Author's note: If you have not read the first twelve installments of this story, please do not read this as it will make little sense to you. If you can take the time to read the earlier chapters, I hope you will find the time invested to be worth it. Thank you to everyone who has given me such helpful feedback. Further comments and suggestions are most welcome. Thanks especially to Hebe Dotson who is ruthless at weeding out hidden typos and making wonderful suggestions to help me to better this story.

 

No Half Measures

by Jenny Walker

Part 4

© 2003

 

CHAPTER 27

 

I met Kate for a run the next morning and we chatted about what each of us had been doing as we jogged around the park. My mind was not really on the conversation. I kept thinking back to what Jools had said the previous night. I had protested that she must have been wrong. She had just shrugged and said that she was calling it as she had seen it. She presented the facts: I was dancing with Paul and we were really going for it with the kissing, Paul was an extremely handsome man that I obviously was attracted to, and Jon did not look at all happy with what was going on. She told me to add it up and see what I thought it meant. She had a point, but I still could not get it all worked out in my mind. I mentioned Tanya, Jon's girlfriend, as a defence but Jools just said that was irrelevant.

"Did you hear what I just said?" Kate asked.

"Uhh sorry, I was miles away," I apologised.

"What's got you so preoccupied?"

I shrugged, "Oh you know, work, the new single and all."

She laughed, "Must be hard work being a superstar."

I stuck my tongue out at her, "It's not all it's cracked up to be. But I guess I can't really complain."

Kate smiled, "You know my friends can hardly believe who my jogging partner is."

"Pfah! I'm no different from anybody else. It's just that what I happen to be good at is viewed in a totally different way from most other things. It's blown out of all proportion."

"So you don't like all the fame and recognition?"

"I have to say I haven't really experienced much of it yet. I'll let you know when I do. Now come on, less talk and more running." I sprinted off and she followed in close pursuit.

It was true. My life had not been particularly affected by so-called fame yet. However I knew it would only be a matter of time. I had been aware of receiving second glances from people on the street or in shops, but nothing much more than that. I was quite glad as the thought of being unable to go out without drawing undue attention to myself was not overly appealing. I reckoned that I should enjoy relative anonymity while it lasted.

 

----------*----------

 

Simon was delighted that the video shoot was complete and Herby had assured him that the editing and mastering would be finished by the end of the week. The single was going to the radio stations immediately and then going on sale the next Monday. True to his word, Herby had the video ready for viewing on Friday morning. The band, Jools and I met with Simon and Herby in one of the Sony conference rooms to watch it. Herby waxed lyrical about it and whilst he seemed to be complimenting me, somehow he managed to reflect the glory onto the director who had brought the spectacle that we were about to witness into reality.

However, to be fair to him, he was due a lot of credit. I was very impressed by what I saw. It was really quite strange as it felt like I was watching a video representation of the events that had taken place the previous December in Plymouth. There was a stark contrast between the drab dance hall and the glamour of the ballroom in the latter scenes. With the cutting and editing that Herby had done, the dancing looked even smoother and more glamorous than it actually had been. As for the kissing scene? I was shocked by the apparent reality and passion of it. I felt myself redden. Jools leant over and whispered in my ear, "See? That is what it looked like to him and the rest of us." I knew what she was talking about, but chose to ignore it. Herby got the applause that he was due and the feedback from everyone was certainly very positive.

On Monday, there started another wearying round of touring the radio stations and giving endless interviews. I revisited a few stations that we had called in with when 'No Half Measures' was released. This time, the attitude of the D.J.'s seemed a little different. It was as if I was given more credibility. I was no longer the debutant with no past record. With my first single hitting the Top Ten, the new record was already gaining more prominence on the play lists. The cover of the single, which I had already spotted in the shops, used one of the other photos that Rod had taken in the first shoot. It was one of me in a long flowing black dress staring past the camera into the distance.

I felt a little more comfortable with the images and the videos that were accompanying this single. I think part of it was also that I hoped it would not be as repelling to my father if he ever happened to see any of it. Some annoying part of my brain reminded me of the kissing scene with Paul. I sighed as I realised that this new video was unlikely to win my father over. I had been trying not to think about Dad and Claire but in the quiet moments in the back of the limousine that ferried me between interviews, I had too much time to reflect on things. Several weeks had now passed and neither of them had got in touch with me. Part of me was resigned to this isolation, yet if I let myself think about it too much, I had to quell the emotions that would rise up within me.

One of the more challenging interviews took place on the Thursday morning. It was my first appearance on TV. It was a popular morning chat show which I was quite familiar with, but rarely had watched. After much deliberation, I had chosen to wear a simple floral print sleeveless sundress. I arrived at the studio early in the morning to meet the hosts, David and Carol. They were polite and welcoming and this helped to put me at ease. After a trip to the makeup department, I waited in the wings for my cue. I felt like I was going to be sick. In a sense I would rather have walked out and performed my song live. I could do that. I knew what a live performance involved. To be interviewed on live television? That was different.

The time came and I walked out onto the set to generous applause from the studio audience. I settled myself on the couch next to the hosts and took great pains to ensure that my dress did not ride up and expose me on national TV. Although I was nervous at first, the questions were gentle and the easygoing manner of David and Carol dissipated a lot of the tension I had been feeling. The time passed quickly and as part of the slot, they showed an excerpt of my new video. They were very complimentary about the new song and wished me all the best. Before I knew it, it was over and I was able to breathe again in the sanctuary of being off stage. Jools was waiting for me and gave me a big hug as she assured me that I had done well. It was not an easy experience, but one that I would probably have to become more comfortable with.

 

----------*----------

 

On Friday morning, I sat in the back of the limo as we headed up the M40 to Oxford where I was to do an afternoon signing session for the new single in a large record store. It was just me and the driver as Simon and Jools claimed to have other things on. I reckoned they just could not be bothered with the hassle. Someone had to go though and that someone was me. I had tried to talk Jon into going with me but he was not very keen and I did not want to push it any further.

The manager of the store was delighted to see me and there was a nice lunch laid on before we headed down to the shop floor. I was quite astounded at the hordes of people queuing. I could barely believe they were there to see me.

"Is there something else happening here today?" I asked the manager.

He laughed, "No, they are all here for you."

Although quite overawed, I sat down at the assigned table and began to autograph the copies of the new single for the multitudes that passed before me. I tried to keep smiling and share a few words with each person. Quite a few had brought their copy of 'No Half Measures' and asked if I would sign it too. I was happy to oblige. As the afternoon wore on, I was beginning to get weary and I have to admit I was glad to see the back of the seemingly endless line approaching.

Eventually the last person stepped forward. He was a rather gawky looking guy who was probably in his late teens. He was of medium height and skinny with lank sandy hair. He looked ill at ease.

"Hi, I'm Cara Malone. What's your name?"

"Uhh Peter. Peter Crawford," he stammered.

I smiled, "Well Peter, it looks like you are the last, but certainly not the least. Can I sign something for you?"

"Uhh sure," he held out his copy of the single. I wrote 'To Peter, with love from Cara Malone'. He took it with something which almost approached awe. I leant back in my chair and stretched and smiled, "You know, I am really just a normal human being."

