"Anything else?" Darren had been taking notes as we listened through to Clive's mix of the album on Friday. It had taken us most of the afternoon, listening through each track in order, and we'd finally reached 'Carry On'.

I shook my head. "I still don't like my voice, but I seem to be the only one." By now, I was resigned to that, and could actually laugh about it. "You're all deaf."

Melissa patted my shoulder. "No. You are. Trust us." She let her hand rest there. "Everyone hates the sound of their voice on tape at first. I did."

"OK..." Darren looked round, then nodded. "I think we're done, Clive."

"Great." Clive had been taking his own notes. "I'll work on these, and get you a fresh mix for Monday."

"Off to London on Monday, remember?" Kev pointed out.

Clive grinned at him. "So am I. No escape for the producer this time."

I glanced at the time, and stood up. "Are we done?"

Darren nodded. "We're done."

Kev glanced up at me, quirked an eyebrow. "Someone's keen to go."

Melissa grinned, and teased, gently "She's got a da-ate."

I shook my head. "She's got a driving lesson at half six, and she wants to pop into Star Music first." I winked at Melissa. "Date's tomorrow, as you well know. C'mon, let's go."

Shawn was about to start cashing up when we made it into the store, almost as it shut. "Well, look who's here." He eyed us both. "Not too famous for us, then?"

I laughed, hugged him. "Of course not. In fact, I was planning on spending some money. I was kind of hoping to get here sooner, but..."

He frowned, in a way I'd learned wasn't serious. "I suppose, seeing it's you..." He walked over to the door, flipped the sign to 'closed' and raised his voice. "When you two are quite done out back, we got some famous people visiting."

There was a laugh from the storeroom, and Dave stuck his head out. "Who...? Oh." He winked at me, and disappeared again. "It's only my sister," I heard him remark to Greg, quite obviously intended to be loud enough for me to hear.

Melissa giggled. "Trust Dave to keep our feet on the ground."

"I hope someone does." I smiled at Shawn. "I'm looking for a keyboard to take on tour with me, that I can play in the hotel room." Melissa and I had reached an agreement with Mum, not without some argument, as regards rent, and I'd been saving up for this for a while with the money left over.

Shawn eyed me. "Can't you persuade the label to pay for this?"

I shrugged. "I could. But this way it feels like I earned it."

Greg appeared while I was putting one of the keyboards through its paces, and slipped arms round me from behind, nuzzling my neck. "Hey. We still on for tomorrow?"

I leaned back into his embrace, and twisted around to kiss him. "Course we are. Seven o'clock?"

"Mmm." He reached round and hit a key. "New toy?"

"Yeah. Think I've decided on this one." I twisted to face him, draped my arms round his neck. "How's the record deal?"

Greg sighed. "Don't ask."

"That bad?" I asked.

He nodded. "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow. We've got a band meeting in about half an hour, and Dave's giving me a lift, so..."

I kissed him again. "Hope it goes OK."

He smiled, and slipped free. "So do I."

Dave grinned at both of us. "If you're done with my sister..."

Greg laughed. "Not likely. You ready to go?"

"Yeah." Dave waved at me. "See you for Sunday lunch?"

I blinked. "Sure. You bringing Trish?"

He shook his head. "She's up to her neck in stuff for your tour, apparently. They're still waiting on stuff for the tourbooks from Crawler so they can go to the printers on Monday."

For that, he earned a 'tsk'. "Mum'll be disappointed."

"I know." Dave sighed. "See you Sunday."

"So." Mum cleared away the last of our breakfast things on Saturday morning, and turned to Melissa and I. "What have you two got planned for the weekend?"

"Well..." I glanced at Melissa, and then smiled back at Mum. "It is our last weekend here before Christmas, pretty much. So I reckon we should put the decorations up."

Mum smiled at me. "That'd be nice. Melissa?"

Melissa stared at me for a moment, then swallowed, audibly, lifting her eyes to Mum, and said, in a very small voice, "I'd like that very much."

She eased an arm round Melissa's shoulders and hugged her lightly. "Come on, then. You can help me get things out of the loft, since I'm sure my daughter won't let me do it alone. Alison, dear, you can tidy the living room where the tree goes."

Melissa surreptitiously wiped a hand across her eyes and nodded. "OK."

I exchanged a look and a soft smile with Mum, and mouthed, "Love you."

"Right." Melissa dumped the last of the boxes from the loft on the living room floor. She'd obviously been crying, up in the loft where I couldn't see, but equally obviously Mum had worked her magic on the tears. "Your Mum says I have to buy a couple of decorations for the tree."

