assure us we could have a third full house, if we wanted to.

    - Meaning¡­ - Alfie twirled his drumsticks nimbly, like it was nothing.

    - Meaning ¨C Peter crossed his arms ¨C that we have to make a choice, between getting home on our scheduled date, or choosing to have a third gig.

    The answer was quite obvious to me and, clearly, to everybody else. Who cared about going home, when we could be making a name for ourselves?

    The boys partied hard that night. So hard that I was left to my own devices, the next day, and I was certainly not going to be cooped up in that scummy place to hear their snoring from the other side of paper-thin walls, so I took it upon myself and made my way to the Pergamon, which was always a delight to visit.

    I hadn¡¯t realised how I had missed speaking and listening to German so much, and I found myself listening in to people¡¯s conversations, just so I could get a little taste of it. I had no one to speak German to, now that Mami was gone. Granted I did, and still do, think in a weird mish-mash of English, German and French, but that does happen with people who are raised with more than one language. But it is, obviously, not the same as having a nice and proper conversation with a living and sane person.

    When I got to the hotel, Peter broke out the good news that Anthony had given us the green light and that Eleanora¡¯s Sundown would be the opening act for Obsidian¡¯s tour, which meant that we were about to have a very busy summer. And, to top it all off, there was a reporter from a famous music magazine who had asked for an interview with me.

    That year really was becoming rather promising and that international debut, in Berlin of all places, was just the perfect way to get the party going.

    I will always cherish the warmth with which my German fans always greeted me. The ones who were the first to open their arms to me and were never afraid to show how much they cherished my music.

    Ich liebe euch alle, meine kleinen Monster.

 Chapter 22 - And the walls came tumbling down

    Do you know that feeling when things are going extremely well and you just think to yourself that the Universe just might be hiding a catch for you somewhere? Because May of 1995 was the picture-perfect definition of just that. I was running frantically about in between photoshoots and the new video for the second single of The Hanging Gardens. Sales were great, especially after it was announced that Eleanora¡¯s Sundown would be the opening band for Obsidian¡¯s tour and that meant our Summer was going to be a full one.

    We had also managed to book 10 shows, in our own name, in Germany, Poland, the Czech Republic and Slovakia, later that year.

    Firefly, and Bishop of course, had already put some numbers on the table for another year with them, which would come with another album, a lot more money than we had gotten for the first one and the promise of a larger and better promotion and distribution. I told Bishop I needed to think about it, because I already had another offer from a different and bigger label.

    The meeting was set up at Infinity Records on the 17<sup>th</sup> of May. That horrendous 17<sup>th</sup> of May 1995¡­

    Peter would be coming with me and he had promised he would be there right on time, as he knew I was a stickler for punctuality.

    At 10h15, I was standing by the door, waiting on my agent. I knew he¡¯d be coming by car and London traffic in the morning¡­ well, it¡¯s London traffic in the morning, no further explanation needed.

    10h20, still no Peter in sight. We could always be fashionably late, right?

    10h25. No, we could not be fashionably late, how would that make us look? I looked around one last time, before walking in and introducing myself to the security guard, who sent me up the lift.

    At half past 10, I was still waiting, before going in and talking to the assistant who apologised and asked me to please have a seat because Mr Williams was, himself, running a tad late. That could give Peter enough time to get there. I told her I was still waiting for my agent as well.

    At 10h40, a smart-looking man passed by and took a quick look at me, before talking with the assistant. She pointed in my general direction and he made a beeline to the office.

    About five minutes later, the man put his head out the door and looked at me again, smiling. He made a point of getting out and reaching out his hand, shaking mine as I got up. He said his name was David Williams and that I could come on in with him, so we could discuss my star-studded future.

    - My agent is running late, Mr Williams ¨C I excused myself. I knew I had managed to handle the negotiations with Bishop on my own, but that was a different league altogether and I was feeling the unease that separated Bishop¡¯s familiar treatment from all that corporate looking set-up.

    - It¡¯s quite alright. Penny will let him in when he comes by. - he grinned, showing a set of perfectly aligned teeth ¨C And we can get to know each other in the meantime. I¡¯ve been hearing an awful lot about you.

    He led the way and let me through in front of him. This really had nothing on Firefly, everything was polished and put together. There was no mish-mash of furniture and even the view out the window was more than a drab collection of grey buildings.

    I sat down and he offered me something to drink, which I refused. We made some small talk about music and the hit bands and artists that were trending at the time, nothing too elaborate.

    There was a door, to my right side, which opened when we were talking about how he couldn¡¯t believe more than a year had passed already since Kurt  had committed suicide and, in just one glance, I knew the face that came out of that side room. I knew him from the telly. Everyone knew Tony Webber from the telly.

    Williams introduced us and put Webber on to what we had been talking about, casually commenting on how I absolutely loved David Bowie.

    Webber raved about having met him and about how nice and down-to-earth Bowie was. Williams chimed in, mentioning he had a signed guitar just next door.

    - Tony will show it to you ¨C he said, getting up ¨C I¡¯ll just check in with Penny if she has word about your agent.

    Did I notice anything out of the ordinary? No. I did not. I did not because I was not looking for anything out of the ordinary and because I was innocent enough to believe that people had no reason to want to harm me.

    To me, there were no red flags, no threats, no sudden gestures, no innuendos. Because those men knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    Webber and I got in the small side room chock-full of music memorabilia, that would make any music fan jealous. Among other guitars, there was Bowie¡¯s, from when he had played Starman at the Top of the Pops.

    Webber asked me if I wanted to hold it and I said I could not, that I was afraid I¡¯d be too clumsy and accidentally drop it. He kept talking about Bowie and I felt a cold shiver when he ran a finger down the nape of my neck. I stepped aside immediately, giving him a very uncomfortable smile.

    - I should try and find out if anything happened to Peter ¨C I told him.

    He took a step toward me and ran his fingers through my hair. I was absolutely frozen in place ¨C Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?

    That was the moment all my alarms went off and I felt my chest tightening and a voice in my head shouting at me to run. I jerked my head, to get his hand off my hair and made a lunge to the left, to try and get past him, but he was faster than me and went straight to the door, which he closed and blocked off with his body.

    - Let me out ¨C I said and felt how fear gripped me. I was now alone, in a room, with a man I did not know and that had already touched me twice, against my will. - Let me out right now.

    I took two steps towards the door, which he casually locked and just heard him clicking his tongue. Webber had a predatory smile on his lips.

    - You know¡­ - he bit his lip in a way that made me take a step back. There was a table in the middle of the room and my instinct was telling me to, at least get that between him and me ¨C I¡¯ve made a name for myself for always¡­ always getting what I wanted.

    I went behind the table and, at that point, I knew I had no way of getting out of there. I was trapped.

    - Come ¨C he laughed ¨C I won¡¯t bite. I just want a little kiss from a beautiful girl.

    He reached his arm out like a serpent and grabbed my arm pulling me with such violence that I hit my hip on the table and let out a cry of pain.

    - Don¡¯t worry ¨C he whispered in my ear, squeezing my arm really tightly ¨C As soon as I get what I want, you¡¯ll never see me again. - he grabbed my chin and lifted my face up, as I struggled to get out of his grip ¨C Seriously, what a perfect nymphet.

    He turned me around and slammed me against the table, knocking all the air out of my lungs and that gasp for air was the last thing I heard.

    I carried the trauma from that morning for 25 years, before I was able to start emerging from that dark place and moving all resources I had at my feet to take both men, Williams and Webber, to justice for what they had done to me. Along the way, I found dozens of other girls who were willing to take the stand with me, with similar or even worse experiences than my own. Many more were not willing to expose themselves.

    And 27 years later, I was asked, under oath, if I knew what I was wearing that day. Not only did I know, but I had it with me. A black, long-sleeved shirt, with a mandarin collar, a long, ankle-length skirt, and some Dr Martens boots. The only exposed areas of my body were my face, my neck and my hands and, even with that evidence, it was implied that I, at the time a fourteen-year-old girl, could have shown some lascivious behaviour.

    No, I was not provocative, as a 56-year-old man held my face against a table, when I screamed and begged for him to stop.

    And, yes, I did scream from the top of my lungs, but there was no one who could help me. Or, rather, wanted to help me because they were all accomplices.

    I fell down to the ground when Webber let go of me and tried to immediately get up and run, only managing to trip and fall back down again.

    He just laughed ¨C Don¡¯t worry that pretty head of yours, nymphet. I told you already. I got what I came here for, now you¡¯ve lost interest to me. - he buttoned his trousers, walked to me, and touched my face as I trembled from head to toe ¨C You know, you should really learn how to say no. It might come in handy, in the future. Either way, we both got what we wanted.- and he slapped my cheek gently.

    That was the last thing he said, before heading out the door and letting it bang behind him. I had nothing else running through my head other than the absolute need to get out of there. I scrambled for my bag and had to hold my weight on the table, to manage to get up. I felt the tangy taste of blood in my mouth and the gash on the inside of my cheek. I wiped down the tears and my fingers came back black, from the make-up that was all over my face now.

    The air that was now coming into my lungs was so superficial that I knew I was about to pass out. Instead, I forced my body to move to the door and opened it just enough to look outside. My self-preservation instinct was telling me to run and hide and that was just what I did when I saw no one else around.

    I felt so ashamed and so disgusted at myself and I just wanted to collapse, but I knew I could only do so in a safe space.

    Taking the stairs, and not the lift down, I almost bumped into Peter, who was making his way into the lobby, out of breath after what seemed like a long run. I hid just long enough for him to disappear from my line of sight and ran to the train station.

    It was the first time (even if it wasn¡¯t going to be the last one), that I made all the way back to the Hall on foot, from the station. No one was expecting me and that seemed like a blessing.

    I got myself in the shower and stood there for hours, trying to wash away what felt like a hideous grime clinging on to my skin but, as much as I scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was raw and as much soap as I used, I still felt dirty.

    I fell on the bed, feeling a fever and, indeed, I was ill for weeks thereafter. Fever dream after fever dream. All I saw was that monster, all I felt was his skin on me. I always woke up drenched in sweat only to fall asleep again and go back to that Hell.

    The only thing I said to Peter, when the fever began to wane, was that I needed security and made up a story about a too insistent fan on the Tube. I would never tell him about what had happened. Not when I felt such shame and self-loathing as I did.

    That was the how and why Julian and Bear came into my life. I gave them very specific instructions and they did cost a small fortune, but I don¡¯t think I could ever have gotten out of the house, unless I knew someone would be with me every step of the way and would prevent anything of the sort from ever happening again. And I needed to trudge forward, as much as I did not want to. I had commitments and I had promises to keep.

 Chapter 23 - But if your hopes should pass away, simply pretend that you can build them again

    Peter was lounging on the library¡¯s Chesterfield couch, his eyes semi-closed, as he enjoyed the nice and fresh breeze that passed through the open windows and made the curtains move in a sultry dance.

    - I¡¯m glad you¡¯re feeling better already ¨C he said, sleepily, as I went through the mail that I had been neglecting. Honestly, I was only doing so because he was in the room and I did not want him to see me lost in that oblivion I was treading on most of the time when I was alone. - Maybe we can go over Infinity¡¯s deal offer. They¡¯ve sent the contract already.

    I felt a chill running down my spine and my jaw started clattering. I clenched it tight, to stop it from doing so. The name alone was powerful enough to send me down a very ugly spiral.

    - Contract for a year, that can be extended for two more. An album a year ¨C he was counting the perks on his fingers ¨C 10 thousand for the first one, double on the second and the possibility of 50k on the third. And¡­

    - We¡¯ll stick with Bishop ¨C I cut him off. I wanted nothing to do with that label or those people. Right now, I could not even bear the thought of sharing the same city with them, and that was why I was holed up in the countryside and was yet to step foot in the rehearsal room.

    Peter turned to face me, not believing what I was saying ¨C With Bishop? You¡¯ll only get a year for 5 thousand and, to be perfectly honest with you, I don¡¯t think they did that good of a job with promo.

    I read the letter I had in my hands, trying to hone down the focus I did not think I had. New House was now rented out which meant that I would have a steady stream of income to pay for security.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    - I¡¯d rather stay with Firefly, for the present time.

    He furrowed his brows ¨C Do you mind if I ask why? You never even got to speak with them.

    I put the letter away, on the to be kept pile ¨C I don¡¯t know¡­ Call it a¡­ gut feeling.

    Peter studied my face ¨C I had no idea you made business decisions based on gut feelings¡­ Not all that wise, but¡­ - he shrugged and grabbed a copy of NME that stood on the side table and started, mindlessly, skimming through the pages ¨C I mean, I think Infinity¡¯s deal is great. I¡¯d take it.

    I closed my eyes, trying not to get lost ¨C Get Bishop to go up to 6k. I need to have the roof fixed. - was all I could say.

    He laughed loudly ¨C That is very practical of you, El. But, yeah, sure. You¡¯re the boss.

    - How are your exams going? - I had to take the focus of the conversation away from me. I did not think I could bear to even hear that name again.

    Peter told me all about it. About his exams, about St. Andrews and its Business department, that he had visited just a month ago, about all of his future plans and I just let him talk. Because, as long as he kept talking about himself, I did not have to think about me and my very dimmed will to keep on living.

    As soon as Peter left, I had to muster all my courage to be able to even get near the pile of paper that he had left behind. It had been drafted at Infinity Records but, for all I cared, it could have spawned from the deepest circle of Hell.

    An ominous shiver took over me, when I grabbed it and tossed it into the fire and I just stared as it was swiftly consumed.

    That man had said that we both had gotten what we wanted. But I was not for sale.

    The next day, I met up with the rest of the band. We had to step up and compensate for the time I had been ill. We were about to go on a very important tour and we needed to be in sync and at the top of our game. Nothing less than would do.

    If, before, I had sung with only my body, now I was singing from deep inside my wounded soul and I kept getting compliments for it. It seemed that, the more hurt I was, the better I sounded.

    Of course, people had no clue about anything that had happened and they could not see the stain that I was now convinced was all over me.

 Chapter 24 - Summers end

    I slammed two notebooks on Bishop¡¯s desk and flipped through the pages, so he could take a good look at how full they were.

    - There¡¯s enough material in there for two albums ¨C I sat heavily on the chair and crossed my legs, not minding the upholstery one bit ¨C Or one very long one, but I think two would be more coherent, seeing as one really is a conceptual album. And I¡¯m being very picky.

    He blinked at me, not uttering a word, grabbing the first notebook, and scorebook attached. I allowed myself to get lost in a tiny scratch on his table, as he took his time reading through a large chunk of it, sometimes muttering to himself ¨C You¡¯ve been a busy bee, Elz.

    I shrugged. I had to. When I was not exhausted, from work and travelling, my mind wandered to where it should not, to where I wanted it not to go. I felt that, if I had any time to think, I would just break down. And no one needed that.

    - This is very good. You¡¯ve grown a lot, lyrically, since last time ¨C he closed the book and put it back, careful not to slam it down, like I had done ¨C What do you want? Out with it, missy.

    - I want a new van. Ours kept breaking down through Summer. We¡¯re more mechanics than we are musicians, by now. - I had no qualms in going straight to the point. There was no need to beat around the bush with Bishop.

    - Well, we all want things in life, don¡¯t we? - he smiled cheekily at me.

    - And all expenses paid for our tour of Central Europe.

    He just laughed, not believing what he was hearing ¨C You¡¯ve got to be kidding me, doll. You¡¯ve had a very generous new deal, and let me make it very straight to you, that was not an advancement. You got to keep the same insane clauses and you¡¯re asking me for a new van and an all-expenses paid vacation?

    I just lifted a shoulder, as carelessly as I could ¨C Don¡¯t expect me to waltz into Warsaw in that old banger. Everyone suffered enough during the Summer in that oven. And ¨C I leaned over ¨C if you were so kind as to show me the insane profit you made from my album, with almost zero work promoting it, I would gladly point it out to you that you owe me. Owe us.

    - Nah, nah! - he lifted a finger, menacingly ¨C We did our part of the distribution and¡­

    - And show me the promotion your lovely label did, apart from the launch party ¨C I cut him off. I knew he had nothing on his side. I had done my homework ¨C The sales came solely from our hard work, not yours, my dearest Johnny.

    He let out a dismissive breath ¨C You were lucky.

    - Lucky? - I took the notebooks back ¨C Have you any idea of how many days we¡¯ve worked, these past few months?

    He nodded ¨C I do.

    - I can guarantee you will have the album by year¡¯s end. But I want my perks.

    - By year¡¯s end? - he chuckled, mockingly ¨C We¡¯re just in the early days of September, love.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    I looked him straight in the eyes, as I got up ¨C You may know how many days we¡¯ve worked, on record. What you don¡¯t know, darling Johnny, is that this ¨C I showed him the notebooks again. They were my greatest weapon for this battle ¨C has been through all the work it needed and we¡¯re ready to go in the studio.

    - You¡¯re shitting me ¨C he narrowed his eyes.

    - This is my work. I don¡¯t play around with it.

    He measured me for a second, deciding if he could trust what I was saying, and then put his interlaced fingers behind his head, leaning back on the chair. I¡¯d seen this strategy before, he was about to launch his counter-offer.

    - I¡¯ll get you a van and you¡¯ll have the studio ready as soon as you get back. But I won¡¯t pay for the tour¡¯s expenses.

    - Either I get it all, or you can put that spot in the studio at someone else¡¯s disposal. Next year sounds as good as this one.

    - Fuck it, El!

    - It¡¯s your call, my dear ¨C I grinned. His proverbial Queen was trapped.

    He took a very deep breath and sighed very audibly ¨C Is there any battle with you that I can effectively win?

    - A black van ¨C I smiled.

    He just shrugged and threw his hands in the air ¨C Fine! But mind my bloody money in Germany, or wherever the fuck you¡¯re going.

    I put the notebooks back in my bag and took out an A4 piece of paper that I unfolded ¨C By the way, my boys need new gear. They¡¯ve made you a list ¨C I set the paper on the table.

    - No!

    I sang If it happens again I¡¯m leaving, I¡¯ll pack my things and go¡­ as I left his office. He was a tough cookie, but so was I.

    The tour was as smooth as one may wish for and we even managed to play a free-for-all gig, after some back and forth with Szczecin¡¯s City Hall. I had wanted the free gig to be in Germany, but Hell knows there are few things more convoluted than German bureaucracy, and so we had to think outside the box, and find a large-ish city that was no more than 3 hours away from Berlin, that just happened to be in across the border, in Poland.

    That show cost us a day we could have been resting, but it paid tenfold as the album just soared to the tops of the charts. Every inch of remorse I might have had for the demands I had laid upon Bishop, was now gone.

    I gave some interviews to local media and, honestly, whatever Firefly had spent on us, they sure did get their return, I just had to take a look at the checks I got and calculate the company¡¯s percentage.

    We had a new van, my debts were settled, the Hall¡¯s roof was now fixed and ready for whatever Winter could bring and I should be happy.

    Should is, of course, different from was, because I looked around and all I saw was an empty life. Peter was up in Scotland, enjoying his first year in Uni, as well as he should, my family was all the way across the world, living their lives, as well as they should¡­ And I just stood, in the midst of the hollow house that had become mine, with only the occasional shadow of Collins or Edgar. Everything else around me felt like a cemetery and every time I was alone, the ghosts came back to haunt and taunt. They pulled at me, trying to get me under and every day I just tried harder and harder to bury it all, to hide the shame.

    And so, I did what I¡¯ve always done best: I fled. This time, to my music wonderland, where everything was sound and every single tune was worthy of being explored. And so I wrote and I wrote and I wrote¡­ Some things were good, some so and so and some, well, some will never see the light of day ever again, my little deformed creepies in the basement.

    We worked on Eris for less than a month, as we had most of it set up already and, for us, it was perfect the way it was. And so, December was another month filled with promotion and pictures and meetings and everything else in between.

    Bishop had been working hard in the background while we were away and then in the studio, to get the album out as fast as humanly possible. Under different circumstances, I would say it all had been too rushed, but at the time, it felt like the right thing to do.

    It was also then that Bishop introduced me to Marla, who he claimed was a wonderful agent who could help me out. It was also when Holly Kingsley came to work with me as a PA, because my mind was such a mess that I was already tending to get lost amidst all the commitments.

    Holly was Heaven-sent. Marla¡­ Well, Marla was Marla.

 Chapter 25 - A waif in Hollywood

    I just knew my professional relationship with Marla was to be short-lived when, first of all, she laughed at me for bringing security everywhere I went and second, for telling me at the album¡¯s launch party (at The Underground, because where else can a person release an album, if not back to roots, right?) that I needed to perk up, as I looked like I was about to cry every darned minute.

    - It¡¯s not surprising, really. Just looking at your fans, you¡¯d think they would consider your tears some aqua vitae, or something ¨C she laughed ¨C Bottle it and sell it, you¡¯ll make a fortune.

    Well, joke was on her, really, when I used my dad¡¯s contacts that Christmas, got to talks with a Japanese perfumer and worked with him to launch my very first piece of original merchandise: Tears by Eleanora, the perfume.

    So, yes, now people could don my tears and go about their days. The first batch was tiny, but it sold like hotcakes, or buns, or whatever delicious pastry sells well while hot.

    Another win under my belt.

    And that was all I cared about, by now: winning. It may have been because it was sort of a small high, that feeling of yes, I did it, I made this, opposite to the Mariana Trench low I was dragging myself through most of the time. I may be a creature of darkness, but everyone needs the sun, every now and then, even me. And those wins and approval I was so desperately seeking were that very sun, just above the surface tension of the water I could not break through.

    I read every single piece that came out about the album and I loved to read words like pungent, tortuous, dark and my personal favourite it leaves you utterly empty when it ends.

    I barely saw my home for the first three months of 1996. My music was airing on MTV, and we would hear it on the radio, as we drove endlessly, on dark roads, on dark nights. That was the time of day when we also met our fans, and it just gave us a sort of confirmation bias for the very strong possibility that we could be vampires. Well, the boys could be vampires, because I was more of a Victorian ghost, by now, just hovering by with dark circles under my eyes, threatening to fall asleep any minute but also not wanting to, lest the nightmares also came with the much needed rest.

    And those victories I so desperately craved for were starting to no longer give me that glimpse of the sun . I just kept collecting them like a greedy raven, to gaze upon my shiny treasures every now and then. And, whenever I looked away from that glittering trove, all I could hear were the screams that were playing in loop, from that very dark corner of my mind where shadows writhed.

    I was barely even speaking to people any longer, to the point where I once went into a room and Martin held his hand out to me.

    - Hi, I¡¯m Martin. Nice to meet you. Oh, silly me! It¡¯s just my boss. It¡¯s like she doesn¡¯t even know me .

    - Listen ¨C Freddie was sitting by me, while we made a quick stop at a service station, one arm crossed over his chest and the other one holding the cigarette away from me ¨C If you need to talk about something, anything, we¡¯re here for you, OK?

    I nodded, twisting the chocolate wrapper in my hands. It was like I was becoming mute by my own accord, as I did not trust what could come out.

    - We¡¯re all family, alright, love? We¡¯re not just here to work and make a couple of quid. We¡¯re in this together, OK?

    I blinked, trying to suppress the tears that were now clouding my vision. I did not want him to see me cry.

    - We might not be blood family, but we¡¯re your road one ¨C Freddie said and, for a fraction of a second, he placed his hand over my shoulder. The touch itself was innocuous and deep down, I knew just how innocent and well-meaning it was, but I shuddered and jerked away, with a gasp ¨C El¡­?