He actually smiled, "Thanks so much." He turned as if to walk away and then hesitantly turned back. "Umm, Miss Malone, can I ask you something?" He blushed.

I grinned, "Sure but less of the Miss Malone, I can't be that much older than you."

"Uhh right. Well I was wondering, it's just that, well I sort of play piano a bit and I love your new song. But I can't work out the chord sequence at the very end of the song. It's been bugging me all week."

I laughed as I got up and put my jacket on, "Yes. I can imagine. I know what that feels like. The problem is there are no real chords for it. It's like a series of cadences and mini arpeggios which I just sort of came across."

I stretched my back and put my pen in my pocket. "It's hard to explain and I would probably need to show you, but I don't know where the nearest piano is." I winked.

He nodded and blurted out, "I've one at my house." He stopped, blushed and then apologised, "I'm sorry, I'm being silly. It was great to meet you and thanks for talking to me." He turned and walked away, his ears quite evidently red from his blushing.

I stood there thoughtfully for a moment. I am not really sure why I did what I did next. "Peter, wait a moment." He stopped. I said my good byes to the manager and shop staff and then walked over to where he was standing.

"You live nearby?"

He looked at me wide-eyed, "Uhh yeah."

I chuckled, "Ever been in a limousine before?"

He half-laughed, half-choked, "Are you winding me up?"

I smiled and looked at him through half-closed eyelashes, "Oh well, if you don't want me to come and show you how it is played?"

He then went pale and eventually regained control of his tongue, "Too right I do. I don't believe this."

We got into the back of the limo and I explained the little detour to the driver. It did not matter to him. He was getting paid by the hour and he was not paid to offer an opinion on what I was doing. Peter's house, or rather his parents' house, was on the outskirts of Oxford and it took just over ten minutes to get there. I tried to get him talking on the way. He was eighteen and had just finished his A-levels. He lived for music and played piano and keyboards. It seemed that he was also a bit of a songwriter but appeared embarrassed to admit this.

As we walked up the path to his house he stopped, "What am I going to tell my Mum?"

I shrugged, "Tell her you have brought a friend round."

He laughed, "Yeah, but you are a girl."

Ignoring the slight inaccuracy in his statement I responded, "Well it can't be the first time…" I saw the look on his face. It was the first time. I grinned and continued, "Well so be it, come on."

He opened the door and called out, "Mum, I'm home."

"In the kitchen dear," came the response.

He slowly opened the kitchen door, "Uhh Mum, I've brought a…friend home."

"That's nice dear, who is it?"

"Emm…it's Cara Malone."

I heard a chuckle, "Peter Crawford, will you never be done teasing your poor mother. Now away with you."

He closed the door and shrugged semi-apologetically. He led me to a room that contained an upright piano and Yamaha keyboard. I walked over to the piano and gestured towards it, "May I?"

He nodded, "Sure, go ahead."

I sat down and tried a few chords. "Shall I just play the whole song the way I wrote it?"

He nodded again and could not quite manage to find any words to accompany the nodding. I grinned and started to play. At the end I ran down the series of notes that brought the song to its gentle finale and turned to face him. He was watching me with rapt attention. "Shall I show you the notes at the end again?" I paused, "Peter?"

He sat up straight with a start, "Uhh yes, sorry. Sure, please."

I showed him again and got him to try it. He did not quite get it the first time, but the second time, he had it down pat. I was quite impressed and told him so. He blushed again.

"Say, do you want to play it all for me and I'll sing?"

He looked a little unsure so I grinned, "OK well if you want to sing, I'm happy to play."

He laughed and relaxed a little, "I guess I'll play."

He was good and played it almost exactly as I had. As I finished singing the last chorus, the door to the room opened and a middle-aged lady with an apron on came into the room. She looked more than a little surprised to see me. When Peter finished playing, he turned round and actually quite calmly said, "Oh Mum, meet Cara Malone. Cara, this is my mother."

I walked over and held out a hand. She looked a little shell-shocked. "Pl-pleased to meet you." She looked over at Peter, "You were telling me the truth?" He shrugged.

She turned back to me, "This is incredible. You do realise for the last six weeks Peter has hardly talked about anyone except Cara Malone and here you are?"

"Mum!" Peter groaned.

"Sorry dear, I'm just quite taken aback. Err anyway, I'll leave you in peace now."

As she left the room, there was an awkward silence. Peter eventually coughed and spoke, "Look I'm sorry. But she's right. I really love your first two songs and…well…I think you're really pretty."

I smiled and had to stifle a giggle, "Thanks Peter. I'm really touched. You know I'm very impressed with your playing. Do you perform at all?"

He grinned, "Well there are a few of us who play in a band. We haven't done anything much, but it's a start. I don't think it will last though. Most of them are going to head off to University next autumn."

"And you're not?"

He shrugged, "Mum wants me to. She says I should do a music degree if I'm so keen on music."

"But you don't think so?"

He smiled, "No. I don't want a music degree. I don't want to be a music teacher or anything, I want to be a songwriter and…well a singer."

There was so much of what he said that rang true with my own experiences. It was almost uncanny. I realised that I was standing there musing while Peter was watching me. I made myself focus on the present, "Err anyway, so tell me when is your band playing next?"

He half-grimaced, "Well we are supposed to be playing at our end of year formal tomorrow week."

"You don't want to?"

He sighed, "Yeah I do. I'm just going to go along for the after dinner bit and do the performance though."

"Peter, you can't do that. You have to go to the dinner, the end of school formal only happens once." As I said the words I felt quite hypocritical, because I remembered that what Peter was planning to do was exactly what I had done myself. I wondered if his real reason was also the same. "Why wouldn't you go to the whole thing?"

He looked down at the floor and kicked one of the legs of the piano stool, "Well, I don't have anyone to go with."

My heart went out to him as I felt his pain. I felt it like an echo of the pain that I had endured myself. A slight, gangly young man who it seemed had loads of talent, but no luck with the members of the opposite sex. Perhaps it was this identification with him, perhaps it was pity, I don't know, but what I said next almost caught me as much by surprise as it did Peter, "Well…I don't have anything planned for Saturday week."

He looked at me with his mouth open, slack jawed, "Uhh…wh-what?"

I smiled coyly, "But of course, you probably wouldn't want to take me."

He blinked several times and pushed his hair back from his face, "Are you serious?"

I wondered that myself, but I was. "Yes, I am. Look you might not believe it, but when I was at school I was not the most popular and I didn't make it to my school formal."

"But, but…you're beautiful."

I smiled, "Let's say I was a late bloomer."

He thought for a moment and said, "So are you just taking pity on me?"

I shook my head, "No. I missed out on my school formal; you are going to miss out on yours. Why don't we make up for those two disappointments?"

He sat and shook his head slowly, "I'm taking Cara Malone to the formal?"

I chuckled, "Not unless you ask her properly you aren't."

He smiled and awkwardly asked, "Err Cara, would you like to accompany me to the end of year formal?"

I grinned, "I'd love to."

He laughed, "You know, I'm going to wake up and find this was all a dream."

"Well dreamer boy, you need to get two formal tickets and get a dinner suit to make yourself look presentable. And me? I've got to find myself a formal dress."