I rolled over onto my back from where I'd been plugging an extra adaptor in behind the TV, ready for the tree lights. "Family tradition. We buy at least one new thing for the tree every year. And it's definitely your turn."

She laughed. "Yeah. I got that part." Crouching next to me, she shook her hair back, then held out her hands to pull me up. . "Did I mention lately I love your Mum?"

I took the offered hands. "Mmm. I know." I dropped my voice, pulling myself up so I was sat, face to face with her. "Can we sneak out without Mum? I have a couple of things to get her before we go."

Melissa's eyes shone. "Sure." She raised her voice. "Sue?"

Mum stuck her head round the door after a moment. "Mm?"

"We'll go on our own, if that's OK?"

Mum smiled. "Sure. I'll sort out lunch."

We got back to a house smelling deliciously of cooking. I groaned. "I forget to tell her Greg was taking me out to dinner."

Melissa giggled. "Where's he taking you?"

"The nice Italian place behind the Guildhall."

"Oo." She poked me in the midriff. "More sit-ups tomorrow." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Unless you were planning on getting another kind of exercise before then."

"Melissa!" I squirmed away, giggling, and blushing fiercely. "Be nice."

She laughed. "We won't wait up, OK?"

I leant against the wall in the hall, conscious of my cheeks burning, and pouted at her. "You're mean to me."

That earned me a hug. "Only 'cause I love you."

I hugged back, hard. "Love you too. C'mon, let's go show Mum."

We trooped into the kitchen, bearing carrier bags. Mum was sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, and looked up with a slightly worn smile as we entered. I decided not to mention it, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. "We got you a couple of presents."

"Oh..." She protested, like I knew she would. "You shouldn't have. Besides, it isn't Christmas yet, and my birthday's not till July."

I settled on a spare chair. "We did. Here..." I produced a box from one carrier bag. "I bought you a new phone for here, so you can see the number that's calling before you answer." I was going to make sure there wasn't a repeat of last Sunday, one way or another.

Mum looked between the box and me, then laughed. "You are determined to drag me into the twenty-first century, aren't you, dear?"

Melissa giggled. "She is." She fished out another, slightly smaller, box from the bag she was holding. "And so am I."

"Melissa, dear..." Mum eyed it with something akin to suspicion. "Why on earth would I need a mobile phone as well?"

Melissa glanced at me, then back to Mum. "We... uh.. figured it would be good for you to have a number that only certain people know, after the other day." She licked her lips, a little nervously. "And just so we... know you have a phone wherever you are."

I shot her a silent, grateful look, knowing that Mum would find it much harder to protest it than if it came from me. Indeed, I was right, as Mum turned the box over, thoughtfully, before nodding, and holding out open arms to both of us. "Come here, the pair of you..."

Melissa dropped me outside the Guildhall, dressed in jacket, my best jeans and, by my stage wear standards, a fairly demure white blouse, at just gone five past seven. She blew me a teasing kiss, with a 'have fun' and a 'we won't wait up'. I stuck my tongue out at her, and waved back, before heading down the covered walkway to the street at the back of the building. Greg was leaning in the porch of the restaurant, and I smiled, fondly, pausing for a moment in the shadows to watch him. He had a tiny frown, a mix of worry and impatience, glancing up and down the street from time to time: it did look kind of cute, I had to admit. As I watched, he fished in a pocket of his jacket for his mobile, and eyed it, pensively, before punching a couple of buttons, turning to study the menu as he lifted the phone to his ear. I dug in my jeans pocket for my slim cellphone, quickly setting it to silent, and quietly crossed the street to stand behind him.

The phone buzzed in my hand, the display showing, unsurprisingly, that it was Greg calling. I hit the 'answer' button, and waited.

"Ali?"

"Right behind you." I purred in his ear.

It was worth it for the startled yelp and frantic juggle of his phone. "Woah...!" He burst out laughing. "Jesus, love. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

I hugged him. "Mmm. Maybe."

I sank back in my seat after finishing off a serving of the most unbelievably gorgeous tiramisu, and groaned. "That was wonderful. But I am so stuffed."

Greg laughed. "Me too. Coffee?"

I shook my head. "Not sure I could. Not without walking this off first."

He nodded, and beckoned for the bill. "This is my treat."

I frowned. "Are you sure? I'm the one with the record contract. And that wine wasn't cheap."

"Positive." He smiled. "I... kind of think we have it sorted now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Greg fiddled, a little nervously, with his napkin. "We, um... had a problem, cause Steve didn't want to quit his job."

