---

 

---

Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was not migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf. This story segment first appeared on BigCloset Classic on Sunday, November 02, 2003 - 02:48 pm. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

---

 
 
Chapter 30
 
 
I was more nervous than I would have liked to admit. I had also spent more time choosing what to wear than I would have liked to admit, but eventually I settled on a black knee-length skirt with white embroidering and a sleeveless black satin top. I brushed my hair out and wore it down. I redid my make up several times. I wanted to get the look just right; not too much, not too little.

I knew that a photographer would be coming with the journalist, but it was not the prospect of my photos in the 'Sunday Times' magazine that made me so self-conscious about my appearance, rather it was the way I could be portrayed. I had read similar interview articles before and, if the person interviewed did not make the right impression, the journalist could paint a word picture far more damning than any photograph. Although the interview had been scheduled for ten a.m., it was nearer to eleven before the doorbell rang. I went to answer it. Jools had gone out as I had insisted that I did not want anyone else present during the interview; it would be too distracting.

I opened the door and two men stood there. One said, "Cara Malone?"

I smiled, "Keith Wilkinson?"

He nodded, smiled and shook my hand. He introduced his photographer, Michael. I let them in and asked them where they wanted to conduct the interview. Keith smiled, "Somewhere comfortable, if you don't mind?"

I grinned and nodded, "Sounds good to me." I led them upstairs and invited them to have a seat in the lounge. "Can I get you any coffee or tea or something?" I asked them.

“Coffee would be grand -- just black," said Keith.

I turned to Michael who said, "I'll have the same, thanks."

I was glad to have the temporary distraction of making coffee so that I could try and get myself settled down inside.

As we drank the coffee, we chatted idly. I figured this was the 'settle them down and warm them up' chat, but I was happy to go along with it. Keith was keen to get the photos out of the way first of all if I did not mind. It did not matter to me so I agreed and he nodded to Michael.

Michael looked around the room and then looked closely at me. I laughed nervously, "I feel like I'm under the spotlight here."

Michael grinned, "Sorry, I'm just trying to work out a few good shots. Can I push this chair away a bit?" I nodded and he moved one of the chairs. He got down to floor level and looked across the room before nodding. He pointed to where he was, "You wouldn't be able to get down on the floor here, err, on your stomach?"

I smiled and rather self-consciously got down onto the floor. I lay on my stomach and propped myself up. "Are you sure you know what you are doing?" I said with a wink.

He laughed and looked a bit uncomfortable, "Err, yeah...sorry, I know this is unusual, but I think the lighting looks really natural in this room at this point and your outfit contrasts nicely with the white carpet." He adjusted my pose several times and took a number of shots.

"Keith, move off the sofa please; Cara, lie down on it casually and look relaxed, would you, luv?"

I assumed the position he asked of me, but felt a bit awkward. "Easier said than done." I don't think I was getting the relaxed look right.

Michael paused and then said, "I want to ask you a question, tell me what is twelve multiplied by eleven?"

I was surprised and gave a little frown as I concentrated. Math was never my strong point. He began snapping photo after photo and commented, "Perfect!"

I grinned and said, "I guess you don't really care about the answer then?"

He laughed, "You can send it in to me on a postcard later if you want, but your look of concentration was just what I was after."

When Michael was satisfied that he'd gotten his shots, he packed up his gear and was ready to leave. I showed him down to the door and said, "Now make sure you make me look good."

He laughed, "The camera never lies and in your case you have nothing to worry about." I closed the door and headed back upstairs.

Keith had his notebook out and I smiled awkwardly as I sat down opposite him. I asked, "So, now we start for real?"

He laughed and winked, "You think I haven't started already?" I laughed too. He was older than I was; I estimated somewhere between mid to late thirties, but he had the sort of face that was hard to judge age-wise. His dark hair showed flecks of grey around the temples and he was smart, but casually dressed with a sports jacket and matching slacks.

"Am I your first?" he asked.

I blinked, "Sorry?"

He smiled, "The first journalist to interview you?"

I got it and nodded, "Yes. I've done some radio and one TV spot, but I guess this is the biggest interview so far."

He had an easygoing manner, which helped to put me at ease. He talked about my songs, the music, and the song-writing process. He asked about my earlier musical experiences and influences and he asked how the recording of the album had gone. He asked about my plans, hopes and dreams. After a while I almost forgot I was being interviewed as it felt more like a conversation.

