Claire looked out the window of the train and nibbled her lip; and Alan tried not to grin. She always did that when she was nervous. Claire had a lot to be nervous about at this moment. This was supposed to have been the highlight of their year-long taster course in theatre production; but instead, it had turned into an unmitigated disaster.
First, Mr. Brakeman had had to cancel, and Mr. Harkness had come instead. His dislike of the two outcasts had been obvious from the first day at the college. Claire was too quiet, and seemed to know too much about stage craft, and he, Alan, was a gay rocker who liked, no loved, the wrong kind of music, far too loud.
Next, the theatre they were supposed to be visiting had an 'incident' with the sprinkler system, and then hostel that they were supposed to be staying in had lost their booking the weekend when Camperdown Park in Dundee was hosting the Metal Gods gigs. Every hotel room in the city was booked and there was nowhere for them to stay.
Finally, their minibus had broken down, leaving the whole class stranded in Scotland, in the rain. Of course it had to start raining.
Mr. Harkness had yelled at everyone, including Mr. Berry, who was busy trying to fix the van, but least the shouting made Jemima and Casey keep out of his way. Mrs. Stevenson, the third member of staff, who had come with the ten of them, had nearly cried when he had blamed her for all their misfortune.
Claire had spoken up at that point. She hated seeing anyone cry let alone her favourite teacher. “My grandmother lives near here,” she told them quietly. “If we ring her, I'm sure she could put us up for a few hours. At least we'd be dry and have access to phones and things.”
“That's a kind offer, Claire, but there are quite a few of us,” Mrs. Stevenson pointed out, still trying to keep an eye on Jemima and Casey. The two teenagers had spotted a dress shop and were gazing in the window. She certainly didn’t want those two wandering off.
“Grandy's dining table seats thirty of us; mum's the eldest of nine and there are normally extras as well. Look, just call her, what's the worst she can say? No?”
Mrs. Stevenson looked at the bedraggled teenagers and nodded. “Use my phone?” she suggested as she pulled her mobile out of her bag. All the kids had been forbidden to bring their own mobiles.
Claire had dialled a number and spoken quickly before handing the phone over to our Drama teacher. Mrs. Stevenson had looked relieved when she finally said good bye and finished the call. “Thank you. Now your gran said you knew the way to Burn Halt? We have to catch a train, I believe.”
So, here we all were, travelling out of Dundee, passed posters advertising toothpaste, running shoes and some of the most delicious rock stars there were. I had to admit to drooling when Rick Monrose of Titan appeared in the next one. He had his back to the camera and was looking over his shoulder, wearing tight leather trousers, and his long, dark red hair looked like someone had just run their fingers through it. I pointed it out to Claire, knowing that she loved their music as well, but she pulled the sort of face she normally saved for some middle of the road boy band and went back to staring out of the window.
How do I describe Claire? Nice. I would have to say nice. She’s the sort that takes the time to talk to the new kid, or help someone with their homework. She shared books and computer time with me whenever I needed them. That was how we met. I needed help with a theoretical lighting project and she offered to show me a few ideas. The other girls scoffed, mainly because I was gay, and according to them at least, not worth the effort; and secondly, because they didn’t believe that Claire could understand the theory. We did a lot of our projects together after that. Then I moved into her two bedroomed flat when my own landlord started causing me trouble. It was only supposed to be for a couple of weeks, but I've been there ever since.
I have never seen anyone mike up a drum set that fast; even if it was a simple one. She was a wizard at the mixing desk for the stage show we put on. It was like she’d been doing it all her life. Most of the girls hated her for that, and for the fact that she worked hard. Her modules were always in on time and usually excellent. It had been like that all year. She wants to go into tour management after this course, and I want to work as a sound engineer. We make an odd couple. At six foot, I tower over her five foot three, and she is one of the few people, male or female, that I know that has longer hair than I do. She can actually sit on it, mine's 'only' just below my shoulders.
I suppose she is beautiful, but I don’t fancy her. I have fallen in love with her though. Her whole family really, they made me so welcome when I met them all. I know that she hasn’t told me much about her family, but they are a crazy bunch of lunatics. Her brothers and sisters all seem very close to one another. It was something I envied about them. I just had my mum and dad, and they could be dysfunctional at the best of times.
Claire's folks just listened to me, and gave me somewhere safe to hide.
She plays the piano and the guitar like a dream, and even has a harp at home, in the flat. She gets lost in music very easily; all sorts of music, heavy rock or classical, modern or a Gregorian chant, it was all the same to her. You never knew what was going to play on her ipod next or what I'd find on the CD player when I went to put on some Titan.
She rarely sang on the course. She had learned not to, far too much teasing when she did. Her voice had the quality of someone who had been trained to sing properly from childhood. She could read music, quickly. I remember her telling me once that she could read music before she could read letters.
She wore jeans and tee-shirts to college and didn't try to make it a fashion parade every day. Far more sensible when she was climbing up in the gantries, she said. Even for this trip, she'd only packed one skirt. I knew that because I'd spent the night before we left helping her pack.
Claire was trying not to listen as the girls behind her giggled over the latest gossip rag. I could tell that much.
"God, her family is weird. There are five kids, you'd think her mother would know about birth control," Jemima started her favourite speech again. "The house is tiny, where do you think they all sleep? No wonder no-one will go out with her."
Claire caught Alan's eye and grinned, she was confident enough not to be upset by idiots. Although, she was not quite eighteen, she was engaged, and he was the only one who knew it. Alan pointedly looked back out of the window, thinking about the amazing home he'd visited. Claire’s house looked small from the outside, but it was deceiving. There were tunnels and rooms in the catacombs below the woods that disguised it, earning it its nickname of the Warren.