I remembered the guitarist's somewhat lifeless performance at their showcase. "I wondered."

He nodded. "He's got a great job with some Internet company that's going places, and he..." A shrug. "I guess he was happier with the job security."

That made a certain kind of sense. "So what happened?"

Greg looked a little uncomfortable. "We... um... found another guitarist. That's what the band meeting yesterday was about."

"Who?"

A pause. "Dave."

Woah. "Wait. Wait... my brother Dave?" I sat up straight. "That Dave?"

He nodded. "He's good."

I almost said 'He's not as good as Darren', but held my tongue. Dear God. Mum was going to... I just shook my head. "Oh my God."

Greg shifted, awkwardly. "Uh... is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "N..no. Just takes a bit of getting used to."

He reached for my hand. "I know. He really is good. Ian likes him. And he can play the stuff Ian comes up with."

Dave had always been a quick learner, but he'd never really developed a style of his own, being something of a musical chameleon. Even allowing for the fact that I was his sister, and biased, he was a pretty good guitarist: just very derivative. I suspected that what Ian really liked was precisely that, and if I was being fair to Eastern Wind, that was exactly what the band needed to complement Ian's song-writing. I smiled at Greg. "He'll be fine."

"You don't sound so sure." He frowned, worriedly. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to spoil the evening."

"You haven't." I caressed his fingers. "Anyway. Where next?"

He smiled. "Home. I rented a DVD I thought you'd like."

He was right, too. We cuddled up on his couch with the lights off to watch it, another science-fiction/horror movie that had me pressed as close against him as I could get for most of the final half hour. As the credits rolled, Greg laughed softly. "Can I ask something?"

I nestled my head into his shoulder. "Sure."

"If you're so scared of horror movies, why didn't you freak out when you went after Rebecca in the dark?"

"I..." Why didn't I? "I... don't know. If that hadn't been you coming across the bridge..." I would have lost it completely. I hugged him, and shivered a little. "I dunno."

Greg freed an arm to snag the remote control and turn the TV off. "You were brave."

I lifted my head. "I didn't feel it," I murmured, before brushing my lips against his.

"You were."

Mmm. "Wasn't."

It took a while, one hand tangled in my hair, before he came up for air. "Were."

"Uh..." I slid an arm round his neck. "If... if I argue, will you do that again?"

His lips curved into a smile, close to mine. "Try me."

I laughed, a little breathlessly, conscious of the fact that my heart rate had gone up. "I don't need to argue to do that."

I felt, rather than heard, his answering chuckle. "That's true."

"Greg?" It felt like an age later. And yet not long enough.

"Mm?" His hand ceased its exploration, as he looked up at me, concerned.

I took a deep, somewhat unsteady breath, and planted a soft kiss on his nose. "It's better if you undo the buttons."

"Are..." He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

Was I? I closed my eyes, let the breath out again. "Mmm."

Apparently I didn't sound a hundred percent certain, as he murmured, softly, "We don't have to..."

I could have kissed him for that - was going to, in just a moment."No..." I half sat up, undoing the top three buttons myself with fingers that were just a little clumsy. "I'm fine." Well, apart from having a heart that was running a good deal faster than normal. For some reason, I remembered the magazine shoot from the previous Saturday, and gave Greg a half smile that I hoped counted as seductive, before slowly peeling the blouse off over my head, letting it drop on the floor and shaking my hair back in a manner the photographer would have definitely approved of.

"Wow..." he breathed, softly.

I licked my lips, nervously, and smiled. "That better?"

"M... much." He was cute when he was tongue-tied.

I ran a hand across my shoulder, deliberately pushing the bra strap part way off, and then reached up to drape arms round his neck. "Are you just going to stare?"

"Uh... n... no."

"Good." I pulled him down for a kiss...

"Ali?" Greg paused, his tone puzzled. His hand settled, warm, against my skin.

It took me a second or two to filter out the odd new sensation from among the other remarkably pleasant ones, something decidedly interesting occurring where my thigh was pressed against his.

"Is... uh... that your mobile?" That's what it was. I'd left it on silent. "You ought to get it." He sat up, reluctantly.

"I... yeah." Breathless. That's how I sounded. I worked the vibrating phone out of the pocket of my jeans, which seemed to have mysteriously come unfastened and worked part way down my hips sometime in the last fifteen minutes, and read the name on the display. "Oh..."

"Something wrong?"

"Rebecca."

He glanced at the time. "At half midnight?"

I nodded, hit the 'answer' button. Much as I wanted another moment or two to steady myself, I couldn't let it go to my voice mail. "Hi."