He was almost in a daze as he walked me to the door, "Cara, listen. I know I'm probably pushing my luck, but…at the formal, would there be any chance of you singing 'Not Dancing, but Flying' if I and the band backed you for it?"

I grinned, "Sure, but don't tell Sony as I'm sure it would contravene the terms of my contract."

As the limousine drove off, I could see him still standing at the door watching us head into the distance. I chuckled to myself and although I had surprised myself at the turn of events, I felt as if I was doing something good. I had a few other ideas up my sleeve as well.

 

----------*----------

 

Sunday evening found Jools and I huddled around the radio listening to the Chart Show. It seemed interminable as the countdown crawled ever lower. I was really on edge when the D.J. did the rundown from twenty to ten as that was where I hoped and expected to find 'Not Dancing, but Flying'. I was disappointed. There was no mention of it. However the despondency soon turned to delight as I heard him announce a new entry for Cara Malone at number eight. A new entry in the Top Ten? I felt dizzy and quite overcome with emotion. Jools and I jumped up and down hugging each other like silly schoolgirls.

"I can't believe this. A new entry straight into the Top Ten," I gasped breathlessly.

"Believe it!" Jools grinned triumphantly, "You know I don't think you believe in yourself half enough. Certainly not half as much as those of us do who know you well."

I waved a hand at her, "I can't let myself start to think I am more than I really am."

Jools winked, "Oh but girl, you are SO much more than you appear to be."

I laughed and was about to launch a tickle attack upon her when I was interrupted by the phone ringing. I grabbed for it and inside I was hoping against hope that it might actually be Claire. It was not. It was Simon who was making sure he did not get lost in the phone queue this time. He was elated and had high hopes that we would get an invite for a live performance on Top of the Pops the following Friday night.

I did not want to believe this. Simon however seemed very confident. On Monday afternoon, he was proved to be correct as he phoned to say that the producer of Top of the Pops had just been on the phone and requested a live performance. He assumed I was going to answer in the affirmative. I strung him out a little and he was getting a little flustered. I put him out of his misery and assured him that of course I wanted to do it. What child growing up with their dreams of being a rock or pop star does not imagine what it would be like to perform on Top of the Pops?

----------*----------

 

The next few days were a whirlwind of more radio interviews and signing sessions in a number of other record stores. By the time Friday morning came I was quite exhausted, but the anticipation of performing on live TV that evening lifted me. We met up with the rest of the band in the BBC Television Centre just after nine a.m. The guys were fairly pumped as well. Kevin looked like a bundle of nervous energy and by just watching him I could feel my own heart rate increasing. Jon looked fairly laid-back, but I knew he was relishing the occasion as in the past we had both shared dreams of such a moment. Brian was his usual phlegmatic self and Noel was as obnoxious as ever.

The producer introduced himself to us and the other artists who would be performing in the studio. The first thing that he had to ascertain was whether we wanted to play live or mime to the song. There was only one answer to that question in my mind. It had to be live. I was a bit of a musical snob on this issue. If it was supposedly a live performance, then it had to be live for real. The producer was accepting of this, but tried to talk us round to the benefits of miming. It would make his job easier and that of his sound crew. When he realised that I was quite adamant, he gave in gracefully.

We watched some of the other artists practising. They had gone for the mime option. They ran through their songs a few times and to their credit, it was quite hard to tell they were miming. When our turn came, we had to do a full sound check. It was like three sound checks really. One to make sure our fold back was satisfactory, another for the sound in the studio itself and finally and probably most importantly to make sure the sound for the broadcast was suitable. After a lot of technical jiggery-pokery which began to bore me, we were ready to try a run through. We played through the song a few times and it went pretty smoothly. All concerned seemed happy enough and before long, it was time for a late lunch. Nobody seemed to have much of an appetite.

I had had strong words with each of the guys on the phone over the past few days regarding wardrobe choices. I had told them in no uncertain terms that they had to put some thought and effort into what they were going to wear and what image they were seeking to project. I had such little faith in their ability in this area that I had eventually insisted that they all go down to Sony the previous day and spend some time in the wardrobe department there. When they came out from the changing rooms it seemed to have paid off. They were not wearing anything flashy, but they looked clean, smart and certainly presentable. Jon was wearing an outfit very similar to one that Paul had worn in the video: black silk shirt and white cotton trousers. It did look very good on him, but the similarity was not lost on me.

"Haven't I seen an outfit like this before?" I asked with a wink.

He looked uncomfortable, "Yeah well, the girl at Sony insisted that I had to wear this."

"Why?"

He shrugged, "She said something about maintaining continuity of images or the like."

I smiled, "It looks great."

He relaxed a little, "Thanks." He paused and grinned, "And you are a knockout – as usual."

I waved a hand at him and allowed myself a little smile, "Thanks."

I had agonised over what to wear. I suppose that I had bought into the notion of 'continuity of images' or whatever else you want to call it. I had thought that I should wear something in keeping with the song and the video. A ball gown would have been over the top so I finally settled for a sleeveless short red dress that fairly clung to my figure. High-heeled matching pumps and sheer black stockings completed the simple outfit. It created the effect I desired: attractive, yet classy and even sexy. Yes I admitted to myself that I wanted to be desirable and sexy. I was not sure whether this was an expression of some insecurity on my part. Did I have to be seen to be attractive to validate who I was? I hoped I was not that shallow, but I had to admit that although I had been living as a woman for the past six months, I still was not completely at ease with my new persona. Was I driving myself into femininity to help overcome any residual uncertainty? Save it for the psychologist I told my inner self as I tried to focus on the present.

The TOTP bandwagon had a great makeup team. It was amusing to watch the guys having to endure a makeup session to prevent them from looking like ghosts under the studio lights. I have to confess that I was rather merciless in teasing them. Particularly Jon.

I stood behind his chair as he was worked on, "Now Jon, perhaps you will have a better appreciation of the time and effort we girls put in for our appearance."

The look he gave me was priceless and I had to laugh. In the uneasiness of the guys, I felt an echo of my initial uneasiness with such things. It was amazing how quickly you could adapt to something. When they were done, it was my turn. A far longer turn than they had had. My hair was styled and draped over my right shoulder. It was a new look and I loved it. It looked shiny and glossy. My makeup was even more pronounced than usual, but not overdone. The girls explained that although less is usually more, for the TV studio more is actually less. Perhaps you can work that out; I think I understood them.

The show started at seven thirty and we were sitting in a dressing room getting more and more nervous. We were scheduled to go on at seven fifty-one. Brian sat pensively in a corner looking like he was chewing a hole in his lip and Jon was leaning against a wall with his eyes closed. Kevin was pacing up and down clicking his fingers incessantly. It was quite distracting, but most of us managed to ignore it. Except Noel.

"Oh for God's sake man, would you quit it?" he exclaimed.

Kevin looked hurt, "Sorry man, I'm just a bit wired you know."

"You're always wired and you're making me edgy."

"Look sorry…"

"Just stop, OK?"