Ash, Claire's father, had been welcoming to the young lad, and had even given him a guided tour of the workshop where he made his guitars.
The guard came round and checked all their tickets. Claire pointed out, very quietly, that they needed to stop at Burn Halt.
“That’s fine, Miss Simpkins,” the man told her. “We’ve another getting off there.”
Claire smiled her thanks, and went back to looking out the window.
"How much longer?" Alan asked softly, trying not to disturb the chattering women behind them. He had no desire to incur their wrath.
"About ten minutes. Grandy said she'd meet us at the Halt, with the minibus. Do yourself a favour, if you sit in the front, turn the volume down on the stereo before you even strap in, you'll have to," Claire warned him. "She tends to like her music loud."
"Oh God, she's deaf as well. This is going to be hell."
Claire ignored the comment from Jemima and just continued speaking. "She's doing a barbecue for tonight if the weather clears. It normally does in the valley. If it doesn’t, she’ll buffet it all in the barn."
Casey must have heard, because her head suddenly appeared over the back of the seat. “I’m vegetarian; I hope she has something for vegetarians. I only eat burgers and chicken dippers.”
“Are you going to tell her? Or should I inform her that vegetarians don’t eat any meat?”
“Why spoil all the fun, if she’s honestly that stupid?” she whispered back, then turned round. “Grandy normally has vegetarian food as well; plenty of her friends don’t eat meat products.”
She had been running the ring she wore a chain around her neck backwards and forwards. It was another of her sweet habits. She had told me all about Chris. He was working for her grandfather when they met. She had been fourteen and he had just celebrated his twenty-third birthday. It had taken her nearly a year to persuade him to take her on a date, even then they had been accompanied by one of her sisters. It had been love at first sight for Claire, however Chris had been wary. Claire was well under-age. Jail-bait in every sense of the word, and that was if he had been lucky. Her father and grandfather had been very protective. Claire had told Alan that she knew he'd been threatened, on more than one occasion, not to take anything he couldn't return; that she had never had a boyfriend before, he was truly her first in every way. Claire laughed about it now, but at the time it had been annoying.
Alan usually made himself scarce during her nightly phone call to the man; five forty-five on the dot, every night, and it lasted the best part of an hour. Alan knew that Claire was counting down the days until he was home. She'd slipped off for the odd weekend, but hadn't really seen him for a few months.
Alan had seen a few pictures of Chris, it was hard not to with them scattered all over the flat. His favourite was one with him standing with Rick Melrose of Titan, wearing a Titan tour shirt. Claire had told Alan that they had met on tour. Alan had been a little jealous at the time.
He was still lost in thought when Mr. Berry stood and cleared his throat a few times.
“Now, Claire's grandmother has been kind enough to put us up for the night. The minibus should be fixed by the morning and we will try and arrange a trip around one of the theatres for then. I want you to all remember that you will be guests in an elderly lady's house, so do try and remember your manners.”
He sat back down, pleased with what he'd done, but Claire was crying. When Alan looked closer, she had tears of laughter rolling down her face. “Oh Lord, please don't let him call Grandy elderly when he sees her, she'll skin him alive,” she managed to tell him before howling with laughter again.
Mrs. Stevenson came over to our seat, she looked worried. “Claire, are you alright?” she asked solicitously.
Claire managed to nod; she looked up at her favourite teacher, barely able to control her mirth. “I'm fine.”
“Worried about everyone judging your family again?”
It was weird how Mrs. Stevenson could see right through to a problem like that.
Claire sighed and looked across at Alan. He was the only person that had met her parents, who had ever been invited back to her house, and even he didn't know much about her.
“We know that you aren't as well off as some of the others, but no-one is going to belittle your grandmother for her house. Not when she’s looking after us.”
“Grandy's got money. Grandy and Gramps both. They're mum's folks and had her when they were very young. Grandy's younger than Mr. Harkness.”
“So the lecture about being nice to the old lady was a little misplaced?” Mrs. Stevenson said knowingly.
“Mmhmm. Gramps is younger still. He was only eighteen when Mum was born; and I know that those two are going to say something. It's not just that he's young, he looks a lot younger than he is as well.”
“Your mum is only young,” Alan added helpfully; earning him a dirty look from his friend.
“She was twenty when I was born, dad was thirty. Two of my uncles are younger than I am,” she added with a grin.
“Can I laugh?” Mrs. Stevenson asked straight faced, “Because I think that Mr. Berry is in for a shock.”
“A huge one,” Claire agreed, and she smiled like she knew a huge secret.
Mrs. Stevenson left us too it and went to stop the pretty princesses from putting on too much make-up.
“God, it’s going to be awful. I mean, she's poor,” Davina exclaimed loudly. “Can you imagine the hovel that her grandmother lives in?”
“They only went to the beach somewhere on holiday last year, she said. I mean, the beach?!” Jemima added equally loudly.
Claire moved to sit next to Alan, and took his hand in hers.
“You're my best friend. You've got to know that I never lied to you.” Claire caught her lip between her teeth again.
“I know you've not lied, and I will always love you, even if you don't fancy Rick Monrose. Claire, you are one of the first people to not judge me because of who I fancy. You’re my straight best friend.” Alan tried to lighten the atmosphere a little.
“One of Granpy's best friends is gay, they've know each other for years. Jemima's right, we did go to the beach last summer. We just hung out, the whole family. Mum, dad, all her brothers and sisters and my cousins. Thing is, Gramps owns the island we were on. We go every year, as a family, and just chill.”
Alan looked at her in disbelief. “I thought you were broke? You said you wanted to get a job to help with college.”
“Only to stop me getting bored. Dad has a job, whatever Dan and the others say. He makes handmade acoustic guitars and Mum doesn't just 'sew a bit' as Mr. Harkness so kindly put it when we did the module on costume production, she makes costumes for stage shows, not plays, but the sort of thing Mary Stewart wears when she sings at the Albert Hall.”