"Now your videos and performances," he said.

"Yes?" I asked.

He grinned, "You have quite a... how can I say..." He thought and shrugged, "I can only say it one way: you have quite a sexy and sensual stage presence when performing and in your videos. How do you reconcile that with who you are off-stage?"

I smiled and thought. I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, "I'm a bit worried by the way you phrased your question that you are implying that off-stage I'm not sexy or sensual."

He gave a half-laugh half-choke. He cleared his throat and grinned, "I reckon I asked for that. Let me assure you that such an implication was far from my mind. I was wondering -- who is the real Cara Malone? Who are you when you are not under the spotlight so to speak?"

I crossed my legs and gave that some thought. I gave a little laugh, "That's a hard question to answer and any answer I give could sound very pretentious. I don't want to sound as if I take myself too seriously. I guess I'm just an ordinary girl who loves to sing and play the piano and guitar. I'm just like anyone else; it's not as if I've got anything magical. I'm thankful for the musical abilities I've got and the opportunities I've been given to share them. I don't know what else to say."

He nodded and smiled, "Now can I ask you the question that men up and down the country are dying to hear the answer to?"

I winced and tentatively said, "I'm not sure what you're going to say, but I suppose you can ask."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I smiled and pushed a strand of hair back from my face, "Err, no. Not at the moment."

He raised an eyebrow, "Any serious romances in the past?"

I hesitated before answering, "Actually not really."

He regarded me thoughtfully, "I find that hard to believe."

I laughed self-consciously, "So do I." I paused, "The time, the place and the person has not been right. When they are, I hope I'll recognise it."

He grinned, "Anyone in mind?"

I laughed and folded my arms, "Well, that is part of the real Cara Malone that will have to remain a mystery for now."

He laughed too, "Fair enough. Let me ask another less pointed question. If you could have a date with another famous musician, who would it be and why?"

I cringed a little, "Seriously?"

He grinned, "Oh go on, humour me."

I sighed and thought for a moment. I shrugged, "It's hard to answer, but if you have to have an answer I'll go for Aaron Kramer."

"From 'Stealing Time'? Really?" he asked with interest, "I mean he's not what you would call the most conventionally attractive."

I laughed, "I guess not, but the words he writes are so poignant and the songs are filled with this deep longing and thirst for life. I've loved his music for so long that perhaps it's possible to have a crush on someone for their talent and poetry."

He was writing away in his notebook and grinned at me. Next he wanted to get some basic background information and began to ask about my childhood, growing up, schooling and the like. I tried not to be hesitant about my answers as it could seem suspicious, but I felt more uneasy on these topics. When he seemed satisfied, he looked over at me and in a gentle tone said, "I understand your mother died recently."

I nodded and he went on, "I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm sure she meant a lot to you."

I sighed, "Yes. I had a very close relationship with my Mum. I loved her deeply and I still find it hard to believe she is gone."

He looked at me closely, "How does your father feel about your success? Is he proud of you?"

I looked away and thought for a moment before turning back. In a quiet voice I answered, "I would love him to be proud of what I'm doing. We don't quite see eye to eye on a few things at the moment. I really don't want to talk about it any further."

He nodded and seemed to understand. He smiled and closed his notebook and standing up said, "Well thank you so much, it was a pleasure to meet you. I think that's about everything I need." We shook hands and I led him down to the door.

Just as he was heading out, he turned and said, "Oh, there is just one more question I forgot to ask. I heard a rumour that your keyboard player, Noel Dawson, has left your band recently. Is that true?"

I tried to keep my face from reacting and I nodded, "Yes, that's correct."

He inclined his head, "Can I ask why?"

What would I say? My head filled with various different answers, none of which were very plausible. In the end I had to say the old cliché that I knew would sound like I was trying to palm him off. "Err, creative differences."

He raised an eyebrow and looked a little sceptical, "Is that all? I've heard that Noel can be hard to get on with. Was there anything else that made him leave?"

I swallowed, shook my head and forced a smile, "No. That's it." He looked at me closely for a moment and then smiled, "Well, thanks again. If I can get my act together, the article should be in the 'Sunday Times' magazine in just under a fortnight."