I sighed but did not say anything. I was feeling pretty wired too. Your mind has a sadistic way of imagining everything that could go wrong: tripping in your high-heels, forgetting your words, delivering a flat performance. I shook my head and tried to clear my mind, but it was practically impossible. I was actually thankful when one of the studio assistants called us out at seven forty-six. We made our way onto the stage that had been prepared for us. The show was broadcasting a video of another song at present and the studio audience were all watching it on a large screen. We got into position in semi-darkness and stood there waiting for our cue.

"And now with her second single entering the charts at number eight, this is Cara Malone with 'Not Dancing, but Flying'…"

There was a swell of cheering from the crowd, the stage lights blazed and Noel began the piano introduction. I smiled as I started to sing. I tried to pour my emotions that had been building up all day into the performance. I took the microphone from its stand when it came to the last chorus and as the guys dropped the volume, I held it to my upraised face, my eyes half-closed, "And whenever I will think or dream of you, we're not dancing…but flying."

The crowd cheered and whistled and I lowered my head, opened my eyes and smiled. What a rush! The show moved on to the final countdown and then played the number one single. We filed back to our dressing room on a high. Everything had gone as planned and we felt we had delivered a good performance. Jools was delighted and assured us that, from where she had been standing, it came across great.

After the show, we got our makeup cleaned off, and changed into our regular clothes. In a funny way it was almost a relief to get back into a simple top and pair of jeans. I realised that my attitudes had changed almost imperceptibly. Yes I still loved getting dressed up and wearing sexy clothes. I felt a little embarrassed to be admitting this to myself, but I knew it was true. However, I did also enjoy being able to slip into something casual and comfortable and especially shoes with a lower heel! I had mentioned this to Jools before and she had laughed and told me it was a sign that I was becoming even more of a real woman. I supposed she was right. I realised with some relief that I did not now feel that I had to dress ultra-feminine all the time.

Jools, the guys and I all headed to a bar afterwards to wind down and chat. Laura met us there and assured us that she had dutifully recorded the show as instructed and she complimented us on a great performance. The relief amongst us was almost palpable and I enjoyed a few glasses of white wine. The conversation was light and the humour was flowing. Noel was sitting beside me and I noticed that he was knocking back quite a few vodkas. I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow at him. He noticed and smiled.

"Hey don't worry, I'm just chilling out. After the tension of the day, it's the least we deserve no?"

I shrugged and forced a smiled, "Yeah I guess."

It was a little disconcerting however. I knew he had once had a problem with alcohol and recently it seemed that he was beginning to drink again. Who was I to question it though? Perhaps he had things under control. It was hardly my place to tell him what to do.

 

----------*----------

 

"I still don't understand why on earth you are doing this?" Jools said as I concentrated on my reflection in the mirror while I put my lipstick on.

"I didn't think you would," I said without thinking carefully.

"Hey! That's a bit patronising don't you think?" she said sounding a bit hurt.

I turned to face her, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Well indulge me then. What would possess you to go to a school formal with some geeky guy you don't know."

Her words stung me and I had to swallow hard to stop myself from lashing out in response. I composed myself and spoke calmly, "Because I know what it is like to be the geeky guy that no-one would dream of going out with even if they did know him very well."

She bit her lip and flushed, "Cara, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I mean I'm just so used to you being this beautiful woman that at times I even forget you were ever anything different."

I sighed, "I know. I'm probably crazy, but I remember how torn up I was that I couldn't go to my own formal. It was like I was an outcast or something. No-one wanted me."

"Why didn't you ask someone?"

I laughed mirthlessly, "Oh I did: Sarah Stevens. She wasn't the most gorgeous girl in the year, but she was pretty and I had always got on well with her. I really liked her and eventually plucked up the courage to ask her…"

"And?"

I blinked a few times, "She just laughed and thought I was joking."

After a few moments silence, Jools tried again, "Well damn it, why didn't you just go with some other mates and stuff the obnoxious bitches. Go and have a good time?"

I screwed up my face, "It's fine for girls to do that, but it wasn't the same for us geeky guys. We would just have provided the in crowd with another opportunity to poke fun at us."

Jools walked over, stood behind me and gave my shoulders a squeeze. She spoke softly, "So why are you doing this?"

I shrugged, "It's the right thing to do. I just don't want this guy to suffer like I did."

She smiled, "Well I think he will be the envy of the in crowd tonight."

I had on my corset and the black satin dress that Jools and Beth had bought for me to wear to the Christmas dinner dance. I had pinned my hair up on top of my head and I was ready to go. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled murmuring, "This one's for you Nick."

 

----------*----------

 

When the limousine stopped outside Peter's house, the driver got out and opened the door for me. I walked up to the door and Peter's mother had it open before I even raised a finger to the doorbell.

"Oh my gracious," she exclaimed, "You look lovely my dear. Come in, come in."

She was fussing and anxious and apologised, "I'm sorry I'm trying to get my Peter ready, he'll be down in a moment."

I chuckled, "Makes a change, the girl having to wait for the guy."

Peter came stumbling down the stairs before long. I was actually impressed. He had got his hair cut short and looked far better for it. I reflected that perhaps my mother had been right all along. Perhaps Nick should have had his hair cut. His suit fit him well enough and whilst he did not look like a well built athlete by any stretch of the imagination, he filled it out adequately. His eyes widened and he shook his head when he saw me.

Almost breathlessly he said, "I can't believe this, you look awesome."

I smiled and returned the compliment, "You're looking pretty dishy yourself."

He blushed to the roots of his hair but was spared further embarrassment by his mother appearing again brandishing a camera.

"Have to have a few shots for posterity," she explained.

Peter awkwardly put his arm around my shoulder and she took half a roll of film. When she was finally satisfied Peter dryly quipped, "At least now we can prove this wasn't a dream eh?"

 

----------*----------

 

In the limousine I appeared to make polite conversation, but I had an ulterior motive. I asked Peter if he had asked anyone from his year to the formal. With a bit of cajoling I managed to get an answer out of him. There was a girl called Rachel Kendall. It sounded like Sarah Stevens all over again. She had of course rejected him and was going to the formal with one of the First Fifteen rugby players. The guy was a jerk I was reliably informed by Peter and I did not doubt it. When we arrived at the hotel where the formal was being held, Peter held my door open for me as I got out. I slipped my arm through his and he smiled nervously at me as we walked into the function suite.

"How on earth can I explain this? I mean last night you were on Top of the Pops, and you were fantastic by the way, and tonight here you are with me," he asked in a low voice.

I shrugged and smiled at him, "I'm a friend of yours, you asked me and I was delighted to come. Just be cool."

He smiled to himself and it was almost as if he seemed to be walking just a little taller after that. We made our way towards our table and I was aware of heads turning and some surreptitious pointing in our direction. There was some shaking of heads and raised eyebrows. I had expected that I would be easier to recognise in such a group. I imagined that most of the young people present would be fairly up to date with the music scene. I just pretended not to notice any of it and I whispered for Peter to do likewise. He just nodded gently and smiled. We took our seats at the allocated table and a tall thin guy with a touch of acne came loping over.

"Hey Petey man, I thought you weren't coming. So who is this lovely lady – oh – my - God, you're Cara Malone, I can't believe this, is this for real?"

He eventually stopped speaking and took a breath and looked incredulously first at Peter and then me. Peter was getting into the role and leant back casually in his seat, "Oh hi Harry. Harry Thompson, meet Cara Malone."