Alan burst out laughing. “No wonder you know more than Harks-on about design. Bloody Hell, Claire, why didn't you say something before?”
Claire grinned. “There's more, but I think I'll keep that as a surprise for my best mate. And I didn't say anything because it wasn't important. I wanted to be liked for just me.”
Alan nodded his understanding. He wanted to ask more, but the train started to slow down and Claire stood up to grab for her case.
“This is where we get off,” she announced in a loud voice. “Grandy said she would meet us in the car park.”
Burn Halt was one of those tiny railway stations you get out in the countryside. It was little more than a ticket office and a platform. It seemed almost abandoned when they got down from the train; even the ticket office was shut.
Mr. Hackness easily spotted the elderly lady he assumed was Claire's grandmother. She was waiting by the gate, watching anxiously as they got off. The only other person was a dark haired woman, who looked far too young to be anyone’s grandmother.
He walked towards the older woman and held out his hand, only to be over taken by an elderly man, who kissed her cheek, before they walked away.
“Your grandmother seems to be late,” he commented in a thoroughly annoyed tone, only to have Claire rush passed him and hug the rather attractive older woman. Alan had tried to hang back, but had been dragged along by his exuberant friend.
Mr. Berry was chocking slightly; at least, that was how it sounded. The woman was not skinny by any means, but she had a mature sensuality that challenged the men waiting for her attention. Her jeans were nicely cut and obviously expensive, her hair caught up in a messy bun and she was wearing a tee shirt that had the logo of Venous Records on the front. The anatomically correct heart with wings was world famous. The whole ensemble was topped with a leather jacket that carried the equally famous ‘Titan Giant’ mascot.
The woman held out her hand as the two male teachers approached. Mrs. Stevenson was trying to organise the other girls and hadn't noticed her arrival.
“Hi, I'm Viv,” she said as she shook their hands. “I’ve got the minibus for you all if you want to dump your stuff in the back. Claire, can you drive the car back and pick up Ed from choir on the way?”
She pointed to where a sixteen seater minibus that was waiting with its door open, and next to it, in a midnight blue, stood a Lamborghini Estoque. The 4-seater supercar had only been released the year before.
The males in the group were standing open-mouthed in awe at the dream machine. Dan was actually drooling over it as the girls piled the luggage into the minibus. Claire threw her bag in the back of the car, and signalled to Alan to do the same.
“Grandy says you can ride with her if you like, just strap in and turn the music down, but I thought you’d prefer to ride with me.” Claire grabbed the keys for the car from the man who was waiting by the side of the vehicles. “Thanks, Doug. See you at the house, Grandy.” The man nodded at her before he jumped aboard the still waiting train.
Viv waved a hand as she got into the driver’s seat, keeping her amusement to herself. The dynamics of the group were a little obvious. There were the preeners and the fawners, the show-offs and the workers. She had taught enough college students to recognise them for what they were.
Viv could see that Alan was torn, but the supercar won, even if Claire was driving it. He couldn't resist its siren call.
Alan whimpered as he slid into the most expensive car he had ever sat in. He pulled the seatbelt round and clipped it in as Claire started the beast. There was a deep throated purr from the engine and the car pulled out of the tiny parking lot and thundered down the road. Alan could feel the acceleration pushing him back in the seat, his head cradled in the Italian leather. All too soon, they were slowing down outside a school, where a boy about the same age as he was, was waiting at the kerb.
“I’m Ed,” he announced as he clambered into the back.
“Alan, hi.”
“Hi, Claire. I didn’t know that you were due to visit,” he added belatedly.
“I wasn’t. We got stranded and Grandy offered us shelter. Hi, Uncle Ed,” she grinned at him.
“So, have you come from the Eyrie or the station?”
“Station,” she gave a one word answer before hitting the accelerator again. Another flick of a switch and the heavy thump of guitar and drums filled the car.
“It’s Titan’s new one,” Ed mouthed over the top of the music. “Plague-ridden. They launched it last month and are starting the tour this week.”
Alan nodded, he loved Titan. He was in heaven; a gorgeous man talking to him, a fast car and Titan. It was a moment to savour.
Mrs. Stevenson looked a little worried as the car pulled away from the station. She just hoped that Claire could handle that much power. The car swerved around the corner and thundered away.
Viv could sense her discomfort, and her eyes gave away the cause. “Claire’s been driving since she was thirteen. All the kids have low powered run-arounds for the estate. She past her test on her seventeenth,” Viv reassured the teacher. “She’ll be fine, and she knows better than to scratch one of my babies.” Her pride in her granddaughter was evident in her voice.
As soon as everyone was strapped in, Viv pulled away, going in the opposite direction to the one Claire had taken. Mrs. Stevenson was sitting ‘shotgun’ as they made their way along the road and passed the church. Viv hit the play switch on the steering wheel and the bus was filled with the sound of music.
“Storm Riders,” she said as they went through a little hamlet. “This album's about four years old now. The new one is due out next year.”
The melodic metal was almost soothing after the day Elizabeth Stevenson had survived. It was nice to listen to the story of a knight fighting a dragon. Monica Melrose's voice sang out the final verse, with the maid riding off on the back of the dragon, leaving the brooding knight to lick his wounds alone.
“I love this album. My husband bought it for me for my birthday,” Mrs. Stevenson told their hostess as the music quietened for a few moments. The next track was a loud one, and it should wake up their travelling companions.
“Steve and Vix write amazing stuff, and it suits Amanda's voice so well.”
Mrs. Stevenson was amazed at the depth of knowledge Viv was displaying about the album. Not many people could name the writers of the music so easily.