I said goodbye and closed the door. I leaned back against it and took some deep breaths. I knew I had not been overly convincing just then and I began to dread what a good journalist might be able to unearth. I expressed my concerns to Jools later, but she tried to reassure me. She was sure that he would just go back to his word processor and hammer out a middle of the road article that would be fairly bland, but hopefully overall quite positive. I had hoped she was right, but my fears were heightened a few days later when Simon Andrews phoned.
 

*          *          *
 
"Cara?"

"Hi Simon, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I've got a Mrs. Forbes on the phone who says she wants to speak to you. She claims to be an old school teacher of yours or something - from Pembroke? Now we get all sorts of cranks phoning in to try and talk to their heroes and the like, but this lady is very forceful and doesn't sound like the typical prankster."

I smiled and could well imagine Mrs. Forbes being forceful, "It sounds genuine to me, Simon. Can I talk to her?"

"I said I would get you to phone her if you so desired. Let me give you her number." I wrote it down, thanked him and I dialled her number.

"Principal Forbes, who's calling please?"

"Mrs. Forbes, it's Cara Malone... err, Nicola Evans I mean."

"Nicola dear," she said with warmth, "I'm sorry to disturb you and that man Andrews. He was a little obstructive, but I had no other way to get in touch with you so I just phoned Sony and told them I had to talk to Cara Malone."

I laughed, "I think Simon met his match in you. What were you phoning about?"

She became more serious, "Well, I thought you should know about this. There was a journalist here this morning asking questions about you."

"Keith Wilkinson from the 'Sunday Times'?" I guessed.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"He's supposed to be doing a feature on me. He interviewed me the other day and during it was asking where I went to school and the like. I'm sorry, I didn't realise he would come bothering you."

"Don't worry about us, dear. He asked at the school office if anyone knew a previous pupil called Nicola Evans. The girls in there are young and don't know too much if you ask me. They looked up the records, which I had... well you know... and told him you were in the class of 1998. That was before they saw my annotation that any enquiries about you were to be directed to myself. I came down and had a little chat about you and told him you were a wonderful student, a delightful young girl and that we were all proud of your success. He asked if we had any old school photographs of you that he could use in his article. I of course said that releasing such material would not be appropriate."

"What happened then?" I asked.

"Well he thanked me and left. That was all, but I thought that I should let you know dear."

"Thanks, Mrs. Forbes. I appreciate your concern."

"If anyone else comes nosing around I'll let you know and I'll chase them off personally," she said.

I laughed, "I'm sure you will." I set the phone down and realised that Jools' hope that not too much extra research would go into this article was definitely unfounded.
 

*          *          *
 
I had been planning to tell her about this when she arrived home that day, but it slipped my mind. This was her fault. She came in the door singing, "Da da dad ah-did America, Da da dad ah-did America..."

"What are you on?" I asked with a smile.

"America!" she said by way of explanation.

"Huh?"

"We're going."

"What?"

She grinned, "We're going to America."

"Who is?"

"You, me, the band." She explained that Simon had been liaising with his US counterparts over the past few days. He had been trying to see if there were any potential opportunities to promote my music in the states. It seemed that things were a little quiet in July on the music entertainment front and he, with his colleagues, had managed to set up a few promotional opportunities in just over a fortnight's time.

"The Carl Dennis Show?" I said with incredulity. Courtesy of the explosion of satellite TV coverage in the past number of years, we had been exposed to a lot of the late night American chat shows. There were a few big names and whilst Carl Dennis was not perhaps the best known, he was certainly up there. "Wow," I commented.

Jools grinned, "Yep, so that's New York and then there is some radio stuff around there too. But then..." She burst into a rendition of 'California Girls' before I smothered her with a cushion.

"California?" I asked.

She grinned, "Some TV slots in L.A."

"So what did you tell Simon?"

She shook her head, "I said we wouldn't be interested..."

"Jools!" I protested.

She held up a hand, "Unless... we could build in a week's holiday in California for the band after the work was done. After all, it's been a stressful few months."

"And?" I asked.

She blew on her nails and polished them, "Well, you know me."

"You pulled it off?"

She grinned and in an awful accent said, "Bettah git packin' doll, we goin' to 'Merica."
 

*          *          *
 
Jools had arranged for Jon, Brian and Kevin to come over the next day so we could break the good news to them and to make sure that they kept the specified fortnight free. They were predictably enthused.