I smiled and shook his hand, which was shaking. He looked too bemused to ask anything further and just took his seat at the other side of the table. The table eventually filled up and there were repeated introductions to the other members as they arrived that were variations on a theme of what had happened with Harry. I was aware that I was getting more than my fair share of glances from many of the males present and perhaps even more from the females. The latter who found their partners looking were not overly amused. I had decided that I was not intending to be the centre of attention all night and I was content to chat pleasantly with those at the table and answer some of their questions. However eventually I said that I was sure they had heard enough about me and I began to question them about what they were planning to do with their lives after school. Soon enough there was a healthy and relaxed buzz of conversation at the table and I was more than happy to take a back seat role.

I murmured in Peter's ear, "Table ten, third from the right with the long fair hair."

"Huh?" he whispered as he looked in that direction and then looked back at me, "How did you know?" It was Rachel Kendall.

I shrugged, "I don't know. Lucky guess I imagine." Perhaps it was a lucky guess or perhaps it was just that she looked like the sort of girl I would have been attracted to. She was pretty, yet she did not look like the type of girl who thought too much of herself. Sitting beside her was a hulk of a guy with a crew cut and a large mouth which he seemed to overuse in both the input and output senses.

"I don't know what she sees in him," I whispered.

"Yeah me too," he said almost dreamily.

The meal was good and I had to admit that I really enjoyed it. We were at what was no doubt being called the 'geek table'. These were the guys that I would have been friendly with, had I still been Nick and been at this school. It all seemed so familiar. The conversation was intelligent yet light hearted. No-one here was pretentious or false. At the end of the meal, people began to rise and mingle or head to the bathroom. I noticed Rachel getting up and heading in that direction. I excused myself from the table and headed to the bathroom too.

A few girls were coming out of the door as I passed them on my way in. Their conversation stopped dead and they could not help but stare. I just smiled and made my way in. I timed my run so that I was coming out of the cubicle just as Rachel was touching up her makeup at the mirror. There was no-one else in the room. I smiled, "Hi."

She looked at me as if I was from another planet. She blurted, "You're Cara Malone."

I nodded, "Pleased to meet you Rachel."

If she had looked unsettled before, she now looked positively disturbed, "Y-you know my name?"

I began to touch up my makeup too, "Sure. Peter has told me a lot about you."

"He has?" she said with growing curiosity.

I nodded and turned to her with a smile, "Oh yes."

She asked the question which I'm sure was on a lot of lips, "Err, why are you…I mean how do you know Peter?"

"Oh we're just friends. I was over at his house last week having a bit of a jamming session. He asked me to come tonight. His first choice turned him down apparently so I'm his second choice."

She nearly choked, "You're his second choice?" The implication hit her.

I turned back to the mirror, "You know Peter?"

She nodded, "Umm yes. We had a few classes together."

I blotted my lips, "He's a great guy."

She chewed her lip, "Yes he is."

I smiled at her brightly, "So are you here with your boyfriend?"

She gave a half-chuckle, "Oh no. Kent is…just a…well…acquaintance I guess."

It was pretty much as I had thought. More concerned about outward appearances she had chosen to go with the bonehead whom she hardly knew and probably did not like.

"Well nice to meet you Rachel," I said turning to go.

"Err wait a moment."

I turned and raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"Are you and Peter…well…more than friends?"

I smiled, "No. Don't get me wrong, Peter is a great guy, make no mistake about it. But to be honest, he's still dead keen on this other girl he wanted to come here tonight with." I shrugged and smiled ruefully, "Plenty more fish in the sea eh?"

A momentary look of what seemed regret flashed across her face and she nodded thoughtfully as I turned and made my exit. I picked my way through the crowd back to our table. Although a lot of people looked at me, it seemed as if few had the courage to ask if I was who they thought I was.

Peter looked at me unsurely, "Uhh you OK?"

I smiled, "Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

"Err, just you seemed to take a long time."

I winked, "Peter, it takes a lot of work for a woman to make herself look good." If only he knew the truth in my case. However the explanation quietened him, but I was sure he had noticed the 'coincidence' of Rachel exiting the ladies' room shortly after me. There was a local band on stage playing and apparently Peter and his group were going to do a little set while the band took a break later on. Peter awkwardly asked, "Erm, do you…want to dance?"

I grinned, "You bet I do."

I let him lead me to the dance floor and though he looked nervous, his head was held high. He was not the best dancer in the world, but he was actually better than I had been at his age. After a few fast numbers, the band started to play a slow one and Peter looked a little unsure of himself. I smiled at him and slid closer to him and put my arms around his neck. He smiled and slowly put his hands gently on my waist and we swayed to the music.

"Are you having a good time?" I asked softly.

He laughed, "Oh yes, I can honestly say I'm enjoying myself. You're a wonderful person Cara."

I chuckled and shook my head, "No Peter. You're a special person, remember that and believe in yourself." I paused, "And you know what? I think Rachel might be beginning to realise that too."

He stiffened a little, "Wh-what did you say?"

I giggled a little, "I just told her I was here as a stand-in, your second choice because the girl you really liked turned you down for some strange reason."

He groaned, "Tell me you didn't?" However he could not keep himself from smiling.

 

----------*----------

 

Peter's band was good. Not quite the finished article, but more like clear raw talent. They played a few numbers with each of them taking a turn at the vocals. Peter had a good voice. It was strong and resonant. He would not have the same problem as I had had. Problem? Did I see it as that? I actually looked on it as a blessing now.

Peter was looking more assured of himself now and he took the microphone, "Ladies, gentlemen, rugby players…," cheers and jeers, "it is my great pleasure to welcome on stage a very dear friend of mine. I think some of you may recognise her. Please give a warm round of applause for Cara Malone."

More whistles and cheers ensued as I made my way onto the stage. Peter handed me the microphone and I winked at him. "Thank you. It's wonderful to be able to share this special night with you. I never made it to my own formal as no-one ever asked me." A big 'aww' went up from the crowd. I grinned, "As you get caught up in the romance of tonight you might think that by the end of it you are not dancing, but flying…"

On cue, Peter started the intro and I began to sing. No-one danced. They all stood stock still with their eyes fixed on the stage. The band did a good job and Peter had now mastered the piano accompaniment. There was a roar of applause when we finished and I made the band take a bow.

Afterwards, Peter and I danced some more and his eyes were bright and his face flushed from the adrenaline of live performance. "There's nothing like it, sure there's not?" I asked.

He laughed, "Nothing at all. I can't believe…"

He was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. It was Kent with Rachel standing beside him. She looked uncomfortable.

"Uhh yes?" Peter asked.

Kent spoke with a slurred voice, "Time to share the goodies Peter." He looked at me and gave me what he must have thought was his best winning smile, "Wanna dance honey?"

I felt my stomach turn. If I danced with him it would give Peter the opportunity to dance with Rachel, but I hedged my bets and thought I knew how Kent's little mind would work.

I refused, "I'm sorry, but I'd rather dance with my date all the same."

Kent did not take it well, "C'mon babe, what's a hottie like you doing with this dork?"

