Author's note: Many thanks to all the readers who have persisted with this tale of mine. This is the penultimate installment. Thanks and credit are due to the wonderful Hebe Dotson and Anne Baker who tirelessly correct my mistakes and improve my writing – any errors that remain, are mine.

  

No Half Measures

by Jenny Walker

© 2003

PART 19

   

CHAPTER 37

I sat there just staring at the note until Jools gently removed it from my grasp. I looked up at her and I shook my head.

"Jools, what are we going to do?"

Jools chewed her lip and paced up and down some. I recognised the look on her face: she was thinking hard. I didn't say anything more as I was loath to break her concentration. I just couldn't think straight and was hoping that she would know what to do like she always seemed to. After a few minutes she stopped pacing and sat down facing me.

"First things first – Rachel," she said purposefully.

"Yes… what did you say to her earlier?"

"I just took the message from her, told her not to tell a soul – including Peter. I said I would talk to her later about it."

"What do you think we should do?" I asked.

"What do you think?"

I thought for a moment and said, "I think we have to tell her the truth – add her to the list."

"You sure?"

"I think so. Why? Do you disagree?"

She shook her head. "No, I agree entirely, but the final decision is yours."

"We have to tell her," I thought aloud, "I think we can trust her and I don't think she will mention the note if we tell her the truth."

"I'll give her a call and ask her to come back over here. The sooner we tell her, the better."

I nodded and Jools went to make the call. It didn't take Rachel too long to journey across town from her student digs. I was trying to work out what I was going to say, but when she arrived I still hadn't finalised how I was going to do it.

"Hi Cara," Rachel said with a sympathetic smile.

"Hi Rachel," I said forcing a smile in return. "Have a seat."

"Are you OK?" she asked with obvious concern. "That note is a sickener. Some people will stoop so low and say such ridiculous things. It's really offensive, isn't it?"

Rachel was such a nice girl. I had become quite fond of her: she was cheerful, helpful and reliable. Jools had been wondering what she ever had done without her.

I took a deep breath. "Yes Rachel, it is offensive… but it is also true."

She looked at me as if unsure that she had heard me correctly. "What do you mean?"

I smiled. "I don't mean that I'm thinking of that sicko, or that I am a bitch… I hope I'm not… but the transsexual bit is correct."

Rachel frowned and shook her head. "I don't understand."

Jools interjected, "You do know what the word means, Rachel, don't you?"

She looked up with a bewildered expression on her face. "Yes, of course I know what it means. I have grown up watching Oprah and Jerry Springer."

Despite the awful situation, we laughed briefly. I continued, "Rachel, what I'm about to tell you is for your ears only. There are only a small number of people on this earth that know this. I want you to promise that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"I promise; of course I won't."

"Even to Peter," I persisted.

She thought and nodded. "I understand. What is this all about?"

I paused and sighed. "Rachel, until last November, I was Nick Evans. As in Nicholas. I was an unsuccessful singer-songwriter. As you can see, a lot has changed since then."

"No way," she murmured with disbelief.

I went on to give her the potted version of my transformation and how it had all taken place. I then told her about the recent difficulties: Noel, the scare that Keith Wilkinson was going to expose me, the mystery of the missing yearbook, and finally the anonymous notes. She began to understand the full picture.

"My God," she exclaimed, "So who's behind this sick crap?"

Jools shook her head. "We don't know. We're going to have to do some serious thinking about that."

Rachel looked over at me and shook her head again. "Cara, I can hardly believe this. You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever met."

I laughed and felt myself flush a little. "Thanks, Rachel. I wasn't much of a man – perhaps I was meant to be a woman, who knows."

"Are you… happy? It's a hell of a change." Rachel was really trying to get her head around this.

I nodded. "Mostly yes, I am happy. I love being a woman and I wouldn't go back for all the money in the world."

Rachel thought some more. "Is this all for real? I've seen you in your bikini and I have to admit I was green with envy when I saw your figure."

I shrugged. "I've been on hormones for quite some time, and I'm sure you've realised – my breasts are surgically enhanced if you know what I mean."

"Hell of a surgeon," she murmured with a smile. Suddenly she jumped up, sat down beside me and gave me a hug.

"What's that for?" I asked with surprise.

"You've been through so much. Here I was thinking you were the luckiest woman in the world. I thought you had it so perfect. I didn't realise how much you've sacrificed to get where you are."

I shrugged again. "Sacrifice? Depends on how you look at it. Don't get me wrong – I know I am fortunate… but this current situation… it's scaring me."

"Who all knows?" Rachel asked.

Jools butted in. "Rachel, this is not a subject for discussion – not even with those who already know."

"I know," she protested, "I didn't mean to imply that. I was just curious."

Jools pondered. "Actually, this gives me an idea."

I looked at Jools with a degree of concern. "Jools, I get nervous when you get ideas. You had an idea and look how I ended up." I gestured to my appearance.

We laughed again. Jools shook her head. "Don't worry, I was just thinking that maybe we need a meeting of 'the list'."

"The list?" Rachel asked.

"All those who know," Jools continued. "It might help us in trying to see if there has been a leak about Cara's past."

"Who all does know?" Rachel asked again.

"The three of us, my father, my sister Claire, Jools' sister Beth, Jon, my old high school music teacher… don't ask, it's a long story… my aunts, uncles and two cousins."

Jools added, "Dr. Carson, your psychologist, your psychiatrist… and Keith Wilkinson, don't forget him."

I frowned and murmured, "I think there's someone else, but I can't remember."

Jools shook her head, "No, I think that's everyone."

Rachel looked over at me and then looked away again.

"You want to ask me something?" I probed gently.

She smiled and shook her head. "It's none of my business…"

I grinned and theatrically rolled my eyes. "I still have a penis. I'm guessing that's what you're wondering."

She blinked and then giggled. "Actually, no – that wasn't it."

I slapped my forehead and groaned with embarrassment. I looked up at Jools. "Your honour, can that be stricken from the record?"

Jools chuckled. "No, I'm going to have to let it stand."

I sighed and turned back to Rachel. "So what was it that you were going to ask?"

She began hesitantly, "I was just wondering… when you said that Jon knew… it really is none of my business, but the rest of us sort of gathered that something happened between you two when you took your trip together. We realised that whatever it was… it didn't work out. I always thought you two would be perfect together…"

I smiled ruefully. "Well now you can add the background that explains the problem."

She put a hand on my arm. "That sucks."

I shrugged. "Life doesn't always deal you a perfect hand. I shouldn't complain."

Jools cleared her throat and got our attention. "I was also thinking," she said, "about this note – do we tell the police?"

"No!" I replied instinctively.

Jools nodded. "My gut feeling is to agree with you, but let's think it through."

"OK," I said, "the police have no idea about my past identity - I hope - so they won't be any the wiser as to who is sending these notes."

Jools nodded again. "Yes, if we can't work it out with what we know, I doubt they will. They have the previous notes – giving them this one won't add to what they can do."

"Who knows about the notes?" Rachel asked.

Jools replied. "Us three, Simon and the police. Unless you've told Peter?"

She shook her head adamantly. "I haven't. I presume we aren't telling Simon about this note?"

Jools nodded firmly. "Definitely not. I don't think we want Sony to know, do we?" She didn't wait for an answer. "In fact, I suggest we dispose of this note completely. We don't want to risk someone coming across it by accident."

We agreed and Jools set it alight and let it burn to ashes in the kitchen sink. As I watched it burn away to nothing, I wished that the trouble behind the notes would disappear as easily. 

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

 

On Saturday, we had a gathering of 'the list' at Jools' place. Not quite everyone, of course, as I didn't really fancy a full family reunion. Actually it was just me, Jools, Rachel, Claire, Beth and Jon. Jools had told everyone that we needed to consider the possibility that the truth about me had leaked out.

"Sorry to spoil your weekend folks," Jools said calling us to order.

"Spoil it?" Jon said with a smile, "Spend an afternoon with a roomful of pretty girls?"

The succession of cushions raining down on his body put paid to such male posturing. A part of me was saying that he wasn't really including me in that statement. I told my paranoia to shove it and clear out. It made a temporary retreat.