    Freddie pulled his hand back to himself and became extremely serious ¨C El¡­ What¡¯s wrong? What happened¡­?

    Luckily for me, the conversation was interrupted by some lovely girls who had recognized us. Luckily for me and for Freddie as well, because I know myself well enough to know that I would rather push him away than let him in on my secrets.

    <hr>

    - ¡­ and you have a meeting with a director that asked to speak with you, next week. I¡¯ve already passed that info to Holly, she¡¯ll fill you in. ¨C Marla said, over the phone. Those days, the fewer people I had around me, the better.

    - A director? Are we shooting a new video?

    - No, this one¡¯s from Hollywood ¨C It was always like this with Marla, we never really clicked enough so that either of us could enjoy this symbiotic work relationship.

    I frowned ¨C From Hollywood? What does he want?

    - I don¡¯t know ¨C I heard her pull a drag and blow the smoke out ¨C Maybe he wants to use one of your songs for a movie.

    I just shook my head, closing my eyes and trying not to sigh out loud ¨C If he wanted to use one of my songs, wouldn¡¯t his team just get in touch with the label? Why bother coming all the way across the ocean to talk to me?

    - Yeah, maybe you¡¯re right.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    - Well, you¡¯re the bloody agent, aren¡¯t you? Shouldn¡¯t you know how these things work?

    I heard a muffled snicker from just a few feet from me. Peter had come home for a few days and had made a point of having dinner with me. I just told Marla I did not need her there for the meeting and hung up the phone, with an exasperated sigh.

    - Please, please, please ¨C I turned around, to meet Peter¡¯s eyes, still squinting with a mocking smile ¨C just study faster, or whatever. I will offer you a job on the spot, as soon as you finish your degree.

    - I appreciate the offer, but now, come ¨C he tilted his head ¨C sit down and eat.

    I just buried my face in my hands, as I sat down and he handed me a tray with pasta al pesto with little pieces of fresh mozzarella.

    - I thought we were just having some sammies ¨C I said, as I looked down. It did look good, either way.

    - Yeah, well, I thought you might need something a little heartier than a sandwich ¨C he stabbed a piece of cheese and bit into it ¨C I saw you on the telly and I think you¡¯re just wasting away. So, eat up, because you still have some growing up to do. Hopefully.

    I pushed the pasta around the plate for a while, before making the effort of trying a little bit. It was delicious and I realised how little I had been enjoying food lately. It all tasted of ash.

    - I¡¯m guessing the new agent is not up to par ¨C he said, casually as he turned the TV on. - Oh, and talking of work and such, you don¡¯t happen to know how or why my tuition was already paid for when I tried to pay for it myself, do you?

    I fixed my eyes on the television, as I ate a little bit more pasta ¨C I have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.

    - I imagined you wouldn¡¯t.

    - Best to keep it at that.

    - Ellie¡­

    I turned to look at him again. I could feel the hollowness under my eyes, as if it was dragging me down and urging me to just sleep  ¨C You worked hard for me. And I am trying to give back in the only way that I can. So, let¡¯s leave it at that.

    He took a while, looking at me, until I averted his gaze. There it was, once again, etched on his face: pity.

    - Whatever you might need, I¡¯m here.

    </button>

    I was flanked by Collins, Jools and Holly, as Felix Blake¡¯s car drove down the lawn and stopped by our doorstep. Collins motioned to open the door and the man that came out was agape, looking at the house, as he took off his sunglasses. His face was gaunt, but his eyes shone bright, as he smiled in amusement.

    It was always nice, to see people¡¯s reactions to my Hall.

    - I love it! - he said, with his American accent that seemed so out of place here. He took a moment before his eyes landed on me and he made a quick motion, walking with his arm already outstretched ¨C Felix Blake, it¡¯s really nice to meet you. I¡¯m a fan.

    - Thank you, Mr Blake ¨C I smiled ¨C Welcome to Somerset Hall.

    He introduced both his PA and his producer and I, in turn, Holly, Jools and Collins, as I took them inside, to the drawing room. Collins started serving them coffee, which they had chosen over tea, also bringing along the petit fours, to go with it.

    - Absolutely delicious ¨C he said, after taking a sip and looking around ¨C I see that the music business is going well for you.

    I smiled politely ¨C I get by, but this is my family home.

    His eyes fell on a coat of arms, hung over the fireplace ¨C Blackburn?

    - Among a few others.

    He just nodded ¨C Very interesting¡­

    - To what may I owe the pleasure, Mr. Blake?

    He took another sip ¨C This coffee is amazing. Congratulations. - he smiled at Collins, who took it like the champ butler he was, showing no emotion at all, just a polite nod. Blake did not have that stereotypical Hollywood smile that can blind you from a distance, but he did smile very warmly ¨C Well, Eleanora, may I call you that? I¡¯m here on business.

    I nodded, as I put my tea cup back on the table, encouraging him to carry on.

    - As I said before, I¡¯m a fan ¨C he imitated my gesture and crossed his legs ¨C A big fan. I happened to be taking a family trip through my wife¡¯s old country, when someone said there was a free concert about to go down ¨C He was very thin so, when he smiled, the skin was so taut over his bones, that there was no trace of any puffiness under his eyes ¨C After Szczecin, I just went crazy and had to have anything you could have released already. Your new album, Eris, is amazing by the way, and I think you have this grasp on subtlety and on the beauty of the art that really makes you one of a kind.

    I felt a sudden flash of colour on my cheeks. - Those are lovely words, Mr. Blake. And I¡¯m glad you enjoyed the show. But I am afraid I don¡¯t know enough about your work to be able to say the same.

    He just laughed and shook his head, saying it was perfectly normal that I did not know him, as this was to be his first solo project, after having worked in the industry for over 20 years. He made a motion for his PA, who handed him a portfolio, which he then gave to me.

    It was some concept art for, what I assumed, would be his film. There was a darkness and sorrow to the atmosphere that gripped me immediately until I took a closer look at one of the characters.

    - Is this¡­ - I hesitated ¨C Is this me?

    He put his open palm over his chest and had a relieved look on his face ¨C I¡¯m glad they¡¯ve managed to make it obvious.

    - I don¡¯t understand.

    - I¡¯ll be very American and go straight to the point ¨C he leaned over, his eyes eager ¨C I think you have a very key sort of aesthetics that I think are just sublime. And, as much as I think about it and turn it over in my head, I can¡¯t seem to find anyone else I can picture as her, as Rose ¨C he pointed out to the drawing of the female character.

    - But¡­

    - Be my Rose Vaughn. It would be an honour for me if you were the lead in my debut.

    I just blinked, from him to the concept art and back to him again ¨C I¡¯m afraid I am no actress, Mr. Blake. I¡¯m just a singer¡­ I¡¯m sorry to disappoint you and make you come so far.

    Felix Blake just moved his head towards his producer, who handed him a script ¨C The part does not have many lines, but it does have a lot of expression and emotion ¨C he rested the stack of papers on his lap ¨C And I¡¯ve been watching your interviews back to back, ever since this idea got stuck in my head. I¡¯ve been watching your music videos and looking at your photos and, do you know who I see?

    I shook my head. This whole encounter was becoming more surreal with each word.

    - I see someone who wears her heart on her sleeve. A genuine person. Innocent, but not na?ve. I see Rose ¨C he slid his fingers along the edges of the script. - You are my Rose.

    There was a moment where I hesitated, when I did not know what to say.

    - That is the sort of look I am talking about ¨C he had such a flow of energy that I could only imagine how contagious it could become, if one was to work with him. He reached out the script towards me ¨C Please take a moment to read it.

    I took the volume from his hands. The Dark Heart, it read on the front page.

    - I will read it, Mr. Blake. But, as I said, I am not an actress.

    We talked for another hour, his producer also chiming in, telling me all about the film¡¯s vision and concept, about how they believed it could be the next big cult movie for a new generation.

    I handed him the concept art when they were getting up to leave ¨C No ¨C he said ¨C those are for Rose.

    - Mr. Blake ¨C I called out, just as he was getting in the car. I had a lingering question in my mind that I could not let fly under the radar ¨C May I just ask you if my agent has contacted you?

    - No ¨C he said ¨C I¡¯ve managed to get her number from your label.

    That was good enough for me.

    - I don¡¯t mean to brag¡­ ¨C Collins muttered from behind me, as their car drove away.

    - But Peter is infinitely better at this job, yes ¨C I completed the thought and could almost feel the warmth of the glowing aura of pride, on Collins.

 Chapter 26 - Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

    I read the script on that very same night. I had no intention of acting on it, whatsoever. That was no Lord of the Rings and I was no Paul McCartney.

    But the story was so moving. Beautiful and sad and romantic, but not in the lovey-dovey sort of way. Those feelings of loss, and sorrow and despair¡­ It had such a grip on me that, when I sat down in front of the piano, I could not focus. I tried shaking it off, but it hung on to me, begging for a little bit more of my time.

    I grabbed the card that Blake had left along with the script and called the hotel where he was staying. I said my name was Rose Vaughn.

    - I¡¯m assuming this is the call where you will tell me you¡¯ll do it ¨C he said, his voice yearning for the answer I could not yet give him.

    - You shouldn¡¯t assume, Mr. Blake. I am just intrigued.

    - And here I was, thinking I was talking to Rose ¨C he laughed.

    I needed to understand Rose¡¯s motivations, her story, what had led her there. And he was more than happy to oblige and answer every single one of my questions and elaborate on every detail I needed to highlight. It was like having a direct hotline to the author of your favourite book, and being able to just extract every bit of information, no matter how minute it might seem.

    We ended the talk with it still hanging, no answer from me. But Felix Blake did encourage me to, at least, try my hand at some acting lessons. There was nothing to lose from it. And he was willing to wait.

    And so I did. Through some mutual connections, I managed to find a good professor who taught me everything, from using the space, to making your body an extension of the dialogue, not acting with your eyebrows (very important!) and the power of silence. This last one, I already knew, but in my own professional context. Silences are valuable and a magnificent tool, when used correctly.

    In between our several outings, I managed to still squeeze in a dialect coach, that would teach me how to shed my very distinct accent as Rose was, herself, American. My consonants kept on transpiring, and I kept on practising until I got it right.

    When I felt ready to say that I would be Blake¡¯s Rose, I asked Peter for him to negotiate the contract for me. Marla only knew there was to be a space on my schedule that she could not touch.

    She only realised what was going on, when some gossip magazine speculated I was to be in a movie and she let me know about it. Very, very loudly.

    Marla yelled that I had gone behind her back and, as she was still my agent, her commission was still valid. Mr. Mason did the rest of the talk for me, explaining to her how her commission worked and, as she had had no hand in the deal and seeing how Mr Blake was completely oblivious to her existence, her due part was not due at all. If I had to pay anyone for the job, I would much rather pay Peter, who truly deserved it.

    The filming was to start in June but, seeing as my Summer schedule was already cramped with shows and festivals, Blake allocated the last two weeks of August only for my part in the film. He would try and work around it the rest of the time, filming every other scene where I would not be present, and the only thing I had to do was to get there and deliver everything without fail because, otherwise, I was costing the studio a lot of money. No pressure.

    The wardrobe and image tests had come to meet me and so, that was out of the way. Before heading out to Florida, where we would be shooting, I flew in Clara and Tommy and we spent some days at Disneyland, in Paris, and I felt young and free, not tethered to an askew notion of myself, even if I was in sunglasses and hats most of the time.

    - My muse! - Blake ran to me, when I came in, with both Jools and Holly ¨C You¡¯re finally here.

    He told me that we would just do a little chemistry test, to put the investor¡¯s minds at ease.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    - What¡¯s a chemistry test? - I asked, as he took me to the middle of a set, not bothering to change anything about how I was dressed or had my hair done.

    A producer passed by and handed him the script, already opened.

    - Do you remember this scene, where Rose finally understands what Murphy is asking of her? When Henry and Rose are both about to go on stage?

    I nodded. I had that script back-to-back in my mind.

    - You¡¯re just going to act this scene with Adam. I¡¯m just trying to prove a point to those very sceptic people in fancy suits, alright? - he pointed out to a group of people that stood still, amidst the buzz of a working set. - Stay here, sweetheart.

    That was the most vulnerable I had felt in a long time. Even more than when I went up on stage, because this almost grazed on voyeurism and it made me nervous. There were a lot of cameras and people looking at me and I gulped, as I thought to myself what in Heaven¡¯s name had I gotten myself into.

    - Quiet in the studio ¨C someone shouted.

    I closed my eyes. You agreed to this, you dimwit. Now work your way out of it, I said to myself. I heard some soft footsteps and I opened my eyes to see the most gorgeous boy walking towards me. He was not very tall, but his presence was so magnetic that you would think he would stand out in a crowd, either way. While my features were soft and round, his were angular and sharp, with dark, deep-set eyes and full lips that smiled at me. It was like looking at the sun, really. So much that I had to look away.

    From the corner of my eye, I could see Felix Blake gesturing at me, as if saying come on, go ahead.

    I turned my eyes again to the boy, who was now just a couple of feet away from me ¨C Hi, I¡¯m Adam ¨C he said, as he reached out his hand.

    I gave him my best warm and welcoming smile ¨C Eleanora. Nice to meet you ¨C I felt the warmth of his hand against the ice from my very own.

    - Are you, like, cold or something? It¡¯s 95 degrees out there.

    It wasn¡¯t even like I was underdressed, but I had grown used to my cold hands ¨C They¡¯re always cold. It¡¯s my natural state. - I said, rubbing them against one another ¨C The perks of being a vampire ¨C I chuckled awkwardly.

    - Sorry ¨C he laughed as well ¨C I didn¡¯t mean to point it out, I just wasn¡¯t expecting that.

    - Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.

    Yes, those were the words that came out of my mouth. I panicked, for a quick second, and prayed that a sinkhole would open up under my feet and the Earth would have me falling until I plopped right at the centre of it, melting quickly into nothingness, such was the embarrassment I was feeling.

    Adam pursed his lips, trying not to laugh. I could see he really was doing his best not to burst out.

    - I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s from a sketch¡­ - I started.

    - Monty Python, yeah, I know.

    - Oh. It¡¯s nice to meet a fan from the other side of the pond ¨C Having a touchstone was a great way to start this. And Python was one of the best touchstones there could ever be, so I could not help but smile at him.

    - Favourite movie? ¨C he fired.

    - The life of Brian, of course. Yours?

    - Oh, blasphemy ¨C he laughed loudly ¨C For me, it¡¯s The Holy Grail.

    We both mimicked the coconut hooves and burst out laughing.

    Time really was of the essence and, as soon as the introductions were out of the way and the proverbial ice was broken, Blake told us what he expected of us. There were no lines in this scene, but it was one of the most visually powerful and emotionally charged moments in the film.

    - Action ¨C Blake said softly, a few feet away.

    I thought to myself how I should not have taken that challenge, that I was not qualified and that I would only end up wasting people¡¯s time and money. I looked Adam in the eyes and my hopelessness, in that chemistry test, is genuine, as if Rose and I had fused together. What I saw in his eyes surprised me. There was this shyness that I truly felt was real as well.

    I held out my hand and he took it so delicately, it was almost as if the touch was not there at all. My brain was telling me to drop everything and go, but I was forcing my own body to obey what I wanted it to do, and not what the primal instinct was shouting from the background.

    I lowered my eyes, as I felt my breathing picking up. I closed them and told myself to just be Rose. Not me, just Rose. Eleanora was to be wiped from the map, for the time being.

    I opened my eyes again and locked them on his, as I placed my left hand over his heart, my own just beating like mad, threatening to burst out of my chest. I felt my eyes starting to water. Rose or not, that was just too much for me. A tear ran down my cheek and, thankfully there was a ¨C Cut! - and I was able to take a deep breath, take three steps back and quickly wipe the tears away. Another second and I would have ran away in a panic.

    - That was perfect! Perfect, perfect, perfect! - Blake was trotting our way ¨C I knew I¡¯d found Rose. - he beamed at Adam ¨C That was the most beautiful chemistry test I¡¯ve ever seen. Good job, both of you.

    I wiped the rest of the tears from my eyes and just gave him a slight nod.

    - Miss Vaughn ¨C he said ¨C Be here tomorrow at 7 and bring all that raw emotion with you.

    I nodded again, still unable to speak.

    - You OK? - Adam had a tight smile on his face ¨C Acting can pull a lot that you don¡¯t know you had in here ¨C he touched his chest.

    - I know just what I have in here ¨C I said to him, as I took a tissue Holly was handing me, trying to steady my voice ¨C I just wasn¡¯t expecting it to come out all at once.

    Adam laughed, softly ¨C Come with me, I¡¯ll show you around the studio.

 Chapter 27 - Appetite for destruction

    Adam and I clicked really well from the get-go. He was very easy-going and a wonderful professional who had no qualms about helping other people out. I¡¯ve met other artists, from all walks of life, who were really holding on to their own place and fame and had no problem in gatekeeping everything they knew, so no one could surpass them.

    But Adam was never like that and he understood that a person can only grow, professionally and personally, if they can be selfless enough to lend a hand to those in need.

    We ended up bonding outside the studio as well and even went to see a show together.

    - So, when can we expect your big American debut? - he asked, when we were in the middle of the crowd, just waiting for the concert to begin.

    - Whenever people want me here, I¡¯ll drop by ¨C I smiled, as I put some earplugs on.

    - What are you doing? - he frowned, at the gesture. Who could be lame enough to wear earplugs, right?

    - Protecting the family jewels ¨C I said and he let out a very loud laugh that made everyone around us turn their heads ¨C What? I don¡¯t want to go deaf before I¡¯m 30. Hearing damage is irreversible.

    - Beethoven was deaf ¨C Jools shrugged, beside me.

    - Yeah, well, Beethoven was a genius. I¡¯m just¡­ me and barely scraping by. - I waved my hands, like they were plates on a scale ¨C It does make a difference.

    Every single day felt like a brave new world and it was useful, to an extent, to get my mind out of the eternal fishbowl it kept swimming in. I needed to focus and to become another person and, despite the fact the nightmares were always waiting when I laid down to sleep, as the faithful companions they were and still are, the depersonalization helped a bit.

    Adam and I always had lunch together because, mostly, we were shooting together as well. So, we sat outside, in the shade, and enjoyed those little relaxing moments. It also gave both Jools and Holly the chance to walk away from me for a little bit and I knew just how much they appreciated those moments, as I can be a difficult person at times, even more so back then, especially when stressed out.

    - Can I ask you a question? - Adam asked as I was sitting down on the ground next to him.

    - Of course ¨C I crossed my legs and opened the plastic container Holly had gotten for me, from the catering area.

    - Why do you always walk around with your bodyguard? I mean, I can understand your PA. You have other things to worry about. But why Jools?

    I did not lift my eyes from my lunch and picked around with the plastic fork, not really all that interested in it ¨C Well, it¡¯s his job, isn¡¯t it?

    - Well, yeah. But it¡¯s not that normal, is it? ¨C he chewed on something from his own lunch ¨C Did you, like, have any bad experiences or something?

    I just shrugged, as I finally stabbed a water chestnut and bit into it. I really did not want to delve deeper into that conversation. It was a swamp I was not willing to go into.

    - Like, with fans, or something?

    - Fans are harmless. Most of them, anyway. It¡¯s not like they¡¯re willing to tear me apart, regret doing so and eat up the evidence in an act of desperation.

    Adam¡¯s fork stopped, halfway to his mouth, as he hesitated and put the chicken back in the container, twisting his face with disgust ¨C What the fuck¡­? - he looked down at his food and heaved a little bit, before putting the lid back on ¨C Don¡¯t mind me, I was just trying to have lunch, thank you very much¡­

    - I¡¯m sorry ¨C I said, as I kept on eating ¨C But it¡¯s safe to have the chicken. Humans taste like pork. Or so they say ¨C I grinned, realizing that he was much more squeamish than I had anticipated.

    He covered his ears and spoke louder ¨C I don¡¯t want to hear! I¡¯m not listening to you, you freak.

    I chuckled and had another portion of Holly¡¯s delicious choice. She always seemed to know just what I liked best.

    He looked at me carefully, trying to assess if I was still on my tirade on cannibalism and, seeing as I was eating in silence, looked back at his own food, decided against it and put it aside.

    - You¡¯ve ruined my appetite ¨C Adam crossed his arms, like a toddler throwing a tantrum ¨C You made me waste food.

    - You¡¯re such a baby ¨C I chuckled ¨C Go on, have your lunch. I don¡¯t think Blake¡¯s going to let us leave early today.

    - Eh, you¡¯re probably right ¨C he sighed heavily before opening the container once again ¨C But, seriously, is Julian with you 24/7?

    Back at it again. Why couldn¡¯t he leave it alone? ¨C If I ask him and he agrees to it, I don¡¯t see why not.

    He tilted his head, knitting his brows hard. I could see he was hesitating at getting out into the world the words that were firing away in his head ¨C Someone hurt you, didn¡¯t they?

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    I put my plastic cutlery down ¨C I¡¯d rather not talk about this , alright?

    Adam bit his lip and looked away, to the comings and goings of a busy studio, as if deep in thought ¨C If you ever want to talk about it¡­

    I felt the familiar shiver up my spine that said I would be curled into a ball in no time ¨C Just leave it alone, will you? Please.

    - But¡­

    I got up. It was instinct. I couldn¡¯t just sit still any longer ¨C I said, leave it alone. Please respect what I¡¯m asking of you.

    He reached up and tried to grab my hand, and I panicked, spilling the rest of my lunch all over the ground ¨C Don¡¯t touch me! - It came out so much more commanding than I had anticipated ¨C Please, don¡¯t touch me ¨C I said again, as I turned away and made a beeline back to my trailer, closing and locking the door behind me.

    More than a year separated me from what had happened and I was trying my best to build the thickest and highest walls around it and still, they came tumbling down with the flood that was clearly stronger than them, exposing all the throbbing rawness of that open gash on my soul.

    I paced around the trailer. I couldn¡¯t crumble down, not now, not today and not until the end of all of this, so I picked up my headphones, went over to the keyboard I had brought with me and started playing from memory some pieces I had been working on. Some pieces that were already coming together and that I had big plans for. I refused to go down for once.

    I left the trailer about an hour later and Jools was sitting on the steps, reading a magazine.

    - I¡¯m sorry, my dear ¨C I said, feeling guilty for forgetting about him.

    - No worries, chook. Adam said you might need some time ¨C he closed the magazine and handed it to me ¨C You alright?

    And I just shrugged, because what else could I say to him?

    Jools and I walked into the lobby of the hotel I was staying in, at around 10pm. We¡¯d had a late dinner, after a long day and I was ready to just take a shower and salute my demons when we spotted Adam in the lobby. He was clearly waiting for us, as he got up and walked over.

    - What are you¡­ - I started asking, but he tossed a beanie at me, which I grabbed. He had bought it at the merch booth of the concert we¡¯d attended, just a few days prior.

    - El, Jools ¨C he greeted ¨C Let¡¯s go.

    - What? Where?

    He grinned ¨C Therapy ¨C and walked past us, not looking back to see if we were following him.

    Outside, his car was waiting, a cool looking Pontiac Firebird which I guessed was probably from the 80s.

    - Jools, I think you may need to ride shotgun, so the lady can go safely in the back, right?

    - Wait, wait ¨C I said, trying to get some sanity into that conversation ¨C where are we going, really?

    - I already told you, therapy ¨C he opened the passenger door and pushed the front seat forward, motioning for me to get in.