"Man, that's class," exclaimed Kevin as he practically bounced up and down on his seat. Brian had a wide grin on his face and even Jon was chuckling to himself.

"We do have a bit of a problem," Jools said.

"Don't tell me we have to pay our own way?" Jon quipped.

She laughed and shook her head, "Don't you worry Mr. Guitar Hero, you'll be lifted and laid all the way." The guys sniggered a bit amongst themselves at that.

I sighed, "Oh come on, for heaven's sake you KNOW she didn't mean laid like... well like you schoolboys thought."

They shrugged apologetically and grinned. Jools and I rolled our eyes at each other and she continued, "Anyway, as I was saying, we have a problem. Some of the promo slots will be to perform some songs, and we are down a keyboard player."

Brian's face fell, "Aww, damn. There's no way we can get a keyboard player who knows our stuff so soon. Does this mean the trip is off?"

Jools looked at me and I cleared my throat, "I may have an idea of someone who could step in."

"At this short notice?" Jon asked.

I nodded, "I think he is free and would be keen."

"Who?" asked Kevin.

"There's this guy I know called Peter Crawford..."

"Peter Crawford?" Jon interrupted, "Never heard of him..."

"Wait, is he the guy playing with the Hi-Tones?" Brian interjected.

"Ahem!" I said to get their attention. "If you would let me finish, you'll find out who he is."

They grinned at me and I sighed dramatically, "The lack of respect is overwhelming. Peter Crawford is a guy I met last month at a record signing in Oxford. He's just left school and well he's sort of into my... our music."

They were intrigued and predictably wanted to know more. I was reluctant to tell them the story as I was more than a little embarrassed, but Jools had no such reluctance or embarrassment and proceeded with glee to fill them in on the details. They chuckled and laughed as she told them and I felt my face grow redder and redder. It wasn't unpleasant laughter though.

At the end of the tale, Jon looked over at me and shook his head, "You really are something else."

I shrugged and smiled, "I was just trying to help him."

Kevin sighed, "Wish there had been such a Fairy Godmother for geeks when I was at school."

"So you think he'll hop on board?" Brian asked.

Jools looked at Brian, "I think if Cara asked him to swim the Atlantic to go on the trip, he'd do it three times over."

"Is he any good?" Jon asked.

I nodded, "Very good. He's got a good ear and well... he already knows 'No Half Measures' and 'Not Dancing, but Flying'."

"Ring him and get him signed up then," Jon said.
 

*          *          *
 
"Peter?"

"Uhh yeah?" a sleepy voice replied.

His mother had told me that he was still in bed despite the fact it was nearly lunchtime. "I know you've left school, but that's no reason to sleep your life away."

He sounded more awake, "Who's this?"

"I'm disappointed. After the time we spent together, you forget me so soon?"

"Cara?" he said in a high-pitched voice.

I giggled, "Oh, you haven't forgotten me then."

"No chance of that. How are you? What? Why are you phoning me?"

"I was just wondering how you were getting on and whether or not you had any plans for the summer and maybe beyond."

He sounded puzzled, "Err nothing much. Mum's at me to ring round colleges for September, but I've no real intention of doing that."

"What if I were to tell you that I know someone who needs a keyboard player for their band? Would you be interested?"

"Uhh yeah, maybe. Depends who it is I guess."

"What if it was me?"

"Are you pulling my leg?" he exclaimed.

"No, straight up. Our last keyboard player... had to leave and we're in a bit of a bind. I've heard you play, you're good. Better than good actually. Plus, you're a decent guy and I'd love to have you aboard."

The phone made a clanking sound, and I said, "Peter? Are you there?"

"Damn. Sorry, I dropped the phone. Is this for real?"

I laughed, "Yes Peter, it is. Listen though we are really short of time. We have to go America in under a fortnight for some promotional stuff and to play a few songs here and there... so there isn't much time to think about this."

"Yes," he said.

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'm in. Count me in, definitely."

"Well, what about your Mum?"

He laughed and almost whined, "Cara! I'm over eighteen. She'll be disappointed that I'm not going to college, but she'll get over it. Man, I can't believe this."

I grinned, "What about Rachel?"

A pause and I could hear a smile in his voice, "Uhh, what about her?"

