knowing that, in some way, she was touching others with her music.
And perhaps an unexpected reward would be her father turning up on the doorstep wanting to see her.
That would be nice, she thought, puffing up her hair as Barry opened the door to her small dressing room.
âYouâre on, Trish!â he said excitedly. She smiled, touched his face tenderly, then went out to meet her audience.
Determined to secure another number one slot, Robin, Barry, and Maria painstakingly pieced together an amazing LP full of soulful songs about love, fun, and life. One of Patâs favorites, âYour Name,â was picked as a worthy second single, and Pat and her team couldnât wait to see where it would chart.
In the meantime, her life continued to change considerably. Her motherâs house was regularly besieged by fans desperate for a glimpse of their idol Trish, or to at least touch a place sheâd once touched. Her mother hated the nuisance of it all, complaining about it on the rare occasions they were able to spend time together. Pat was sorry her mother had to put up with the noise and inconvenience of fans standing around outside chanting âTrish!â but secretly hoped her mum was proud of her, if only a little bit.
On the day âDo You Want This?â finally slipped out of the top forty, Pat opened her motherâs back door into the kitchen, where her brothers, sister, and their assortment of children were seated and standing around the table. Pat had been desperate for a bit of normality, a chat with her mother and perhaps some home cooking, but she hadnât expected to find the whole brood. The kids immediately ran to their âfamous Aunty Trish,â plastering her with kisses and questions as the adults remained seated like a courtroom jury. Pat whipped off her dark glasses and straw hat, sitting down at the familiar wooden table where sheâd tucked into so many delicious meals.
âWhat are you doing here?â asked her sister, who was heavily pregnant with baby number four and covering the table with a white cotton tablecloth.
âHello. Itâs a nice day, thought Iâd pop over. I didnât know youâd all be here,â Pat commented. Nobody bothered to reply as her mother bent down to retrieve a bubbling hunk of meat from the oven.
Pat suddenly felt a surge of anger. âYouâre having a family roast and I wasnât invited?â
âWe thought youâd be busy,â said her brother.
âBarry and I would have loved to come. Iâd never be too busy for my family!â protested Pat.
âGo and watch the telly, you lot!â commanded Patâs mother to the younger members of the family.
As the children scuttled away with their excited whispers, Patâs brother spoke. âWeâre not mind readers.â
âNeither am I!â she replied, confident he wouldnât understand her point.
âNone of that matters. Youâre here now and thereâs enough grub for everyone!â said her mother.
âItâs a good thing youâre here anyway, coz Iâm gonna need a favor from you, little sister,â said another brother.
This particular brother hadnât called her âlittle sisterâ in years, so it felt nice to hear this touch of familiarity, especially with all the madness that existed in her life.
âNo problem,â she replied freely, earlier anger subsiding. Pat enjoyed helping out her family, whether it was arranging free concert tickets or a bit of cash here and thereâanything she could do as a result of her good fortune and growing contacts in the music industry.
âI need money for a car. Now weâve got the second kid, itâs hard for Mel to carry the shopping in without moaning, you knowâ¦â As he explained his plight, her heart sunk, not because she begrudged him asking, but because she definitely didnât yet have the type of money he was
C. J. Cherryh
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