    We drove out of town for about an hour and Adam chatted happily with Jools along the way. He seemed to be in good spirits, despite what had happened between us earlier.

    We stopped by what looked like a  and a rough-looking man was standing by the gate.

    - What on Earth¡­ - I asked, but got no answer, as Adam got out and went straight to the man and handed him what seemed like a rolled-up wad of money. Whatever it was, it had been previously agreed upon.

    - Come on, compadres! Don¡¯t be shy ¨C he was beaming as he came back to the car, leaning on the open door ¨C we¡¯ve got some business to settle.

    Jools just shrugged and got out, helping me get out of the back seat. Adam was already by the boot, with his hands on his hips.

    - What¡¯s going on here, Fairchild? - I asked ¨C Are you going to kill us and chuck us in the compactor?

    - Such a wild imagination on this one ¨C he smiled and he pointed his chin to the boot and both Jools and I took a peek, to see three baseball bats, heavy-duty gloves and safety glasses.

    - So¡­ You¡¯re going to shatter our kneecaps, then every single bone in our bodies and THEN chuck us in the compactor?

    - Yeah, sure. But safety first, right? - he tossed his hands up ¨C should I also give you cement shoes?

    - Nah, we¡¯re in Florida, mate ¨C Jools crossed his arms ¨C No need for cement shoes. Just cut us into little pieces and dump us in a swamp. The crocs will do the dirty work for you.

    Adam laughed, as he handed us a bat each, followed by gloves and glasses ¨C Like calls to like, I see.

    Inside the , some heavy-duty floodlights were turned on and the whole thing looked like a stage at prime time.

    He went in ahead of us, his baseball bat over his shoulders, with a very cool strut. There were some beat-up cars lined up on the ground and the man was also there. He just said all yours, and went back into what looked like a shipping container, closing the door behind him.

    I looked over at Adam, still wary of that dodgy deal he had prepared for us.

    - Lady! Gentleman! - he shouted dramatically ¨C Safety first! - he pulled his glasses over his face and adjusted his gloves. He walked over to one of the cars ¨C Therapy, baby! - he growled and swung his bat at full speed against the passenger window of the car, shattering it.

    I opened my mouth, at Jools who just shrugged, smiling ¨C I mean, it could work¡­

    - Jools! That one¡¯s all yours, you big, bad, beautiful Aussie! - he shouted, amidst his destructive fury ¨C El! - he stopped and pointed his bat at me ¨C Just wreck it.

    I slowly took about ten steps, to the nearest car. The bat felt heavy and weird.

    - Hit it, girl ¨C I heard a soft voice coming from behind me ¨C Bash his fucking teeth in.

    With those words, the usual images started their danse macabre in my mind. I closed my eyes and saw Webber buttoning his trousers and I winced.

    - Hit it hard where it hurts the most and make him beg for mercy ¨C Adam purred by my ear.

    I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air and just let it happen. Maybe from afar it looked ridiculous but, for me, that really was a way of getting it all out and I felt the rage I had been suppressing for so long, so much that I can¡¯t even remember how many times I hit that poor car. All I know is that I ended up out of breath, feeling the sweat dripping down my back, my hair filled with little shards of glass and a steady stream of tears clouding my vision. I let the bat fall to the ground.

    - Can I give you a hug? - Adam asked me. I looked at him and his dark eyes reassured me. And how I needed a hug. I had been needing a hug for more than a year, a gesture that would tell me it would be alright, so I gave in and nodded. He reached out and flicked a few bits of glass from my hair, before opening his arms.

    I leaned my forehead on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me, at first very softly and then really embracing me.

    - I don¡¯t know what happened and I don¡¯t know if it will ever be OK ¨C he whispered ¨C But, for what it¡¯s worth, I am your friend and I will be here for you, if you need me.

    And that little effort he made that night, those little words of comfort that he did not need to have for me, told me Adam Fairchild was a friend for life. And he still is. Apart from a little snag, sometime later, he is the person I know will be there for whatever I might need and, along with Peter, one of my oldest and dearest friends, whom I know I can trust with my life.

 Chapter 28 - Im glad I came here with your pound of flesh

    I was so sore the next day that I could barely lift my arms, but the physical exhaustion seemed to have broken an emotional barrier of sorts between Adam and I, and we managed to film one of the most beautiful scenes in the whole movie.

    Felix Blake was so over the moon that he promised he would direct one of my music videos. I did cash in on that, later on, and A Dream of Winter is a masterpiece by Mr. Blake himself.

    Peter came by a couple of days later, unexpectedly and unannounced, straight from a red-eye flight, along with Bear who was to replace Jools, who was scheduled to go on his monthly leave. He should have been getting ready to go back to school by then, so my spidey senses were tingling immediately.

    - Adam, this is Peter Collins. He¡¯s studying Business at St. Andrews University but, more importantly, he was the man who pushed me onwards and got me to where I am today. So, he is a manager on hold for the time being, while he undergoes very specialised training.

    Peter blushed and lowered his eyes, as he reached out his hand and shook Adam¡¯s

    - Peter, this is Adam Fairchild, the star of the movie.

    - But not a very bright one, I think. You don¡¯t happen to take desperate cases as clients, do you? ¨C Adam nodded at Peter.

    - For now, I¡¯m a one client man ¨C he smirked ¨C I loved you in No place to hide, by the way. Hands down, the king of slasher films.

    - Oh! A connoisseur ¨C Adam smiled brightly ¨C I believe we will have a lot to talk about, sir.

    The three of us headed down to the Japanese restaurant, as I had given everyone else the night off. We ordered sushi and had a very nice talk. Peter and Adam looked like they had known each other for years and were long time friends, who had happened to just bump into one another unexpectedly and were just getting everything up to date. It really felt like we had that sort of get-together every week and it was nice and familiar.

    By the end of dinner, Peter excused himself and got up.

    - So¡­ boyfriend? - Adam asked, as he played around with his chopsticks.

    - Childhood friend. - I thought of the constant presence of Peter throughout all my life ¨C More like an older brother, if I have to be honest. If it weren¡¯t for him, I wouldn¡¯t be here today, that is the truth. - I raised my eyebrow ¨C Why?

    - Just curious ¨C he set his chopsticks down ¨C I¡¯m a naturally curious person.

    Peter came back from the restroom and Adam was the one leaving the table. It was like they were afraid of leaving me to my own devices. Who knew how dangerous a little girl could be on her own?

    - I¡¯m very happy to see you, I really am ¨C I started ¨C But I know you¡¯re not here because you felt the urge to be less than 10 feet away from a crocodile or an alligator, or whatever those are.

    Peter bit his lip, trying not to smile ¨C Cunning, as always, my Lady. - He reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out a clipping from a small-time tabloid that he handed to me. It had a news spread that uncovered the whole truth about me. Reading through it, I think more than 50% of it was utter rubbish. It had the explosive scoop about the Duchy of Somerset, about my vast family fortune and how rotten to the core my family had been, throughout the generations.

    - How can these people lie through their teeth like this?¡­ And where in Hell did they find out about this?

    - Hmm¡­ - Peter scratched his chin, pretending to be deep in thought ¨C if only you had a disgruntled employee who was saying you ripped her off¡­

    - Marla¡­ - I growled. - Do you think she could have done this?

    - I¡¯m not saying it was her ¨C he took the clipping from me and put it back ¨C But it was my first hunch, yeah. I¡¯ve talked to Mason, as soon as I was made aware of this and they took legal action. What was not sold, was pulled back but there is still a possibility that this might blow up in your face.

    - I did nothing wrong¡­ Most of those are lies and you know it.

    - I know that ¨C he reassured me. If there was anyone in the world to really know all about my family, those would be the Collins¡¯ ¨C But shit like this can ruin a career. So, my advice would be for you to take pre-emptive action.

    I knitted my eyebrows and asked him to elaborate.

    - Get a reporter who has you in high regard, who¡¯s given you favourable reviews, I would advise on Alan Winnick, and offer him an exclusive scoop. It may work.

    - And expose my family background?¡­

    - What¡¯s there to lose? It¡¯s not a secret, anyway, is it? - he shrugged.

    - Why was I not told about this? It would take only a quick phone call. - one of my pet peeves was always to be left in the dark and knowing, last minute, about things that needed immediate action.

    - This just came out yesterday and I got on the first plane over, after talking to Mason. I was lucky enough to make it to Bear¡¯s flight ¨C Peter ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up ¨C My advice as your past and future manager, would be to just take the bull by its horns and tell the truth. I mean, it¡¯s the least your fans deserve, right?

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    It was. And this was the moment that truth dawned on me, that I had no right to hide things from my fans and that is why I have always tried to be as transparent as possible. There are, of course, boundaries I will not cross, such as exposing my siblings or my love life. For me, those are the limes of private life and that frontier should never be crossed. Everything else, becomes fair game, seeing as I have stood in the public eye for so many years.

    - This is so stupid¡­ - I sighed and felt really deflated. I had not yet grown accustomed to the thought that papers could write bad things about me.

    - I know. And I really see no point in making a scandal out of all of this. You can¡¯t help the family you were born into. But, you know how this works and, as long as it sells papers¡­

    I buried my face in my hands, trying to figure out how I should play the whole situation.

    - So¡­ what about handsome movie star? - I could hear the mockery in Peter¡¯s voice.

    - What about him? - I said, still not looking at him. I thought I had Winnick¡¯s number at home. I needed to call Collins, back at the Hall.

    - Are you and pretty boy¡­? - he winked at me, in the cheesiest way possible. Such an adorable dork.

    - My word, you boys are nosy.

    - It¡¯s just that you seem¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ lighter, maybe? I haven¡¯t seen you smile like that in a while. I just liked it.

    That night, I could not sleep and I called home in the early hours of the morning and asked Collins for the number I needed. I took a deep breath and called Winnick, who answered the phone with a very groggy voice. Someone was not an early bird, definitely, but that did not matter. What mattered was that Alan had made the jump, from his Rock Revolution fanzine to one of the best music magazines in the UK.

    - Alan, I¡¯m sorry for calling this early. It¡¯s Eleanora. I hope you remember me from my debut, at The Underground.

    I knew he remembered me. So much so, that he had reviewed Eris as well, and given an amazing perspective on it.

    - Eleanora? - his voice perked up ¨C Of course I remember you. I¡¯ve had Eris playing on repeat forever. And my signed copy of The Hanging Gardens is on my office wall right now.

    That was enough to fill my depleted ego. Sometimes one needs to hear nice things like that, especially when it comes from a place of honesty.

    I told him about the situation I had in hands and made my proposition of giving him, and his magazine, the exclusive rights to my interview about it.

    - So I thought of you and I hope you don¡¯t mind that.

    - Mind it? - he laughed ¨C A scoop by our brightest rising star? It feels like it¡¯s my birthday and Christmas on the same day. When would you like to talk?

    - Whenever you¡¯re free. - I said ¨C But I don¡¯t think we can delay this much further.

    - Tell me all about it ¨C he said, as I heard the rustling of papers in the background ¨C If you have time, we¡¯ll talk for as long as it takes.

    I did not lie, nor did I hide anything. Honestly, I was just 15 and there was not very much going on in terms of private life. I told him about my upbringing, about my legacy, I answered all his questions and I had no shame in telling him about my motivations, not that I thought that would bring me any kind of sympathy, and he said so as well.

    We talked for two or three hours and he guaranteed me he would write a good piece on it and would go straight to his editor and get it to print as soon as possible, as a way to be a step ahead of everyone else.

    - And thank you ¨C he said, as we were tying the last loose ends ¨C for trusting me.

    - You were the first one to write a piece about me. Why not give you the chance of writing another groundbreaking article ¨C I laughed and said my goodbyes. Sleep was starting to catch up to me and I went to bed, as I had a free day and could afford to do so. It could just end up exploding in my face, as Peter had said. Especially now, that Eris was already selling like fish and chips, as well as schnitzel, as Bishop had put it.

    Selling like schnitzel¡­ I closed my eyes thinking about that. I should do something special, the next time I went to Germany.

    I was violently woken up a couple of hours later to the infernal ring of the phone. I cursed the gods who never let me sleep properly, along with Alexander Graham Bell for giving them a helping hand, and reached out, clumsily picking it up.

    - Hello¡­? - I managed to drawl, still struggling to open my eyes

    - What¡¯s your plans for next week ¨C Marla did not even bother saying hi. I really needed to work out what to do with her ¨C Are you still shooting?

    - Hmmm¡­ - what day was it even? - I think I might be heading home in the next few days.

    - Well, you should reconsider that. I just got a call from that late night show, the one with Jimmy Gordon, and they¡¯re looking for someone to fill up a last minute spot.

    - Jimmy Gordon? - I sat up. That was a big one. Everybody knew Jimmy¡¯s name ¨C In Los Angeles?

    - Yep. They¡¯re just looking for a song. Nothing big, but worth it, in my opinion. - Marla said, carelessly ¨C I have some contacts down there and I can get you a small-ish show in a bar as well.

    - Yes, of course I can do that ¨C breaking into the American market was the big deal everyone was trying to achieve. And the exposure alone that a show like Jimmy Gordon¡¯s could grant, could make an artist ¨C Send the boys over to LA. Pat as well, please.

    - Sure. Of course you don¡¯t have to fuss over the show, it¡¯s just lip-sync.

    That would not do ¨C You know I don¡¯t do playback ¨C as long as I had my voice, I would sing. If that ever failed me, well, it would be time to retire.

    Marla laughed, mocking my innocence ¨C You didn¡¯t think you would play live on a show like that, did you?

    - Well, I¡¯d rather skip it, then ¨C I almost felt like my integrity was under attack. She knew perfectly well where I stood on lip-syncing and yet, was pushing it.

    - You¡¯re shitting me, right? - her voice was serious, almost with an edge to it ¨C You¡¯d pass a golden opportunity like this one because you won¡¯t lip-sync? Everyone else does it, why should you be any different?

    I bit my lip. It was, indeed, too good of an opportunity to let slide. My mind started a game of mental gymnastics, figuring out my options. Skipping it meant that I had to keep pounding blindly to still just make a tiny cut on the American beast. Following their rules meant, that I was willing to sacrifice my values, to sell myself out. But¡­

    - I¡¯m presenting a new song ¨C I said hastily ¨C Brand new, unrecorded.

    There was a hesitation from the other side of the line ¨C You¡¯re writing new material?

    - I¡¯m always writing, Marla. It¡¯s my thing. - I just had to dig through piles of the stuff and find something suitable. I had it all, edgy, tame, classic me, experimental me¡­ - Let me know after you¡¯ve talked to them.

    - What about the boys? Do they know this new song?

    - They¡¯re fast learners. - I smiled. They had always been and would not let me down ¨C If the people from the show say no, then it¡¯s a no-go for me, as well.

    - Would you really be stupid enough to toss this out the window? Over nothing?

    - It¡¯s not nothing to me.

    - ¡­ I¡¯ll call you later ¨C and she hung up the phone, leaving me with just the sound that came from the unused line.

    - Well, have a nice day as well¡­ - I mumbled, as I put the phone back and fell straight back to the pillow, thinking how many more stupid decisions I could still make, that included jeopardising a golden chance, just like the one I had just been handed on a platter.

 Chapter 29 - Somethings wrong, shut the light

    - You don¡¯t happen to have anything to do with the sudden and quite dramatic opening I got on the Jimmy Gordon show, do you? - I asked Adam over lunch, the next day. According to Felix, if everything went well, my last day of shooting would be the next one and that would be over and done with, unless there were any reshoots down the road. But I was happy to be able to go back to the devil I knew.

    - I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about ¨C he smirked, focusing his attention on his hamburger ¨C But, hey, congratulations on your American debut.

    - You didn¡¯t have to¡­ - I said and I felt it. I knew these kinds of favours always brought strings attached to the person who asked them.

    - The only thing I did, was get a courier to deliver a certain album to a certain person, who happens to be a friend. Your talent may have something to do with the rest.

    I smiled, shyly ¨C Thank you, Adam. Just don¡¯t bring out the fireworks yet because I might still mess it up.

    - How so?

    I leaned back against a planter, behind us. The concrete was cool and nice against the oppressive and humid heat of the air around us ¨C You know¡­ My nature screams at me to be contrary, at times. So, when people want me to do something, I will want to do just the opposite.

    - Ellie, Ellie, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? ¨C he sang softly, as if he was ashamed of his singing voice, laughing at himself ¨C And what was The Man asking you to do, O rebellious one?

    - Lip-sync ¨C I shrugged. Saying it like that made it sound like such a petty thing to argue over.

    - Oh, they wanted you to pull a Milli Vanilli? - he threw his head back, laughing ¨C Such a capital sin!

    - I know! - I raised my hands in the air, exasperated ¨C So I just said I had a new song and I had to play it live.

    - Very contrary, indeed ¨C he nodded, knowingly ¨C Can I have the privilege of listening to it first?

    The song was a bittersweet and ironic upbeat tune about a one-sided relationship that ended with a murder-suicide. Nothing too blatant, just a bunch of metaphors and double-entendres. It wasn¡¯t as if I was describing a killing spree of Jack the Ripper, but the content was definitely there, hidden away in a blanket of Britishness and a veneer of nice words.

    - I mean, it¡¯s a great song ¨C he said, after I played it, in my trailer ¨C Damn, I might just get it stuck in my head for the rest of the day. I¡¯m just not sure the FCC will like it very much.

    - Well, it is neither obscene, nor indecent ¨C I said, as I turned off the keyboard ¨C I checked.

    - Doing your homework, I see. But was it approved by production? They can be very close-minded back home.

    - There¡¯s nothing wrong with the poem, really. Romeo and Juliet has the same line of thought and is taught at schools, isn¡¯t it? Besides ¨C I cocked my head to the side ¨C Small children are supposed to be sleeping that late at night. And it¡¯s not like it¡¯s some Norwegian Satanic Black Metal song. It¡¯s very poppy, actually.

    - I¡¯m not worried about that ¨C he grimaced ¨C Even if I have no clue what Norwegian Black Metal is. I¡¯m just worried you might get some trouble for it.

    - How can I live a rock and roll lifestyle, if I don¡¯t make some trouble for myself here and there? Because it¡¯s all too tame, as far as I¡¯ve experienced it. Might as well try and rock the boat, right?

    Adam and I parted ways, with the promise to meet a few months down the line, for some promo shoots, and I headed to LA with both Bear and Holly. It was my first time there and it did not disappoint, as it was sunny and warm as all those movies and shows had promised.

    The boys were already waiting for me and they looked well-rested and in a good mood, which made me think that I may have been overworking them, in my frenzy to keep busy at all times. I needed to remind myself more often that it was not just me and that I needed to think about other people as well.

    Even so, we rehearsed like crazy, in those following days and they understood the sort of opportunity that was presenting itself to us there. I ran a tight ship, so much so that Simon would often complain that he had joined a band, and not the Royal Navy but this time, it would be worth it and even he knew it.

    Pat joined us a couple of days beforehand and the boys and I took her out to experience the magic of LA¡¯s taco trucks. No one knew us there and it was refreshing to just act like what we were, really, a bunch of kids on holiday.

    - I had the carne asada, the last time we were here ¨C Martin was explaining to Pat, as we stood in line, subtly pointing at the menu, hanging above the truck¡¯s ordering window ¨C and it was amazing.

    - Let Elvira choose her own taco, mate ¨C Simon had begun this little quip with Pat, where he would address her by any other name but hers for a while now. I had no idea why or how it had begun, but it really seemed to get under Pat¡¯s skin and, as she showed it, he just kept going at it, like a primary school punk bully ¨C What about you, Little Monster? What are you having?

    - I think I¡¯ll go with a chicken quesadilla, this time. What do you think? - I said as we were both trying to read the menu from far down the line. I was squinting, because the bright light made my right eye unfocus a little bit.

    - I might join you on that one, blondie.

    - You guys have no idea what you¡¯re talking about ¨C Bear chimed in, from behind me. He wasn¡¯t from LA, but he had lived there long enough to have been able to try it all before ¨C it¡¯s a taco al pastor con todo. Nothing else will do. Granted, it will get messy, but it¡¯s worth it.

    - I don¡¯t even know what I want, anymore ¨C Pat laughed.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    - You can¡¯t go wrong with al pastor, seriously ¨C Bear said, but was interrupted by what seemed like a fight nearby. A lot of heads turned to the source of the sound of what seemed like a lover¡¯s quarrel. Some accusations were flying around and Simon just pursed his lips and arched his eyebrows.

    - Juicy stuff ¨C he whispered.

    And then there was the dry sound of a slap that the girl planted on the boy¡¯s cheek. He didn¡¯t hit her back, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her enough so that his fingers dug in her soft flesh. The gesture was enough for me to feel the same thing on my arm, mirroring what had happened in that room, at Infinity Records.

    - Bear¡­ - my voice came out pleading, unsteady and he understood what I wanted, running over to the couple and separating them, trying to talk things through between them and avoiding the escalation of anything else.

    But the harm was done, in my mind. I felt the burn on my arm, where those fingers had been and I could swear that, if I looked down, I would be able to see the imprints it had left, the bruising still there.

    There was a wave of heat and the world shifted a bit.

    - Whoa, shortbread ¨C Simon caught me when I swayed ¨C You alright, love?

    - I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m fine ¨C I said, as I backed away from his touch ¨C I just need to get out of the Sun ¨C I lied, as the delicious smells that emanated from that food truck were replaced by the haunting ones.

    - Have some of my water, dear ¨C Martin handed me his bottle and I obliged, taking a sip ¨C you vampires¡­ - he laughed, looking from me to Pat.

    - I need to go back to the hotel ¨C I said to Bear, as he was coming back, all other matters settled ¨C I¡¯m not feeling very well.

    - I¡¯m coming with you ¨C Pat said, as she pulled a tress of my hair from my face.

    - No, no ¨C I said, already turning around ¨C Please, enjoy your day out and your taco.

    I couldn¡¯t close my eyes on my way back because, every time I did, the images started pouring in, but I felt nauseous enough to want to shut them hard. And I still felt it, the grip on my arm that had triggered that spiral, the subsequent pain on my hip, from hitting the table. The scent of fear and the taste of tears and blood¡­

    As soon as I stepped foot in the bedroom, I had to run to the bathroom, to hurl the contents of my stomach out. My chest tightened with every heave. I felt like I could die right there. It definitely looked like the world was about to end, at least, such was the panic that took hold of me.

    I was even seeing him from the corner of my eye. I was so scared and my heart was beating so fast that I just wanted to get away. But where to? There was nowhere to go, nowhere where all of that wouldn¡¯t follow me¡­

    My legs were trembling and I was weak, when I sat by the side of the bed and just made myself as small as possible, as I was crying my eyes out. And then, it all went dark and hot.

    There was a soft knock on the door, followed by a El, I¡¯m coming in, OK?. I knew that voice, but my mind was too muddled to pinpoint it. I forced myself to open my eyes, even if it was more tiresome than running the marathon, and I saw Bear¡¯s silhouette.

    - Oh, good, you¡¯re awake. - he said, walking over softly ¨C The doctor said it didn¡¯t look like a heat stroke, but you¡¯ve been running a fever.

    My throat felt parched and my voice came out croaky ¨C I just needed some sleep.

    - I am hoping 18 hours have been enough ¨C he said, as he poured a glass of water and helped me up.

    - 18 hours¡­?

    The sound of heels came into the room.

    - 18 hours, indeed ¨C Pat was coming in the door, closing it softly behind her ¨C You don¡¯t need that much beauty sleep, doll. - She came over and pressed her open palm on my forehead, sitting on the bed afterwards ¨C At least the fever¡¯s subsided. Now we have to get you up. You have to work.