"Just wondering how she is," I said innocently.

He laughed, "We've been going out since the formal and a lot of thanks are due to you."

"Nah, I was merely a catalyst. Anyway, would she be interested in joining us for a week's holiday after the work is done. In California?"

He sounded as if he had inhaled the phone, "Woah! I'm sure I could persuade her." There was a pause, "Damn."

"What?" I asked.

"I'm still asleep aren't I? I'm going to wake up in a few moments and Mum is going to tell me I have to cut the grass and wash the car."

I laughed, "This isn't a dream Peter. Can you get down to London as soon as possible? Brian, our bass player, can put you up at his place. We need to sort out contracts, do some practising and the like."
 

*          *          *
 
Peter had caught the early morning train down and arrived outside our apartment just after ten a.m. I smiled as I opened the door and gave him a hug. "It's good to see you again," I said.

He grinned awkwardly, "Nowhere near as good as it is to see you."

I brought him in and introduced him to Jools. He seemed a little intimidated on first meeting her; this was par for the course as most people seem to have this reaction. Her cool confidence and self-assurance are quite off-putting to those who do not know her well, but he soon relaxed a bit and we sat down together to have a coffee.

"So you're the mystery guy that Cara goes running off to meet in a formal dress?" Jools teased.

He chuckled, "Yeah. I mean I thought she was out of her mind, but I was hardly going to refuse to go with her. It was like a dream come true." He put on this dreamy face, but I spotted the little wink. Jools sniggered and I playfully slapped Peter on the arm.

"Hey, less of the mockery. I have enough of that to put up with round here," I said with mock indignation.

Jools got down to business and went through the contract details. Peter looked a little dazed, but kept nodding at the right times. I was not sure how much he was taking in, but then again, it had been much the same with me when Jools did the contract thing. She did manage to get his attention at one point.

"How much?" he gasped.

Jools smiled and repeated herself, "Fifteen thousand pounds give or take a few."

Peter's eyes goggled and he took a while to find his voice again, "Erm, how come I get that when I haven't done anything yet."

Jools shrugged, "We've had very good sales from 'Not Dancing, but Flying' and some sales are coming in from the European releases of 'No Half Measures'."

He still looked puzzled, "But shouldn't the previous keyboard player get this money?"

Jools and I shared a knowing look. I nodded to her and then said, "I'm going to pop out... err for a minute... to do something. Jools has a few things you need to know." I forced a smile and got up to leave. Jools and I had both agreed earlier that Peter needed to know the details of Noel's departure. The rest of the band knew, so it was only fair. Jools was unsure as to whether we should tell Peter so soon, but I was confident that he could be trusted and wanted him to know from the start. I just did not want to be there when the details were rehearsed so I went upstairs and relaxed on the sofa until Jools shouted up for me to come down again.

When I walked in, Peter looked at me as if he did not know what to say. I forced myself to smile again and in a quiet voice said, "Well, I guess you know now."

He surprised me by getting up, coming over to me and giving me a gentle hug. I hugged him back and looked up at him. I thought I could almost see moisture in his eyes. He sat down again and looked at me, "I don't know what to say. If I ever meet that creep..."

Jools gently interrupted, "None of us are ever planning to meet him again and I think the less said about him, the better."

Jools went back to going over the final contract details and Peter was happy to sign up.

I grinned, "Now that's all out of the way, it's time to move on to more important things: like telling me all the gory details about you and Rachel."

He laughed and shrugged, "Not much to say."

I frowned, "Did I happen to mention that Jools is a first rate interrogator and no one has ever been able to hold out without breaking in the end?" As if to emphasise what I had just said, Jools cracked her knuckles and tried to look menacing.

Peter gave a laugh that did sound a little nervous and he looked at Jools and me to see if we were being serious. I do not think he could decide so he said, "Err, what do you want to know?" He told us about the rest of the formal and how he and Rachel had danced solely with each other. He was a little hesitant about what happened on the limo journey home, but said that they took the scenic route home so that they could 'get to know each other better' as he put it. Since then, they had been practically inseparable and it was plain to see from the glow on his face that he was very much besotted with her.

"So what did she say when you told her about joining the band and all?" I asked.

He laughed, "Oh well, she was thrilled." He paused and looked a little embarrassed, "She did say that under no circumstances was I to fall for your charms whilst I was away from her."

