locked on a young Lauren and Chris wrapped in each other’s arms.
Then it was Lauren’s turn to take a breath.
Deep, as if she had been holding in the words for too long and — despite her fear — it might be a relief to finally speak the truth.
“Right. Yes. I was out there.” She fired a look at Sarah, maybe concerned that she was being judged.
Though Sarah was long past that.
In Jack’s world, which had become her world, judgements had no place.
Then the woman turned back to Jack, who sat still, listening.
“The two of us, out there. The old days, you know they were exciting.” Another breath. “He was exciting. And I’d had a bit too much … You know …”
Jack again nodded, as if it all made perfect sense.
“The lot of them, the band, with their bickering, arguing over money.” Lauren shook her head. “The years, I suppose, ‘melting away’ for them as well as they started their fighting. While me, and Chris … we …”
She stopped.
Sarah wondered whether Jack would have to push her a bit more.
To get what they really wanted to know.
Finally Lauren sat as upright as possible. “And, when Chris went back in — going first, you know, to make things look alright — I did see someone go down to the pool house.”
Sarah put an arm on the woman’s shoulder. Lauren turned and looked up at her.
“I didn’t mean nothing; by not saying anything, not telling you. But if I had, I’d have to say where I was, who I was with, and my Will — he’s put up with a lot, and, and—”
“I understand,” Jack said.
The words so simple yet — Sarah could feel — so calming to the woman.
And then finally — “So, yes. I saw who went in there after Alex.”
She looked up at Sarah again, then to Jack.
“How Alex wasn’t alone …”
And with the truth coming out, Lauren started crying, the burden falling away, and now probably layered with terrible guilt.
She popped open her handbag and dug out a tiny packet of tissues.
Amidst the sobs, Jack and Sarah merely listened.
17. While the Band Plays On
Jack peered out the windows of The Ploughman’s second floor. Even with the bevelled glass making all outside look blurry, more like an impressionistic painting, he could still make out the amazing crowds of people.
Alan had wisely called in for support from other villages, with a half dozen police officers trying to manage the huge — and still growing — crowd.
Carlton Flame had also sprung for some rented security, burly guys with folded arms like ham hocks.
As usual — the crowd waited for the band to begin.
Jack turned back to Sarah.
“Think it’s time for the show …”
She nodded. “Look at all this — pretty over the top, Jack, hmm? Even for an opera fan.”
Jack looked at Carlton Flame.
The agent had set up a mixing board on the small upstairs bar. On either side of the bar, two giant flat screens were mounted on the wall, probably for when this room got the spill-over crowd from downstairs on a big match day.
Now, one screen showed a shot of the band members up here, all noodling with their instruments, while the other screen was locked on the centre microphone stand, awaiting the star attraction.
Who — so far — was nowhere to be seen.
He watched Nick pull out a cigarette, then talk to their agent now turned producer.
A man of many talents …
Who — outside of Alan Rivers — was one of the few that knew the real plan for the concert soon to begin.
“Carlton, bit more bloody bottom and volume, mate? This isn’t a church we’re performing in.”
Jack saw Chris Wickes grin at that, while he continued to pick out bits and pieces of melodies on his guitar.
In the back, at a full drum set, Will was doing the odd roll here and there. With his short hair and collared shirt, the drummer looked like he had walked into the wrong band.
The look was anything but rock and roll …
But his drum rolls … smooth, staccato.
Jack turned to Sarah. “Gonna be
Then it was Lauren’s turn to take a breath.
Deep, as if she had been holding in the words for too long and — despite her fear — it might be a relief to finally speak the truth.
“Right. Yes. I was out there.” She fired a look at Sarah, maybe concerned that she was being judged.
Though Sarah was long past that.
In Jack’s world, which had become her world, judgements had no place.
Then the woman turned back to Jack, who sat still, listening.
“The two of us, out there. The old days, you know they were exciting.” Another breath. “He was exciting. And I’d had a bit too much … You know …”
Jack again nodded, as if it all made perfect sense.
“The lot of them, the band, with their bickering, arguing over money.” Lauren shook her head. “The years, I suppose, ‘melting away’ for them as well as they started their fighting. While me, and Chris … we …”
She stopped.
Sarah wondered whether Jack would have to push her a bit more.
To get what they really wanted to know.
Finally Lauren sat as upright as possible. “And, when Chris went back in — going first, you know, to make things look alright — I did see someone go down to the pool house.”
Sarah put an arm on the woman’s shoulder. Lauren turned and looked up at her.
“I didn’t mean nothing; by not saying anything, not telling you. But if I had, I’d have to say where I was, who I was with, and my Will — he’s put up with a lot, and, and—”
“I understand,” Jack said.
The words so simple yet — Sarah could feel — so calming to the woman.
And then finally — “So, yes. I saw who went in there after Alex.”
She looked up at Sarah again, then to Jack.
“How Alex wasn’t alone …”
And with the truth coming out, Lauren started crying, the burden falling away, and now probably layered with terrible guilt.
She popped open her handbag and dug out a tiny packet of tissues.
Amidst the sobs, Jack and Sarah merely listened.
17. While the Band Plays On
Jack peered out the windows of The Ploughman’s second floor. Even with the bevelled glass making all outside look blurry, more like an impressionistic painting, he could still make out the amazing crowds of people.
Alan had wisely called in for support from other villages, with a half dozen police officers trying to manage the huge — and still growing — crowd.
Carlton Flame had also sprung for some rented security, burly guys with folded arms like ham hocks.
As usual — the crowd waited for the band to begin.
Jack turned back to Sarah.
“Think it’s time for the show …”
She nodded. “Look at all this — pretty over the top, Jack, hmm? Even for an opera fan.”
Jack looked at Carlton Flame.
The agent had set up a mixing board on the small upstairs bar. On either side of the bar, two giant flat screens were mounted on the wall, probably for when this room got the spill-over crowd from downstairs on a big match day.
Now, one screen showed a shot of the band members up here, all noodling with their instruments, while the other screen was locked on the centre microphone stand, awaiting the star attraction.
Who — so far — was nowhere to be seen.
He watched Nick pull out a cigarette, then talk to their agent now turned producer.
A man of many talents …
Who — outside of Alan Rivers — was one of the few that knew the real plan for the concert soon to begin.
“Carlton, bit more bloody bottom and volume, mate? This isn’t a church we’re performing in.”
Jack saw Chris Wickes grin at that, while he continued to pick out bits and pieces of melodies on his guitar.
In the back, at a full drum set, Will was doing the odd roll here and there. With his short hair and collared shirt, the drummer looked like he had walked into the wrong band.
The look was anything but rock and roll …
But his drum rolls … smooth, staccato.
Jack turned to Sarah. “Gonna be
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