Jools filled everyone in on the situation. Some people knew different parts, but she wanted to make sure that everyone had all the facts. So she described the yearbook saga, she talked about Keith Wilkinson and she brought everyone up to speed regarding the anonymous notes. This last part was news to Jon, Claire and Beth.

"Sick bastard," Jon muttered. "If I find out who did this…"

"That's why we are here," Jools interrupted gently. "We need to put our heads together and work out how anyone could have found out. Claire, you first – you've been talking to your family."

Claire nodded and smiled. "I spoke to all our relatives who are in the know. I told them that Cara… Nicola to them… had been threatened. I'm absolutely sure that no one has breathed a word about her. Dad wouldn't dream of mentioning it to a living soul," she cast me an apologetic glance, "and as much as my aunts and uncles may disapprove, there is no way they would let the family down. Phil and Dawn, our cousins, would rather die than see any harm come to Nicola."

Jools nodded, "That's pretty much what I thought. Beth, you've no idea where things could have gone wrong?"

Beth shook her head. "I wish I had. I can't think of anything that would have given it away when Cara was in Devon with us."

"Jon, any thoughts?" Jools prompted.

Jon shrugged. "Nothing beyond speculation. I worry about Noel. Could he have found out?"

Jools chewed her lip. "I doubt it. Unless Keith Wilkinson slipped the info to him to get some dirt in return. I have to say that even though Keith is an unknown quantity, I don't believe he would intentionally let this out. If he wanted to, he would have written the killer article. Besides, I think we all know that he has more than a little soft spot for our Cara."

I blushed as all their eyes rested on me. "Oh away with you all," I said, feeling a little flustered. I changed the subject, "I rang Dr. Carson and asked if she thought there was any chance that there could have been a leak from her office or those she referred me to. She was adamant that privacy and confidentiality in their profession is paramount."

"What about Mrs. Forbes, your old teacher?" Beth asked.

I shook my head. "She's as dependable as a rock. It's not in her interests at all to let it slip – she… doctored… the school records to help me. Besides, it's just not in her nature."

We discussed and pondered some more. Eventually, we seemed to be going in circles and getting nowhere. There was still the 'wild card' possibility that someone who knew me previously as Nick had managed to put things together and for some reason decided to come after me in this way. It wasn't a comforting thought and there was nothing we could really do to investigate that possibility.

Jools tried to be positive. "Thanks everyone for coming and taking the time to do this. It has been helpful. It has assured us that we have not been remiss in what we have done and it reminds us to be extra vigilant from now on."

Claire and Beth stayed after Jon and Rachel had left. We had a relaxing girls' evening in: watching a video, eating pizza, crisps, chocolate, drinking wine – what more could we want? It was a real sisters' night as Beth bunked in with Jools and Claire with me. As I lay in bed, waiting for sleep to come, I was so thankful for them. I couldn't have asked for better friends.

Claire pulled me over towards her. "C'mere you," she said sleepily, "Stop thinking and go to sleep."

She snuggled over beside me and I guess the warmth and comfort soon had the desired effect. 

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

 

For a few days, I was on edge every time the post came through our door or each time a sack arrived from Sony. However, there were no more notes. I was thankful for this, but I knew that the problem had not gone away. The daily routine and the business of everyday life helped me to try and forget about it whenever possible.

I had enlisted some other help in taking my mind off my problems. Jools and I had got into the habit of having a bottle of wine with our evening meal. One bottle used to do us for three evenings or so, but lately I had found that it was more like two evenings. The occasional evening, when I was really uptight, the bottle was empty by the time we went to bed. It wasn't really a problem, though, and it was helping me to sleep. Yes, the occasional morning after, I had felt a little rough, but nothing that a few aspirin didn't cure. I have to admit that on the odd morning, I did finish off the remnants of the previous evening's bottle. There seemed to be little point in wasting it, and what harm would half a glass do?

I was quite sure that no harm would come to me while Jools was doing her mother protector routine. I did see her looking at me with concern from time to time. She would gently ask if I was OK. Despite my assurances, she would keep asking. Truth be told, it was becoming a little irritating and I think Jools could see this. It came to a head one evening.

"Cara, let's go to bed. I'm exhausted."

"In a minute. Have one more glass with me, Jools."

She shook her head. "I think I've had enough."

I picked up on her tone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugged. "It means what I said."

"You think I've had enough too, is that it?"

She shrugged. "It's really up to you."

"That's what you meant, isn't it?"

"Cara… I'm just concerned for you. You know that."

"I'm fine Jools. I'm a big girl. It's not as if I'm an alcoholic. For heavens sake, it's just a few glasses of wine. Give me a break."

"Fine," she said quietly. "I'm going to bed anyway."

I shrugged. "Whatever. See, I'll leave the bottle as it is and go to bed too."

As I lay in bed, I replayed the exchange and felt bad about how I had reacted. I found myself tossing and turning and began to watch the hours roll by. Eventually I was so fed up that I got up and went back to the kitchen. I had one more glass and finished the bottle. Purely to help me sleep. It worked.

I'm sure that Jools noticed the empty bottle the next morning, but she said nothing. 

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

 

'Forgotten How to Love', having spent three weeks at the top, was now slowly descending the Top Forty. 'No Half Measures' had peaked at number three in the album chart, but was still hanging on inside the Top Ten. Simon was thrilled with the way things had gone.

Unfortunately, we couldn't claim to have cracked the U.S. market. 'No Half Measures', the single, had lurked in the lower realms of the Top 100. 'Not Dancing, but Flying' had been released recently, but was not showing any signs of doing much better. Simon had decided, with his U.S. counterparts, that we should hold off on any further stateside releases for the time being. This was not to say that the two singles hadn't been a financial success. Things on the other side of the Atlantic were of such a larger scale that even a record that barely crept into the Top 100 returned substantial profits.

Correspondingly, my bank balance was quite frightening – in a good way, of course. If the current patterns were maintained, I was going to be a millionaire within another few months. That is, if I didn't find a way to spend a lot more of it quicker than I had been doing. Obviously I was pleased with this state of affairs, but it wasn't as satisfying as I had often imagined it would be. Simply put, I had enough money to buy whatever I wanted – but I wasn't quite sure what I wanted. Even if I worked that out, I knew that there were things money couldn't buy. Clichéd, I know, but clichés by virtue of their status are more often than not accurate.

Whilst money could not buy one peace of mind, Jools was insisting that it could buy protection. She had been harping on at me for over a week about getting a bodyguard. I had recoiled from such a notion. It seemed ridiculous to think that I needed a mindless beefcake to shadow me everywhere I went. Two things happened in the space of a few days to change my mind.

With all this newfound wealth burning a hole in my bank account, I had decided that a little splurge on a shopping spree was called for. Jools had wanted to come with me, but I was keen to have some time alone. I headed into the centre of London and began to work my way along Oxford Street. With winter coming, it was time for a seasonal wardrobe update. I was doing well in that regard and enjoying it, until I realised that I was attracting some unwanted attention.

Although I was dressed simply in a fleecy top and jeans, and despite my sunglasses and baseball cap, it was obvious that I had been recognised. I became aware that there was a group of about four lads following me along the street. I went into the next shop and tried to lose myself in the rails of clothes. I nipped up the stairs to the top floor and began to browse. However, when I moved into another aisle, I was confronted with the same four guys.

"Hello, darling," said one with a smile. "It is you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry," I said softly, "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

He shook his head and gave me a toothy grin. "You're just who I think you are, aren't you? Cara Malone, yes?"

I wasn't sure what to do. They had obviously recognised me. I smiled. "Yes, it is me. What can I do for you?" I looked around and realised that this floor was nearly empty. There was a sales assistant at the far side, but she wasn't looking in our direction. "Do you want an autograph?"

They laughed rather unpleasantly and joked with one another, "Do we want an autograph?"

One of them lewdly turned to the others and rubbed his crotch. "She can 'autograph' this anytime she wants."

The first guy turned back to me. "What's a hot chick like you doing out all by yourself? Don't you know there's a lot of bad folk about? Perhaps you need someone like me to look after you?"