“Did you study music?” she asked as a they negotiated a tight bend in the road.
“A little, but the family's in the business.”
A few miles later, they came to a high stone wall along side of them, the sort that used to surround estates. They followed it for about five minutes before Viv pulled up by a set of ornate gates and wound down her window to reach the key pad. The gates swung open to reveal a park landscape that seemed to stretch for miles. There were deer grazing below specimen trees that looked like they had stood sentinel for centuries.
“Is your employer alright with us staying?” Mr. Hackness asked, tapping Viv on the shoulder to get her attention. “I assume this is your place of work.” There was a note of disdain in his tone, and Mrs. Stevenson hung her head in despair, surely the expensive car had told him all was not as it appeared.
“I don’t have a boss, just a husband.” Viv followed the tarmacked drive as it wove through the trees and started to climb up a steep hill. “And he’s always happy to see any of his family.”
They passed a field that seemed to be set apart from all the others. There was a white ‘H’ painted in the middle of it, and a small electric buggy waiting just by the gate. The man standing by it waved and Viv waved back.
“We’ve a houseful this weekend, so I’ve put you all in the bunk house. There are four rooms, each sleeping up to four people, and a couple of singles. There’s also a mini kitchen, and I’ve already stocked it with tea and coffee. If you need anything else just let me know. There’s a lounge and the whole place is wired for wi-fi. If you want an outside line, just dial nine first. The lounges have TVs and DVDs. It looks like it’s turning into a fine evening, I thought I’d do a barbecue on the terrace; it’s easier than trying to serve fifty at the table. Once you’re all dry just follow the path up to the main house.” She pointed out a cinder path that wove through a pair of flower boarders.
She opened the door of the bus beside a brick built building that was covered in rambling roses in full bloom.
“Isn’t it beautiful,” Mrs. Stevenson exclaimed. “What do you normally use it for?” she asked as everyone got out the minibus and started sorting out their bags.
“Over-flow from the main house and the cottages when we’re very busy. I’m putting Claire and her friend in the rooms that the family normally uses, which will give the teachers a room each. I imagine that will make things easier. Make yourselves at home, and I’ll see you all in an hour or so.”
Viv smiled to herself as she drove off towards the garages near the main house. Claire had written to her regularly, telling her all about the course she was taking, and all about her one and only friend. The spoilt little madams and sirs on ‘Introduction to theatre production’ were about to get the shock of their young lives.
A few minutes later, Claire was turning into the familiar driveway. The park spread in front of them as far as the eye could see.
“Alan, just remember we are friends forever,” she told her friend. Alan had kept her sane over the last nine and a half months. She needed to pass this course to earn her apprenticeship, and she wanted to earn it on her own and not just walk into one of the twenty or so she had already been offered. Alan had been her only friend through it all
Ed was watching him closely as the car came out from under the cover of the low hanging trees that formed the arch into the inner courtyard. Below them, spread as far as the eye could see, was the valley of the River Murton; ahead, one of the most futuristic buildings Alan had ever seen. It was an edifice of glass and steel, which perched over a cliff like some great bird about to take flight.
“Welcome to the Eyrie,” Ed said, as the car pulled up on a gravel forecourt.
Alan stared open mouthed in astonishment. “This place is huge,” he exclaimed.
“Seventeen bedrooms, excluding the nursery wing,” Claire told him, as she swung open the door. A couple of wolf hounds and a tiny terrier came bounding out of the doorway, tails wagging madly. Claire fussed over them for a few moments. “This is Freya, and this is Blue, and the little lad trying to climb up your leg is Imp.”
Alan allowed all the dogs to get a good sniff as Claire and Ed were unloading the luggage from the back and he had to hurry to catch them up as they climbed the shallow steps that led up to a wall of glass. There was a door off to one side, barely discernible from the rest of the windows.
“The atrium is designed to catch all the heat from the sun and warm the whole house. Grandy uses it for growing her orchids; there are some pretty rare ones. She had the house designed a few years back, the old house that was here was so ruined that there was no chance of a rebuild.”
The inner door opened into a hallway that seemed big enough to park an aircraft carrier in it. It reached up the whole way to the roof and must have been at least three stories. The cupola at the top looked like it had come from a space station, all weird angles and strange planes. It reflected the light in such a way that it seemed to floodlight various areas of the room.
Alan looked around; it was one of the most amazing houses he had ever seen. The stairs repeated the steel and glass theme of the rest of the house. The treads were textured glass, and each had different natural substances embedded in them: stones, ferns, wood, feathers; even shells. The wall was covered in photographs, some holiday snaps, others obviously professionally done. Pride of place was reserved for a huge print of a biker, wearing a leather jacket. His face partially obscured by the little girl cradled in his arms. His hair had been plaited, and beribboned, the one visible eye had been painted with eye shadow and liner, and there was bright pink blusher on chiselled cheek bones. Despite the make-up there was something familiar about the man, but Alan couldn’t work out what it was.
“That’s Grampy and me.” Claire nodded her head towards it. “There’s another one like it in the Carriage House, but the little girl is Mum. She was about four and was bored. She made Grampy up the way she normally did her dolls. Grandy took that picture, Jane Armitage took this one.”
She led the way up the stairs. Carrying her bag over one shoulder, she pushed open the door with one hip. Alan followed closely, walking past the board that was painted with a list of names: The Dairy, Willow Cottage, and The Granary were the ones that caught his eye. Someone had chalked up names, Marcus and Charlie Blackthorn, Tanya and Sven Lindstrom, Rob Halford; the names read like a who’s who of the lead singers of some of the world’s biggest groups. Alongside it was a calendar with dates circled in red. Alan tried to read a couple as he walked passed. Wacken, Rockfest and Ten Thousand Tons of Metal were the only ones he could read quickly.