    She pushed the glass of water into my hands and told me to drink up, ordering Bear to get me something light to eat, along with some lemon tea and honey.

    - We were worried sick about you ¨C she said softly, as she helped me up ¨C You were lying on the floor, shivering, you had a fever¡­ What happened, Ellie?

    - I don¡¯t know. Must have been the sun¡­ ¨C I lied. My whole body was sore and it hurt to just try to get out of bed ¨C How long do we have?

    - A few hours to get you up and running, darling. Go take a nice shower ¨C she smiled, motherly ¨C I¡¯ll get everything ready for you out here.

    Pat had already chosen the clothes for me to wear: an asymmetrical witchy skirt, some combat boots with fishnet tights and a holey jumper that gave out punk vibes.

    She was working on my hair, and Holly was putting me up to date with everything I needed to know, but my mind was still very much vacant.

    - Oh, and the bomb went off, as you know ¨C she was referring to the piece Alan Winnick had written ¨C and Collins has already called the police four times.

    I turned my head only slightly, not wanting to mess with Pat¡¯s work ¨C Why?

    - Photographers. They said your property lines were not clear and they had no idea they were trespassing.

    - Hmm¡­ - was all I managed to say, but my mind began running at the prospect of having my only private space invaded.

    - And Mason wanted to know if you wanted to press charges. Oh ¨C she added ¨C and he also said that he thinks he has everything you¡¯ll need to ask for the emancipation, next year.

    - Good.

    I wanted emancipation, not because I disliked or distrusted my father, but because it would be so much easier to make financial and career decisions, without having to jump way too many hurdles of legal guardianship. If it made my life easier, I was willing to do it, even if it hurt my dad. Mason had suggested so himself and, seeing as 16 was the minimum age to make such a request back home, he was working on having everything ready to hit the courts, the moment I came of age. I was already financially independent anyway, so it was only a legal matter.

    Pat finished straightening my hair and was dousing it with hairspray, before heading on to the make-up.

    - Holly ¨C I called and she focused her attention on me ¨C Ask Bear, and Jools, when he comes back, for advice on securing the estate, will you? Ask if they have any suggestions about security companies, the lot.

    She nodded and took note.

    - And ask Collins to set up a team of workers and start marking the perimeter, set up a gate, as well.

    - Of course.

    The estate was not too vast, but it was a large portion of land that had been left untouched for centuries and so, it ended up becoming a refuge for all sorts of animals that walked away from the pressure of more populated areas. We had deer, foxes, badgers, hedgehogs, bunnies and hares everything you could imagine from the idyllic Beatrix Potter countryside. The idea of building a wall and denying them asylum was not sitting right with me.

    - Listen ¨C I said, as Pat lifted my chin and started working on my eyes ¨C I think we may need to build a wall, or something. But before any inch of construction begins, get a hold of some conservationists from the area, or something of the sort, and set up a meeting with them. I need some extra advice, before making an informed decision.

    - Oh ¨C Pat stopped what she was doing and put the brush down ¨C I almost forgot. I got you something ¨C and she went to her bag and took out a little coffin-shaped box.

    - What¡¯s the occasion?

    She lifted her shoulder, downplaying the nice gesture ¨C I just wanted to thank you. For the trust you have in me and, you know ¨C she motioned around ¨C for bringing me over to new places.

    I wanted to protest but she shushed me and made me open the present. Inside, sitting on a bed of silk, were 8 jet black rings, all alike, only differing in size. They had a matte finish and a very discreet E engraved in each one of them.

    - These are beautiful¡­ - I said, as I took one and put it on, followed by another. And another. ¨C I will wear them all at once. Thank you so much, my darling.

    Pat smiled, coyly, dismissing my thanks, and picking up the brush again.

    - A friend of mine made them. She has a studio, up in Marylebone. She¡¯s also a stylist.

    I admired my now adorned fingers ¨C You have to take me there when we get back home.

    Bear knocked on the door urging us to get ready ASAP because we really had to beat the traffic.

    - There you go ¨C Pat put down her brush and tilted her head, meeting my gaze in the mirror ¨C You¡¯re ready for your American close-up, doll.

    I took a look at my own image. I needed to think of that make-up as a mask. Of those clothes as battle armour. It was the only way I could ever try and walk away from what had happened. If I wasn¡¯t ready now, I would never be ready again. A one-off chance, take it or leave it.

 Chapter 30 - We dont fit in, cause we are just ourselves

    - The coffee¡¯s alright ¨C Alfie said, sitting on a couch in the green room of the studio ¨C Collins¡¯ is better, of course. But the donuts and the cupcakes are absolute delish. Want one? - he grabbed the plate and put it under my nose.

    - Is everything alright here? - an assistant put her head in the room, as I pushed the plate away from me ¨C Do you need anything?

    - Soundcheck ¨C I said quickly, as she seemed ready to bolt away the moment we even muttered a no ¨C We need to make the soundcheck.

    - Soundcheck? ¨C she furrowed her brows and flipped through the pages on her clipboard ¨C We don¡¯t do live music.

    I got up and walked over to her ¨C We do, because we¡¯re debuting a new song. It¡¯s been talked over.

    The assistant excused herself and left, saying she would send someone over in a minute.

    - Lady Chaos just stepped foot in Tinseltown and is already sowing her seeds of confusion ¨C Simon chuckled.

    - As one should ¨C I grinned. I enjoyed the idea of stirring things up. Not necessarily making people¡¯s jobs more difficult, but just creating a buzz.

    A different voice called out from behind me ¨C Eleanora¡¯s Sundown?

    - That¡¯s us ¨C I turned around.

    - What are you playing? - people had, apparently, no time to lose around these parts.

    - It¡¯s called Until Death and then do us part, in brackets.

    He did not even look at me as he wrote it down ¨C Album?

    - No album. It¡¯s new.

    - Hmm-mm¡­ - the man was chewing gum obnoxiously violently and I must confess I feared for the integrity of his jaw ¨C Did it go through anyone?

    As if it had been approved? How could it? I had only played it for Adam and rehearsed it with the boys.

    - Sure ¨C Si sounded so convincing, that I just shut my mouth and gave the producer a tight smile. I could not lie. Not like that.

    - Follow me, then. You¡¯ll get five for your soundcheck, so make it count ¨C he was already disappearing around the corner, and we all hurried up behind him.

    - Please don¡¯t lie to me like that. Ever ¨C I whispered as I fell into step next to Simon, looking up.

    - I didn¡¯t lie, tidbit ¨C he grinned, maliciously ¨C it did go through someone. Someone who just happened to be us.

    I opened my mouth, to try to reason with that flawed logic, but he just touched the tip of his nose with his finger, chipped nail polish adding to his rough image. But that was just what Simon was about, his rough image. Because deep down, he was always a teddy bear.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    We went back to the green room for another round of waiting about and the boys took their time to chit-chat with the other guests, a couple of very famous actors who were there to promote their movies. I was still not in the mood for nice small talk and, to be honest, I don¡¯t think I would do a very good job, even if I tried to.

    - Nervous? - Martin nudged me with his elbow, when he realised how quiet I was.

    I just nodded, partly because it was true, but not because of our song. That was very solid and I knew it. I was nervous because I was still very conscious about that episode, that I could not explain and how it had affected me so much. I had no idea what post-traumatic stress disorder was, at the time, and I had absolutely no clue how to navigate such waters alone.

    - She should be ¨C Simon was laid back, his forearm over his eyes.

    - She knows what she¡¯s doing, mate ¨C Freddy said, slowly. It caught my ear, that cadence of speech, which seemed unusual in him, but I dismissed it.

    - I know she knows, Freddy-boy. I wouldn¡¯t be here if she didn¡¯t.

    The guests went out, one by one, as they were being picked up by the staff on cue. It would be our own time to go on stage soon.

    - Eleanor¡¯s sunset? - someone called from the door and Martin laughed loudly. - you¡¯re up in five.

    - Come on, Eleanor ¨C he said to me, as he got up ¨C I never thought I¡¯d have to play with a complete stranger on such short notice.

    We took our places on the soundstage. Jimmy Gordon was still talking his head off with one of the guests and we were told to stay put until we got the official go.

    We¡¯d been on television before, but never with the prospect of such a big audience, as Jimmy had.

    A producer signalled to us that we were up next.

    - And now our musical guests. All the way from Her Majesty¡¯s merry old England, we¡¯ve got Eleanora¡¯s Sundown.

    The arrangement we had somewhat improvised, in the course of just a few days was brilliant and it felt like it had been part of our repertoire for ages. By then, we were a well-oiled musical machine and we worked beautifully together.

    Playing on that soundstage, on the other hand, felt very short of organic. After all, it was rather an amorphous setting, with the little red eye shifting from one camera to the next and the audience who was not really there for us. But I gave it all I had for whoever wanted to hear us, from the other side of the lens or sitting in front of us.

    The boys were, as always, flawless.

    I made a point of looking directly to the camera and giving a little smiley pout, as I sang about that very gruesome and very one-sided love story. From the corner of my eye, I saw a lot of inquisitive looks being passed around, followed by a silent argument.

    I bowed deeply when we finished playing and waved at the audience that was cheering on command, as Jimmy said his last goodbyes.

    - I was just told by Susan that you said your song had gone through the production team ¨C Jimmy Gordon himself followed us out. - What was that all about?

    Si stopped and gave him a half-grin ¨C Maybe something lost in translation, from TV slang to proper English, who knows?

    - There¡¯s nothing wrong with the song, Mr. Gordon. - I reached out my hand ¨C It¡¯s nice to meet you. I¡¯m Eleanora, by the way.

    - Nothing wrong? Come on¡­ This is a family show.

    I knitted my eyebrows, looking confused ¨C Can you pinpoint what, if anything at all, about the song was inappropriate, Mr Gordon?

    He pointed a finger at me ¨C You were the last people on this soundstage not to lip-sync. Never again!

    I curtsied, with a very polished smile ¨C It was an honour, then.

    - You¡¯re such a little shit ¨C Si laughed, mimicking my bow, as soon as we left the studio ¨C Do you realise that?

    - Aww, thank you for noticing ¨C I was in too deep now, to not understand how some of my attitudes could be perceived as obnoxious by people who were really not all that acquainted with my very special personality ¨C I try my best to be as insufferable as possible.

    - See? All the hard work pays off, in the end.

    Waiting for me, at the hotel, was a bouquet of black roses with a card that read Welcome to America. Adam

 Chapter 31 - Dont be afraid of the light

    Our popularity over in the US grew exponentially, literally overnight. It did not explode, or anything like that, but we had a foot in the door, for future breaking and entering.

    After we had had our show, still in LA, Marla called, saying demand for us was growing, especially on the East Coast and that we should make an effort and play a few gigs there as well.

    But I said no. There were plans to go in the studio and get Eris¡¯ twisted and darker twin out into the world. The timing for it was just right. America could wait a little longer and the anticipation would be beneficial, I reckoned.

    Besides, as I reminded her, I really thought there were laws against child labour and I was already falling behind on my studies. If I truly wanted to go for emancipation, the following year, I had to prove I had my life together, even if it was in utter shambles behind the painted scenario.

    <hr>

    Bear and I stood in front of a blue door, up a set of steps. The sturdy two-story stone house before us may have looked stark, anywhere else but there, on the coast of Scotland, it fit just right and felt cosy enough to be welcoming. It really called for a nice and warm cup of tea, even if it was somewhat late in the evening.

    The door opened and a boy around Peter¡¯s age found me. There was a moment of confusion in his eyes.

    - Hi. Is Peter home? Peter Collins? - I asked, my hands warmly tucked away in my pockets.

    - Do I know you? - he asked back, trying to remember when and where he had seen my face. He did not, indeed, look like the sort of person who would listen to my music.

    - Most likely not ¨C I smiled ¨C Can you tell him his boss is here to see him?

    - His what now?

    - His boss, dear ¨C I repeated ¨C If you could make it quick, it¡¯s sort of chilly out here.

    He kept his eyes fixed on me, but shouted into the house ¨C Collins! There¡¯s a girl here for you. Says she¡¯s your boss.

    We heard a high-pitched What?! followed by a frantic race down the wooden stairs and then Peter showed up, in his PJs.

    - What the hell are you doing here? - he asked, as he motioned us in ¨C I thought you were in America.

    - I needed to have a word ¨C I said as I took my coat off and Peter hung it by the door ¨C I had an idea that just couldn¡¯t wait.

    He just smiled, as he took both of us into the tiny kitchen and put the kettle on.

    - What is it now? What are your megalomaniac plans this time?

    The other boy also followed us in ¨C Wait. I really do know you.

    - You know her, mate. - Peter said, matter-of-factly, as he turned on the knob ¨C Mark, this is Eleanora. Eleanora, this is Mark, my roommate.

    - Are you a Business major as well, Mark? - Peter had never told me about his housemate, so I had no clue on what to bring up.

    - Journalism ¨C he said ¨C And you¡¯re all over the tabloids lately, yeah. The singing Duchess of Somerset.

    I couldn¡¯t help but laugh at how embarrassing that sounded. I¡¯d read that too and had felt a pang of second-hand embarrassment for whoever had come up with such a cringy headline. I just hoped it was more of a temporary gag and would not stick.

    - That sounds too preppy for me ¨C I said ¨C I¡¯m more of a doomy sort of person.

    - She is. Very doomy and very gloomy. ¨C Peter nodded, but sounded annoyed ¨C Now piss off, Mark. I¡¯m, apparently, working in my pyjamas.

    Mark said his goodbyes and left, closing the door behind him. Bear sat at the table, while Peter poured the hot water on the tea bags and handed us the piping hot mugs of manna.

    - What are you up to?

    - Remember the Circumlocution Office? - I asked and Peter laughed softly, nodding. That had been the nickname we had plucked directly from Dickens¡¯ Little Dorritt and pasted on German bureaucracy, when we tried and failed to set up a free-for-all gig.

    - How could I forget? It felt like hitting my head on a brick wall repeatedly for a couple of months.

    - Well, I want you to go at it again. But this time, we need to think big.

    His eyebrows travelled so high up his forehead that they disappeared under the mane of his dishevelled hair.

    - How big?

    - Big, big. - I beamed and explained what I was looking for. I had no details to my plan, only very general lines of thought, but I also did not know how any of those ideas could work.

    Peter locked his eyes on the corner of the room, chewing on the inside of his cheek, as I laid out my fantasy.

    - So¡­ a show inside a show?

    - Well, a show after a show. - I clarified ¨C a surprise tiny show after a regular show. Like a stripper in a cake, you know? Ta-da! Here ¨C I gave him my doodles and wild ramblings ¨C I¡¯ve written it all down.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    I handed him what I had idealized for what would be one of the boldest moves in my career.

    - OK ¨C he said, taking a sip of tea ¨C The walls are thicker in Berlin, you know that?

    - Berlin is also known for knocking them down, isn¡¯t it?

    - Alright, granted. I¡¯ll see what I can do. Can I get Holly¡¯s help, if I need it?

    - Ask and it shall be yours, my friend.

    - Good, good. - he locked his eyes on me again ¨C But you didn¡¯t come all the way up here just to tell me this, did you? I mean, your drawing skills are clearly subpar¡­

    - Well, yes and no ¨C I ignored his little remark and Bear handed me the bag he had set on the chair beside him ¨C that was Bold move, first movement. This¡­ is Insanity on a stick, prestissimo

    I took out a thick folder that I put on the table. It only read The Mask of Madness, and had my initials and the date I had finished it, just a few days prior.

    - What¡¯s this? - he took it and slid the mountain of music scores from inside the folder ¨C Jesus, Ellie. What are you up to?

    - I have trouble sleeping ¨C I lifted one shoulder, like it was no big deal ¨C so I write.

    - You wrote a whole musical because you have trouble sleeping? - Peter was gaping at me. He then turned his attention to Bear ¨C Have you seen this shit? Can¡¯t you like, I don¡¯t know, slip her sleeping pills or something?

    - I will supply the drugs when the drugs are asked for ¨C Bear chuckled, turning his empty tea mug in his hands ¨C So far, I¡¯ve only been supplying chocolate.

    - Well, yeah. Nazi chocolate, by the looks of it ¨C he kept going through the scores, just passing his eyes through them. - what are you gonna do next? March to Moscow?

    - I¡¯m sorry, boss ¨C Bear grinned at me ¨C I didn¡¯t realise I was giving you panzerschokolade.

    I just shook my head. I was used to the banter, after all. Having an all-boy band was prone to make you immune to it, eventually.

    - What do you want to do with this? - he asked me.

    - Get it on stage, of course. - what else could I want to do?

    - Hum¡­ OK. I mean, I think there may be a market to sell such a thing, but I¡¯m no expert¡­

    - No, no, no ¨C I cut him off ¨C You got it all wrong. I want to get it on stage.

    Peter blinked at me, blankly, as if his mind was trying to run all the process that such a feat would undertake.

    - Are you serious?¡­

    I nodded, but was becoming embarrassed with his reaction alone. That was one of my music babies in his hands, he¡¯d better not insult it.

    - This is probably a very expensive endeavour, El. Are we looking at sponsors or anything?

    - Just keep it as independent as possible. I don¡¯t want brands taking over and making it about them.

    - You¡¯re making a harder case for yourself at every word that comes out of your mouth, my dear.

    - Just figure it out ¨C I asked ¨C And we¡¯ll go from there, alright?

    - Sure ¨C he said ¨C just make sure you keep selling out shows and we¡¯re golden.

    I went back home for a week. I really needed a mini-holiday, even if I did not leave the house and just spent my time trying and failing miserably at lounging about. The stiller I was, the louder my mind became and I did not want to go down that LA rabbit hole again. Just thinking about it, made me sick to my stomach.

    So I just kept refining the arrangements and polishing the skeleton of Snake-haired Gorgon, my third studio album. Reading through it, it was all there, all that had happened. I was the snake-haired gorgon, Medusa.

    I asked Collins if he felt like the House called for more help and he told me that a couple of more hands could never hurt, so I told him to use all of his savoir-faire and make do at finding suitable people to fill the positions he thought would be needed. When I told Mason about it, so he could write down the contracts, he advised me to set up NDAs for the new employees, which showed just how na?ve I could be, that I was willing to get strangers into my house and not think they could be blabbing to the press at the highest offer.

    The question of the wall and the secured perimeter was also dealt with. Most of the property would be walled, but there would be special passageways for the wild animals to still roam as they pleased. Those passageways, especially the deer ones, would be monitored by cameras and we would set up surveillance and codes by the gate. It almost seemed like I was setting up my own prison ward. At least the view was nice. And I had two lakes, so there was that.

    The following week was filled to the brim with meetings. At the label, with consultants from every walk of life, with people and brands that wanted to work with me and, it was about this time of my career that I realised I was hearing far fewer noes than usual. In fact, they were so far and in between that I almost forgot what a no was. It was as if people were starting to treat me differently just because my name was starting to make headlines in the outside world and I found it terribly annoying and sickeningly sycophantic.

    If any given famous person claims that there was never a phase in which the whole thing just went up to their heads, then I can assure you they are lying. Because there really comes a time when people are bowing so much at your mere presence, that you start to believe yourself to be God¡¯s gift to Mankind. You can get drunk on fame, all the yesses can make you a tyrant and the constant adulation, sometimes akin to pure old boot licking, can and will disconnect you from reality.

    And, when people find themselves going up the ladders of fame, there is a lot of toxicity that latches on, be it in the form of people, substances or your own inflated ego. It is up to the climber to surround him or herself with the right people, who have no qualms in saying how much of an idiot you are or in pulling you back down and telling you how you should be ashamed of impersonating the Sun King himself.

    I had those people in my life. And naturally isolating myself also helped. But it does try and get to you. Because everything just revolves around you, so much that the tendency is to only look in. Constantly.

    We picked up Rockfield Studios to record Snake-haired Gorgon. We had already been there, earlier in the year, and were now just going over everything we had recorded already, and adding the few tracks that were missing, alongside dubs, chorus, re-recordings, extra details¡­ For me, it was close to home and, for the boys, it felt like a retreat. Or it should have.

    The sessions did not go as smoothly as the previous two records, mainly because of how tired everyone was. There were some fights amongst us, especially when the subject of new tours came up.

    Some of them thought we should give it a rest. I wanted to just pack up my things and go and be on the move at all times, constantly on the brink of sheer exhaustion, even if I realised it was taking me on a very dark path, if I kept at it for too long. Others, like Si and Martin, just said they would go with me if I asked them to, but were really wary of this whole rift that was forming in the band.

    Freddie felt aloof and bickering with everyone most of the time, except when he was dragging himself around or barely moving for hours, lost in his own inner world. Martin said that they had suspected for a long time, but were now completely sure, that Freddie was hooked on heroin and it was starting to show its ugly colours. I asked him what could we do about it and he just shrugged, telling me that was Freddie¡¯s call, not ours. That apathy shocked me, probably more than realising there were hard drugs in circulation nearby. I mean, wasn¡¯t that what musicians did? It was almost expected of them to have an addiction or two, right?

    In the end, and despite the chasm on the question of touring, the album as a whole did surpass my expectations and it felt good to perceive each new work as a magnum opus. Even if it ended up being considered the worst of my first three works.

    It was said it felt claustrophobic and menacing, that some people felt a terrible sense of unease, even if they did not realise why.

    But it was, after all, a conceptual work, so I was already somehow expecting it even if, deep down, I loved it all the same.

 Chapter 32 - Waiting in the cold light

    - So thank God you¡¯re the one paying for the phone bill, Lady Somerset. - Peter had picked me up from the airport and had been talking my ear off, first about his semester, then about his Christmas and now, as we were just getting to the Hall, he was just starting about business ¨C And, believe it or not, everything needs to be talked over the phone, then they fax me some shit that I have to fax back with even more shit attached. I swear to God I have mountains of documents already, and I have zero confirmations so far.

    - You do know how they work ¨C I said, lazily. I was still tired from the trip from Japan and jet lag was always very harsh on me.

    - But I think we may have an answer soon, which will only entail more work, because then I will have to be working with the police and the firefighters, emergency services, public transportation, insurance companies¡­ - he started counting the different entities with his fingers, but figured out it would be a better idea to hold on to the steering wheel.

    - I¡¯m sorry, Peter ¨C I was sincere. I really had no idea it would be such a daunting task.

    But Peter dismissed me ¨C You know, it¡¯s hard, but it feels like a challenge. And Holly¡¯s help is just priceless, you should give the girl a raise. By the way, do you know where Temple¡­ something Field is? In Berlin.

    - Tempelhofer Feld?

    He nodded ¨C That. We might just secure that space.

    - You¡¯re joking? - I was suddenly awake. If we managed to secure Tempelhofer Feld, that would be huge ¨C It¡¯s almost in the middle of Berlin, close enough at least. Please tell me you¡¯ll get it. If you do, you¡¯re the one who deserves a raise.

    He took his eyes off the road for a quick second, to launch me a cheeky smile ¨C Then please tell me you¡¯ll fill up the joint, because we just might bag that one. And you know that, for you, I¡¯d work for free, if we did not live in a capitalist world.

    - Just let me know if you need more help. I¡¯ll get you anyone you might need.

    - Oh, I¡¯ve been getting some help, already. How do you think I¡¯ve been talking to the Circumlocution Office?

    I raised an eyebrow ¨C Besides Holly?

    - Yeah. I¡¯ve got a friend, who¡¯s studying German literature and I was talking to him about how difficult it was to approach the City Hall and all those other places and he asked me if he could practice his everyday German.