I was becoming more disturbed by the minute. I looked behind me, but one of them had moved around to that end of the aisle.

"Look guys, I'm not sure what you want, but why don't we take a walk together. Go downstairs?"

The leader sneered. "So you think you're too good for us and you want to get rid of us? You think we're nothing but street scum?"

I began to get angry and spoke without thinking, "Yes, that's pretty much it. You seem to be smarter than you look, although that wouldn't be difficult. Now, get out of my way."

"Stuck up bitch," he hissed and moved closer.

"Ahem!" said a new voice from behind him.

He turned and I looked up. There were two burly shop security men standing there with the shop assistant behind them. I was so grateful to see them.

"Are these… gentlemen… bothering you, ma'am?" said one of them in a tone that made it clear that the word 'gentlemen' was being used in the broadest sense of the word.

"Yes, actually, they are. They are intimidating and threatening me."

The guys glared at me, but they didn't fancy their chances against the security men. Thankfully the latter weren't the wheezy near-retirement old men that sometimes took on such jobs. They were large and imposing and the earlier bravado of the lads had now evaporated. The security men led the four miscreants down the stairs and ejected them from the shop. The shop assistant brought me to the manager's office and let me sit down.

"Thanks," I murmured to her with a smile.

"Not at all, Ms. Malone," she replied.

I winced. "Am I that easy to recognise?"

She laughed. "Well it took me a few minutes when I first saw you. I knew you looked familiar and then I worked it out. I'm so sorry I didn't spot those louts earlier."

I shrugged. "I'm just glad you were there and I'm grateful for your help."

The shop manager arranged for one of his staff to take me home in her car. I had protested that it wasn't necessary, but I think he felt it prudent to look after what he assumed could be a valued customer. This episode, of course, increased Jools' insistence that I needed protection.

A few days later, I was convinced. Another note arrived.

'Scared yet? You should be. You're not even worthy to be called a bitch.'

I caught the drift of what the note was implying, but this time we decided to pass this one on to the police. It was sufficiently vague that we thought they would not read much into it. The officers that came out to talk to us regrettably informed us that they had not made much progress with investigating the source of the notes. They also agreed with Jools' on the protection issue. I gave in and gave her the go-ahead to look for some potential bodyguards. I hated that word. 

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

 

By the start of the following week, Jools had lined up a few potentials and arranged informal interviews for the Tuesday afternoon. I had told her just to pick one and be done with it, but she insisted that I had to be a part of the process as it was going to significantly impact my life. Whoever was picked was going to be spending a lot of time in my presence.

The first one to arrive was a large hulk of a guy called Harold. He was from an agency specialising in this sort of thing. He was pleasant enough, but was obviously more brawn than brain. I don't mean to be unkind, but that was the truth. After he left, I shook my head.

"I just can't imagine having him around me all the time, Jools."

She nodded. "I know, but you are going to have to pick someone."

The second guy was different. Again he was from an agency. He was well built, wore a leather jacket and sunglasses. Jools persuaded him to remove the latter whilst indoors. He had a flashy grin and a casual manner about him. I instantly took a dislike to him. I didn't like the way he looked at me.

When he left, I said, "Not him either. I'd need someone else to protect me from him."

Jools grimaced. "Yeah. This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

The third one was quite strange. He seemed out of place. To look at him, you would have thought he would be better suited to an interview for a job at the bank. In his early forties, he was not overly well built, was of medium height and was wearing a black business suit. Before he arrived, Jools had informed me that he didn't work for any agency. He ran his own business in this line of work and took on individual assignments himself. Apparently he was incredibly expensive compared to the other candidates. His name was Gareth Baxter. Jools asked him several questions and he answered politely and concisely. He was obviously intelligent, but I wasn't sure he was actually up to the job.

"Mr. Baxter, I have to say that you are not exactly what I would expect for this sort of position," I said.

He smiled. "I try not to be obvious about what my role is. If I were a seven-foot tall two hundred-pound monster, then it would be fairly obvious to anyone planning to harm you what my job was. They would target me first and then you. I prefer to be subtle and understated."

I nodded. "I don't know how to say this… are you able to… deal with situations?"

"Let me assure you Ms. Malone, I am experienced in hand-to-hand combat and have several martial arts qualifications."

He exuded a quiet confidence that I did find reassuring. Jools had a few other questions.

"Mr. Baxter, what about privacy and confidentiality? How do you stand on such things?"

"Good question. My sole concern is the wellbeing of my client. What they do or how they spend their time, whatever secrets they are hiding from the world – all that is not my concern. I don't make it my business and I don't tell anyone else. If I did that, I'd be out of work before too long."

Jools persisted, "That's all well and good, but what guarantees do we have that what you say is true?"

He gave her a long stare. "You have my word and that will have to be good enough."

It was for me. We had read his résumé and it was more interesting in what it did not say. He had served in the military and had listed the details of his career. There were a few blanks that were unexplained. One was during the period of the first Gulf War. We knew better than to ask, but Jools and I both had a suspicion that he had been involved in something secret. I don't know – Special Forces or something. He had left the army five years previously to set up his own business.

"Will you excuse us for a moment?" I asked him.

He took the hint and said that he would leave us alone. I turned to Jools.

"He's the one."

"You sure?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yes. I feel that I can trust him. He just comes across as… professional."

Jools nodded. "It's going to cost you."

I shrugged. "I know."

We called him back in and informed him that we would like to retain his services. He smiled and said that he would be pleased to take me on subject to certain terms.

We were both a little taken aback. It sounded like we were the employees and he was giving us a job.

"What exactly do you mean?" Jools asked coolly.

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm prepared to do this job only if I can be allowed to do it properly." He looked at me, "Ms. Malone, your safety is my primary concern. With that in mind, we have to have a certain agreement on some issues. You have to discuss your daily plans with me and keep me informed in advance as much as possible. I won't take it kindly if you run off at a moment's notice and leave me in the dark as to where you are going. Also I want to be able to suggest other security measures for you and your home."

I thought about this and decided that I really liked him. "Mr. Baxter…"

He interrupted, "Another thing is that you must call me Gareth."

I smiled, "OK, Gareth, call me Cara…"

He interrupted again and smiled, "No chance. You're my client and you will be Ms. Malone."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "OK, but for goodness' sake call me Miss Malone then. I actually don't like Ms."

He nodded. "As you wish."

"As I was saying, Gareth," I emphasised his name and I saw him smile, "I respect your stance and I think it reflects your professionalism. One concern I have though – how much privacy am I permitted?"

"Your personal privacy will not be invaded by me."

"So you won't insist on watching me while I shower then?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Certainly not."

Jools shot me a puzzled glance, but I ignored it. I gave a sultry smile and said in a low voice, "Is the thought of watching me shower that unappealing?"

He narrowed his eyes and looked at me intently. "Miss Malone, I'm a professional. Business and pleasure are not things that mix well. If that is what you are after, I think you have the wrong man."

I shook my head and dropped my seductress act. "Not at all, Gareth. I was just checking. In my opinion, you're just the right man for the job. When can you start?"

"I already have," he said with a little smile. 

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

 

Jools sorted out the contract and, over the next day or two, we sorted out how things would work. Gareth would arrive early in the morning and let himself into Jools' place. He would wait downstairs in the office until I was up and then would accompany me if I were going out. If I weren't going anywhere, he would just remain on the premises. In the evening, if I were staying in, he would leave. If I were going out, I was to give him prior notice where possible and he would again accompany me.

He emphasised that he didn't insist on being at my shoulder; he planned to be discreet. I think he was trying to let me know that whatever social activities I planned did not have to be hampered by his presence. He had already had a security consultant around and made arrangements for a better alarm system and external security lights to be installed.

I took him for a 'test drive' at the end of the week. I wanted to see how he coped with a shopping trip. I ventured back to Oxford Street.

"How do you want to do this, Miss Malone?" he asked as we walked along.

"What do you mean?"

"I can either walk beside you, or I can remain at a short distance behind you."

I laughed. "Oh for heaven's sake, walk beside me."

He grinned, "Yes ma'am."

I dragged him around several shops. I tried on lots, but bought little. He didn't complain or show any signs of weariness. I was aware that people were recognising me, but no one approached me. I commented on this.