Alan wanted to ask so many questions and was getting more and more suspicious with each step. The pictures lining the walls had a lot of familiar faces in them, and not just Claire and her brothers and sisters. The name of the photographer his friend had mentioned sunk in slowly - Jane Armitage was one of the top fashion photographers in the world.
Hidden on the third floor was a door that led to yet another set of stairs. This time they were narrow and winding, leading up into the attic rooms.
Ed dumped his bag in one of them before showing Alan a small bedroom suite. “Mum’s put a coffee bar in the big room at the end. We use it as a chill out zone,” he said as Claire vanished into yet another room. “If you need anything give me a shout. There should be fresh towels and stuff in the bathroom. I’d imagine you’d want to get freshened up. See you downstairs in twenty.” And with that, he vanished into his own room.
Alan finally took the deep breath his body had been craving. Claire had always been quiet, and had never given much away. He had seen her with her family and they were boisterous and loving when they were all together, something he envied her for. Now, he found out they were loaded as well. Tess, Casey, and Jemima were going to pitch a fit, he had to smile when he remembered how scared Claire had been that he would be angry with her; how could he possibly be angry with the one person who had always stood by his side?
He stripped off his damp jeans as quickly as he could, before redressing and heading out of the room. It hadn’t even been fifteen minutes, but Claire was waiting for him. This wasn’t the Claire he knew; this one was wearing make-up for a start. Her hazel eyes made even more prominent by the judicious application of eye liner and shadow, her lips painted a dark plum red. She looked amazing even to Alan’s eyes.
“You coming down?” Claire asked as she saw Alan approaching, still looking around like a child in a toy store.
“Ugh huh. Any more surprises?”
“Just one or two,” Claire grinned at him. “Just one or two.”
The kitchen looked like something out of House and Home. Like everything else at The Eyrie it was huge, stainless steel and glass.
“Grandy had it designed for her by the same guy who renovated the kitchens at The Savoy. They are professional standard, and organised to have up to seven work stations. There’s a coffee and tea bar just off them, in what would have been the family room for any other house. Grandy gets annoyed when she gets disturbed when she’s baking.”
She led the way through an arch and into a room that had been set out like an American diner. There were booths and round tables, all of which were empty.
Viv was busy setting out trays of plates and cutlery, sauces and salads.
Claire went across and kissed the woman’s cheek, stealing a piece of cucumber as she did.
“Claire,” she smiled up. “Do me a favour and head out to the Granary and bring the boys in will you? At this rate, we won’t be eating ‘til nearly midnight; and we all have an early start in the morning.”
“Will do, Grandy. Come on Alan, come and meet the rest of the mad house.”
They went out onto a terrace that had barbecues and outside ovens built into it, through a gate and onto a gravel pathway that led though the well maintained gardens. On the way, Claire pointed out things of interest.
“There’s a swimming pond down there, as well as a pool in the orangery; there’s a gym in there as well. There are houses all over the estate where guests stay. We’re pretty full this weekend, what with the Metal Gods happening down the road.”
Claire had stopped in front of a heavy door. It was made from reinforced steel. There was a key pad entry system and she tapped in a code.
Alan heard the distinct ‘click’ of the door unlocking before she pulled it open.
The comment about the Metal Gods sank in as Claire opened a second door. “Welcome to wonderland, Alice,” she told him as he was faced with a glass wall. Beyond he could see a band practising, or rather kicking back and jamming, from the messing about that was happening.
Alan was shaken from his reverie by a high pitched squeal from Claire, she snatched open the door and ran towards one of the rockers in the room. The man caught her and swung her round, kissing her passionately. She leaped up and locked her legs around his waist and he had his hands on her arse, still lip-locked.
Another of the men came over and good naturedly took Claire from her boyfriend’s arms. It was Alan’s turned to squeal, which he did before he covered his mouth in embarrassment, hoping that no-one had heard him. Hugging his best friend was Rickie Melrose the lead singer of Titan. Alan was sure he was drooling. He surreptitiously wiped his mouth, relieved when nothing came off on his hand.
Claire waved a hand, beckoning him into the rehearsal studio. He shook his head, terrified he was about to make a complete fool of himself, but Claire gave him her patent ‘you will do as you're told’ look before waving him in again.
Taking a desperate lungful of air, Alan opened the door.
“Gramps, this is Alan. He’s the one I told you about. Alan this is my grandfather, Rick Melrose, and my fiancé, Chris Banks.”
Alan held out his hand, just wishing he’d got a camera to capture the moment he got to meet one of his heroes. Rick Melrose was holding his hand. Alan didn’t think he would ever wash it again. All too quickly it was over and Chris Banks was offering his hand. Alan was still in awe as it sunk in that he was shaking hands with the drummer from Blood Rain.
“Gramps, Grandy says it’s heading for food time, she wants you all to head in. No studio time warp today.”
Rick grinned at his granddaughter. “Message received, we’ll pack up and head in.”
“Alan, do you want to stay and help Gramps? I can go and see Charlie, and have a girlie chat.”
Alan nodded, almost unable to speak with excitement.
It was an hour later, and he was making his way back down the path, accompanied by all the members of Titan and Blood Rain. He was chatting away with them as though he had known them for years. Rick Melrose was especially attentive to the young man who had befriended his eldest granddaughter.
Chris Banks took off like a rocket when he saw Claire. She had a child in her arms, and a couple of older children chatting with her. Chris kissed her tenderly, his eyes locked on hers as their lips touched. “Ten more weeks,” he whispered softly, as Rick called out to his granddaughter. “I see Sable and Raven found you.”