I could see Peter bristling and I prayed that he would not do anything stupid like start a physical confrontation. Thankfully Peter was well aware of his own limitations. Rachel was looking disgusted at what Kent had said.

I looked at Kent disdainfully and turned my nose up, "By dork I presume you mean the intelligent and kind gentleman who is accompanying me." I gave him an acid smile, "I'm afraid there is no comparison, now excuse me."

He was not happy to leave it at that. The combination of brain-addling alcohol and his fury made him respond the only way he knew how, "You stuck up bitch!" He balled his fist and raised it as if he was about to hit me before he realised what he was doing.

"Kent no!" screamed Rachel. This caught the attention of some of the door staff, or bouncers as they are commonly known. Kent realised that he could not hit me and turned his attention to the next available target: Peter. He pulled back his fist and was about to launch it into Peter's face when it was grabbed from behind.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" demanded one of Kent's mates who was even bigger than him.

Before Kent had the chance to respond, the door staff had him in their grasp, "Come along son, let's get some fresh air."

Kent made a token protest, but the guys holding him looked like they knew a few dirty tricks that would not have been taught on the rugby pitch. He was taken outside and we knew he would not be allowed back in as he could barely stand up straight.

The guy who had grabbed Kent's arm introduced himself as Geoffrey. He was the captain of the rugby team, "Look I'm really sorry Ms. Malone, sorry Peter. Kent can be a real asshole at times. Especially when he's drunk."

I smiled, "No problem and thank you Geoffrey." He grinned and waved.

That left Peter, Rachel and I standing there. Peter was looking quite relieved. I dreaded to think what would have happened if Kent had been able to carry through his intentions. I had miscalculated. I had attributed too much basic decency to Kent and had not thought he would actually lash out. Rachel looked crestfallen and she turned to Peter, "Peter I'm really sorry."

He shrugged and smiled, "Hey you're not to blame for his behaviour."

She shook her head, "No, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry for not accepting your invitation to come. I don't know what got into me. Kent is a jerk."

Peter shrugged again but looked as if he had grown a foot taller. I knew that this was my time.

"Peter, Rachel – listen, I'm sorry but I'm exhausted. I've had a busy schedule recently and I think I'm going to have to leave now to get back to London." I feigned a furrowed brow, "I guess since Kent has gone Rachel is going to need a lift home, so tell you what – I'll tell the limo driver to take you both home whenever you want. Or take you wherever you want." I winked and they both smiled. "I'll get a taxi back to London."

"A taxi?" Peter asked. "That will cost you a fortune."

I winked again, "I'm not short of a bob or two."

They both laughed and walked me to the door. Rachel hugged me and whispered in my ear, "Thanks."

"Make the best of your second chance," I whispered back and she nodded.

I looked at Peter and he looked back at me. He laughed and opened his arms and I hugged him too. "Cara Malone, you are something else."

I laughed, "So are you Peter Crawford. If there's anything I can ever help you with, give me a ring."

I walked out and as I turned to look back, I saw Rachel slip her hand inside Peter's as they waved. I smiled to myself and went to inform the driver of the change of plan.

 

----------*----------

 

CHAPTER 28

 

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

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

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

I furrowed my brow, "What? Huh?"

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

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

With a smile on her face she looked at me and said, "You're amazing, you know that?"

I shrugged awkwardly, "Jools, come on…"

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

I wriggled a little in my seat, "Jools, I don't know what to say."

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

I felt a little pang of remorse at those words. Not regret, but more like the resigned acceptance at the passing of something that was not all bad. I felt a tear make a bid for escape from my left eye and I grabbed the tissue again. "Now look what you've made me do," I gently accused Jools. She smiled and moved round behind me and hugged me.

As I lingered in the shower, I mused on her words. I think they resonated particularly deeply with me because even I was having trouble remembering what it was like to be Nick. I had not lost my memory or anything. I could remember all the things that had happened to me, but I found it hard to remember what it felt like to be Nick, to be a man. Was this a bad thing? I was not quite sure. I towelled my hair and let my mind interrogate me a little further. OK, so what things did you do as Nick that you now miss? Images of my mother and her fussing over me as her son flooded into my mind and I swallowed hard and closed my eyes tight. I put that out of my mind as I rationalised that it was from a different set of issues that I was trying to deal with. I thought again. As hard as I wracked my brain, I could not come up with anything convincing that I missed that I could not enjoy now. The only thing that came close was the loss of being able to have a relationship with a girl as a guy. However when I probed that one further, I realised that in the current climate, if I wanted to pursue such a relationship as I was now, it would not be impossible.

I slipped on a short pale blue T-shirt and pulled on my jeans. As I brushed my hair, I regarded myself in the mirror. Any regrets? My head shook from the brushings and it was almost as if it was giving me the subliminal answer to my question. If this was the way I was meant to be, why had I not been born female then? My mind was not letting up. I pondered that one. Eventually I shrugged and told my mind to can it for a while. Who knows why things worked out this way? Why worry about it? Here I was and things seemed to be working out pretty well. Was there any advantage though to me having been a guy and living as Nick, before becoming Nicola or Cara and enjoying this success? Would I have missed out on anything had I not previously been Nick? One answer to that question began to rear its head in the depths of my consciousness, but I shook my head and got up before I had to think about it any further.

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

Five, four, three, "Moving up six places to number two this week is Cara Malone with 'Not Dancing, but Flying'…"

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

"Number two this week," she said, "next week…"

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

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

"Err no…why?" I asked cautiously.

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

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

I chewed my lip, "Wish I had known. I presume it's a sell out?"

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

I squealed, "You have tickets? How many?"

She laughed, "Two. Why know anyone who might want to go?"

"Stop teasing me Jools, can I go?"

"Of course you can, if you can find someone to go with."

I shrugged, "Well, I'll go with you."

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

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

Jools shrugged and smiled, "Why else would you ask him?"

 

----------*----------

 

"You're pulling my leg!" he exclaimed.

I chuckled into the phone, "No it's for real. Jools got hold of them somehow. Why, you interested?"

"Too right I am!"

"Well, that's settled then?"

He hesitated, "Erm, almost…"

I frowned, "What's wrong?"

He sounded awkward, "Well, I'm sort of going to have to see if I can change some plans I had for Friday."

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

"Now, hold on, don't do anything hasty," he backtracked.

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

"You're serious?"

I laughed, "Take them before I change my mind."

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

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

"I am. You have to go. So do I. It's the way it has to be."

I laughed.

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

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

"I hear that's what you looked like too," quipped Brian.

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

Noel snorted, "A bit unnecessary. Come on like, we're all grown men. We know how to dress ourselves."

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

He just gestured aimlessly and said, "Whatever."

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

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

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

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

 

----------*----------

 

At the end of the week, I was delighted when Simon informed me that he thought we could stop the promotional rounds for the single. He felt we had enough market exposure for now and it was just a matter of seeing how many people bought it. It was a relief as the interviews were becoming tedious. The first time round, I had been glad that the questions were simple and superficial, but now I almost would have relished a more challenging interview. I was bored with it. He had more good news also: we would be going back into the studio sometime next week to finish off the album. He was not sure exactly what day it would be as it depended on when the studio would be free.