"It's to be expected," he replied, "I'm not meaning to be chauvinistic, but if a pretty woman is accompanied by a man, she is much less likely to be approached than if she is alone."

"You think I'm pretty?" The words came out of my mouth before I thought about it. I blushed and bit my lip, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

He looked amused and chuckled. "You don't need me to tell you that."

I shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, come on, there's plenty more shopping to be done. I'm very impressed with your tolerance. Not many men are this patient. I'm sure you'll make someone a good husband some day."

He winced. "Been there, done that. Didn't work out too well."

I grimaced. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

He gave a little laugh. "Ancient history. Let's just say it's easier to be patient in these situations when one gets paid as much as I do."

I chuckled. "So, it's all about the money. That's all I mean to you?"

He kept his face straight and nodded. "Absolutely."

I laughed and relentlessly continued my expedition. 

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

 

A few mornings later, Kate raised an eyebrow when she saw Gareth accompanying me as I ran up to her. "A new running partner? Am I now redundant?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

I laughed. "Kate, meet Gareth. Gareth, this is a good friend of mine, Kate."

"Pleased to meet you ma'am," Gareth said politely. He took up a position near one of the park entrances from where he had a good view all over the park. Kate and I began our circuits.

"So what's the deal with him?" she asked. "New boyfriend?"

I grinned. "Not exactly. He's my new bodyguard."

Kate found this very amusing. "Well, he's almost Kevin Costnerish. Are you going to be doing the Whitney Houston thing?"

I laughed and shook my head. "It's purely business. I was reluctant to go down this line, but I had… an unpleasant experience while out shopping last week. I'm afraid it's a necessary evil."

"I'm sure he would love to know that's what you called him."

"He's not bad actually. He's polite and discreet. I forget he's there a lot of the time. Enough about me, tell me about your far more interesting life."

She laughed and updated me on the latest office gossip from her world. I loved to listen to her sharp wit and found it refreshing to spend time with her. When we were done with our circuits, we stopped beside Gareth.

"Bye, Gareth," Kate said in a smouldering voice and made eyes at him before running off.

Gareth raised an eyebrow and remarked, "She's quite a woman, isn't she?"

I grinned. "You can say that again."

He looked a bit perplexed. "Was she coming on to me?"

This time I laughed. "I don't think so."

He shrugged. "It seemed that way to me. Hey, why are you laughing at me?"

"Come on, old boy. Let's see if you can keep up with me."

I sprinted off back towards Jools' apartment. For an 'old boy', he was in surprisingly good shape and had no difficulty in matching my pace. He was barely out of breath when we got back. 

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

 

Simon came over to see us the next day. He was obviously quite excited about something, but was not forthcoming as to what it was.

"Right, what's got you bouncing about like this?" Jools asked.

He chuckled. "Sometimes I surprise even myself."

We shared a glance and rolled our eyes. "What is it?" I asked.

He smiled, brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his immaculate suit and with great satisfaction said, "It just so happens that yours truly has managed to talk the stuffed shirts at my beloved company into something that I think will please you."

"Oh come on and get on with it," Jools said impatiently.

He held up a hand and then continued. "In light of the great success of your album and latest single, I managed to persuade them that it would be a good idea to embark on a UK mini-tour. Now I know it might seem premature, but I think the increased exposure will help to keep your profile prominent in the public eye."

I raised an eyebrow and smiled. "A mini-tour?"

Simon grinned. "Now don't congratulate me all at once."

Jools chuckled. "When you get done congratulating yourself, I doubt there's any room for the rest of us to add ours."

He shrugged and wasn't fazed by her comment. "You're just overawed by my immense charisma and startling achievements."

She laughed. "Whatever. Anyway, give us more details. Where? When?"

He smiled and sat forward. Back to his usual businesslike self, he filled us in on the plans. He had lined up five dates in total. We were to start in Edinburgh on Friday 5 December, Manchester the next night, Birmingham on Friday 12 December, Cardiff the next night and finishing in London on Saturday 20 December. That gave us just over four weeks.

"We need to get practising," I murmured.

"Are you sure we can sell enough tickets in such a short space of time?" Jools asked.

Simon nodded. "I believe so. The plan is to play medium-sized venues in each location except London. Better to have a smaller place sold out than a large venue half filled. However, I believe we'll pick up enough momentum to go for a larger venue in London."

"Where have you booked in London?" I asked with interest.

"Wembley Arena," he said smugly.

"My goodness," I exclaimed. 

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

 

That night, I felt like celebrating. I actually made an effort to make a proper dinner. Jools had headed out that afternoon to see some other clients. I was not much of a cook. I got some pasta, some lamb cutlets and followed a simple recipe to make a casserole. On her return, Jools was surprised to find me in the kitchen with an apron on.

"What's going on here?" she asked.

"I'm cooking us dinner," I said with a smile.

She laughed. "Umm, will it be OK to eat?"

"Hey," I protested, "Not fair. You should be encouraging me."

I served the meal onto the plates and carried it over to the table. I had a favourite bottle of wine on the table. Jools smelled the dinner.

"Smells great," she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't sound so surprised," I chided, although I was actually quite surprised myself. I hoped it tasted as good.

I reached for the wine and corkscrew. Jools turned up her nose. "Why don't we leave the wine tonight, Cara? I don't think I feel like having any."

"Come on, Jools. Don't be like that. I'm excited about this tour; don't put a dampener on things."

She sighed and muttered. "There's always a reason."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a sharp edge to my voice.

"Nothing," she said with a wan smile. "Let's eat."

The meal actually tasted very good and we both enjoyed it. We talked over the details for the tour and I was already coming up with ideas for some live arrangements of my songs.

Jools chuckled. "You're really quite excited about this, aren't you?"

I grinned. "Of course I am. I've always loved the live performance side of things. I can't believe it." I reached for the wine, "A top up?"

Jools shook her head and her expression clouded as I filled my glass. "Cara, can I talk to you frankly."

My eyes narrowed, but I looked up and forced a smile. "Sure, what is it?"

She hesitated and took a deep breath. "I'm really concerned about you." She held up a hand, "Hear me out, before you say anything. I'm worried. You're drinking a lot. I mean, does a day go by without you drinking at the moment?"

I bristled and said coolly, "Well, you obviously know the answer to that question since you've been keeping such close tabs on me."

"Don't be like that. You know I'm just looking out for you?"

I stood up and walked a few steps before whirling round. "I'm a big girl. I've got a bodyguard now. I don't need a stepmother also. I wish you'd just get off my case about this. I'm fine, really. So I enjoy a drink now, is there anything wrong with that?"

She stood and faced me. "Not in itself, but I think you're using it as a crutch. You're actually relying on it. Hell, Cara, I've seen bottles that weren't even half empty when I went to bed sitting in the bin the next morning."

My anger flared. "What do you want to do? Draw levels on the bottle so you can see when your boozy friend is sneaking some more? God, I feel like an intruder in this house at times."

"Don't say that," Jools said in a pleading voice.

I shook my head. "I can't deal with this, Jools. I don't want to sound ungrateful or anything, but I think it's time I found my own place."

She looked as if she had been slapped. Her face fell and her shoulders slumped. "If that's the way you feel…"

"It is," I said firmly. 

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

 

CHAPTER 38

 

We began rehearsals for the tour a few days later. Instead of using the back room at Jools' place, we now had the exclusive use of a performance studio at Sony. It was more spacious and there was plenty of room to set up all the equipment we needed. The guys were as excited as I was, if not more so, at the thought of doing the live performances. We spent the latter part of that week simply getting ourselves familiar with all our songs again. The atmosphere was fairly relaxed as we were not under much pressure at that stage. We were able to enjoy a few days of informal playing to get the feel of the music again.

Following my heated conversation with Jools, I was looking into possible properties that I might consider buying. Although I regretted the way in which things had come to a head, in the cold light of day I knew that I couldn't live with her forever. I was going to have to get my own place at some stage, and this was probably an opportune time. I was saddened by the way it was happening and I reckoned that Jools felt the same way.