"Ali?" Her voice was unsure.

"It's me. It's OK."

"You sound different."

"I... I'm fine. I... you just... I wasn't expecting a call this late." And now I was blushing, very aware that I was talking to someone while sat on a sofa in - well, half out of - my bra and a pair of jeans. I tried my best to adjust the former one handed, the phone being too small to cradle against my ear. And failed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you." She sounded miserable, and perhaps a little the worse for drink.

"No... no," I protested. "It's fine. Really." I glanced across at Greg, who gave me a wry smile and an emphatic nod as he stood up. "It's fine. Just... can you hang on a second?"

"Sure."

I set the phone down for long enough to restore myself to a level of decency that I'd maybe have let them away with photographing last week. "OK. I'm here."

Silence.

"Rebecca?"

There was a sniffle at the other end of the line. "I... I know. I just needed to hear a voice."

"Where are you?"

"At home. Just can't sleep, and I keep... keep remembering last week." She swallowed, audibly. "There w... was another showcase at the Full Moon tonight. I should have gone, but..." Greg massaged my bare shoulder lightly, perched on the back of the sofa. I leaned into the touch, sighed a little. Rebecca sniffed again. "Ali?"

Reluctantly I lifted Greg's hand away, twisted to smile at him. He nodded, kissed my hair softly and bent to retrieve his shirt, as I turned my attention back to the phone. "I'm here."

"I'm really sorry. I was interrupting something, wasn't I?"

I mimed a kiss in Greg's direction. "Nothing that won't keep. It's fine, I promise. Do... do you want to talk about it?" Again, silence. "Rebecca?"

"Yeah.. no." I heard the clink of a glass. "I hate this. I hate being scared. I had nightmares all week."

"Why didn't you call me?" I asked, softly.

"I... I... It was three o'clock in the bloody morning." She sounded miserable. "I kn... know what you said. But..." There was a long silence. "Can... can we just talk? I really can't sleep."

"Sure." I smiled up at Greg, as he slipped a blanket round my shoulders. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything."

I laughed, gently. "Anything, huh? OK." I racked my brain, which, to be honest, was still more than a little distracted by recent events, and settled for "So. What's new I should know about?"

"Um." She was definitely a little less than sober. "I... we're hoping to send you guys to the States in March."

"America?" Wow. Greg shot me a quizzical look.

"Yeah. Supporting Asylum, if it all works out."

I frowned, sure I recognised the name. "Who're Asylum?"

Rebecca laughed, which was a good sign. "You must have heard of them, surely? 'Taking Over' was their big hit over here."

"Oh. Yeah..." I chiefly remembered their lean, wiry vocalist, who wore black leather, and clearly fancied himself as a reincarnation of Jim Morrison of the Doors.

Greg said, quietly, "Ian's favourite band. Tom England's a hero of his." I could see that.

"Who's that?" asked Rebecca, obviously hearing his voice.

"S'only Greg. He was saying his singer's a fan of theirs'."

"Oh. Yeah. Me too. Tom England is hot." A pause, then, "God, Ali. I have messed up your evening, haven't I?"

"It's fine, Rebecca," I soothed. "I understand."

She sniffed. "Thanks."

"So..." I coaxed. "Tell me more about Asylum."

We talked for well over an hour about anything and everything. Greg brought me a hot chocolate after about fifteen minutes, and settled at the other end of the sofa, half dozing, for the rest of the time. I caught Rebecca yawning a couple of times towards the end, before there was a beep from my phone.

"What was that?" she asked, before being interrupted by another yawn.

I glanced at the display. "Battery's nearly run out."

"Oh." There was a pause. "I... I should let you go."

"Get some sleep, mm?'

Her sound of agreement was swallowed up by another yawn. "OK. I... Thanks, Ali."

"Night."

I glanced at my watch, and sighed. Twenty to two. I slid over to settle my head on Greg's shoulder. "'M sorry about that. It did kind of kill the mood." I bit back a yawn.

He opened one eye, and stroked my hair. "Don't be. S'why I love you. You care about people."

"Mmm. And you bring me hot chocolate while I do. Love you, too." I giggled, and fought back another yawn. "Tired now."

"Me too. And I have to be up for ten." He played, absently, with an end of my hair. "Want me to get you a taxi, since your phone's flat?"

I shook my head, having already considered and rejected that idea. "It's cold out, and it's nice and warm here."

"Oh." There was a pause, while he digested that. "I could always sleep on the..."

"No." I stretched up, kissed him lightly. "Let's go to bed."