We had been enjoying a good spell of early summer weather and the temperatures had been beginning to rise. I was not sure what I disliked more: dark and dismal, wet London winters or sticky and sultry, oppressive London summers. Thinking of the evening ahead, I knew it would be pretty hot inside Wembley Arena so I decided to wear something light. I eventually settled on a red halter top and three-quarter length cream cotton trousers. Comfortable, yet certainly presentable. I added some light makeup and brushed my hair back into a pony tail before putting on a baseball cap. I was beginning to get worried about people recognising me in public and I was not sure how I would or should react. When Jon arrived late he just honked the horn of his car and I went out and jumped into the passenger seat.

"You're late," I said with a smile.

He shrugged and with a cheeky grin retorted, "You're surprised?"

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

He gave a wry smile, "Had to get a note from my mother."

"That bad?"

He answered in an offhand manner that conveyed his lack of interest in continuing this line of conversation, "Nah, it's alright."

 

----------*----------

 

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

Aaron Kramer swaggered out onto stage, "Goooood Evening London!"

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

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

"What?" I shouted.

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

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

I put my mouth to his ear, "Sure, although it looks quite crowded."

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

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

"Well don't do it again," I remonstrated with a grin.

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

"Enjoy that?" Jon said in my ear.

I leant back and grinned, "Awesome."

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

"Ewww," I protested once we got outside, "I feel dirty and disgusting."

Jon regarded me and winked, "That about sums it up."

I poked him in the stomach, "Hey, that's not nice."

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

I shivered, "Ugh, no thanks."

On the way home in the car, we did our pseudo-pretentious evaluation of the band's performance and I let Jon do his talking about the technical aspects of the sound and set up. I got out of the car back at Jools' and said, "Thanks for the ride and thanks for coming with me."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," he grinned.

"We should do this again sometime," I said without thinking.

His face fell, "Err well yeah."

I realised I had said something wrong, but was not quite sure what. "What's wrong?"

He shrugged and laughed, "Look, let's just say Tanya was not overly enamoured with me going with you tonight."

I frowned, "Because you had to change your plans? I'm sure you'll make it up to her."

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

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

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

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

"Maybe next week?" Jools said encouragingly.

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

 

----------*----------

 

"Ah what sweet relief to once again rest our eyes upon the visage that brings inner joy and meaning to our erstwhile meaningless existences. Wouldn't you agree Tom?"

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

I laughed, "Glad to see you guys haven't been taking the time to improve your sense of humour in my absence…"

I had them hooked as Steve replied, "And pray tell why not?"

I winked, "Because it's not your humour I need you for – it is your technical and audio skills and I'd hate to see the latter suffer in a vain pursuit of the former."

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

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

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

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

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

"You're late," I teased.

He raised an eyebrow and grinned at me, "You're surprised?"

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

 

----------*----------

 

I groaned, "You mean we have to go through all that again?"

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

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

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

Tom feigned anxiety and began patting his pockets, "Yes I'm sure my notepad is here somewhere."

I retired to the artist's lounge after an hour. They were twiddling and changing to their hearts' content. I took the opportunity to drag Laura away from her duties and have a good chat over coffee and doughnuts. To be fair to the guys though, shortly after lunch the sound was deemed good enough for recording to begin. We began to work on 'I Just Wanna Be Me'. It all went relatively smoothly and by the end of the day the drum, bass and keyboard tracks were all done. Steve felt that the song needed something more and wondered what I would think about adding a brass trio to it. When I thought about it, it was a great idea. It would give the song a little more punch. I was really appreciating the consideration that Steve had brought to the whole process. He wasn't just there to get the songs recorded and finished with; he was sincerely interested in making each song sound as good as it could be. He and Tom worked well together. Tom had the depth of technical knowledge to bring Steve's ideas to life.

I spent Wednesday evening feverishly beavering away on my keyboard to sort out the parts for the brass ensemble. When we arrived on Thursday morning, Steve had already tracked down three session brass players and I talked them through the song and showed them their parts. I was happy to accept the modifications they had suggested after they had played through their parts. Especially as it sounded a lot better with their suggestions included. Musicians generally know their own instruments better than anyone else does. It didn't take long to get their parts recorded and it certainly did bring a greater depth to the song. Jon was up next and he did his thing without too much fuss and so it was that shortly after lunch, it was over to me for the vocals. We were keen to get the song finished that day as that would give us Friday to do the song I had written down at Silsbury Manor. It was anticipated that we would be wrapped up and finished in the studio at the end of the week. Jools had seemed especially keen to find out if that would be the case. She was planning something, but refused to admit it.

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

Kevin clicked his fingers and bounced up and down on his stool, "I've got an idea."

"What? I'll try anything," I replied.

He grinned, "You go back in there and do it again, I'll try my idea and see if makes a difference."

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

I shrugged, "Sure, let's do it."

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

"I'm impressed guys, nice performance," I laughed.

 

----------*----------

 

"Alright Jools, what are you scheming?"

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

"Huh?"

"Party!" she squealed.

"Party?" I asked.

She nodded vigorously, "Party. An end of recording party."

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

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

When she was finished, she grinned triumphantly, "And you doubted me?"

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

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

I raised an eyebrow, "And he's cancelling that?"

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

I winced a little, "I hope not."

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

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

I nodded thoughtfully again and said, "Well then let's do it."

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

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

I nodded and went to the piano, "It's in G." I started to play and sing.

"The centre of my world and my anchor in this life

The fixed point of my days as I walk upon this earth

The constant, the love, the one who always knew

Knew me inside out from the day of my birth…"

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

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

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

Steve smiled as I entered, "I think they are basically done. Go on in and hear what they've got so far."

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

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

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

"Oh how I wish I could see you now, lifted beyond the stars

No more hurt, no more pain, almost too wonderful to be

Through my tears I steel myself, clinging to the edge of hope."

The music stopped and with great emotion I sang, "Heaven is to be with you again – so save a place for me."

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

"Sounds great," he assured me.

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

I patted his hand and nodded, "I'm OK. Takes a lot out of me."

He squeezed my shoulder, "You did good. Not just today. All of it."

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

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

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

"No ma'am," they chorused.

"See you there then."

 

----------*----------

 

"So what are you going to wear tonight?" Jools asked when I got back to her place.

I shrugged, "I dunno, my black formal dress I guess."

Jools grinned and shook her head, "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

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

"Read it and see for yourself."

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

"You like?" Jools asked.

"Oh yes," I replied with feeling. I murmured, "I really did love this dress."

Jools grinned, "I think a fair few of the guys loved it too."

I laughed and nodded, "What's not to love?"

 

----------*----------

 

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

Jools shouted through the door, "Come on Cinders, you must go to the ball."

I opened the door and grinned at her. "Hey you look great Jools."

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

"I err…," my expression gave me away and she giggled.

"You know Cara my dear, you are so feminine you put me to shame."

She darted just out of the reach of my hands, which were grabbing for her with intentions to tickle the life out of her. Had I not been balancing myself on five-inch heels, I would have considered giving chase. As it was I let her have her little victory and we gracefully descended the main stairs to the function room that Jools had booked for dinner. She had told everyone eight o'clock sharp, but had informed me that it did not apply to us. We entered at twenty minutes past the appointed hour. There was quite a crowd already present and although I knew a fair proportion and recognised some others, a substantial number of faces did not seem familiar at all. Our entry was noticed and a round of applause ensued. I felt mortified. Jools did not help.