Jools and I giggled at this and I clicked my fingers, "Dang, another one slips through the net. I just have no luck when it comes to men."
 

*          *          *
 
The next few days were spent practising with the band in Jools' back room. It was almost like old times, but better. The guys were friendly and welcoming to Peter although they did give him more than his fair share of teasing about how he and I had met and about the formal and so on. Peter, to his credit, took it all with good humour and soon got used to the banter that was commonplace when we played together. Although he was a few years younger than most of us, he seemed to fit in well and certainly, in my mind at least, it was a lot more pleasant having him around than it had been with Noel.

Things were going well and Peter was quickly becoming familiar with the material. However, on Monday morning, Jools called me out from the practice session to take a phone call that made my blood run cold.

"Mrs. Forbes?"

"Hello Nicola dear, I'm sorry to bother you again." She sounded very uneasy.

"What is it? Is everything OK?"

"I don't think it is actually. When the caretaker arrived at school this morning, it seemed that there had been a break-in over the weekend. Now this isn't anything out of the ordinary what with the vandalism so rife in today's society."

I was wondering what this was leading up to, but she went on to tell me more. "Anyway, at first it was hard to see what damage or loss there had been. The school office had been broken into and the records were strewn over the floor. I didn't think too much about this at first as it looked like random vandalism. And anyway from your point of view my dear, your records were... well... sanitised... so to speak."

I had a bad feeling about this, but was still puzzled, "I don't see why you feel this is relevant to me Mrs. Forbes. Is there something else?"

She sighed, "I'm afraid so. The only other area of apparent damage was the library. It had been broken into and at first we weren't aware of anything that was missing. I don't know why, but I suddenly had an idea and I checked the year book section and one was missing..."

I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach and asked in a tremulous voice, "The class of '98?"

"Yes dear, I'm afraid so."

I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe slowly before speaking again, "Erm, I don't suppose that the year book had been... sanitised?"

She paused before answering, "No. I had never thought about it. I'm sorry, dear."

"No, it's not your fault. I never thought about it either."

"The police have been in, but I didn't say anything about the missing year book. I'm presuming it has to do with you and I didn't want to involve you dear."

"Th-thanks," I stammered. "Who do you think could have done this?"

"I don't know, but I just wondered with that journalist fellow visiting us last week... it seems like a bit of a coincidence."

"Yes, I guess it does."

"What are you going to do, dear?"

I sighed, "I have no idea." I paused again, "Thanks for letting me know and I'm so sorry to have brought you into this."

"Nonsense dear, I'm more concerned for you. You be careful, do you hear me?"

"Yes, thanks again Mrs. Forbes."

I set the phone down and realised that I had broken out into a cold sweat. Jon was standing in the doorway looking at me with concern. "You OK?" he asked.

I shook my head and said, "I need to speak to Jools. You go on practising without me." I bounded up the stairs to find her. I hesitantly recounted the details of my conversation to her and even she seemed to pale when she realised the implications.

She asked slowly, "What did your year book say?"

I sighed and closed my eyes as if to look at it with my mind's eye, "It had my picture and my name, Nick Evans. It said 'Award for: Most Gifted Musician' and gave my nickname: 'PB'." I screwed up my face at that last bit.

"PB?" Jools asked gently.

"Pretty Boy," I said softly.

Jools nodded and thought. "The photo, I mean do you look perhaps... anyway like a girl in it."

I shrugged, "As much as I ever did when I was plain old Nick, but the name gives it away anyway. It's Nick, not Nicola, Nikki or even Nic as in N-i-c."

"Do you think it could be this journalist guy?" she asked.

I shrugged and looked at her, "I have no idea, but I guess we will find out this Sunday." However, we would actually receive a large hint a lot sooner than that.

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

I tried to put it all out of my mind and concentrate on the practising, but it was fairly obvious to all present that I was preoccupied. Jon predictably took me aside later that afternoon and asked me what was wrong. I tried to fob him off and tell him I was just a little tired, but he was not buying it and asked about the phone call. I noticed that the rest of the guys were listening in whilst trying to appear as if they were all doing nothing of the sort. I felt sneaky, but I availed myself of the opportunity. In a voice slightly louder than before and knowing that everyone would definitely hear it I said, "Look Jon, if you must know, it's my time of the month and I'm just a bit under the weather."