The next day, I had apologised for my outburst and she had apologised for making me feel uncomfortable. No more had been said about it, but I knew that underneath it all, we both had some reservations about the issue that had precipitated this confrontation. Jools, for her part, didn't mention anything further about what I chose to drink and I tried to be more discreet when I felt I wanted a drink. Looking back, I think that was a bad move.

I had made an appointment with an exclusive property estate agent and met him on Friday afternoon. Gareth, of course, was in tow. Estate agents get a bad press for being pushy, somewhat slimy and less than forthright on occasions. I'm sure this is an oversimplified generalisation, but sometimes generalisations are spot on. It certainly was this time.

"Ms. Malone, let me begin by saying how wonderful it is to make your acquaintance. I can assure that you that it is a pleasure to be able to help you in this and any other way that I can. My name is Joel Duncan."

I smiled, probably a little coolly. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Duncan."

"Oh please, call me Joel. May I call you Cara?"

I felt my smile begin to fade and I bristled. "Actually, perhaps it would be better if you called me Miss Malone."

His expression darkened for a moment, but then he regained his composure. "Absolutely, as you wish. I'm here to serve you and help you find the property that is perfect for you. Had you anything in mind particularly?"

"Not exactly, but I have an idea of the sort of thing that I am looking for. I want to be somewhere within the Greater London area, but not overly central. In the closer suburbs perhaps. It would be preferable if it was a detached property with a degree of privacy."

"Absolutely," he fawned, "I can see how that would be important. You want to be able to exclude unwanted guests."

I smiled and mentally added Joel Duncan to the list of unwanted guests, but simply said, "Yes, I'm glad you understand."

He hesitated. "I don't like to mention it, but do we need to consider what price range you are thinking of?"

I'm afraid I must have looked and sounded rather condescending as I replied, "I don't think that is a problem, do you?"

He seemed to grow a foot taller and a wide smile spread across his face. "I'm sure it's not. This will indeed widen the available options."

I thought that it was more the widening of his commission that was contributing to the improvement in his mood. He proceeded to show me photographs and details on several properties. He gushed about how wonderful they were and the majestic features of each. It was amusing to realise how often he used the word 'unique' when describing the various houses. I was surprised that there were so many 'unique' houses around, but I refrained from commenting on this.

I had worn a smart, but fashionable, black jacket and skirt ensemble. The skirt was short and as I sat there, I was aware that it was riding up to a degree. Joel also seemed to be rather aware of this as I noted where his gaze was directed on more than a few occasions. Having looked at details on around twenty houses, I narrowed it down to half a dozen that looked like they had potential. Joel was practically bowing and scraping at the end as he agreed to set up viewing appointments for the start of the following week.

Once outside, I turned to Gareth. "What did you make of him?"

He looked at me frankly. "Snivelling little toad."

I laughed and asked, "Is that your professional opinion?"

"Without a doubt. If I'd spotted him looking at your legs once more, I think I'd have been tempted to do something about it."

I looked at him with some surprise. "My, aren't we protective."

He shrugged and smiled. "That's my job, isn't it?"

I chuckled. "A bit father-like though, aren't you?"

He winked. "I'm old enough to be your father."

I rolled my eyes. "Just don't start telling me what I can and can't wear."

He grinned. "Have you ever heard me complain about what you wear?" 

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

 

The following week, we began to practise in earnest for the upcoming performances. To help us get into the right mindset, I had got the guys to arrange the room more like a stage set up. It was a traditional layout: Kevin and drums at the back, Peter and keyboards stage right, slightly forwards from Kevin. Brian stood stage left, further forwards again, and then I placed myself at the front, centre stage, with Jon to my right. I let them do a bit of fiddling with sound settings until they were satisfied that we could all hear what we needed to hear.

One of the myths about live performances is that there is spontaneity in the running order of songs. The audience may romantically think that the band scribbles the order down on the back of a cigarette packet minutes before taking the stage. I doubted that was often the case. Sound engineers and lighting technicians preferred order and defined patterns. Most bands on tour will play the same set in exactly the same order for most of their performances. Yes, there can be occasional adjustments with a few different songs being employed depending on the setting where they are playing, but for the most part, it is set in stone. It was also better for the band as one would know exactly what was coming next. The challenge was to make this almost obsessive organisation appear spontaneous and vibrant whilst on stage.

We sat and had some discussion about the order in which we would play the songs. At least, with only one album released, there was little difficulty in choosing which songs we would play: we would play all of them. After talking it over, we decided on the following order:

No Half Measures

Living Life in Colour

You Make My Skin Crawl

Nine Years Old Again

I Just Wanna Be Me

I'm Not Gonna Sing Your Song

Simply Say

Dreaming Your Life

Waiting in Heaven

Forgotten How to Love

I'm Coming Home

Not Dancing, but Flying

The reasoning was that we should start with an up-tempo well-known song and follow that with another rocky song. Then we'd change pace a little and bring in some humour with 'You Make My Skin Crawl'. We'd pick the pace up again for a few numbers before slowing down again with 'Simply Say' and 'Dreaming Your Life'. I then planned to get more serious before singing 'Waiting in Heaven'. We'd bring things to a mellow end with the next two songs and then probably use 'Not Dancing, but Flying' for an encore, which again would be a well-known song. Having sorted that out, we had only to work out how we would play each song live. Easier said than done.

I wasn't someone who thought that every song we played live had to be different from the studio album version, but there were certain factors that had to be taken into consideration. For example, if we had used overdubbing while recording to get two lead guitar parts, we couldn't exactly split Jon in two to perform each part. Also, Steve and Tom may have used certain effects when mastering the songs to achieve a certain sound – this might be irreproducible for a live performance. Plus, I doubted that the London Philharmonic would agree to accompany us around the country just to play our final song. One thing I was insisting on though was a brass trio. 'I Just Wanna Be Me' absolutely required it and it would add a punch to some other songs. Simon had promised to get a trio to join in the final week of practising.

We began to work our way through the songs in order. We played around with the solos in 'No Half Measures' and extended them. Jon taught me a new riff to use while playing rhythm guitar. This was the challenge of performing live: trying to play your instrument well without compromising the vocal. In a sense it was easy in the studio as one could give full concentration to delivering a perfect vocal. Of course, in the heat of a live performance, absolute perfection was not required. I was quite fanatical however, that we had to get things right now. If we knew the songs inside out in practice, there was less room for error once on stage.

It was a hard grind each day and by the middle of that week, the pressure was beginning to build. I was not feeling at my best. I had a fuzzy head and had skipped breakfast. Perhaps my tolerance was weakened.

"Oh for God's sake, Peter, that's about the fifth time in a row you've missed that chord change," I spat with frustration.

He looked shocked and his eyes widened. "Err… sorry Cara. I'm not doing it on purpose, you know." He smiled, probably trying to lighten the moment.

"I don't care if it's deliberate or just incompetence, sort it out one way or the other," I said rather harshly.

I noticed that the others were all looking at me as if I had two heads. "What is it? Have you bozos forgotten that we're going on stage in about three weeks? This isn't the same as playing a smoky little club like we did months ago. This is the real thing and I'm tired of the amateurish effort that is being put in around here."

"Cara," Jon said gently, "I think you're being a little unfair…"

"Unfair?" I said whirling on him, "Come on, Jon, let's cut the crap. We've a job to do and so far you guys aren't up to scratch."

I could see that he was riled. "Us guys? It's not just us, we're a band altogether. That includes you."

I raised an eyebrow and put a hand on one hip. "Really? All in it together? How cosy. Well if I'm not mistaken the tickets that the poor unsuspecting public buy will say 'Cara Malone' on them. However, if I've got that wrong and somehow not realised that you guys are the stars, then please do correct me."

He shook his head and his brow furrowed. "Would you listen to yourself? Drop the prima donna act and get real. If you're so uptight about this, then maybe you should have thought about it before agreeing to do these gigs. We don't have enough time to prepare. Perhaps you should think about the consequences of what you do before you leap in."

I felt my blood begin to boil. "Oh that's rich. You would know all about thinking through your actions before you start something."

From the look on his face, I could see that he knew exactly what I was referring to. He looked hurt, but strangely I was unmoved.