"Curtsey, would you?" she hissed. I flashed her an 'are you out of your mind' look but she just nodded and hissed again, "Go on!" So I obliged and performed an elaborate curtsey for the crowd, which brought a large cheer. My face was flushed as I tried to mingle my way into the crowd and achieve a degree of anonymity. Easier said than done. Every person that I knew stopped me and congratulated me on the completion of the album and introduced me to more people that I did not know. I tried to smile and be polite, but I thought it was all a little over the top. I mean, the way they were behaving you would have thought the album had already topped the chart or something. A glass of white wine appeared in my hand as if from nowhere and I continued to do the meet and greet thing. I suppose it was expected of me as the nominal host for the evening. Truth be told, I was quite touched by the number of people who had turned out: I estimated there to be around fifty, if not more. However, I was actually quite relieved when a gong sounded to indicate that we should take our seats for dinner.

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

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

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

I laughed, "You don't give up do you?"

He grinned, "Not when the lady is as lovely as you are."

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

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

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

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

I nodded and mused, "I wanted to be a pilot when I was a little kid."

He raised an eyebrow, "Really? Not the usual ballet dancer or nurse or something?"

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

He laughed, "Oh there are. More and more. I'm glad you didn't become a pilot."

"Why?" I asked suspiciously.

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

"Why?" I asked this time with a degree of indignation.

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

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

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

"You've heard my music?" I asked with more curiosity in my voice than I would have liked.

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

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

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

"I'm not sure I want to ask what it is then."

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

"Well I'm certainly not flirting!" I protested.

"Oh no?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I'm just being the hospitable host that I should be."

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

I giggled, "At least you're an attractive nonentity…" I stopped and winced, "Did I say that out loud?"

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

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

"Oh yes, thank God," I murmured.

He laughed, "What?"

I grinned, "I'm just fed up with dancing with strangers. It's nice to see a familiar face."

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

He nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yes, fantastic party. Totally class."

At the end of the song, I sighed, "Want to take a break? I'm bushed and my feet are killing me."

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

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

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

I turned to him, smiled gently and softly said, "I don't really think so Kevin…"

He nodded up and down and hurriedly said, "Yeah, I mean that's what I thought, but I just thought I'd better check you know."

I laughed and gave him a hug, "You're a dear. I guess we'll get sorted some day."

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

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

I laughed and we all cheered and applauded. Jools got up and gave a formal bow. Simon continued, "But also, I want to say a few words about the reason why we are here." I fidgeted a little in my seat, "I heard a demo tape of a young female singer last November and I was haunted by her stirring voice and enchanting tones. Before I met her, I was praying that she would not be, how do I say it with political correctness, I hoped she would not be 'cosmetically challenged'." The audience roared with laughter and I felt myself beginning to redden a little. "Well you know, it would have made my job more difficult. Thankfully my fears were unfounded as when I met this nervous young girl, I found it hard to decide which was more beautiful: her voice or her appearance." People were looking over at me and grinning and I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me, but he was not done yet. "It has been a privilege for me to have been a part of bringing this talented young woman into the public eye and I'd like to invite you to join me in toasting the continued and future success of Cara Malone."

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

I shook my head, but Simon grinned and walked over to me, took me by the hand and helped me to my feet. He gave me the microphone and winked. I sighed and when the noise had died down began hesitantly, "I don't know what to say…I'd far rather sing into a microphone than try and make any sort of speech." I paused and gave Simon a mock-irritated look, "Thank you Simon for your lovely words. Even if you have revealed your obvious intoxication tonight in the amount of exaggeration you spouted there." A round of laughs. "Seriously folks, I'm not a speechmaker. I'm not the wonder woman that Simon tried to make out. I'm just fortunate to be able to do what I love to do with people that I want to be with. That's you all. This night is not about me, it's about us, so let's enjoy ourselves. No more speeches I say, bring on the dancing again!" This met with widespread approval and a large round of applause as I gratefully returned the microphone to the D.J. and the music got back under way.

As time went on, I was beginning to get really tired and thought I would give up on the dancing. That was before Charlie asked me again. "I'm really tired," I moaned.

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

He looked so forlorn that I laughed. "You're just trying to make me feel sorry for you, aren't you?"

He grinned, "Is it working?"

I chuckled, "All right, but this is the last dancing I am doing."

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

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

"Charlie, please."

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

I sighed and smiled, "I guess."

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

"With what?"

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

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

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

I paused and grinned, "I'm glad you came too."

 

----------*----------

 

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

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

"What's that?" I said and went to investigate. "Champagne?"

She giggled again, "I thought we could have one last little celebration and catch up on the evening's goings on."

I sighed and smiled, "All right."

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

"So you're saying he wasn't interested."

I sighed, "Well yes, I think he was interested."

"So were you interested?"

I shrugged noncommittally, "I hardly know him. He seems like a nice guy though."

"Going to see him again?" she pressed.

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

She grinned slyly, "You do know who I placed in the room beside you don't you?"

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

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

"Uhh hi Cara," Noel said.

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

"I err…can I come in for a minute?"

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

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

I was beginning to feel more and more uneasy, "Noel, let's talk tomorrow. We can meet up for breakfast or something."

He shook his head, "Can't wait any longer."

"What is it?"

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

He gave a lop-sided smile, "You look so beautiful."

"Noel, please. What on earth is going on?"

He nodded, "OK. I just think it's time you and I got together."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not playing any game. Please let go of me."

He shook his head and leered, "I've been looking forward to this."

I could smell the alcohol off his breath, "Please Noel, you're drunk, you don't know what you are doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing," he said and grabbed me, pulled me close and forced a kiss onto my lips."

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh god no, please Noel stop it, please stop it," I sobbed.

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

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

"It's to stop psychos like you," I screamed at him. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled hard. He laughed, "Oh it's not going to stop me. If one door is closed, I'll just have to open another one." He spun me round and pushed me face down on the bed. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach as I realised what he was planning. I heard his zipper going down and in a frantic panic I screamed and screamed, "Help, help! Please, someone help me!!" He savagely rammed my face into the bedding, smothering my screams until I could barely breathe. I thought I was going to pass out and I felt as if I wanted to die when suddenly I heard hammering at the door.

"Cara? Are you alright? Are you in there?"

"Shit!" Noel cursed and pulled me to my feet and clamped his hand across my mouth again. I felt a surge of strength and I sank my teeth deeply into his hand. I refused to let go and bit harder and harder. "Jesus Christ," he cursed and pulled his hand away before hitting me hard again across the mouth. I could taste blood in my mouth and did not know if it was mine or his. "Help! Please, help me!" I screamed again before he put an arm across my throat and pulled it tight. "Shut up you dumb bitch," he hissed. The knocking had stopped and I felt my heart sink thinking that whoever it was had not heard and had left.

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

"What the HELL do you think you are doing?" he shouted to Noel.

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

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

 

To be continued…

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2003 by Jenny Walker. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.