He gave me a hard look and knew that there was no way he could say anything more in front of the guys. He just gave me a tight-lipped smile and said, "OK, fine. Sorry for bothering you. Whenever you're ready, we'll try the next song." Things were a bit strained for the rest of the afternoon, but I did not feel like bringing Jon any further into this mess.

The next day, the guys had said they could practice without me and were happy to do it over at Brian's place. The official reason was that they thought I could do with a rest, but I am sure they did not fancy being around a moody woman whether it was caused by menstruation or not. I was grateful for the break, but it only gave my mind more opportunities to torture me.

Mid morning, Jools popped her head around the door of my room. She looked very edgy, "Cara. There's someone at the door for you. He says his name is Keith Wilkinson from the 'Sunday Times'."

My heart jumped into my mouth, "Oh God. What am I going to do?"

Jools thought, "Look, pretend you know nothing about Mrs. Forbes and the like. If you let on that you do, it will seem more suspicious. You are Cara Malone, Nicola Evans and that is all there is to it. Just don't say too much in case you give yourself away."

I nodded and tried to make myself look normal and relaxed as I went to the door. "Keith, how lovely to see you again," I said with the best smile I could muster, "What can I do for you?"

He smiled, "I'm so sorry to disturb you, but there were a few things I really needed to clarify that have arisen since I talked to you."

I was sure that he could hear my heart pounding against the inside of my ribs, but I forced myself to remain calm, "Sure, what is it?"

He smiled, "This is kind of awkward. I went to your old school Pembroke High. You know to get a bit of background, talk to teachers who remembered you and so on." He paused waiting to see how I would react.

I smiled and looked at him, "Yes? And?"

He shrugged, "Well the principal certainly seemed to remember you and was very proud of you. But..." he chose his words carefully, "there seemed to be an anomaly in the school records. There was no record of a Nicola Evans."

My mind raced. I knew the school records did record me as Nicola Evans. I knew he was not telling the truth. Why? I supposed he did not want to admit he had stolen the year book as it would implicate him. I reckoned that he was trying to force me into making a mistake.

I raised an eyebrow, "Really? Well I can personally guarantee you I was there and at least the principal remembered me. I imagine there must be an error in the records."

He did not look satisfied, but he nodded and without conviction said, "I expect so." He paused and then said, "Oh there was one other thing, I happened to bump into Noel Dawson." He watched for my reaction.

I am sure that my eyes narrowed before I controlled myself. I smiled thinly and said, "And? How is he?"

Keith scratched his head, "Not too good actually. It seems he injured himself recently."

"Really? How did that happen?" I had to control my breathing as I wondered what Noel could have said.

Keith shrugged, "Said he fell down some stairs. He looked pretty bad. Anyway, I asked him about why he had left the band."

"And he said?" I prompted.

"He asked what you had said so I said 'creative differences' like you had told me. He said that about summed it up."

I nodded and forced myself to smile again, "I'm not really sure where you are going with this."

He smiled apologetically, "Yeah, well I'm afraid the journalist in me took me to Kent next. I believe you had a little party there recently."

It was as if a hand was squeezing my heart. I knew Jools was behind the door listening to all of this and I wished I could let her deal with this, but I knew it would be too suspicious. I nodded and swallowed and my voice sounded a little shaky, "Yes that's right."

He looked a little less comfortable, "Well I err... was talking to one of the night clerks from a certain hotel and well, with some ‘journalistic’ persuasion, he told me a strange story about some events that took place one Friday night recently."

I just looked at him and in a neutral voice said, "And?"

He shrugged, "Do you want to make any comment?"

In an acidic tone I said, "No I do not. Goodbye Mr. Wilkinson." I shut the door and felt myself beginning to hyperventilate. Jools grabbed me and dragged me into the office and sat me down. She held me tightly and whispered soothing words in my ears.

"Oh God," I sobbed. "He knows. He knows it all. This is it; it's all going to come out now."

"Shh," Jools murmured, "We don't know exactly what he knows. He may be bluffing. I mean, he didn't come out and say anything definite, did he?"

I wiped my eyes and looked up at her, "Truthfully -- what do you think? Does he know?"

She sighed, swallowed and then nodded sadly, "Yeah, I think he does."

---