"Anyway, I'm out of here," I said haughtily. "I've got some houses to view this afternoon." In a sarcastic tone I added, "Perhaps you boys wouldn't mind putting in a bit more effort this afternoon and make sure you know our songs. I'll be back tomorrow morning to see how you've got on." 

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

 

In the elevator, I was aware of Gareth's eyes on me.

I frowned at him. "If you've got something to say, then say it."

He shrugged and murmured. "None of my business, Miss Malone."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on. I didn't figure you for a spineless yes-man. If you're thinking something, then say it."

He was silent for a moment and then quietly spoke, "I'm not sure what the history is between you and Jon, but I know that what you said hurt him bad for some reason. If that's what you wanted to do, that's fine. The rest of the guys are trying their best and working hard. If you want to be the uppity ice queen, that is entirely up to you. However, if you are feeling less than one hundred percent for some other reason and are just taking it out on them, well that's another matter. Just my opinion. You asked for it and I'm not prepared to let you tear my head off too for giving you what you asked for."

I stared at him intensely for a moment and then sighed. I rubbed my eyes and nodded. In a small voice I said, "You're right. You're completely right. I don't know what got into me. I'm worried that I'm turning into a real bitch."

I felt his hand settle on my shoulder for a fleeting moment. "That's not the real you. I've spent a lot of time with you even though I've only been working for you a short while. I'd like to think I know what you're really like and upstairs there now? That wasn't the real you. You're special, there's something different about you. Don't lose that."

I looked up at him and gave a wan smile. "Do you give this pep talk to all the stars you've looked after?"

He laughed. "Hell, no. Most of them were real bitches and I couldn't care less about how they felt. As I said, you're different."

"Thanks," I murmured.  

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

 

"This is the one," I said quietly.

"I beg your pardon," Joel said obsequiously.

We had looked at four houses already and none of them had been suitable or what I was looking for. The house we were viewing at that moment was a three-storey, redbrick, Edwardian detached house in St. John's Wood.

It wasn't much on the outside. It had a moderate-sized garden, large double garage and a fairly large wall most of the way around the property's perimeter. However, inside it was just fantastic. I was initially concerned that it appeared a little old and I worried that it might be somewhat rundown. I worried for nothing.

Inside, the house was the last word in modern design. Joel had been incessantly ranting about how wonderful everything was, but he was actually correct. Polished beech floors underfoot, concealed lighting, tastefully decorated and modern furnishings all combined to increase my liking for the house. The previous owners, apparently, had been a wealthy couple that had bought the house, decorated it, moved in and then promptly divorced. Neither wanted the house and they were offering to sell the furnishings also.

The accommodation was spacious with a large drawing room and dining room. Room? It was more of a small hall. The kitchen was beautiful, not that I am a big fan of kitchens. There was a cosy den that just seemed so homely. It opened through double glass doors into a spacious conservatory. Upstairs there were four bedrooms with a fifth bedroom, study and playroom all on the top floor. The playroom would make a perfect music room, I thought. Over the rooftops, I could just see into the western reaches of Regent's Park.

"What do you think?" I asked Gareth.

"Not bad. The wall outside needs to be built up in a few places, alarm system's pretty good, add a few external lights, CCTV and electric gates and it would be grand."

I rolled my eyes and smiled. "I meant: do you like the house?"

He chuckled. "Sorry, thought you were asking for my professional assessment. Yes, I do like it."

I turned back to Joel who was almost wringing his hands as he cowered in the background. "How much did you say they wanted for it?"

"Oh, let me just check again… the asking price is one point one five million and if you want all the furnishings, fittings and appliances, they are another fifty thousand."

I sighed and my shoulders fell. "Pity," I murmured.

Joel looked crestfallen. "Erm, do you think that is a problem?"

I smiled ruefully. "Joel, I love this house. It's perfect, but that much money is too steep for me at the moment."

He hesitated for a moment and then gave a slimy smile. "Well… I shouldn't tell you this, but I know that the previous owners would like a quick sale. They want to release the capital tied up in this house. There haven't been that many interested viewers…"

I looked back at Joel with interest. "What are you trying to say?"

He shrugged diffidently. "I'm just thinking that they may be receptive to a lower offer."

I nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, tell them I'm prepared to offer one million, but I'd want the furnishings included."

He paled a little. "Well, now when I said they might be prepared to accept a lower…"

I interrupted gently and put a hand on his arm. "Oh come, Joel. I'm sure you can be very persuasive. Why don't you see what you can do for me?"

He flushed and beamed with self-importance. His chest swelled and he nodded. "I'll do what I can."

As we left and got into my car, Gareth was chuckling.

"What's got you so amused?"

He grinned. "I'm just amazed at how some men fall for a pretty woman. I mean, he was almost putty in your hands. How long does it take you to learn how to manipulate men like that? I mean, do you start learning it from childhood? Do mothers take their daughters aside and start teaching it when you are just out of nappies?"

I laughed and shrugged. "Gareth, you'd be surprised how quickly we can learn what we need to do to get what we want." 

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

 

The next morning, I felt very sheepish when I arrived at Sony and had to face the guys. They greeted me warily as if waiting to see if I were in the same mood as the previous day.

I smiled apologetically. "Guys, I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday. I was wrong to take my frustration out on all of you. I guess I'm a bit uptight at the moment, but I know that doesn't excuse my behaviour… so anyway, I'm sorry."

Kevin bounced on his stool. "No problem, Cara, that's fine."

Peter grinned at me. "Forget it; we're all a bit pumped."

Brian winked at me. "Give us a warning next time, will you?"

I turned to Jon. He seemed more reserved than the others. He shrugged. "We all get worked up at times." That was all he said.

We got back into the practising and things went better. We were getting on top of the songs and really starting to deliver a good sound. The energy and enthusiasm were there. I soon forgot about the previous day's debacle and began to enjoy myself.

We tweaked most songs to some degree or other. In most, we lengthened any solos as it gave us more scope for improvisation in the live setting and, in others, we changed the endings. Of course, whilst one can do a 'repeat chorus to fade' ending in the studio, it doesn't come across so well on stage. The ending of a live song is possibly one of the most crucial parts; it has to be tight and punchy. Correspondingly, we spent an age making sure the ending of each song was permanently ingrained into our consciousness.

Over lunch, I sensed that the others were still somewhat cautious around me. I tried to chat freely and show them that I really was not an ogre.

"I saw a house yesterday that I really want to buy…"

"Really?" "Do tell." There was general interest.

I told them all about it in far greater detail than they would have requested given the choice. It was probably quite obvious to them that I was very taken with the place.

The others were talking amongst themselves and Jon piped up from beside me, "So, you're moving out from Jools' place?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's a hard decision, but I've always known that I'd have to find my own place at some stage."

"Are you sure this is the right time?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. When is the right time?"

"I dunno," he replied, "I was just thinking that there's a lot going on in your life right now and the stability might help you."

I shot him a glance with a wry grin. "When has my life recently not had a lot going on in it?"

He laughed. "Fair point." He paused before continuing, "I just worry about you. Being in a house by yourself, what with all that has come to light recently."

I grinned. "Hey, don't worry. I've got Gareth to look after me now and if I do buy this house, it will be like Fort Knox by the time he finishes with it."

He nodded. "I'm glad you've got Gareth watching over you." His brow furrowed, "I know he'll make sure that nothing dramatic happens to you… but like for him it's just a job…" He shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like… he really cares about you though."

I turned to look at him closely. I grinned and murmured, "Jon, I never knew you cared."

He laughed self-consciously. "Don't talk crap. You know I care. That won't change… despite what all may have happened."

I smiled and then chewed my lip. "I'm sorry about what I said yesterday."

He knew what I was talking about. "Don't worry about it. I probably deserved it."

I patted his arm. "I don't know about that. It was wrong of me to say it no matter what." 

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

 

"One point zero five million pounds?" Jools exclaimed.

Joel had taken two days to get back to me. He had informed me that his clients would accept no less than the above amount for the house plus furnishings. I was quite pleased. I hadn't expected them to accept my initial offer. I had told Joel I would give them what they had asked for. I had just told Jools the good news.

"Are you sure you can afford that?" she asked.