“Yep. I’ve got Phoenix as well. Charlie is taking three minutes to have a shower in peace, but she might be longer, Marcus had just come in from his run,” she said as she leaned back against Chris' chest. The child in her arms snuggled a little and started to doze ignoring the adults completely.
Rick gave a knowing look; after eleven years of marriage, Charlie and Marcus were as much in love as ever. The likelihood of them putting in an appearance in less than a couple of hours was minimal.
“Grandy threatened them,” Claire explained, causing a great deal of laughter amongst those who knew how ferocious Viv could be.
Alan just tried to breath. In and out. In and out. The day was getting more and more surreal.
There was laughter coming from the terrace as they made their way onto it. A huge table was piled high with salads plates and cutlery. Another was loaded down with puddings of every description. Cheesecakes seemed to be fighting for space with fruit pies and soufflés.
There were a couple of youngish women cooking, what looked enough to feed an army, on the barbecues. The smell was amazing and made Alan's mouth water.
“Your classmates are on their way up,” Viv warned Claire as she brought another plate piled high with profiteroles. Whatever she was going to add was interrupted by a phone ringing.
Alan sat quietly in one corner, half hidden by a pile of bowls and plates. It had all been a bit much. His senses and soul were getting overwhelmed and he needed five minutes to recuperate.
Noise and laughter alerted his to the arrival of more hunks of deliciousness and he felt that his jeans had never been so tight. He was a gay teenager into rock, and surrounded by denim clad rock stars. It was a wet dream come true.
Claire called Alan's name and he looked round to see her chatting to a pretty woman who had taken the baby from her.
“Come and meet my Auntie Charlie. I've known her forever.”
Alan made his way over, and shook hands with Auntie Charlie, and then with Auntie Charlie's husband. Claire could see her friend was shaking as he touched hands with Marcus Blackthorn of Hell's light! She knew she would be in for so much teasing later.
Charlie had to repeated herself a couple of times before the poor man could concentrate. “We've arranged for you all to come and see us setting up for the Metal Gods show. Claire says you're interested in sound engineering, so I've organised for you to help out Nick Lee, she's one of the best in the business. You'll be on her service crew.”
Before Alan could reply in any way, Viv came over looking slightly put out. “That was Mary. She's fallen and broken her arm.”
Claire shot a look at her Grandy. “Does she need help? Do you?”
“I've sent a car to collect her and her stuff from the hotel, but it means we're one girl down for tomorrow night.”
“I'd do it,” Claire told her quickly. “But I haven't got my gear here.”
“We've spares, but you'll have to practise. Your mother would skin me alive if anything happened to you.”
Claire nodded, “This is going to blow my cover completely.” She grinned evilly. “It will be interesting. Who is the other girl this show?”
“Stella.” Viv moved away, calling out, “You know where the phone is if you need a new costume.”
Claire grabbed Alan's arm and dragged him away as soon as she heard this. He followed obediently still too numb from all the excitement to resist. She was nibbling at her lip again. She was already dialling someone on the cordless as she hit the stairs at the run.
She quoted some number or other, then asked if they had a “firebird, size thirty four inch, in stock” before pushing open the door to what I had assumed was a bedroom. It wasn't. It was some sort of storage room, filled, over-filled with stage stuff. She pulled a box off a high shelf and nearly brained herself with it. Alan hurried to the rescue and lowered it to the floor.
“No, if you haven't got a thirty four, send a thirty two. Yep Courier. I need it in Dundee by four PM at the latest.” Claire smiled her thanks at her friend as she tucked the phone under one ear and started rummaging through the box.
She pulled out stuff that Alan didn't recognise and laid it out on the wooden floor as she hung up the phone. It was obvious that he wanted to ask about it all.
“Fire poi stuff. That's a fan, and those are the flying pots. Kevla made. The best money can buy.” She looked them over intently.
“I need a drink,” Alan told her, still in shock over everything that had happened. Claire grinned.
“This place is dry, mostly. Granpy had a real problem with drink and drugs in his twenties. He left Grandy and set up with a series of bimbos, who catered to his ego and little else.” Claire rolled over and covered her eyes with her arm.
“You don't have to tell me anything, you know. I wasn't prying.”
“I know I don't; but I want you to know. No more secrets, anyway that way it will hit the slut squad even harder when they think you knew all along. Grampy screwed his way across Europe and the States when he was younger. Every groupie there was, as long as she was willing and old enough. Grandy had mum then Uncle Max when Gramps kicked her out. He was drunk, and when he sobered up for some interview or other she was gone. He was only twenty one.”
“That's young to have two kids.”
Claire nodded, and turned to face me. “Two kids, two hit albums and all the money fame brings with it. He told her she'd gotten pregnant just to trap him. So, Grandy had started Venous Heart and ran it and raised the babies. It took Grampy about five years to crawl up from the slime. He spent the next year begging Grandy to take him back; which she did on certain conditions. No more drugs, or drink. Clean and sober.”
Alan nodded. He could understand that rule.
“Next was kids. She'd always wanted a big family and if Gramps wouldn't give them to her, she wasn't interested.”
“And he agreed?”
“Mum has eight brothers and sisters. Seven are Grandy's, one isn't. One of the countless groupies fell pregnant. She wrote to Gramps for the money for an abortion. It nearly broke him, Grandy was just short of her thirtieth birthday and she flew out to America to talk to the girl. She paid her expenses to have the baby then brought Abigail back home with her. She raised her along with all her own kids; Dave was born less than six months after Abby. Grandy is amazing. She runs the business and this place and is always at the end of the phone for any of us that need it. We tend to call her Supergran.”
“I couldn't imagine giving up a child. There again, I couldn't imagine actually being a dad.”