    - Are we not paying him, then?

    - Well, no. He just volunteered. He thinks it¡¯s fun.

    - Well, that is really unacceptable, is it not? Talk to him, figure out how long he¡¯s been working and set up a price. Hourly rate, whatever. It¡¯s really unfair to him and I¡¯ll have none of that.

    Peter laughed, as he leaned out the window and dialled the code that would open the gate ¨C Alright, then, Captain Justice. I¡¯ll have a word with him ¨C he rolled up the window and drove on ¨C You¡¯d like Alistair. He¡¯s a nice bloke.

    - Set up a dinner one of these days. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, you know that.

    Peter¡¯s smile was a shy one and he even got a little colour on his cheeks.

    - And how are we on my Mask of Madness? - I opened the door and got out, pulling my bag along with me.

    - Do you want the OK news, the bad news or the horrible news first?

    - Oh¡­

    He didn¡¯t even bother taking the car around. There was no need for that. After all, I was expecting no one and had no one else in the house.

    - I have all my figures downstairs ¨C he said, opening the door ¨C Let¡¯s have something warm to drink over the depressing news.

    The numbers were, indeed, disheartening and I felt deflated. I knew it would be expensive, I did not know it would be astronomical.

    - You have a couple of options on the table here ¨C he said, entwining his fingers underneath his chin ¨C you either head to the banks and get some loans¡­

    - Out of the question ¨C I was adamant. I wanted nothing to do with loans, if I could avoid them.

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    - Alright¡­ It¡¯s your call, even if I think that¡¯s insanity. Because, on your own, you could afford it, but it would be a major blow to your finances.

    - Also, out of the question. I am about to get New House back and I have an investment in line.

    - In Greenwich, I know ¨C he nodded.

    - What are the other options? - I asked, feeling like my little fantasy would have to be put on the back burner.

    - Well, you said sponsors were not an option for you.

    I nodded. I was shutting down business proposals left and right, from brands who wanted me to work with them. If I was not willing to be branded myself, then I would not prostitute my masterpiece.

    - But¡­ - Peter scrunched his lips ¨C I know you have two major deals on the table, right now, from two gigantic brands.

    - Chanel and Dior. But I¡¯m not even giving them a second thought.

    Peter avoided my look, as he shrugged ¨C Well, you should. If you could get a good deal, a single campaign could finance this baby almost on its own, without much more personal investment.

    - It¡¯s not enough, from what I remember.

    - Not for now, it¡¯s not.

    I pushed my empty mug aside ¨C What do you mean, my dear?

    - I mean ¨C he leaned forward ¨C let it stew for a little bit. Your album is coming out in a few weeks, your movie is also coming out, later in February. If all goes well, we¡¯ll nail Tempelhofer just before the starting point of your European tour. Combine all of this and you get, not a rising star, but a full-blown one. - he smirked ¨C and full-blown stars get paid more. How are we on managers or agents or whatever?

    - We¡¯re not ¨C I crossed my arms, defensively ¨C I¡¯m getting another PA, to help me out.

    - Let me deal with them, then. - he said, referring to the brands ¨C I promise I¡¯ll get you a good deal and that you¡¯ll get your play premiering at the beginning of next season.

    He sounded so confident that it would be hard not to fall straight for those words.

    - Keep up those promises and I will get you a share of the sales.

    - 5% - he bit his tongue ¨C That¡¯s how confident I am on that work of yours.

    - Work your magic, then, and you shall receive it ¨C I said, as we shook hands. It seemed some of our most far-fetched, but best deals were settled right on that kitchen table.

    <hr>

    I realised how much of a horde we were becoming, when we left for Australia, New Zealand and Japan, where the live debut for Snake-haired Gorgon would take place. It wasn¡¯t just the five of us, along with a couple of techies and roadies anymore. It was a whole team just to put up the show itself, along with security, Pat, who had brought her boyfriend, girlfriends and friends from the band¡­ And Holly had come along with Chloe, the new PA, to show her the ropes on the road. It would be a mere 10 days away, but it felt like I was carrying a whole train of people behind me.

    The thought alone almost gave me a mini-anxiety attack and I decided, there and then, that I would not do that anymore. I hated the idea of a massive entourage and made the decision to only travel with the bare minimum from then on. If we could travel by bus, it would be just me and the band and that was that. I had grown up with so few people around me that the noisy mess of large numbers made my brain spark. And not the good kind of spark.

    In Japan, I was to stay with my family for the duration of my very busy schedule there. We had set three shows, alongside interviews and photoshoots and whatnot.

    That little island of privacy was welcome, but I did notice some distance from my siblings, which I had also noticed over Christmas. I did not understand why because I was still me but, somehow, the whole dynamic had shifted.

    I still did my best to travel over whenever I could, I always called and sent presents from around the world but¡­ there was some iciness that I was not able to break.

    Tommy was just opening the doors to his teenage years and the rebelliousness was almost palpable. He was defiant and sharp with his answers and remarks. As for Clara, she just followed the lead of her idol and so, wherever Tommy went, she just trod in his footsteps.

    So if, for some reason, he started resenting something (or someone, in this case), and presenting an argument for it, Clara would analyse his case and, generally, agree.

    If we did see things from their point of view, Clara¡¯s especially, they did have a justification for their angst. After all, and after all that had happened, I had gone from being their sister to just being an idea. An idea that would become corporeal on holidays or at birthdays, that would sometimes call and ask for news, and a name on boxes addressed to them. I was their sister, of course, but I could very well be an eccentric aunt and it would not make a difference.

    Even in those few days, that I kept running around, I got to the conclusion that maybe the strangers whom I spent all day talking to, might just know more about my life than my own siblings. My very own flesh and blood.

    I needed to soothe things over and start anew and so, after the dinner my dad hosted for the whole team, I gave both Tommy and Clara a last minute present I had organized with Clo and Holly. I would take a week, which happened to sit in the middle of June, and we would all go to Norway. My brother was going through his Viking phase and it felt right to just take them to see the fiords and anything else they wanted to see. He got new photography material, and Clara a camcorder, so she could document the entire trip. I just needed them to feel that I still cared, that I still loved them with all my heart and that, if I was not there, it wasn¡¯t because I did not want to.

    - I think I might have an idea to help keep costs nearly to a big fat zero, with Tempelhofer ¨C Peter said, over the phone.

    - A big fat zero sounds wonderful ¨C I replied ¨C who do I have to sell my soul to, this time, Mr. Collins?

    I heard a laugh from the other side ¨C Only to the gods of television. If I can sell the reproduction rights to a major TV network, I think our own money input would be merely residual.

    - Everything? - I asked and he knew exactly that I meant the flight of fancy I had envisioned for the encore of the show, with fire, fireworks, SFX¡­

    - Everything.

    - You have carte blanche, my dear ¨C I said and could almost feel the smile of joy from the other side. This sort of approval meant a lot to Peter and he really deserved it as he really had the ability to think outside the box. More so, as he had never done any of this before, it was all trial and error, still.

 Chapter 33 - Get your kicks on Route 66

    The Dark Heart premiered and, despite not being a massive box office hit, it really had all the elements to grow as a cult movie over time. The reviews were great and I went with Adam to the premieres in London and Paris. It was nice seeing him again and having someone with me who could show me how those things worked. I had, definitely, never had an album release that demanded an elaborate dress and a red carpet.

    Musicians can be complicated artists to deal with. We have it all, from divas to laid-back folk, from sanguine storms to drama queens and kings but we could never surpass the glamour actors called upon themselves. Hollywood really is a whole other shiny world.

    - I was thinking of taking a week or two next month ¨C Adam said, as the flashes blinded us and the photographers shouted instructions.

    - A little holiday?

    - Yeah, I was thinking of going up Route 66.

    I posed as Pat and Shruti had taught me, showcasing the wonderful work the author of, my now signature rings, had done with the dress. When Pat took me over to Marylebone, I knew right away that I wanted to work with her.

    - That sounds exciting.

    - Wanna come? If you¡¯re free, that is.

    We were ushered along the red carpet and waved back at the reporters.

    - My schedule is a bit on the chaotic side of life for the next few months.

    - Just a week, then. It¡¯ll be nice ¨C he smiled ¨C Just let me know if you wanna do it.

    Adam was always like that. He never pressured me for anything. He was the sort of person to just lay down options and walk away, as if I were a shy cat. I said I would think about it, but the idea of going down that iconic road, immortalised in song and legend, was very tempting. I had to know what all that was about.

    And I needed to walk away for a little bit as well. Tensions were running high with the band and there had already been a fistfight between Simon and Freddie over the workload. Si had sided with me and Freddie had taken offence. It took Martin, Peter and Alfie to pull them apart. I now regretted that, in the heat of the moment, I said that whoever was unhappy was free to leave because it felt like I was saying their work was not as valuable as it truly was.

    To be fair, the erosion within the band seemed to stem from Freddie¡¯s erratic behaviour and it appeared to be getting worse. I only wondered where it all would end up, if he really could have the will to pull himself out of that whirlpool he seemed to be losing himself in and that Martin had said would be his call to make.

    I had asked around and found out that rehab seemed to be the only available option for more serious cases but, in reality, I had no idea just how serious and long-lasting Freddie¡¯s abuse had been. To be fair, I had only spotted the signs fairly recently but I had also been so lost wallowing in my own mire, that I might just have missed the red flags along the way. As of that moment, it was starting to look like the Red Square on October 25th¡­

    - You know what? - I called Adam, as I pulled myself out of that pit of worries ¨C I might just take you up your offer, Mr. Fairchild.

    - Oh, Miss Blackburn ¨C a radiant smile, camera-worthy ¨C I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve reconsidered.

    We agreed on meeting in LA, Adam¡¯s hometown and, seeing as I could just take a week from my hectic life, we would only go as far as Texas. He had the route all figured out and met me and Bear at LAX. Bear would, in turn, fly back to Chicago for the week, his own hometown, and meet me in Lubbock, Texas, in seven days.

    I was excited about it, really. This would be my first holiday without my family and it was refreshing that I was not feeling scared about being out in the open without security. Adam was my friend and I had always had this gut feeling that told me I could trust him.

    He made a point of driving all the way to Santa Monica, so we could start right at the beginning of what once was the original Route 66, which was now somewhat broken, but still drivable, for the most part.

    He was so giddy about it all, that he even had a Route 66 t-shirt on.

    - We¡¯ve got water, snacks for the road, a tank full of gas and I brought a wide variety of music, for you to choose from.

    I smiled widely, as I grabbed my camera and took a picture of him with the Santa Monica Pier as background, while the very early morning sun shone on him ¨C I brought sunscreen as well. Oh, and an extra jumper, as you asked.

    - Yeah, the desert can become really cold, at night. Take our picture, come here ¨C he said, waving his hand, for me to join him, the giant Ferris Wheel at the back. - To the beginning of a great road trip!

    We joked all the way to his Firebird.

    - First stop: Calico ¨C Adam closed his door and started the car ¨C It¡¯s a ghost town, in the desert, very cool ¨C he said, as he saw my inquisitive look. He reached under his seat and put a big case of CDs on my lap ¨C You can pick the music, but¡­ only after we listen to this one first.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    He pressed play on the newly built-in stereo and Chuck Berry¡¯s Route 66 started playing.

    - Oh, nice ¨C I said, as I browsed the rest of his music and swayed along with Chuck¡¯s sung itinerary.

    - Don¡¯t forget the map, co-pilot ¨C he told me to take a look in the glovebox ¨C You can read a map, can¡¯t you?

    I closed the case and put it by my feet, unfolding the chart ¨C I¡¯m afraid my education might have been lacking, in that sense¡­ I can quote parts of The Canterbury Tales, though.

    - You never know when it might come in handy ¨C Adam laughed and trailed his finger along the route he had marked down, for me to follow ¨C Just keep your eyes on the road signs and you¡¯ll be fine.

    - Aye, aye, Captain.

    We drove through LA, to the hills that embraced it. It went from everything to absolutely nothing but the road and surrounding nature. And then, almost all of a sudden, even the low vegetation started to be more scarce.

    - Are we in the desert already? - I asked, looking from the map to our surroundings. - That was quick.

    - Yep. You¡¯re in San Bernardino Valley. There¡¯s Victorville just ahead and then we¡¯ll make one quick stop, before heading to Calico.

    I located the circles he had drawn on the map, near Barstow.

    - It¡¯s gonna be one long day ¨C he smiled, not taking his eye off the road ¨C So I¡¯m hoping you¡¯ve slept on the plane.

    - I dozed off, for a bit ¨C I said ¨C Enough to keep me going for days.

    - I really don¡¯t know how you do it.

    - To be fair, neither do I. I guess one day I will be living in a haze of sleepiness. Zombiefied out of my brain.

    - How¡¯s work going? - it was surprising how Adam always knew where to go, in a conversation. It was like he was an expert in reading between my lines.

    - It¡¯s going ¨C I shrugged ¨C I¡¯ve been signing albums, singing, playing with fireworks, you know how that works.

    - Of course ¨C his laugh was as bright as his native Californian sun ¨C Typical day of an English teenager. But something¡¯s worrying you, I can tell.

    I just shrugged again, as it seemed to be my go-to response lately. I didn¡¯t like to bring inner band subjects out in the open. - Nothing that can¡¯t be solved.

    - In a good way?

    - I hope so. But you know what they say, hope for the best, but expect the worst, right?

    - Such a ray of sunshine, you are. No wonder they call you the Princess of Gloom.

    - That was a quick climb up the social ladder, wasn¡¯t it? - I asked, amused by the whole naming game the press was playing with me ¨C I went from nothing, to a Duchess and now I¡¯m a Princess. There¡¯s not much to go from there, is there? Only two more titles that I can think of.

    Our first stop was really a quick one, just by the big sign on the road that read Route 66. Was it an absolute necessity, taking a photo by it? Of course not. Was it a fun step in a really fun road trip? Of course. And it is always nice to take the time to immortalise those memories.

    Our next stop was the ghost mining town of Calico which really was a surreal experience. I mean, you do hear about those ghost Wild West towns, smack in the middle of the desert all the time, but one never really thinks about actually being there (with other tourists, granted, but still), feeling the already hot late March sun, walking on the loose dirt roads and admiring the resilience those people had to have had, to endure such a harsh living environment and all for a couple of gold or silver specks.

    The wooden structures that never really had the chance to evolve, so fast was the rise and decline of such towns, against the rugged and almost barren landscape would really take one back, if it weren¡¯t for the obvious signs of modernity in the people around you and the cars nearby.

    - I feel like my hat may be out of place ¨C I laughed, as we stopped in front of a building with a sign that read Saloon ¨C You can¡¯t really howdy, pardner with a hat like this. - I tried tipping my hat but the wide brim was too floppy.

    Adam laughed and tipped his Dodgers baseball cap. The effect was really somewhat lost in the wrong headgear ¨C We¡¯ll have to find you a nice cowboy hat, then. I¡¯m guessing, maybe, in black.

    - A wild guess, indeed. Do they even come in black?

    - I think they can come in every single colour. - he said, as he walked ahead, forming little clouds of dirt with every step he took.

    - In pink, as well?

    - Would you like a pink cowboy hat? - he winked ¨C It might suit you. If I ever find one, it¡¯s yours.

    - Don¡¯t you dare ¨C I laughed ¨C I have a reputation to maintain.

    - Nobody says you have to wear it out in public. You can just walk around the house in it.

    - Like that would ever happen ¨C I took a few photos. Some people approached Adam, after having recognised him, leaving me to my own weak attempts to document the journey. The whole town really was well preserved. I needed to bring my siblings over, as well. I thought they would just love the whole vibe of the place. Maybe they would appreciate the cowboy hats as well.

    There was a horse outside the gift shop and I took my time to pet it. It was odd that there were no horses on the Estate. The last one had been Orion, a Dutch Warmblood that had belonged to my great-uncle Teddy and its sign was still hanging by what had been its paddock. My grandmother had never had the inclination to own horses, as her peers did, even if she admired their beauty. I would not go out of my way to buy a horse and the whole idea really was not appealing, but if the chance to adopt one came by, who knew?

    - Sorry about that ¨C Adam stood beside me and also petted the white and brown horse¡¯s mane ¨C Wanna go in the gift shop before we hit the road again? We might find something nice.

    I picked up a nice geode that I thought would look great in New House¡¯s library. Now that I was about to get the house back, in a month or two, when the lease was to end, I wanted to put my own personal touch here and there. I also got a frame with rock samples, from the region. That one would go to the Greenwich flat.

    The chance had come by, to buy a whole building, in Greenwich, and I took it, investing the money I had gotten from the film. It consisted of four flats, in a 19th-century building, which were all quite spacious and bright, all with that touch of old architectural details that I loved. I had set up a plan, along with Mason and my accountants, that after all necessary renovations, I would rent out three of the flats, to have a steady source of income, that would go to support any expenses I might have with New House, namely staff. The fourth one, the more spacious one, on the top floor, I wanted to decorate and set aside, keeping it vacant for God knows who, but one never knew when such a thing could come in handy.

    We went back on the road again and stopped for lunch in a roadside diner, with burgers and milkshakes, anything one could expect from such a place. The floor was the classic chequered tiles, the counter and the tables were baby powder-blue and it even had a jukebox. For me, it was amazing how much of that whole 1950s and 60s mystique was so well-preserved. It was, almost, as if the whole idea of Route 66 alone was enough to keep it all going, even without the infrastructure.

 Chapter 34 - I am the passenger

    Roy¡¯s Motel and Caf¨¦ was an Americana dream come true, with its iconic red, yellow and blue sign, by the side of the road. Adam had gone all out with this holiday because, as far as I could tell, there was no motel side of the business at the time. But he had it all worked out, and we had two bungalows ready for us when we pulled over. The rooms were very plain, but we would only stay the night and leave with the break of dawn, so there really was no issue with any of it. Besides, as a travelling musician, I had seen so much worse, in our early days.

    - Put your hiking shoes on ¨C he said to me as we both went into our respective rooms ¨C and bring out the warm clothes. We¡¯re gonna watch the sunset in the middle of the Mojave desert. - he hesitated for a bit ¨C And I guess the Sundown as well.

    Adam had a very subtle sense of humour that always made me giggle and shake my head.

    We met back outside and drove to the outskirts of tiny Amboy.

    - This looks like a moonscape¡­ - I said, as I got out, taking a good 360 view of what surrounded us. I knelt down and picked up a very dark rock speckled with tiny irregular holes. Taking a good look around, all rocks were dark, just like the one I was holding on to ¨C Is this volcanic rock?

    - Yep ¨C Adam pointed out into the distance, to the nearest elevation on that alien scenario ¨C And that¡¯s the source of it all. Good eye, by the way.

    - Is that where we¡¯re going? - I asked, putting the rock back down on the ground and reaching back into the car, taking my backpack and putting it on.

    - If you¡¯re up for it ¨C he grinned. A challenge.

    - I¡¯m always up for a hike. - I stuck my tongue out ¨C As long as it¡¯s not a race.

    - Not a race, I promise. - he shut the car door and headed on the trail ¨C Come on, gloomy princess. We don¡¯t want to miss the daylight.

    We still had some hours of light ahead of us, but there was also a lot of trail. And an upward one at that.

    The sky looked so vast and, I knew it was dumb to even think it, but seemed so much higher than usual. The sun was already starting its descent, but we still had a couple of hours more of it over our heads. There were more people there as well, some walking in silence, in reverence for the miles of barren land around us, while others chatted happily, infused with the energy that only walking in Nature can grant. Adam and I walked, mostly, in silence. I was too much in awe with it all to be able to even engage in a conversation without losing sight of it. Besides, the heat was never too kind to me and it was still a very hot day, for my very pale English complexion standards.

    - It was always fascinating for me ¨C I huffed, as we were starting our ascent of the crater ¨C how the pioneers did it. I mean ¨C I turned around and motioned into the distance ¨C If I were to find this, as in miles and miles of desert, I don¡¯t know if I would have the drive to carry on. I think I would just turn back, to where there were trees and streams and, you know, not Death¡­

    Adam chuckled, stopping a few steps ahead of me, and running the back of his hand against his forehead ¨C It¡¯s a good thing they were way more headstrong than you, then.

    - You know, I¡¯m still waiting for the proverbial cattle skull by the side of the path ¨C I turned back and started walking again.

    - I¡¯ll keep an eye out for you, don¡¯t worry ¨C he laughed quietly, as he let me pass him. - Just mind your step. There¡¯s a lot of loose rocks.

    - Yeah ¨C I had already noticed that. Despite the visible trail, the terrain was somewhat more difficult, the higher we went ¨C And I¡¯m really not keen on making a European tour on crutches.

    - How¡¯s that going, by the way? - his breath came out a bit more ragged, the steeper the path became ¨C That free show you were talking about.

    - Oh, it¡¯s settled. - I smiled at no one, really ¨C April 26<sup>th</sup>, at Tempelhofer Feld. It was a major headache, and we¡¯re still fine-tuning some details, but it¡¯s official.

    - That¡¯s good ¨C I heard the smile on Adam¡¯s voice, along with the crunch of his hiking boots behind me ¨C Are you expecting a crowd?

    - I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s only a handful of people, you know? I¡¯ll just give them the best show I can ¨C I stepped on a rock wrong and my foot rolled, making me stumble, but I caught myself on time ¨C Again, but not on crutches.

    - I told you to watch your step ¨C he rushed to me ¨C Are you OK?

    I nodded ¨C Yeah, just a misstep. Thank you.

    - We¡¯re almost at the top now ¨C he held out his hand and I hesitated, just shaking my head.

    - I¡¯m sorry¡­ I don¡¯t think I can.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    He smiled, dismissing my inability to physically hold on to his hand ¨C Come on, it¡¯s me. No need to apologise. - he fell in step next to me ¨C Don¡¯t get me wrong but¡­ have you considered therapy?

    Depending on the time you would ask me, my answer could be both yes or no. The yes part of it was obvious: I had a problem and I acknowledged that I did. I also realised how much my own boundaries were limiting me. But the no part always won, mainly because I was ashamed of telling anyone what my problem stemmed from. I still very much lived riddled with guilt and shame, even when I tried my best to forget about it and just live in the moment, as I was trying to do.

    - I¡¯m coping ¨C I just said ¨C I will get there, eventually.

    I noticed he was staring at me and chose to not look back, just laying my eyes low on the floor just in front of me.

    - I hope that you do.

    The sun was almost setting when we got halfway across the brim of the crater. If we looked in the opposite direction, we could see the faint glimmer of stars against the dark blue sky. If we kept following West, we saw the beautiful gradient of warm colours that ranged from orange, to pink, to purple.

    - Breathtaking¡­ - was all I could say, almost out of breath myself. We had been walking for almost two hours ¨C Is it safe, though? To be out here in the dark? - I asked, taking my camera and capturing that moment.

    - I said I had a surprise for us. We¡¯re good ¨C Adam had his hands on his hips, and was also admiring the show.

    - Is this the part where you murder me and dump my body in the desert?

    - Tempting as that may be ¨C he bit his lip ¨C I¡¯d rather keep the trip going. I¡¯m too handsome to go to jail.

    - Meh ¨C I shrugged, as I knew it would get under his skin. He was, after all, a Hollywood actor. He made a living on both his talent and his looks. And he knew that it wasn¡¯t true that I thought he could be just average-looking. If there ever was a teenage heartthrob, that would be Adam Fairchild, most certainly.

    - Careful, Blackburn, it¡¯s a tricky fall ¨C he laughed.