I grinned. "Hey, you know the state of my finances more than anyone."

She raised an eyebrow. "True, but we'll have to sit down and work out what's the best way to do this. How much of your capital to use as deposit and what size of mortgage to take out."

I grinned triumphantly. "No need, I've sorted it all out. I met with my bank manager and we've worked through all the figures. I got a pretty good deal on the mortgage too."

She looked surprised and perhaps even a little hurt. I think I understood: up until now I had relied heavily on Jools for everything. I felt that I needed to be more independent and I think she was finding it difficult to adjust to this concept.

"You had no problem getting the mortgage?"

I chuckled. "Not once he worked out why I looked familiar and admitted that his two teenaged daughters were big fans." I paused and with a straight face continued, "I suppose the autographed photos and promise of two complimentary Wembley Arena tickets had little to do with it."

She shook her head slowly and then laughed. "I've created a monster."

I buffed my nails. "I've been taught by the best."

After a moment's silence she asked, "So when… do you think you will be ready to move?"

I shrugged. "I've got my solicitor instructed to push the contracts through as soon as possible. I think it could be about three weeks or so."

"So soon?" she mused. 

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

 

At times, I felt like a flagging mountaineer. Just when I thought the summit was in sight, I would see another peak rising in the distance. It was as if I was always pushing to reach the next goal, the next target. When each successive achievement didn't quite bring me the fulfilment that I sought, I set my eyes on the next one and hoped that it would be the one to satisfy me.

I had thought that the album release or the Number One single would be the pinnacle of achievement that I had been seeking, but I was wrong. Now I was hoping that it was the opportunity to sing and play my songs live before a hopefully appreciative audience. Whilst I was holding onto this hope, there was a small voice inside me telling me that this probably would not be the case. Small voices could be drowned out by keeping yourself busy, and in other ways too.

The next two weeks were mostly made up of hard work in the studio as we practised diligently. We were getting to the stage where we could play the songs in our sleep and were almost getting bored with them. Each time that I sensed we were becoming over familiar with one particular song, I quickly moved us all on to another. There was a fine line between well practised and over practised. The last thing we wanted was for us to be so comfortable with the material that the performance would be stale. However, I figured that the addition of a proper stage, lots of lights and a few thousand people would help prevent that eventuality.

My mood was rather up and down during this period. I had days when I knew my temper was short and I had to fight hard to keep my irritation from showing too much. The guys were pretty good at reading me though. When they sensed that I was in bad form, they didn't push me on anything and would give me a lot of space. I had enough insight to realise all this, but it was hard to actually do anything about it. I wasn't sure why I was feeling like this. Perhaps it was the hormones. Perhaps I was more unsettled about my forthcoming house move than I liked to admit.

Simon kept flitting in and out to check how things were going. He was like a nervous expectant father wondering how the delivery of his first child was progressing. I understood that he had a lot riding on this mini-tour, as he had been the one to push for it. At first, his little visits were almost cute, but lately I had begun to find them tiresome. Unfortunately his timing was poor on a few occasions and he had managed to find me at less than my best. I was rather brusque and not too kind to him at these times.

Towards the end of the time that we had allotted for tour preparation, Jon had been acting funny. Whilst there had been a certain amount of awkwardness between us for some time, it had increased recently. I had asked Brian about it and he'd evaded the question, saying that I should ask Jon about it if I thought there was a problem. I knew there was something that he was not telling me, but I couldn't bring myself to ask Jon about it up front. I assume that Brian probably mentioned our little conversation to Jon, because the next day he took me aside during one of our breaks.

"Fancy getting a breath of fresh air?" he asked, trying to sound casual but looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Sure," I said with a shrug.

We headed up onto the roof. It was a grey late November day, but thankfully it was not raining. I looked down at the busy streets below as the cars crawled along, being outpaced by most of the adjacent pedestrians.

"What's on your mind, Jon?"

"Huh?"

I smiled. "I sense there is something that you want to tell me. You've been pussyfooting around me for the last two weeks."

"Yeah…" he said noncommittally. "I guess I have." He looked out over the rooftops and was silent. I wondered if he was actually going to say anything further.

He turned back to me and sighed. "Look, I don't know if I should feel uncomfortable about this or not, but I do. I don't know if it is a big deal or anything…"

I tapped my foot impatiently. "Jon, whatever it is, just say it, would you?"

He grinned nervously. "OK, I'm seeing someone new."

I looked at him and then began to smile. "That's it? That's what you've been trying to tell me all this time? Why didn't you just come out and tell me before now?"

My words sounded brave, but inside I felt the pain as his words hit home. Of course, it was nothing less than what I had expected. Did I think he would be a monastic bachelor until his dying day? Since there was no chance of anything happening between the two of us, I had known it would only be a matter of time before this transpired.

He shrugged diffidently. "I don't know… I just thought it might be a bit awkward… just with things that have happened before." He paused, "I was worried in case you would have a difficulty with it…"

I laughed. "Oh, Jon, come on. Don't flatter yourself, hon. I mean, yes we shared a moment, but that's all it was."

He nodded. "OK… well that's fine."

I looked up at him and softly said, "Surely you should be happy that there's no problem. You look as if someone died."

He forced a smile and stood up straighter. "I am happy. No, it's good. I just wanted to make sure."

I chuckled. "Come on, silly old you. Let's go back down and get back to work."

As we descended the stairs, I casually said, "Actually, I was thinking that perhaps I should start seeing someone too. All work and no play, you know…" 

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

 

The first week of December was a busy one. Although we had finished all our practices and would not be playing our songs again until we went on stage in Edinburgh that Friday night, I had plenty to think about. I needed to work out what I was going to say on stage and, perhaps even more importantly, what I was going to wear.

All this was compounded by the fact that my solicitor had managed to complete the purchase of my new house. Having signed the contract and now being the official owner, I was keen to move in as soon as possible. Gareth had various teams of men swarming over the place making the adjustments that he had recommended. He had asked how much I wanted to know about what he was getting done and I had assured him that he could tell me all about it when it was finished. I trusted him to sort it out.

With the house being already fully furnished and with me owning very little in the way of substantial possessions, moving was not going to be an onerous task. At least, not physically. As I packed my clothes – not an inconsequential job given the large wardrobe I had built up – I felt very strange inside. It felt like I was leaving home. I sat on my bed staring into space for some time. My bed? My room? When I thought about it, I realised that Jools' house was the only place that I as a female had known as home. I had had few qualms about leaving the grotty Greenwich flat that Nick had inhabited, but this was different. This place was filled with many intense memories for me.

"Taking a break?" a quiet voice said from the doorway.

I looked up and grinned at Jools. "Heya, yes, just thinking."

She sat down beside me and gave me a wan smile. "Are you feeling as rotten as I am?"

I managed an equally washed-out smile. "Pretty much, I reckon."

Jools put her arm around my shoulders. "I know you have to move on and get your own place. It makes sense, but… hell I'm going to miss you so much."

I swallowed hard. "Jools, I know. I'm going to miss you too, but if we talk about this more, I know that I'm going to end up crying."

Jools shrugged. "Why don't we cry about it here and now together… rather than later tonight when we're each alone in our own houses?"

That did the trick and the floodgates opened. We both sat and sobbed as we hugged each other. I know it might sound pathetic, but perhaps even I had underestimated the bond that I had built up with this incredible woman.

I wiped my eyes and managed to achieve some semblance of control. In a shaky voice I said, "Jools, you're the best, you really are. I couldn't ask for a better friend. I know I've been difficult to live with recently and I know that this whole move could have taken place in better circumstances, but I want you to know that I love you so much and… if it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be today." I paused. "Actually I do. I'd probably be still asleep in that hellhole of a flat that used to be mine. I'd be a skinny, unattractive, and probably still unsuccessful, man."

Jools laughed through her tears. "You do realise that you've been a woman for over a year now. Just about a week ago you passed that milestone."

I nodded and smiled. I had noted it myself as the date had passed. "I know, it's hard to believe."

"Any regrets?"

I shrugged. "We all have regrets even when we make the right choices. Would I do things differently?" I thought for a moment before continuing in a determined voice, "Knowing what I do now, I'd definitely do it all again. Despite the troubles and difficulties there have been."