“Sue-Anne turns up occasionally, usually after money. Auntie Abby tried to stay in touch but Sue-Anne didn't want to know unless she needed something. So there we are, Mum and Dad met when she was fourteen, and started dating soon after. Dad behaved himself, on pain of mutilation, until they married when mum was seventeen and I was born a year later. Mum is Sapphire of Sapphire Designs, they do the costumes for a lot of the stadium gigs. Dad is Ash of Ash Guitars. He makes the hyper expensive acoustics that people like Marcus Blackthorn use. I was brought up in this world and I love it. I'm marrying Chris in ten weeks,” she sighed. “I think that's the short version of the family history.”
I interrupted her at this point. “That's the weekend you told me to keep free!”
“Nope, I want you to be there at the wedding, but that's the hen night and it's going to be amazing. I've got us VIP tickets for Wacken for the whole weekend and Gramps is headlining on the Sunday night. It's Judas Priest on Saturday and Uncle Rob says he's getting us a back stage pass. ”
“Uncle Rob? As in Rob Halford, the lead singer?”
Claire nodded then started examining all the pots and ropes she'd pulled from the box.
“He and Gramps have been friends for years. In fact, he's Mum's Godfather. Now, we'd better go downstairs and get some food before the hordes appear.”
She stood up and grabbed the box, catching sight of herself in the mirror on the back of the door as she did so. “And I suppose I should get changed. I think Chris would prefer to see the me he knows and not the one I show at college.”
She made Alan wait at the bottom of the stairs, holding that box, until she reappeared. It was Claire, but not as her friend knew her. Her normally sensible styled hair was caught up in a chic bun, one he'd seen her wear before. The jeans were just a little tighter than she usually wore, and the tee-shirt was tight, showing off a curvy figure that would make most men drool. Alan had seen her in pjs and a sloppy shirt, but never like this. Her make-up was perfect, flawless; but definitely rock chic. Smoky eyes, and come hither and fuck me lips.
Alan grinned. “You know that is going to really piss off Jemima and her crowd?”
“Oh yes, but with what we are doing tomorrow. I've had enough of hiding behind the quiet me. She's as real as this one, but I need to kick back now.”
Alan nodded his understanding and bowed low before offering her his arm. “May I escort you to dinner, My Lady?”
Alan kept watching her all through the meal. She chatted with her friends, seemingly totally at ease in the company of rock stars old and young, which confused the life out of Casey and Jemima, who sat as close to Dan as they could. Their mouths were half open as they looked around them at all the famous faces who were sitting and chatting. They hadn't recognised Claire at all.
“Where's the freak?” Casey hissed in a far too loud stage whisper, causing some of those very famous faces to throw her a dirty look. Alan hung his head and tried to hide under his hair. Hadn't any of them realised that they were on Claire's turf and not their own?
Dan shrugged as an answer causing Mrs. Stevenson to look around anxiously. Viv pointed to where two girls were practising swinging the containers that would become fire poi tomorrow. They were going through what seemed to be a very complex routine with Rick Melrose standing between them singing softly.
Alan and the others watched as Chris came forward with a lighted torch and handed it to Claire. The next thing they all knew was that a tongue of flame shot out of her mouth setting Stacy's pots on fire. She swung them around her head a couple of times before adding Claire's pots to the spinning flames. As soon as they were alight, they were handed back and the girls started dancing with the flames licking around their bodies.
Mr. Harkness jumped up to stop them, annoyed that the girl he had dismissed as a waste of space and time had hidden depths; but was growled at by Marcus Blackthorn. There was something terrifying about the giant of man, dressed in denim and a linen shirt; he towered over most of the student. He certainly towered over the lecturers.
“Leave them,” he ordered.
“She might hurt herself,” Harks-on tried to explain his concerns to the giant of a man. “She's not capable of doing anything like that. She's only a child and under my care.”
“Claire has been performing that routine since she was five years old. She qualified before she was ten, and has been on stage since she was eleven. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, it only makes you look like an idiot.”
Alan tried not to laugh, but Mrs. Stevenson was having an even harder time of it from the snorting noise she made before she walked away.
“Marcus isn't the most subtle of men,” a voice spoke softly from beside Alan and he turned to see a Charlie Blackthorn watching him intently. He felt a little nervous under the scrutiny. “And he has little patience with idiocy.”
“So I noticed. She's good.” Alan watched in awe at his friend's obvious skill with the flames.
“She is. You should have seen her at Rockfest last year. They had a dance off for all the girls. Claire came in third and she doesn't even do it professionally. Now about tomorrow...” and with that she led Alan away to meet a heavily tattooed woman with pink hair.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur for the students, most of whom had been completely unnerved by the day's revelations. Alan had the feeling there were still more to come.
Morning appeared far too early. Alan was woken by the sound of someone knocking on his door, and calling out that “Breakfast will be on the table in thirty minutes,” and “You'd better hurry if you want to get in the shower before Claire and Chris did.”
Alan didn't manage it. He had to wait outside while Claire and Chris giggled their way through their ablutions. When they finally came out, he dived in and hurried through his own shower and shave, trying not to think about how delicious Chris looked as he walked passed. No poaching allowed of your best friend's boyfriend. Not if you wanted to escape with your head still on your shoulders and the photos of you taken after a drunken party unpublished. Alan made it downstairs just as a plate of bacon filled rolls was being delivered to the table. He could smell the fresh coffee, and of course Claire was pouring herself a cup of tea. She waved a roll filled hand, and carried on eating. The most dangerous place in the world was between Claire and bacon.
Viv was sitting at one of the small round tables, looking through a folder. Claire pulled up a seat beside her, and Charlie joined them. They seemed very engrossed in their paperwork.