    The sun went below the horizon, at last, and it seemed like the residual heat of the day was also going along with it.

    - Is this sundown? Like, really, really sundown? - he asked.

    - This is sundown ¨C I said, as the dusky shadows started taking over. It would be pitch black soon enough.

    - Here ¨C he took his backpack and set it on the ground, taking a torch for himself and giving me one as well ¨C Let¡¯s keep going.

    - Is that a bonfire down there?¡­ - I noticed when I turned around and looked at the centre of the crater.

    His hand hovered in front of my eyes ¨C Don¡¯t look. You¡¯ll spoil the surprise.

    - Adam¡­?

    - Stargazing! - he made a grand gesture upwards ¨C Come on!

    It took us a while to get down to what was once the centre of an active volcano, mostly because we had to be very careful where we were stepping, in the dark. By the bonfire, there was a man who shook Adam¡¯s hand, when he got there.

    - El, this is Ed Baker, he¡¯s a park ranger here.

    - Off-duty, today ¨C he greeted me ¨C Nice to meet you. I loved you on The Dark Heart.

    - How do you do? - I smiled ¨C Well, you did more than I did. - I lowered my voice, as if anyone else there could hear me ¨C I haven¡¯t watched it yet.

    Ed let out a loud laugh ¨C Well, then¡­ Do you want to know how it ends?

    The ranger had brought some light food and some marshmallows to toast over the bonfire and gave us a whole lesson, not only about the stars above us, but also about the Mojave desert, his passion.

    - This really is grand¡­ - I said, looking upwards, at the star-painted sky ¨C You don¡¯t get this view from just about anywhere.

    Adam was checking the star chart on his lap and then trying to locate the constellations above, before using the telescope Ed had brought out for us ¨C I think this is the first time I¡¯ve ever seen so many stars, really.

    - And you live in Los Angeles.

    He giggled ¨C And I¡¯ve been to the Walk of Fame many times.

    I borrowed his star chart and he reached into his bag.

    - I heard you just had your birthday.

    - I did. - I said, distractedly, as I traced the chart with my index finger ¨C My sweet sixteen, as you say around these parts.

    - Well, I got you a little something, birthday girl.

    Adam gently grabbed my hand in his and put a little glass jar, with a cork on top, on the palm of my hand.

    - You didn¡¯t have to¡­ Thank you ¨C I turned my torch on and put the light on it. It looked like just plain dirt ¨C I would say I love it out of politeness, but I really wanted to know what it was beforehand.

    He grinned, looking a little bit embarrassed ¨C Well, you were reading Poe on set, right?

    I nodded.

    - So, when I came back from Paris, I made a quick stop in Baltimore and I hopped off to Poe¡¯s original grave site.

    I opened my eyes wide, first at the dirt, and then at Adam ¨C You¡¯ve desecrated Edgar Allan Poe¡¯s grave?¡­

    - I didn¡¯t go full-on grave snatcher ¨C he showed the palms of his hands, clearly an innocent man ¨C I just took a teenie-tiny bit. That¡¯s not even a spoonful.

    - Oh, my word¡­ Adam! - I gazed back at the little vial of dirt ¨C I don¡¯t know if I should thank you or smack you over the head¡­

    - I mean, to be honest, he¡¯s not even there anymore. That¡¯s dirt from his original burial site. Now there¡¯s no dirt around his new¡­ stone thingy.

    - Epitaph?

    - Yeah, that.

    - Well, thank you, Adam ¨C I turned to look at him holding onto the excitingly eerie memento ¨C I really am honoured that you went to such lengths for me. But, please, promise me you won¡¯t go on excavating any other people¡¯s tombs on my behalf.

    He smiled, pursing his lips ¨C Only if a part asks for it ¨C he lifted three fingers in the air ¨C Scout¡¯s honour.

    I closed my fingers over the cold glass. It really was a thoughtful gift, even if I did not agree with his methodology.

    - You know¡­ - he interrupted my line of thought ¨C If this was a movie, this would be the part where we would kiss under the stars ¨C his voice sounded sure, but he looked away when he said it.

    - Good thing this is real life, then ¨C I said, crossing my legs and following his gaze upwards ¨C Because that would be very weird.

    He looked back at me, with his brows knitted ¨C Why?

    - Well, because it would really be like kissing my brother, wouldn¡¯t it?

    He looked away again ¨C Yeah, you¡¯re probably right. - he closed his eyes ¨C I mean, I don¡¯t have a sister, but I surely wouldn¡¯t wanna go around kissing her.

    Ed drove us back to where Adam had parked his Firebird and we went back to Roy¡¯s.

    - Thank you, Adam ¨C I told him, as he walked me to my room ¨C it was a lovely day.

    - Yeah, it was a great day, wasn¡¯t it? - he put his hands in his pockets and stood there, a little uncomfortable ¨C Listen¡­ Just lock everything up, OK? I¡¯ll be right next door if you need me.

 Chapter 35 - Im taking a ride with my best friend

    - I don¡¯t know about you, but my legs are completely fucked ¨C Adam said, when we had already crossed state lines into Arizona, chasing the sunrise since the tiny hours of the morning. - I¡¯m not used to walking that much.

    - Yeah, I¡¯m a bit sore as well.

    - A bit sore?! - he gaped ¨C You can¡¯t tell me that¡¯s not just a euphemism.

    I laughed. He had no idea how much I used to walk, even just within the walls of my own home ¨C No, seriously. I¡¯m just a bit sore. And it¡¯s good for me, as well. Shows are very draining. And touring is exhausting.

    - I can only imagine. How does it work? - curious, as always - Do you, like, have a tour bus, or a nightliner or something?

    - We have a tour bus now ¨C and I could only imagine how tense it would be, all cramped in there, with the way things were. The tense silences, the sudden erupting fights, nasty remarks flying around¡­ ¨C But we used to only have a van. We did an Eastern Europe tour in that thing. 0 out of 10, would not recommend.

    - Like now? Travelling in a very nice 1981 Pontiac Firebird? - Adam smiled, fortunately unaware of my egocentric worries.

    - For the time being, it would be a 10 out of 10, strongly recommend. The driver is a fun bloke to hang out with and the car is very cool looking.

    - The driver¡¯s cool as well¡­

    - Yeah, alright ¨C I saw him smile ¨C the driver¡¯s cool as well.

    I noticed Adam looking in the rearview mirror and pulling over, as he slowed down.

    - Something wrong? - I looked back and saw the flashing of blue lights from a police car ¨C What¡¯s happening?

    - I think I was going over the limit.

    He rolled his window down and waited for the officer to approach.

    - ¡®Morning, sir. Do you realise you were doing 40 on a 35? - the officer drawled. We were clearly entering Southern accent territory.

    - Good morning, officer. I didn¡¯t realise it, sorry. - the picture of calm and composure.

    - License and registration, sir. - he peeked in the car and I smiled at him ¨C Girlfriend?

    - More like younger sister ¨C he smiled as well, as he handed the documents, which the officer took.

    The man took a look at the documents, then back at him ¨C Adam Fairchild, like the actor? No place to hide?

    - I¡¯m afraid so, officer. - he gave him his best Hollywood-bright smile.

    - Great movie. My daughter¡¯s seen your latest twice already. The Dark Heart, right?

    He nodded ¨C And she¡¯s in it as well ¨C he pointed his thumb at me ¨C Tell your daughter we said hi.

    The highway patrol officer leaned over the window and took a good look at me again ¨C You¡¯re doing the old 66?

    We nodded. I remembered when we had just begun touring and the police would stop us at any chance they had, as Martin¡¯s old van looked strangely suspicious.

    - I remember doing it back in the 70s, with my buddies. It¡¯s a great trip ¨C he took his mirrored glasses off ¨C You old enough to cross state lines, miss?

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    - Would you like to see my passport, officer? - I asked, another perfect portrait of grace and composure.

    - I would, if you don¡¯t mind.

    I handed him my passport and he chatted with us for a little bit more, before letting us go, with the promise that Adam would mind his speed, a slap on the hand and an autograph to his daughter who he said, would have the surprise of a lifetime, knowing her father had just pulled over Adam Fairchild.

    That day, we went on another, much shorter, hike to Cathedral Rock, in Sedona. It was nothing like the setting in Amboy. Here, the tones were richer and brighter, in shades of burnt orange and sienna against the bright blue sky, and the greenery indicated that we were so much closer to some water source of sorts.

    - I¡¯d really like to know what made me think I was cut out for these nature hikes ¨C he sat down heavily and put his head between his knees, struggling to catch his breath ¨C I¡¯m an Angeleno, born and bred, for God¡¯s sake.

    I sat by his side, and offered him my bottle of water, which he gladly took, taking a big, greedy gulp.

    - But the view¡¯s worth it, isn¡¯t it? - I said, looking into the distance ¨C It¡¯s magnificent. I¡¯m glad you invited me over.

    - Yeah? - he leaned back, planting the palms of his hands on the ground, the bright sun highlighting his angular features ¨C I mean, what else could be better than this? What else would you be doing, right now?

    - Probably¡­ - I took the bottle back and took a gulp as well ¨C revolving around some familiar drama. Those things do tend to suck one in, you know?

    He nodded ¨C Sometimes you just have to step back and give things some time. They¡¯ll work themselves out.

    - See the bigger picture from afar?

    - Something like that. I can¡¯t keep doing this¡­ - Adam just lay on the ground, his face wet with little beads of sweat.

    - Hiking? - I laughed.

    - Yeah¡­ We¡¯re spending the afternoon in Flagstaff. In a town, like God intended Man to do.

    And that was exactly what we did. In fact, Flagstaff would be the centre of our operation for a few more days, as it was the closest town to both Wupatki National Monument, the Painted Desert, the Petrified Forest and to Adam¡¯s detour, before we kept going.

    There was such beauty and monumental dimension to his detour on our route, that the only thing I was able to mutter, as we both faced the Grand Canyon was a simple:

    - Oh.

    - Oh¡­? - a playful smirk danced on his lips ¨C The Grand Canyon is sprawling before your eyes and all you can say is oh?

    - I can¡¯t really¡­ I don¡¯t think I know enough words for this.

    - Oh¡­ - this time he laughed loudly, after mimicking my laconic display of surprise ¨C If ever I experienced Englishness from you, this was just it. Oh¡­ - he just threw his arms up.

    - Come on¡­ - I nudged him on the side of the ribs ¨C It was just too overwhelming.

    - I¡¯m not laughing at you ¨C he bumped into me, making me stagger a little bit ¨C It was just probably the only reaction I would never have imagined anyone would have, seeing all this ¨C he pointed into the distance. - You will never live this down. I promise I won¡¯t let you.

    - I probably earned that ¨C I smiled at him.

    - You did, you did ¨C he nodded ¨C Imagine one day, a guy proposes to you, gets down on one knee, the whole nine yards, and all you can say is oh.

    - I don¡¯t do well with surprises ¨C I said, leaning over the wooden rail above the ravines ¨C I like to have things under control.

    Adam stood next to me, putting his arms on the rail and also staring into the distance.

    - You know ¨C I went on ¨C this whole thing we¡¯re doing is really not me at all. - he let me talk. I knew he was acknowledging all I was saying and that I needed to get things out there. It was rare that I would do so. ¨C Ever since I started all of this, that I have had this insurmountable need to oversee everything. I control my music, the way I present myself, the artwork associated with me, the way I behave in public, the way I talk in interviews, the venues, the lighting¡­ It runs me to the ground, you know? And now¡­ It¡¯s so nice that I can be myself around you. I don¡¯t even know where we¡¯re heading tomorrow and it¡¯s refreshing, not being the one behind the wheel.

    He chuckled softly ¨C That¡¯s not a bad thing in itself, seeing as you can¡¯t drive.

    I gave him a side glance.

    - No, but seriously, I¡¯m honoured that you¡¯re letting it all go, or at least put it on pause. And if you trust me enough to do that for you, then, it¡¯s double the honour, right?

    - Thank you, Adam. For being such a good friend.

    He shrugged ¨C That¡¯s what friends do, isn¡¯t it? They have each other¡¯s backs. One day, I might be the one needing your help.

    - And I will be here, when you do, darling.

    We stood there in silence, admiring the serpentine lines of those ancient rock formations. The whole place looked as if Old Gods could still be living in its nooks and crannies, awaiting better days.

    - By the way, you can use the word insurmountable in a run-of-the-mill sentence and you say oh, when you step on the Grand Canyon?

    - I will smack you over the head, Fairchild ¨C I said, as he laughed his ass off, saying that he would like to see me try reaching the top of his head and fulfilling my promises of violence.

 Chapter 36 - Practically perfect in every way

    We finally left Flagstaff and headed on to Gallup, still in Arizona. That would be the second to last stop before my end of the trip, before I was homebound once more. I wanted to keep going, all the way to Chicago, but I knew I had responsibilities towards everyone, and I could not just leave them on other people¡¯s shoulders.

    I woke up before daybreak, thinking about the upcoming show. Right now the tour was, for me, on the back burner. This Tempelhofer Feld show might not bring revenue, but it would bring enormous exposure and I knew I would feel the heat of it, in the upcoming days. Peter and Alastair were in permanent contact with anyone who was someone in the city of Berlin and they all shared the same view of it all: it would be a flash flood of people. I, on the other hand, was not as positive (but I never was, in the first place) and just expected a nice crowd.

    We had a couple of external teams working with us, managing emergency corridors and services in the venue, creating a detailed map to cover every possible scenario, managing water supplies and food stalls, and working on safety all around. None of us wanted to have a slip of any kind. Especially, not a slip that could, potentially, harm someone.

    I got out, to catch some air, and to try not to think about anything. At least, not for another day or two, and I spotted Adam, leaning below the open bonnet, fiddling with the engine.

    - Good morning ¨C I greeted him, as I looked at the engine of his Firebird ¨C Are we good?

    - ¡®morning sunshine ¨C he smiled, taking a strand of hair away from his eyes with the back of his hand ¨C just some maintenance. You know anything about cars?

    I crossed my arms, knowingly ¨C Well, I can actively identify a car when I see one. And I¡¯m pretty positive that¡¯s an engine right there.

    - I see every penny they spent on your education was well worth it ¨C he laughed ¨C This over here¡¯s the radiator ¨C he said, tapping something that I leaned in to see ¨C We don¡¯t want that failing us ever, especially when we¡¯re cruising through the desert. We also want to make sure we have enough oil before heading out on the road.

    He kept going, explaining to me what every part of that engine did and how it worked, as he went on and checked all he could. Adam also went on about how classic cars needed a good extra dose of love and care and taught me the differences between them and modern ones.

    - How do you know so much about cars?

    - My grandpa used to have an auto shop ¨C he closed the bonnet with a muffled sound ¨C and I used to spend a lot of time there, after school, before my mom could come pick me up, after work. I¡¯d be a mechanic, if I wasn¡¯t an actor.

    He picked up a rag and wiped his hands.

    - You can be a mechanic as a hobby, in your spare time ¨C I said ¨C You¡¯re only seventeen. The world¡¯s your oyster.

    - And I get paid enough to buy some nice, classic cars. Win-win ¨C he took a quick look at his fingernails and grimaced ¨C I¡¯m just gonna wash my hands real quick and we can go get ourselves some breakfast before we go, OK?

    - Where are we heading, today? - I asked.

    - What ¨C he grinned ¨C the surprise factor is wearing down on you? It¡¯s the last one, I promise. And you¡¯re gonna love it.

    To say I loved the open-air theme park that was the town of Roswell, would be an understatement. Every single corner was alien-themed, even the menus at the mandatory tourist-trap restaurants.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    - Do you believe any of this shit? - he asked me, as we both stared at a model of what could have been an alien autopsy, tilting our heads, Ferris Bueller style.

    - I mean¡­ Something happened that night, right? Otherwise, this is just some blown-out-of-proportion mass hysteria, isn¡¯t it?

    - Don¡¯t you think the government could have done it? As a cover-up for something, I mean?

    - Well, if they did, it did backfire on them ¨C I just made a vague gesture, pointing at all the alien craze around us and all the people that came in tow ¨C Don¡¯t you believe in extraterrestrial life?

    - I might¡­ Just not little anaemic, naked grey dudes with bulging eyes. - he pointed at the model and made a disgusted face.

    - He is quite naked, yes¡­ Maybe we¡¯re the only dimwits in the Universe who bother wearing clothes.

    - Could it just be that these dudes, in particular, were nudists, and we¡¯re assuming they all like to fly around buck naked?

    - Like that theory that says that if there¡¯s a collapse of civilization and all records are lost, and in the very far off future, archaeologists happen to find Disneyland, they would assume we worshipped giant mice and ducks.

    - There¡¯s a good one ¨C he nodded, approvingly ¨C Not that we don¡¯t do that now.

    - Shh ¨C I urged, lifting a finger ¨C You might want to work for the big Mouse one day. And the walls have ears.

    - I love Mickey Mouse ¨C he said a bit louder, enunciating every syllable ¨C I love everything Disney. I wish I was a Disney princess myself.

    I pursed my lips, lowering my head, shying away from the eyes of curious tourists around us.

    - Think that might do the trick? - he lowered his voice.

    - I think you¡¯re safe, yes.

    - Oh, hey boss! - Bear leaned over the passenger side window, as Adam parked his car, by the airport entrance ¨C I see you managed to get yourself a little tan.

    - She¡¯d better ¨C Adam said, greeting Bear ¨C If she was still as pale as she was before, after hiking in the desert, I would be worried. How are the Cubs?

    - Meh¡­ Maybe next year, who knows?

    Bear opened the door and I got out, while Adam fetched my things from the boot. They kept on talking about baseball and I let them. Bear did not have many opportunities of doing so, on the other side of the Atlantic.

    - How was your family? - I asked, when he rejoined me, with my big backpack in tow.

    - Great. How was the trip?

    - It was great. Your country¡¯s lovely.

    - How¡¯d you like Cathedral Rock and Sedona? Awesome, isn¡¯t it?

    I arched an eyebrow ¨C How do you know I¡¯ve been to Cathedral Rock?

    - What do you mean, boss? - Bear took a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to me. It had all the stops we had been to, along with ETA¡¯s and phone numbers for the places we would stay at ¨C Adam gave that to me before you took off from LAX.

    I lifted my eyes from that very detailed list and looked back, at Adam, who was suddenly very interested in an ad from an insurance company, but I could see a little shy smile blooming on his lips. He had wanted to make sure Bear would know my whereabouts at all times. Considering my history and my anxiety, if that wasn¡¯t thoughtful, I had no idea what could be.

    I took the paper in my hand and walked over to him ¨C How long have you been planning all of this?

    - Will I need a lawyer to do the talking for me? I know my rights, missy. - he gave me a tentative smile, looking adorably like a misbehaving kid.

    - I¡¯m not cross. I¡¯m actually impressed.

    - Oh ¨C he pretended to let out a breath of relief and wipe his forehead ¨C I thought I might be in deep trouble.

    - Why would you? It was very considerate. Thank you¡­

    He just shrugged and averted eye contact ¨C It was nothing, really.

    Bear looked at me and tapped his watch, saying we should be going.

    - May I give you a hug, kind sir? - I asked. Last time, the roles had been reversed. This time, I was bold enough to ask him myself.

    - But of course, milady! - he gave it his best shot at a posh accent.

    Adam wrapped his arms around me and gave me a tight hug, just like the one he had, some months ago.

    - That accent was worse than Dick van Dyke¡¯s ¨C I muttered and it made him laugh. I felt the positivity of that laugh echoing back to my chest.

    - Back to the Python drawing board again, I guess.

    - Thank you so much ¨C I pulled away from him ¨C For everything.

    - Even for desecrating a grave site?

    - I¡¯m still on the fence about that one ¨C I grinned, but I was now a proud owner of Poe¡¯s grave dirt. That was the ugly truth ¨C But yeah, thank you for that as well.

    - Have a nice flight home, Ellie. I¡¯ll try and hop over to Germany, if I can.

    - I¡¯d like that very much ¨C it would mean a lot to have a great friend like him there ¨C Please be careful on the road.

    Once more, he lifted three fingers, at face height ¨C Scout¡¯s honour.

    We both waved goodbye, as we passed the boarding gates. I would miss him, I just knew it. It had felt like freedom, the whole week. And I had forgotten what freedom had felt like.

 Chapter 37 - Take my breath away

    Where was I? This was definitely not my room. My very own room, the one that I had grown up in. I pressed my hands against my eyes, trying to make sense of that unknown scenario. Why did all hotel rooms have to look alike?

    Berlin. That was where I was.

    I got out of bed and pulled the curtain back, with a jerk. Yes, Berlin stared back at me from its dusky sleepiness or so I wanted to imagine, because that city really never slept, did it? People talked of New York all the time but, for me, it was Berlin which never really laid its imaginary head on an imaginary pillow.

    And if I was in Berlin, that could only mean¡­ Tempelhofer Feld.

    I rarely cursed, but I let out a growled fuck, between my clenched teeth.

    Suddenly, my drowsiness was all gone, replaced with a feeling of existential dread that appealed to the most primitive fight or flight instincts I had. And I had a lot of those¡­

    What was I doing and why was I doing so? Why did I insist on putting myself through stressful situations where the most likely scenario was that I would make a joke of myself, and the chance of success was always so slim?

    And who was I fooling with any of this? I was just a child, playing at an adult¡¯s game, pretending to know the fantasy rules of it all when, in reality, I had been grasping at straws the whole time.

    I was a fake, that was what I was. An impostor, acting a part that I had gotten myself too entangled in by now. And a part in a very expensive stint.

    Why were my name and my face plastered in places? Written by and composed by. Were any of those premises true? I was just playing around with notes, in the end.

    I was feeling like a caged animal and the room was feeling smaller and tighter by the minute.

    The clock on the bedside table said it was 5 in the morning. I guessed that any hour would be good enough to have a panic attack.

    I took off and left for the still empty hallway. In about half an hour, life would start, as all those people, in those rooms and in so many others, would start working towards a shared goal. Too bad the shared goal was just plain, old me.

    I knocked on a door that I thought was the right one.

    I was being selfish and I realised it. What else had I ever been in my life, apart from selfish? But I needed some reassurance. Either that, or all those people would only find a puddle of Eleanora, in the morning. I could almost read the headlines, saying I had finally given in, under the pressure, after three short years and a career that lacked something.

    I heard the latch and my desperation was met with a pair of eyes that was not the one I was looking for.

    - I must have gotten the wrong room. I¡¯m sorry. - I said to Alastair, who looked confused at seeing me there ¨C You don¡¯t happen to know which one is Peter¡¯s room, do you?

    The door opened all the way back and, indeed, I had not been wrong.

    - El? - Peter was putting on a T-shirt, his eyes still adjusting to the light ¨C What¡¯s happening? Are you alright?

    - Not really, no. - I said, as I looked from him to Alastair. That made sense, I thought. I had been blinder than I realised ¨C I¡¯m panicking, a little bit.

    Peter just nodded and quickly went into the room again, getting out a few seconds later, with his trainers on.

    - Let¡¯s get some air, shall we?

    - Why am I doing this? - I said, with my face buried in my hands, my calloused fingertips rough against my forehead.

    - Well, as someone who has watched you grow, my guess would be that you had music inside that heart of yours that needed to come out ¨C Peter blew out a cloud of smoke above our heads ¨C and you were lucky enough that half the world is willing to listen to it.

    - But that¡¯s just the thing, isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s shit. It¡¯s all shit.