She grinned and squeezed my arm. "So you don't blame me for totally changing your life?"

I chuckled. "I just blame you for not doing it sooner."

We laughed and recalled the many happy times that we had spent together in her house over the past year. We did more crying too before we were done. 

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

 

I stood on the front steps having packed everything into my car and Gareth's. Truth be told, most of it was in Gareth's. After all, my car was more about aesthetics than functional luggage space.

"Thanks so much, Jools. This place has been a real home for me. I'm going to miss it."

We both misted over again as she hugged me fiercely. "Damn it," she said through her tears, "I'm going to miss you."

I tried to force a laugh. "You're not going to get rid of me that easily. You'll see plenty of me, and remember I'm only going to be living about fifteen minutes from here."

As we broke the embrace, she said, "You will think about what I suggested, won't you?"

I nodded, "I promise." 

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

 

"Are you listening, Miss Malone?"

"Mmm? What was that?"

Gareth sighed. "I'm trying to show you how this security system works. You were miles away."

I smiled apologetically. "Sorry. Listen, would you do me a really big favour?"

He shrugged, seemingly caught off balance. "Sure, what do you want?"

"Would you please call me Cara? I feel silly having you call me Miss Malone. It was fine at first when we didn't really know each other, but it sounds ridiculous now."

He screwed up his face. "I don't know, I mean I sort of always like to stick to the rules…"

I chuckled and with a flash of insight said, "Gareth, I know what you mean about the rules, but trust me – calling me Cara won't lead to you and me doing the dirty before we both know it. I mean, I like you, but not like that."

He looked both shocked and amused at the same time. He laughed and didn't say anything as he nodded slowly. "Alright, Cara, you win." He winked. "Although I'm gutted the way you've just dashed all my hopes and dreams."

I laughed and said, "OK, you were telling me about some alarm thingy?"

He rolled his eyes and patiently repeated his demonstration and instructions. He had been busy - or rather those he had employed on my behalf had been. There was a complete eight-foot high red brick wall surrounding the property and the front entrance had electronically controlled gates with an intercom system. There were sensor-controlled security lights all around the house and I was assured that the intruder alarm was state of the art. Apparently it was wired into the local police station and the security company's central control room. There were closed circuit TV cameras that covered the front gates and the front and rear entrances. I was impressed by the work that had been put in. Strangely though, instead of feeling more secure, I felt more vulnerable.

Gareth was about to leave for the night, when I stopped him. "Gareth?"

"Yes?"

I hesitated. I looked up at him and opened my mouth to speak, but then felt foolish.

"What is it?" he prompted gently.

I shook my head. "Nothing, I'm just being silly."

He really was quite astute. "You feel funny being left here alone, is that it?"

I smiled bashfully and nodded. "Ridiculous, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Not really. It is your house, but it's not your home yet. The place is still unfamiliar, but you'll get used to it." He paused and looked at me as I stood there feeling a little lost. Then he sighed and smiled. "Do you want me to stay here tonight?"

I felt like a little girl as I asked, "Would you?"

He nodded and smiled kindly. "Sure I will, but I'm warning you, no funny business from you. I'm on duty." He winked.

I laughed and immediately felt better. "Fancy a quick nightcap then?"

He shook his head. "Remember – on duty."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on. One drink before bed will hardly hurt."

His eyes looked away for a moment before returning to me. "I don't drink… anymore," he said quietly.

He communicated so much more by what he didn't say. Although I had gotten to know him fairly well over the previous weeks, I realised that there was so much about him that I did not know. The sort of man that he was, I reckoned that I would never know the half of it.

"OK," I said brightly. "Well, you can have your pick of the bedrooms. Of course, I've already reserved the master bedroom, but the rest are available."

"Goodnight, Miss… goodnight, Cara," he said with a smile.

"Night, Gareth... and thanks."

I went into my spacious kitchen and opened the fridge. It was nearly empty save for a few bottles of wine that I had brought from Jools' place. I remembered that I had no food either. I frowned as I realised that I had never been very good at the living on my own thing. As I savoured a glass or two of wine, I mulled over Jools' earlier suggestion and concluded that it made good sense. 

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

 

After having persuaded Gareth to stay the next night also, he gently suggested the following morning that perhaps I should think about employing the equivalent of a night watchman. He said that various security companies provided the services of someone to watch private properties at night. It was not that they were trained killers to ward off any evil that may come around, but more like a reassurance to the owner and deterrent to any intruders.

"Can't you just stay with me?" I said grinning foolishly and batting my eyelashes furiously.

He chuckled. "I've got a social life to think of too."

We both laughed. In the short time in which I had known him, it had become fairly clear that he didn't get out much. I supposed that it was difficult given the unpredictable hours involved in his line of work. Nonetheless I knew that he couldn't keep staying over. So I agreed that he should pursue his suggestion. It did make sense: not only would it put my mind at rest when I was there, but given that I could be away from the house for prolonged periods of time, it was wise to have someone watching the house at night.

I had followed up on Jools' suggestion too. She had thought that I should get myself a housekeeper. Initially I had pooh-poohed the idea as I said that with only one person living in the house, it was hardly necessary. Jools had pointed out that the one person living in the house was unlikely to clean the house or do much in the line of cooking. She was right. Domestic chores had never been my strong point.

While staying with Jools, I had made more of an effort as it was only fair given that she was letting me live with her for free. However, left to my own devices, we both had a fair idea of what would happen. It just so happened that Jools had done some groundwork of her own before mentioning this to me. She had talked to the person who knew most about housekeeping: Mabel at Silsbury Manor. Mabel had given Jools the phone number of a distant cousin of hers who used to keep house for an elderly gentleman who had recently passed away.

I phoned the number. "Hello, can I speak to Mrs. Dorothy Pantridge please?"

"Speaking. Who's calling, please?"

"Mrs. Pantridge, my name's Cara Malone, you don't know me but…"

"Oh yes, I recognise the name."

I was surprised, as I doubted that a sixty-year-old distant cousin of Mabel's would be up to date with current rock/pop music. My surprise was dispelled and explained as she continued.

"Mabel rang me and said that you might be telephoning. She said that you are a lovely young woman, but that you needed some looking after."

I laughed. "Yes, that sounds about right. It seems you are well informed. Would there be any possibility that you would be interested in helping me?"

It seemed that there was. She arranged to meet me at my house the next morning. 

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

 

"This is a lovely house, my dear."

I smiled. "Thank you. I've only moved in and can take no credit for the décor or furnishings though."

Dorothy Pantridge was a thin but sprightly, well-groomed and conservatively attired woman. She had a warm smile, but a penetrating gaze. She was forthright and looked like a woman who had no trouble speaking her mind.

"So, tell me what you need, my dear."

I shrugged. "I guess the usual things: cleaning, laundry and ironing. You don't happen to cook too, do you?"

She laughed. "Of course I do. How do you think I survived to my age without being able to cook?"

The implication was evident. Doesn't every woman know how to cook? I didn't enlighten her as to my deficiencies in this area. My mind idly wondered if she would buy the excuse that I used to be a man until just over a year ago.

"That would be wonderful. I'd be delighted if you were willing to take up this job. If you're recommended by Mabel, that's all the references I'd need."

She chuckled. "And vice versa, my dear. Mabel said you were a lovely young woman and it seems that she hasn't lost her critical faculties yet. Yes, I'd be happy to take up the position."

We sorted out the practicalities such as her hours, holidays and pay. I was happy to agree to whatever she suggested in each regard. I already began to feel happier in the house knowing that there was going to be a friendly face there most days.

"Oh, I'll be away this weekend until Sunday," I informed her, "I'm going to Edinburgh and then Manchester."

"That's nice, dear. Going to see some friends?"

I smiled and shook my head. "No, I've got some concerts."

"Really? Who are you going to hear? I always liked some Mozart myself."

I grinned. "No, I mean I'm singing at the concerts."

"That's nice, dear."

I chuckled to myself as she bustled off to tackle another task. She was down to earth and I figured that was what I needed. I liked her. 

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

(continued)

  

  

  

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