An alarm went off, startling everyone in the room. Viv stood up and Claire put her fingers in her ears just before her grandmother let out a loud, piercing whistle. “The coaches are leaving in half an hour from the front door. Please make sure you have everything you need for the day. You will all find a schedule with your name on the top of it and a wrist band pinned to it. Get someone else to help you put on the band, it is your ticket into the grounds and into the refectory. Lunch will be served from twelve thirty onwards. Any questions, just ask someone who looks like they know the answer. Most of the acts will be coming in by helicopter, straight from the airport. The red route is clearly marked, and if you see anyone parked there you have every right to tell them to shift. I won't be so polite if I catch them.”
Claire had heard the same lecture on numerous occasions throughout her childhood. She half closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair knowing Chris was behind her. She only paid attention when her name was called, obviously not for the first time.
“Claire, whenever you're ready?”
“Sorry, Grandy. I didn't get much sleep last night.” Then she blushed as she realised what she had said. Chris looked like he wanted the ground to open up in front of him.
“I was saying, if you could act as guide to a couple of lads who are meeting us at Camperdown Park. They're spending the day as roadies, and we're helping the Make-A-Wish foundation give them a day to remember. There are stage crew tees and jackets waiting for them and I found that fabric pen for them to get the jackets signed.”
Claire nodded and made a note of their names on her schedule.
“Alan, Nick Lee is your guide and I've assigned each of your students to one of my crew,” she told Mrs. Stevenson. “Much more fun and hands on experience than just looking around the theatre before it opens.”
Mrs. Stevenson could only nod in agreement. Viv Melrose was considered one of the top managers in the business. Her students couldn't have had a better experience.
“Do we get to meet the stars?” Jemima asked breathlessly, her eyes shining with excitement. She had been flirting all morning with whoever came along without much success.
“Some of them; but despite what you may have heard, or what they would like you to believe, they are actually human and put their jeans on one leg at a time. There won't be time for flirting, however if you wait until they come off stage, I'm sure we can organise autographs and pictures,” Viv offered generously.
Claire tried not to catch her grandmother's eye, she didn't want to burst into laughter again; but it really was typical of the girl, they were about to have the opportunity of a lifetime and Jemima was worried about meeting the stars. She wasn't concerned with giving a good impression to the sound engineers or managers who would be there, nope, she wanted autographs.
Claire was the first one out to the coach when it arrived. She stashed her cases in the luggage compartment before she climbed aboard and flashed her wristband at the driver, who ticked off her name on the clip board, then showed Alan what to do.
“Why's your band a different colour to mine?” Dan asked as he followed her alone the coach and into a seat.
“The different coloured bands are for different access in the park. The punters have one colour, performers another and the stage techs a third. This one is all access, because I'm on stage later,” she explained as she slid into her place.
It was an hour's run into the city, and everyone was chattering, the excitement building as they approached the venue. Mrs. Stevenson stood and addressed them all, looking pointedly at Mr. Harkness and Mr. Berry, both of whom still seemed in shock.
“Mrs. Melrose and Mrs. Blackthorn have organised for each of you to work with one of their staff today. I want you all to enjoy the experiences, and pick the brains of your mentor, they are there to answer your question. However, I would remind you all that this is a working environment and not to distract whoever you are with when they are busy.”
Alan was trying to listen when Nick Lee slid in beside him and gave him a cheery smile. “All set for today?” she asked as she stashed her bag under the seat in front of her.
Alan nodded slowly. “A bit worried to tell the truth. I've only ever done stuff like this in college and I don't want to let you or Claire down.”
“You won't; and if you do, I will have your balls for earrings. The most important thing to remember is that I take my coffee black with three sugars, which rises to four later on. We aren't going to let you sink; you are one of the good guys.” She looked across to where Jemima and Casey were talking to Dan. “I think some will find it harder than they expect though.”
Alan felt relieved at her reassurance, and leaned back in the seat to rest his eyes. The noises from the room next to his had kept him up half the night, but he wasn't ever going to embarrass Claire by telling her just how thin the walls were.
The concert was everything Alan could have ever dreamed of. By the halfway stage, Nick had been so impressed with his work that she had offered him an apprenticeship when he finished college, and he still couldn't believe it.
For the first time in his life, he was on the inside looking out instead of the outside looking in. He was listening to Titan, helping Nick Lee, wearing his lanyard with a back stage pass on it, and watching his best straight friend fire dance in leather trousers and a sequinned corset.
The whole week-long trip had been more than worth it for any one of those things, let alone all of them. The crowning glory had to be the looks on the faces of Jemima and her crowd as the quiet, softly spoken, hard-working outcast of the class took centre stage, with thousands of screaming fans watching her swing the flames around her head; with her grandfather singing his heart out behind her.
Alan had to grin as Claire came forward to spin the flame fans around her head, then she stood in front of Rick Melrose and surrounded them both by fire.
Alan fell more in love with his best friend at that moment and knew, no matter where life took them, they were family. He was glad he wasn't straight, because if he had been, he would have had to make a play for her and that would have resulted in him getting a kicking from the rocker who was watching her every move.
The roar of applause told him that Claire had finished and he quickly hit all the buttons and knobs he'd been told too.
Rick Melrose came to the front of the stage and started talking, giving him a pointed look when nothing came out the mike. Alan had forgotten to leave it on. Blushing, he quickly fixed his error. A comforting hand on his shoulder from Nick told him it wasn't a problem.
He watched as Rick called the dancers back on to take a bow, and thought how different Claire looked beneath the spotlight. The quiet, shy girl from his class had been transformed into a rock vixen and he felt a warm glow in his soul, because he knew that Claire was his friend no matter which face she wore.
Story Notes:
Another of my rock tales
Chapter End Notes:
review.... please.. feed my addiction.
My thanks to Bunnyhops for the betaing
My thanks to Bunnyhops for the betaing