    He chuckled at my little swearing outburst ¨C That would not be the word I would use to describe your numbers. And I¡¯m only talking about the cold, objective perspective of it all. - he took another drag ¨C Where¡¯s all this coming from, Elz?

    - I just¡­ - I hesitated. It wasn¡¯t every day that I was able to open my heart ¨C I feel worthless and empty. I don¡¯t know why, because I have everything that I wanted in the first place. But I don¡¯t even know why I¡¯m doing any of this anymore. It¡¯s a bloody Pyrrhic victory, isn¡¯t it?

    Peter cleared his throat, giving himself time to think on how to deal with a moody and spiralling teenager.

    - Do you enjoy what you do?

    I took a deep breath ¨C I enjoy making music ¨C I said, trying to think about that question. I had been asked that a lot, but I had never really given it much thought. But now, that it was a friend looking for a sincere answer, I really had to think what I liked about the whole ordeal ¨C I enjoy some aspects of it.

    - Such as?

    - I like to see how happy people are, in the shows. I like to see them singing along, - I bit my lip ¨C I like it when I see so many different people dancing and singing. I enjoy the challenge.

    He nodded ¨C And what don¡¯t you enjoy?

    That one was easy ¨C The pressure. The news they make up about me. Not knowing what freedom is any longer.

    - And does that all boil down to the same entity?

    - What do you mean?

    - Are all those aspects generated by the press and the coverage and the scrutiny you¡¯re under?

    - Maybe¡­

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    - Then play the rock star ¨C he tapped what was left of his cigarette on the floor ¨C Play the original punk. Stop giving a fuck and just do your thing.

    - I don¡¯t even know what my thing is¡­

    Peter lowered his head and his smiling eyes met mine, at my level ¨C Your thing is you. That¡¯s what your fans fell in love with. And you know why? Because, despite all the lace and make-up and aloofness, they see you for what you are. They see what¡¯s underneath all of it. They see how you bare your soul in your poems and how you take your heart out of your chest and play it for them.

    I smiled a desperate smile ¨C So, you¡¯re giving me the old just be yourself?

    - Were you ever anything else than unapologetically yourself, Little Monster?

    Maybe my stubbornness, what I had thought was just me being contrary, was what I really was. Just maybe, with all that had happened in just three years, I had been masking who I really was. Did I even know who I was? Did other people know who they were at 16?

    - Just be me, then?¡­

    - Just be you and you¡¯ll be fine ¨C he stretched his neck ¨C Or do you think you¡¯d have dozens of people working for you, if they didn¡¯t believe in what you could do? I haven¡¯t been around for long, but I know a lost cause in the entertainment world when I see all the little mice scattering away from the sinking ship.

    - And I¡¯m still floating¡­

    He laughed ¨C Darling, you¡¯re not just floating. You¡¯ve buried your stakes deep in the muddy ground and you¡¯re building a whole city. You¡¯ll be Venice, soon.

    - Thank you, my dear Peter¡­ - I smiled at him ¨C You¡¯re a lovely friend to have around.

    - You¡¯re not so bad yourself ¨C he blew me a raspberry ¨C If only you¡¯d let me sleep.

    I apologised. In my own self-centred little world, I really had no one else to resort to, even if I was surrounded by so many people at all times.

    - So, are you and Alastair a thing? - I asked.

    - I don¡¯t know yet.

    - What¡¯s stopping you?

    Peter didn¡¯t answer, he just took a very deep breath.

    - I will resort to violence, if you dare say society or worse, your dad.

    He chuckled sadly ¨C I guess you¡¯ll have to resort to violence, then.

    I reached out and touched his arm ¨C Don¡¯t do that to yourself. - I said softly ¨C If anyone in this world ever deserved to be happy and to have nice things going his way, that one person is you.

    - What if it doesn¡¯t work? What if I out myself and it doesn¡¯t work?

    The sun was rising and I saw the fear in Peter¡¯s eyes, bathed in that early golden light.

    - You¡¯ll never know if you don¡¯t try it, my dear.

    <hr>

    I looked at my wardrobe for the night, that Pat had so carefully put together. I wouldn¡¯t wear it, not for the first part of the show.

    I took a look in the mirror ¨C Just be yourself ¨C I said, as I examined who I really was, in real life. Just a girl, in a Bowie t-shirt, a woollen jacket two sizes too big, ripped jeans and worn-out Converse. This was who I was and it would be who they would get. No lace, no frills, no fishnet. Just me. Not the stage persona, but the actual person who fought her demons on a daily basis.

    Just me and the sea of people that were gathered out there, watching some other bands the TV network had brought along to fill up the day, like a little urban festival. To say that it had exceeded my expectations would be a gross understatement. I could not believe my eyes, as we drove through the city, to the venue, and we passed dozens, hundreds, I dare say, thousands of people, all congregating at the old air base.

    So I would give them the only thing I truly owned: me. Unapologetic. Unadorned. As they saw me, for what I truly was.

    I got out of my trailer, to meet Pat for hair and make-up. Usually, she would be the one coming to me, but she was busy with some last minute details about a wig I would wear later.

    - Did someone forget they had a show later on? - Simon was casually leaning against the trailer he shared with Alfie. He always needed some fresh air before going on stage.

    - I don¡¯t think this ongoing chaos would let me forget such a thing ¨C I said, pointing at the flurry of people walking around, carrying things, doing what they had to ¨C Why?

    - Oh, I don¡¯t know ¨C he made a silly face ¨C Maybe because you¡¯re still not dressed.

    I looked down at myself and then back at him, smiling ¨C For a moment there you had me panicking.

    - You¡¯re going on like that? - he pointed at my clothes.

    - Do you have a problem with it? - I gave him my best I don¡¯t really care attitude.

    - No problem at all ¨C he grinned ¨C I like you better that way, really.

    - Good ¨C I winked at him ¨C Because I wasn¡¯t really looking for your approval.

    - That¡¯s my girl! - he grinned and nodded.

    After a brief but thorough interrogation, from Pat, who wanted to know what was wrong with me, if I had a fever, if I was feeling alright, she agreed that she would do my hair and make-up without any further Stasi-like questioning.

    - Oh, they really got the rubber duckie ¨C I said, when I noticed the tiny yellow duck on the counter, that had my name on it.

    - They just brought it about an hour ago.

    I took it and turned it in my hands. Bishop had said once that I needed to assert my place as an artist and ask for something extravagant, for my dressing room. I had asked for black towels, at first, but decided that would not be enough and said that I wanted a rubber duck, with the name of the venue and date of the show. And did they deliver. Not only was the duck wearing an old-timey aviation hat and goggles, but it read Tempelhofer Feld 26/4/1997, on its backside.

    - Don¡¯t let this one out of your sight, darling ¨C I said to Pat, as she took off the curler from its case ¨C You must guard the duckie with your life.

    - Of course ¨C she gave me a smile in the mirror ¨C Oh, your rings are in that bag ¨C she pointed out and I took them and put them on. This I would not part with.

    Another hairdresser came in and started working on the final details of the red-haired wig. She said her name was Lena, and she was very nice and friendly. We chatted a little bit, in German, as Pat liked to work with her headphones on, so we weren¡¯t really excluding her.

    - Where is she? - a male voice said, also in German, as he entered the trailer ¨C There you are. I¡¯ve been looking for you everywhere. I need you to fix my hair ¨C he said to Lena, not even bothering with hellos.

    Lena put down the wig, which was almost done by now, and sat the man in the chair next to mine, and started working on his hair.

    - Is the interpreter here yet? - he looked back at the couple of assistants that had followed him in ¨C Because I¡¯m not interviewing her in English ¨C he said, as he motioned his head towards me.

    Lena gave me a frightened glance, but I just shook my head, pursing my lips. It wasn¡¯t the first time it had happened and it certainly would not be the last.

    - The things I do ¨C he went on, to no one in particular, really. It was like he enjoyed the sound of his own voice and his Berlin accent ¨C Just look at her. She¡¯s just a child.

    Pat¡¯s eyes met mine, in the reflection and she knitted her eyebrows, as if asking what was going on. I just shook my head and she got that as an OK, to keep going.

    - I ask for a pay raise and I get a no. But for the foreign star, we can set up a whole circus¡­ What do we know about her? - he asked one of his assistants, who took out some notes and started feeding him facts about my life.

    Lena was dousing the man¡¯s hair in hairspray, as he kept going on about me. By then, I suspected he would be a TV host, or something.

    - You might want to check your sources ¨C I said to him in German, when he was done ¨C You have a date or two wrong.

    His eyes widened and I could swear his face went through every single colour of the rainbow and beyond.

    - But, you can ask me directly, if you have any further questions.

    He opened his mouth, but could not say anything to save face.

    - You didn¡¯t know ¨C I went on ¨C It¡¯s only natural that we assume a foreign person will not speak our language. If I was dishonest by not letting you know from the start, I will ask for your forgiveness. But how could I interrupt such a good story, about my own life?

    - I¡­ I¡­

    I leaned over to him and made the peace offering of a handshake ¨C Eleanora. It¡¯s nice to meet you, Herr¡­

    - M¨¹ller. Oskar M¨¹ller. - he said ¨C I really am sorry.

    - I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, Herr M¨¹ller. I truly have a horrible short-term memory for unpleasant things ¨C I was getting good at channelling Lady Margaret¡¯s smooth talk.

    The man, who really was a host, kept saying how sorry he was, asking us if we needed something and he even went out and got Pat a cup of coffee. He really was mortified by it all.

    - Alright ¨C Pat said, with a smile, adjusting some waves in my hair ¨C Hair¡¯s all done. I¡¯m feeling artsy today, doll¡­

    She truly was because, after doing my eyes, she drew an arabesque, resembling an eye of Horus, under my right eye.

    - All done now, love. You look perfect. Now, go on, do your warm-ups and I¡¯ll take care of the boys.

 Chapter 38 - I want it all

    It was a true sea of people that Martin and I saw, when we took a sneak peek at the crowd.

    - What was it? - Martin asked, his eyes wide open ¨C It¡¯s just the same, playing for 10, 100 or 1000 people, right?

    - In theory ¨C I added, tensely.

    He chuckled, nervously ¨C You never mentioned it was only in theory. What happens when it¡¯s 10 thousand, in practice? A hundred thousand?

    - Are you alright? - I asked. I was not alright, myself. I had nailed down the just be yourself mantra, but was now feeling the heat of that giant frying pan.

    - No ¨C was the simple answer that came along a very nervous and shaky laugh ¨C But I will go out there and play. I¡¯ll crumble when it¡¯s over.

    - Fake it ¡®till you make it.

    - Precisely.

    Alfie looked as cool as ever, unencumbered by any of it ¨C You just look at that crowd right there, and imagine they¡¯re all naked. Every bit is just dangling free. It¡¯s all sausage and beans.

    - I think that¡¯s even more disturbing, darling. But you do you ¨C I said.

    - Does that help, in any way? - Martin asked him, genuinely curious. We had all heard about it, but we all thought it was a myth and no one actually took the time to imagine a naked audience. But, if anyone would, that would be Alfie.

    - Yep, nekkid bums all the way.

    Simon and Freddie came by as well. They did not seem a bit disturbed by any of it.

    - Stiff upper lip, straight back, Rule Britannia ¨C Simon glanced at me ¨C You should know all about it, right?

    - I guess I must have forgotten my colonial hat today. Bugger, ¨C I always tried not to let his quips get under my skin, but that day had already started out wrong. - You do realise¡­ that if this goes well, there¡¯s no stopping us, right?

    Freddie scoffed ¨C I didn¡¯t realise we were stopping now.

    He was still actively fighting all our dates and touring schedule, even if there was nothing else that we could do by then. It was almost like a code of honour, that we did not cancel shows unless it was absolutely a matter of life or death. Besides, in my mind, it was good for him to be on the move, and not left to his own devices, where we could not keep an eye out for him. According to our band gossip, Alfie, Freddie had already scared Martin to death the other day, when he was so out there that nothing Martin could do would wake him up.

    - You know what I mean ¨C I said, harshly.

    - Yeah, unfortunately, I do. But, seeing as I don¡¯t want to get punched today ¨C he gave Simon a very aggressive look ¨C I will keep my mouth shut.

    - Boys¡­ - I looked from one to the other. - Now is not the time.

    Some people had been there, waiting for us, since the early hours of the morning, so they could guarantee a good spot. I thought we should invest in screens, in the future, just in case we would ever draw out a crowd like that one ever again.

    The boys started the show on their own, as they usually did and I made my way up on stage at around the two-minute mark. I saw faces lighting up with joy, the moment those first chords sounded. That was the reason I was doing it, after all.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    - Hallo, meine Sch?nen ¨C I said, as we finished up the first song. We would be playing a modified setlist that we had outlined for the tour. This one was supposed to be a showcase of our very own favourite songs, instead of focusing mainly on the new album.

    I think we did a very good job, in sewing together all three albums, so alike and yet so different amongst themselves. The audience also seemed to think so. I could feel their energy flooding the stage.

    We played our mandatory cover song, to finish it up and I bowed and went off stage. They did not know it, but this would be where the true entertainment would begin.

    I ran over to Pat, who helped me change into an all-leather set, behind an improvised screen, along with the famous fiery wig, to go along with my fiery surprise.

    The stage lights were dim and it was already dark. The musicians started creating the mood and I was given the prop bow and arrow, which would mark the beginning of a new era.

    A bright light focused on me, as I walked onto the centre of the stage. I reached the position marked on the floor and turned my back to the audience, drawing the arrow. From ground level, you could barely see there was a guide leading up, from where I was standing.

    The lights changed colour, which was my cue and I fired the arrow. The light was no longer on me, but on the projectile, which went up about twenty metres in the air, igniting a bowl-like structure and setting off a rain of fireworks of red and gold on stage, that I knew would singe every bit of skin they could touch. Hence the leather clothes and, of course, the wig, as I had not enjoyed the smell of burnt hair, when we had tried it before. Besides, it looked very cool.

    The much harder music started blaring and I took the mic, to sing about the Wild Hunt. According to what I read and heard, later on, it took a little while for some people to register that I was actually singing in German, after the initial shock.

    Simon was doing some parts of the chorus with me and, for someone who had never even spoken a word of German, a month earlier, he was doing great.

    Our circus was set. We now just had to juggle in all of its three rings until the very end.

    The lights went out and I ran off stage once more. They took off my hunter¡¯s wig and gave me a messy high ponytail, as one of the engineers that had worked on the pyrotechnic set up the next prop, a pulsating, bright red heart, that fit on an especially designed mount, on the left side of my chest.

    It was the only thing the audience could see, in the dark. The beating of my heart.

    While the previous song had been heavy and upbeat at the same time, this one was dramatic and impactful.

    On the bridge of the song, a string orchestra roared over the heaviness of our own instruments and I ripped my heart off my chest, holding it high, as it also erupted in a rain of red light.

    I ended up kneeling before my Little Monsters, offering them the sacrifice of my still pulsating heart.

    This time, I could feel the wave that came from down there. I felt it, as it hit my chest. I wanted to cry, but there was one more song to go. As long as the raging fire above the stage still burned, we would keep going. One more, to end it all.

    I loosened my hair, while all the extras went to their positions on stage.

    I had written this one song months ago, precisely when I noticed how much people were putting me high on a pedestal and, in its underlines, it read as a critique to the way I was being idolised, to the point where I felt I could do whatever I felt like and no harm would come from there.

    I had never worked with a choreography before, much less an elaborate one, where I would sing and perform at the same time.

    A light as bright as a halo shone behind the stage and I came in, singing. The choreography read, at first, like I was a benevolent Goddess, granting favour to the mortals that fell on my path but, as I went up some stairs, I became ruthless and despondent, selecting only a few to follow me to my throne, where the light shone bright, creating another halo, but this time, on me.

    As I sat, I brought out my final WMD, a beautiful arpeggio in a soprano register. The supplicants kept trying to climb on the stairs, while I sang, beatifically, unaware of the struggles for a place in the Sun, beneath me.

    The choreography would end as I recreated the religious image of the Virgin Mary, pulling someone to her breast, while giving a cryptic smile and holding up the index, middle finger, as well as thumb, in a silent blessing, as the sun set behind that unholy painting.

    My head ached, when I finally made it off stage, the bright fire dying and driving it all into darkness. I just hoped my love letter to the country that had welcomed me so and whose language I had always considered as my second one, had not backfired. In my mind, amidst all that post-show frenzy and clarity, it might have.

 Chapter 39 - It seemed the taste was not so sweet

    One of the drawbacks there had been about selling the rights to the show, were the appearances I had to make, which were also in contract. Sometimes, I felt like a little parrot, saying the same things over and over again, but I realised it was no one¡¯s fault. Nonetheless, it was bothersome.

    Coming back to the hotel after having been to a show where I had made a piano rendition of one of the new songs, I found Bishop waiting for me.

    I had invited him over, of course, so he could see that his Little Monster was growing up and becoming, at least, a medium-sized one.

    - I need a word with you ¨C he said. He looked sad, defeated, maybe.

    - What did I do now? - I joked. I needed someone in my life to call me out on my shenanigans, even if I just ignored it, in the end.

    - It¡¯s about your future, Elz.

    - I¡¯ve got it all figured out. I become rich in the next few years, I¡¯ll study History, or History of Music, then I¡¯ll retire and live in seclusion, in the Somerset countryside. Maybe pay a little visit to Widdecombe-on-the-Moor.

    He shook his head ¨C I¡¯m not joking, love. I¡¯m talking about your future in music.

    - Oh ¨C I sat down next to him, raising an eyebrow, and asking him to carry on.

    - I¡¯ve been thinking about what I saw and about what I know you can do.

    - And you¡¯re really disappointed? - I tried joking again, but he really wasn¡¯t having any of that.

    - I¡¯m letting you go, Little Monster.

    That hit me like a bag of bricks. Letting me go? What did that mean? Was I getting fired?

    - You¡¯ve grown too much ¨C he said, ignoring my look of disbelief ¨C And our little label can¡¯t keep up with you. We can¡¯t provide the conditions you need and it would be unfair, if we would just chain you down, to make a few more quid at your expense.

    - I don¡¯t understand¡­ - None of that made sense to me. Wasn¡¯t my success helping the label? - Are you sacking me?

    - I¡¯m releasing you, as soon as your contract is over. - he nodded ¨C You need someone bigger backing you up, El.

    - I don¡¯t want a bigger label, Johnny. I¡¯m perfectly content with Firefly.

    - Yeah, well ¨C he just shrugged, as he pulled a cigarette from the packet, holding it between his lips, as he searched for the lighter ¨C That¡¯s really not up for discussion, love. You¡¯ve had it your way for long enough. Now it¡¯s my time to lay down the rules.

    - You can¡¯t do this to me¡­ What do you need me to do? Please, please¡­ don¡¯t send me out to people I don¡¯t know¡­

    He looked at me with a surprised look on his face. He had never really seen me begging. I had demanded and argued, I had asserted my will, but I had never begged.

    - Listen to me, Little Monster. From the day you pulled out that little act onward, you were set to be branded a star. - he ran his fingers through his hair ¨C No, fuck star. You are on your way to become a legend. And legends don¡¯t thrive on small-fry labels, El. You need a big, corporate machine behind you. Do you think it doesn¡¯t pain me, to send you away? I¡¯ve seen you grow as an artist¡­ I remember the day you set foot in my office like it was yesterday.

    I could not force myself to say anything. It wasn¡¯t like we were parting ways forever, but that whole conversation sounded more like a goodbye than I cared for.

    - I¡¯ve asked around and there are plenty of people that want to work with you. And I will see that you find the perfect record company. I will see to it personally.

    - I don¡¯t want to¡­ - I muttered.

    - Tough luck, love. I don¡¯t want you in my company either. - Bishop flicked the ash onto the ashtray and paced around nervously ¨C I really knew this moment would come, you know? I knew it right from the start that you wouldn¡¯t let me down and that I had a diamond in my hands, you know what I mean? But this is just something I need to do. And I¡¯m not fooling myself, I know I¡¯m doing this for you, but it¡¯s the right thing to do.

    In my mind, anything that would stray from my little comfort zone with Firefly, would just end up falling in line with Infinity. And Infinity¡­ No, I didn¡¯t want to think about it. Not now, when I was on a high moment, that kept my mind away from the screaming in the back of my head.

    - I mean ¨C he kept going ¨C have you even read the papers? Who am I to rob you of your shot? I mean, sure, some of them are almost calling you Lucifer incarnate, but still.

    - You gave me my shot ¨C I said bluntly, ignoring what he said about the papers. I knew just what they were saying about my little ending skit ¨C You were the one willing to put your own money on the line for a nobody. You believed me when no other label did.

    - I¡¯ve always had an eye for business ¨C he winked at me ¨C Don¡¯t be sad, love. We¡¯re still friends. You can come over and ask for new shit anytime you want. Doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll give it to you, but still ¨C he laughed, as he sat back next to me.

    - I never thought I¡¯d be fired at sixteen ¨C I joked, but I felt the sting of tears in my eyes.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    - You had a good run, kid. - he laughed ¨C Forty more years and I¡¯ll buy you a retirement cake. Now, now¡­ Don¡¯t cry. You¡¯re stronger than this.

    I sniffled and wiped the tears that stubbornly kept on surfacing ¨C Oh, you know how it works ¨C I laughed softly ¨C It¡¯s all tears and we¡¯ll all drown in the end.

    - You know ¨C he said ¨C sometimes I wish all of this darkness of yours really was just a front.

    - We all wish for impossible things, Johnny.

    He tilted his head, looking at me ¨C Will you allow me to act as your agent, to get you a good deal? I promise I won¡¯t let anyone take advantage of you.

    I nodded. How could I not trust this man, who was letting me go out of pure selflessness?

    - On one condition, though. You get to keep the rights for The Hanging Gardens, Eris and Snake-haired Gorgon.

    Johnny chuckled ¨C I¡¯m not gonna lie and pretend I wasn¡¯t gonna try that. I mean¡­ - he made the universal sign for money ¨C But if that¡¯s what you want, who am I to deny you, my darling? They just might want something for immediate return.

    - You¡¯ll figure it out. I¡¯ve heard it through the grapevine that you have an eye for business.

    <hr>

    I had gone ahead and sold myself for thirty silver coins, as Peter had suggested. I had sold my supposed integrity for my Mask.

    In fact, it was a little bit more than 30 silver coins. So much so that my dearest friend had been right and that whole campaign would finance almost 70% of all costs we might have with putting the play on the stage. Did I regret it? Again, it was bittersweet to both see things moving (and they had to move at a supersonic pace, because we had set the premiere date to October) and to sell the rights to my own image. It was a sort of anti-system thing that I must have inherited from mum.

    It would be two intense days, in New York, of shooting the international ad, along with the campaign photos and then I had to fly straight back, to start the first leg of my very first big European tour. We would be working in Eastern, Central and Northern Europe first, then we would have a break, which would come in handy because if all went well, I had a play to attend. Then the other half, that covered Western and Southern Europe, with a little leg on the Middle East.

    I had been invited to a radio show, also in New York, and thought why not?. My first incursion in American lands had not gone as planned and it had generated mixed reviews but, after the film premiere and now, after having my name spread across the media everywhere, it could be a good chance. I guess I should have done some research, in the first place.

    It did start like a normal interview, maybe a little more casual and on the nose than I was used to, but I went along with it.

    - What about your V-card? Have you swiped it yet? ¡®Cause a lot of people are curious about it, especially after that last part of your show, you know? - the host, Derek Greene asked me, as he winked maliciously.

    I chuckled nervously ¨C I¡¯m sorry. Officially we both speak English, but we really do speak different languages. I did not understand a word of what you just said.

    - Your V-card. You don¡¯t know what your V-card is? - he joked and I just shook my head ¨C What do they call it? I don¡¯t wanna be crude here.

    - Something is definitely lost in translation, somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. Oscar Wilde was right. - was it going where I thought it was going?

    He laughed. He had a lot of gravel in his voice. ¨C Alright ¨C he switched to a very choppy British accent ¨C Do you have a boyfriend already? Have you done it yet?

    - Wait¡­ What?¡­ - I lifted both my hands ¨C Are you seriously asking me about my private life?

    - Sure, why not? - he grinned behind his microphone ¨C You¡¯re a very pretty girl, you made a very provocative gesture just a few weeks ago and you¡¯ve excited people¡¯s curiosity.

    - About my¡­ sex life? - I couldn¡¯t believe I was uttering those words live, for anyone to hear.

    - It¡¯s only natural, right?

    - Why? - now I was playing on the defence. I had always been taught that it was a clever move to answer a question with another question, so I was playing with what I had.

    - Because people want to know. America wants to know. - he opened his arms wide, a grand gesture as if was embracing all of this America he was talking about.

    - Well ¨C I tried sounding as composed as I could. I had learned that losing my temper was never a good look ¨C But I do believe that falls in what is called the sphere of one¡¯s private life. Besides, what makes you think that it is alright to ask a 16-year-old, who cannot vote, cannot drink, is far from being an adult, such a thing?

    - Everybody does it ¨C he chuckled, still trying to play the upper hand ¨C Or what, you don¡¯t think there are people out there counting the time until you turn 18?

    I took off my headphones.

    - Where are you going?

    - I am exercising my freedom to leave. I¡¯m not going to sit here and indulge in the sick and perverted fantasies of a twisted old man and, if America really is so keen on knowing about my private life, they are as sick and perverted as you are ¨C I set the headphones on the table and smiled, sardonically ¨C I would say that it had been a pleasure being here, but I would be lying.

    I pushed the swivel chair back and left, not bothering to look back.

    I never intended to build the narrative of the rebel, who was willing to break the mould, who was willing to be provocative and, shocker, have it her own way, but those two separate events, those first steps within American media, really were the foundation for my reputation across the Pond. And what made getting in even more difficult. No decent American household wanted to deal with a dissident, a punk¡­ Especially not one so in love with Death as I appeared to be, always clad in black, so gloomy and dramatic. There was no place for the Royalty of Darkness in Uncle Sam¡¯s lands, for the time being.

    On the other hand, there was a very welcome phenomenon of other TV stations airing my show. And, as it spread its tentacles almost independently from me, came the questions. Will you do it again? Is this where the future of your music lies? Are you going in a different direction, musically?  And I had no answers to give them. I had written and idealised that whole part of the show without any strings attached, really. Would I like to explore both writing in German and a harder and more complex style? I think I would, but probably not when I had so much going on already.

    The Tempelhofer phenomenon was a catalyst for sold out shows and extra dates that we wedged in because I always tried to have the shows booked as spaced apart as possible. If I was travelling the world, I would certainly want to see it all.

    We started out on our own home turf and, in between gigs, Bishop mediated my new record deal with Blackstar. And, if I had demands, so did they. There was no more playing around with those people. They had organised calendars and goals and certain objectives that we were due to fulfil. Long gone were the days of total freedom and of entering willy-nilly in the boss¡¯ office, asking for new equipment or just to taunt him, as I knew he liked. To be honest, I did not even know who my actual boss was, within the company. There was a whole chain of command and I had no idea how it worked. In reality, I had no desire to explore it.

    They had, indeed, demanded something that could bring in immediate revenue. A new album was out of the question, for the time being, but a live one¡­ That was what was decided. A live album, to be recorded at both shows we had scheduled for N?mes, in France, in November.

    But, all I wanted to do, for the moment, was to play my heart out, as much as I could. That would give me leverage, in the future, Bishop had advised me.

    - Get the numbers on your side. If you do, they will have to eat right out of your hand.

 Epilogue - Two worlds collided

    August 1997. Helsinki.

    Aleksi.

    I was chain-smoking. I knew it was terrible and Benni had been nagging me all morning because of it but, if I stopped, I knew I would just end up biting my nails or pacing around frantically.

    After all, it wasn¡¯t every day you would meet one of your idols.

    - Alek, you either put that shit out, or I swear to God, I will rip it out of your hands ¨C he said, as we both stood in an inner courtyard of the radio station.

    - It¡¯s out ¨C I said, as I twisted the last few centimetres of the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray ¨C It¡¯s out. Here, take it ¨C I gave him the packet, as I was tired of listening to his rambling about lung cancer and throat cancer and I don¡¯t know what other cancers he could come up with.

    - Get your shit together, Alek ¨C he ran his fingers through his hair ¨C It¡¯s not the Queen of England.

    When Tuomas Hekkinen had called Benni, our agent, asking if I would want to make a guest appearance at his show, we just jumped at the shot, without asking who would the other guest be. You see, Hekkinen¡¯s show was all about getting two guests together that were unlikely to cross paths either way, and just making a nice conversational flow from there and, seeing as I was a musician, I was hoping I would be paired with, I don¡¯t know, a chef, a politician, an activist. Anyone, but Eleanora.

    - I¡¯d be less nervous meeting the Queen, Ben ¨C I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. Did I button it right? ¨C I don¡¯t think I would need to interact with her.

    - What if she¡¯s an insufferable diva? You¡¯re getting all hyped up for nothing.

    I crossed my arms, to stop myself from looking any more antsy than I already was ¨C I don¡¯t think she¡¯s a diva. She doesn¡¯t look like it, at least.

    - Either way ¨C he grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled it away from his neck. It was a hot day and we were standing outside, like a couple of fools, when we could be indoors, where the AC would keep us cool ¨C Don¡¯t let her lead the conversation on her own. You¡¯re a guest as well.

    - And I need to promote our work. I know what to do¡­

    - Can we please get inside, now? - he begged ¨C I¡¯m a sweaty mess, Aleksi.

    We did step inside and started making our way to the studio. We were a bit early, but Benni was always making sure I would not be an irresponsible musician and miss my appointments. I don¡¯t think I would, but he liked to be a little more drama queen than necessary.

    - Just remember to play it cool. She¡¯ll probably never even take notice of you ¨C he rolled his eyes ¨C I mean, after what she¡¯s been saying about being so independent, I would not be surprised if she wasn¡¯t a self-centred asshole.

    I was just hoping that was not the truth, but we all had heard the old never meet your heroes axiom enough times to dread the moment we could, actually, cross paths.

    At the moment, no one in the band was actually and actively crossing paths with anyone else, really. We had our first record out there, but things were not as easy as we had imagined them to be. In our minds, the moment we were official, would also be the moment we would become famous and yet, at that very moment, my biggest fans were still my parents and my grandparents. And even they had their doubts about the whole venture even if they did not say it out loud.

    Even though the station was mostly empty, being August and everything, I somehow still managed to turn a corner and feel the impact of someone bumping against my chest. I staggered and my first reaction was to reach out my hands. I held on to someone¡¯s shoulder. Someone much shorter than I was.

    - Varokaa, rakas ¨C Careful, dear, I said out of instinct, before my whole world was sucked away from me, when I met the most exquisite and unique pair of blue eyes and knew exactly who was staring up at me. It was like everything else around us went dark and I could not even think that anything else in the world could have the slightest meaning . Time really is relative, as they say.

    And time did go from negative to all at once, speeding up at an alarming rate.

    - Oh, I¡¯m so sorry ¨C she said, taking a step back and releasing herself from my grip ¨C I wasn¡¯t watching where I was going.

    There were at least another 4 pairs of eyes, from her end, staring me down as well. Some much more intimidating and ready to twist the hand I had just laid on her.

    - Are you alright? - Eleanora asked me and I just managed to nod. - Did I step on you? I really am sorry.

    - There¡¯s nothing to be sorry about ¨C I said, in English, and I think I managed to smile, hopefully, not in a creepy way. By then, I had momentarily lost all ability to keep the slightest cool facade. - I¡¯m fine.

    Someone on her side said El, we have to go, and they resumed their walk, but not before she held her hands together, voicing a silent so sorry, before falling in line with her whole entourage.

    Both Benni and I just stood there, watching them walk away.

    - Well, maybe she¡¯s not that much of an asshole, after all ¨C Benni pouted ¨C Those big stars really do manage to surprise you, don¡¯t they?

    I felt the whole rush of that encounter sweeping over me at that moment. Even my hands were slightly shaking.

    - Come on ¨C Benni nudged me ¨C if she has to go, so do we. And it doesn¡¯t matter if she is nice, after all. Do not let her monopolize the conversation.

    She was already in the studio, talking to Hekkinen, who was going over the main topics he wanted to talk about. I had never given much thought to how petite she was.

    - Ah, Aleksi! - Hekkinen greeted when he spotted me ¨C Come here.

    We had been to school together, for three years, I think. He was a couple of years my senior and had already been very much into those pirate radios that popped all over the place, at the time. I used to listen to his show, with Eino, late at night.

    - Eleanora, this is Aleksi Toivonen, from The Raven Kings. Aleksi, this is Eleanora.

    - We¡¯ve bumped into each other before ¨C she smiled at me, shaking my hand ¨C It appears that, even if I wanted to flee the crime scene, I could never make it.

    - It¡¯s hard, when you have one of the most recognizable faces in music ¨C I smiled back, this time playing it cool ¨C It¡¯s nice to meet you.

    Hekki took us to our seats and we were given headphones, as he was still giving us the ropes of the show.

    - Are you enjoying Finland so far? - I asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

    - To be honest, I¡¯ve barely registered anything at all. I just got here a few hours ago, on a red-eye flight ¨C she took a hair tie from her wrist and twisted her hair in a low, messy bun ¨C We had some trouble with our bus and we had to go on this rat race to get here in time.

    - If you ever need a tour guide, I have 17 years of experience on this land.

    She chuckled softly ¨C I will take that into consideration, thank you.

    I reached into my pocket, but realised my packet of cigarettes was still with Benni. Too bad, because I really could use a smoke.

    Hekki¡¯s producer started counting from the booth and we went silent, before Hekki himself started talking, greeting his audience, still in Finnish. I took a look at her, her attentive gaze was fixed on Hekki and I started the mental exercise of imagining what Finnish would sound like to someone who did not speak it. Probably just like a weird stream of rolled , hard Ks and a lot of vowels.

    - And so, today we have ¨C he pointed at me.

    - Aleksi Toivonen, from The Raven Kings.

    - And¡­

    - Eleanora ¨C she almost whispered, into the microphone ¨C Thank you for having me.

    - You see, Tuomas ¨C I said. This was the most relaxed radio show I knew of, and I knew Hekki encouraged his guests to speak freely. And, at that moment, I was in stage persona mode ¨C This is the difference between us, common people, and stars. We give out full names and need to say where we come from. Stars just need to whisper their first names.

    Eleanora laughed softly ¨C I could give you my entire name, but you would have to order lunch, in the meantime.

    - We could order lunch, right? - Hekki said. We could barely see him, over all the gear ¨C Wanna go at it again? Full name and all? Aleksi?

    - It¡¯s going to feel like an AA meeting, probably ¨C I chuckled ¨C I am Aleksi Jalo Toivonen, from The Raven Kings.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    - And I am Eleanora Beatrice Victoria Alexandria Blackburn de Mercoeur-V¨ºndome von Saschen-Coburg und Gotha, from Eleanora¡¯s Sundown ¨C she gave me a cryptic smile ¨C Have you fallen asleep yet?

    - Nope, still barely awake, as always ¨C I smiled back.

    - And ¨C Hekki chimed in, playing his role as host ¨C for those back at home who are also awake, but out of the loop, these two beautiful people I have with me here today, are both ridiculously talented singers. Eleanora¡¯s already on her third album, has already amassed a fair share of awards and is now on her last stop of the first part of her European tour. Aleksi is the lead singer and guitarist of The Raven Kings, a great band from Helsinki, which I¡¯ve already played here quite a few times and, I confess, I¡¯m admittedly a fan. Aleksi ¨C he turned to me ¨C I think it¡¯s safe to assume that you knew Eleanora already.

    - Very safe ¨C I grinned ¨C I¡¯m a big fan.

    - Oh, thank you ¨C she said, genuinely bright ¨C I really like your music as well.

    I took a moment too long to process what she had said to me. It was not like I was barely awake, as I had said, but I was certain I must have gotten what she had said wrong.

    - Do you know The Raven Kings? - Hekki was every bit as surprised as I was.

    - Yeah, we¡¯re both on Blackstar Records and I found out about them going through their catalogue. - she looked from Hekki to me ¨C Why, is it that surprising that I know you? Oh, ye, of little faith.

    - Well, in the name of the people back at home, we will have to ask for evidence. - Hekki always knew what the people wanted to hear.

    - For scientific purposes? - she asked and Hekki echoed.

    She bit her lip, hesitating for a bit, before she sang the more challenging part of Love¡¯s Silent Dance¡¯s bridge. To say that I was dumbstruck, was to play it down and I could bet the month¡¯s salary I did not get, that Benni was out there, rubbing his hands at this very much unplanned, but potentially very good moment.

    - That wasn¡¯t so bad ¨C Eleanora said, and I had a hard time trying to figure out if it was just false modesty.

    - Not bad? I can retire now ¨C my heart really was threatening to come out of my chest. I had been nervous before meeting her, but now I was just over the moon ¨C Where else am I supposed to go from here? Is there anything else, to a musician¡¯s life?

    - You heard it here, first hand, people ¨C Hekki said with a smile ¨C you can run to the stores and buy their album, because Aleksi is retiring.

    - I¡¯d better ask for my autograph now, then ¨C Eleanora laughed. Of course, this was a professional setting, but I think it was safe to say that she was as far removed from being a diva as she could be. Of course, I could be just wearing my starstruck-boy glasses.

    - I¡¯ll give you mine, if you give me yours ¨C I purred into the mic.

    - I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening here, guys ¨C Hekki said and I could hear the excitement in his voice ¨C but I think I may be losing control of this interview. Eleanora ¨C her turn now ¨C I know you were born far, far away and that you speak a load of languages. How¡¯s your Finnish?

    - Utterly deplorable, Tuomas ¨C she closed her eyes, being dramatic. - I know how to say Terve and kiitos, which may not look like it, but it is very limiting, conversational-wise.

    - I mean, it¡¯s something ¨C he said ¨C And you say them beautifully.

    - Yeah ¨C I said, giving her an a-OK ¨C That rolled R was au point.

    - Thank you ¨C she gave us both a nod ¨C But I¡¯ve been told you do have a sort of written and a spoken language at the same time, and I don¡¯t think I either understand that or would have the ability to grasp both of them.

    - I¡¯ve been speaking it for about 16 years, give or take ¨C I looped to the initial part of our interaction ¨C I may not speak it all too well, but do I get a point across, so if you ever need tips¡­ ¨C I pretended to take my hat off, which granted me another smile.

    - I will take your offer into consideration, then.

    - Let¡¯s go back to our origins, shall we? - Hekki asked, still trying to hold on to the reins of that conversation ¨C You were born in Macao, but you are English and Portuguese, right? - she agreed ¨C Did you get to live in Macao?

    - Hmm¡­ Just for a few months. I just went over, popped into the world and then they took a look at my crazy eye and sent me back to Europe, where I¡¯d come from.

    We talked a little bit more about life stories and I got to share my not so exotic one, as I was still, pretty much where I¡¯d been born. Eleanora pointed out that this could be exotic to many people who had never ventured this far North and she did have a point.

    - It¡¯s funny because I usually bring out on the show people who end up being very different from one another but, looking at both of you, you do seem to have a lot of common pointers ¨C Hekki was taking us into another part of the conversation ¨C You¡¯re both in the music world, you¡¯re both singers, and you both play primarily rock music and, I believe the first impression people might have of you is that you may both be very serious people, which I think we are proving wrong here, today.

    - In the right setting, with the right people, I will talk your ear off with nonsense ¨C she said ¨C just ask my poor staff. I don¡¯t think I pay them enough.

    - And I think you said in an interview that you grew up watching Monty Python and Britcom, is that right?

    - Well, there¡¯s only so much one can do in the English countryside. - she chuckled.

    - What about you, Aleksi?

    - Oh, I grew up watching cartoons. I¡¯m far less mature. You know, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Thundercats, Transformers, Gummi Bears. I¡¯d still watch them now, if you gave me the chance.

    - I watched cartoons as well ¨C she said, in a pretend dejected voice ¨C I was also a relatively normal child.

    - Relatively? - I laughed.

    - Well, we all know where that ended up¡­

    - Music, right?

    - The devil¡¯s tritone called out to me. And I answered ¨C she laughed once again. Hekki looked like he was giving up, such was the chaotic energy the both of us were generating.

    - Such a shame, when two relatively normal children are lured by the devil and his rock music, isn¡¯t it?

    Hekki took that cue I handed him on a platter and went straight to musical influences. That was something that would, hopefully, keep us on topic. And it did, we talked about our sources of inspiration, our idols, what we had grown up listening to. From there, we went on to what we would have wanted to do, if we weren¡¯t musicians and, unsurprisingly, it was also related to music. For artists, there is such a drive behind that muse that makes one tingle, that we don¡¯t really mind how limited our horizons get, as long as we get to fulfil our fix of chosen art form. That was a universal truth I eventually ended up seeing in almost every single artist I have met, from then on.

    - And what about differences in your own music? Because, if you¡¯re looking at it from the outside, it may all look the same. You¡¯re both dressed in black, you¡¯re both wailing and suffering, but your themes are very different, aren¡¯t they?

    We both agreed that, although we did worship the same muse, our offerings to her ended up being different.

    - I think I¡¯m much more Death, Doom and Despair and the Raven Kings are more into a Love, Longing and Loneliness sort of wavelength. But I could be wrong, obviously.

    - No, I think that sums it up ¨C I agreed. It was a nice definition of where we were usually heading ¨C Yeah, I agree. I think we¡¯re more lonely boys and you¡¯re more the world is ending and it¡¯s a good thing it finally came to this, sort of drama.

    - Oh, shots fired ¨C she whispered into the microphone ¨C I did not come this far away from home to be called a drama queen.

    - Just Vampire Princess, then? - I asked. I was getting bold. It could end up backfiring.

    - I like that, yeah. - it appeared it did not backfire. - I¡¯ve always wanted to be a vampire.

    - What about your new venture, into musical theatre? - Hekki asked ¨C Can we still get tickets?

    She shook her head, the dancing bun threatening to come loose ¨C No tickets for at least the first month, I¡¯m afraid. It¡¯s sold out, already.

    - How do you do that? - I asked ¨C How do you write a whole play?

    - I¡¯ll tell you the same thing I¡¯ve told the man who¡¯s raising it all from the ground up: I have trouble sleeping. So I write. And, sometimes, those ideas happen to make sense together.

    - Would you ever go down that road, Aleksi? - Tuomas asked.

    - Musical theatre? - I looked at him with a look of disbelief on my face ¨C I don¡¯t think I¡¯m expressive enough for that. It would be the blandest play that ever existed. Besides, do I look like the person that has that sort of discipline?¡­

    - And, Eleanora ¨C of course the main focus would be on her. She was the one people wanted to know about ¨C Let¡¯s talk about your latest controversy.

    - Real or made-up?

    - I think it¡¯s very real ¨C Hekki said, looking at his notes ¨C At the Derek Greene radio show. Are we at any risk that you will just get up and leave?

    She pretended to take off her headphones ¨C I¡¯m leaving right now ¨C there was a soft laugh afterwards, and she adjusted the earpiece once again ¨C No, of course not. This is a lovely conversation with very lovely people and, despite what it may look like, I¡¯m not all that much of a crazy person. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve heard it or if you read about it, but I don¡¯t regret leaving. You can¡¯t expect to disrespect someone and just be greeted with a nice smile. I left because I was uncomfortable. And I stand by that.

    - Did you face any repercussions, after doing that? Because there are a lot of people who could not afford to do what you did.

    Eleanora scoffed and gave no one in particular a half-smile ¨C I¡¯ve had a few cancelled live interviews and it seems like there are some venues, especially in America, that are very reluctant to have me over. I have become too much of a wild card, apparently.

    - Do you have any advice you can give to someone who¡¯s starting out, like Aleksi, for example?

    She shrugged ¨C You just need to be yourself and stick to your own principles. I had failed to realise how simple it really was, up until a few months ago. Just, unapologetically, be you.

    - That is actually great advice ¨C Hekki said, in an upbeat voice ¨C And we¡¯re going to have to end on that positive note because we¡¯re just getting to the end of our time. Eleanora will be performing tomorrow, but the tickets have been sold out for months, so if you don¡¯t have a ticket, tough luck. And the Raven Kings will be performing tonight, is that right, Aleksi?

    - We will be performing tonight and there are still tickets left ¨C I purred.

    - There are still tickets left, people. So run, because they will sell out, after this show. It was a pleasure having you both here and you, on the other side of this radio wave, don¡¯t turn your radio off just yet because we might have a surprise just for you.

    He started speaking in Finnish and our microphones turned off. I took off my headphones, and she did the same, gently placing them over the mic stand.

    There was a break for some advertising and Hekki asked which one of us would like to sing.

    - You do it ¨C she said to me ¨C You can do with the exposure more than me.

    I really never thought someone on her level would forfeit the chance to sing, especially to benefit another unknown artist.

    - It¡¯s you they want to hear ¨C I shrugged, resigned to my fate of being left out in the cold.

    - Why don¡¯t you both sing? - Hekki asked, as he lit a cigarette. I couldn¡¯t help but to ask him for one as well ¨C You know her songs and Eleanora knows your music as well. Best of both worlds.

    - That could be fun ¨C I said, dangling the cigarette between my lips, as Hekki tossed the lighter over. - If you¡¯re up for it, of course. We could do Love¡¯s silent dance.

    I asked myself when did I get so fearless, when just about an hour ago I was a nervous mess.

    - I don¡¯t do duets ¨C she said.

    - Then I¡¯ll play and you sing. Best of both worlds.

    - I¡¯m not stealing your thunder ¨C she laughed ¨C I¡¯m serious, you do it.

    - Sing with me, then ¨C I held the cigarette away from her ¨C I think it¡¯ll come out great. Just one duet, once in your life. Who listens to Hekkinen¡¯s show anyway?

    - Hey! - he said, catching the lighter I threw back at him ¨C Either way, no pressure, but you have two minutes to decide.

    Eleanora bit her lip. I didn¡¯t know if I was just being too forward or too pushy.

    - Meh, why not? - was her answer and I felt butterflies all over my stomach.

    Benni brought my guitar, while we made a quick battle plan on who would sing what part. It wouldn¡¯t be flawless, but it would be a great experience. I could now brag I had sung a duet with someone who claimed she would not do them.

    - Would you like to have lunch or something?

    Seriously, who was this person who kept saying these things? Because my brain was on red alert, sirens blaring, telling me to just shut my big, fat mouth.

    - I¡¯ve been told I have to lose weight ¨C she said, absent-mindedly, as she looked over the battle plan, writing some notes down.

    - Oh¡­

    - But seeing as I don¡¯t like being told what to do¡­ - they gave us the 30-second mark ¨C I would very much like to have lunch, yeah¡­

    A smile bloomed on my lips, which I tried my best to cover.

    - Lunch it is, then.