Mami had left, earlier that morning, as she was feeling tired and nauseous.

I was also feeling a little nauseous myself, but only because I had no idea what to expect. Hallburn had called, the previous day, saying he had gotten just the musicians I needed and that he would send them over so we could start working on our things ASAP.

I had always figured bands to be more organic, like childhood friends who decided to give music a try, people with lasting bonds, who already had a connection. This felt artificial, but I really had no other way of doing it. Collins would never allow Peter to join me and my plan was really not to create a German electronic music duo.

I was sure I was driving Edgar crazy, pacing up and down the hallway, at New House. He had been arranging the furniture in the drawing room, so we could have space to set up our little practice joint. Of course this was not an ideal setting, but it was the only thing we had.

- There’s nothing to worry about, Miss Eleanora – he tried reassuring me, when the doorbell rang and I felt my stomach shrinking – It will be fine.

Edgar calmly walked the steps to the door, crossing the black and white floor tiles, under the watchful eye of great-great-grandpapa Teddy’s bust, who had had the house built.

Four pairs of very wide eyes greeted him, as the door swung open. The boy standing in front of him, somewhere in his early twenties, was very tall and lanky, with a lazy mohawk threatening to topple over to the side. He had a very calm and deep voice – Uh… Hi. We must have the wrong house, I don’t know. We’re looking for a girl called Eleanora.

- Oh, you’ve come to the right place, then – Edgar smiled at them and stepped over, so I could greet them.

- I’m Eleanora – I shook the boy’s hand – Please come in.

- I’m Simon – the boy did not shy from my handshake – Are we trespassing? Is this even legal?

- As legal as can be – I smiled at him and motioned for him to come in.

A slightly younger boy with round cheeks and a shy smile said he was Alfie. A shorter one, with very fluffy blond hair, was Martin and lastly, very stylish in his slick black hair and sunglasses, Freddie.

I took them to the drawing room after they had unloaded their rickety van, along with Edgar. There was a battery of cables and amps, a drum kit, the remaining instruments and everything in between we might need.

They were mostly silent, as they put it all together, stealing inquisitive glances amongst themselves and looking around the blue damask room, with its ornate high ceilings.

Edgar brought out some things to eat and that seemed to have unleashed the tapped conversations.

- And Hallburn called, yesterday morning, and asked if we’d like to earn a couple of quid – Martin said, as he munched on half of an egg sandwich – I mean, who doesn’t want to earn a couple of pounds, right?

- And a bonus lunch, apparently, so I’m in – Freddie picked a salmon sandwich from the tray.

- I think Si’s the only one who’s heard your demo – Martin kept going – He was our liaison with Hallburn.

- What did you think of it? - I asked Simon, who was downing a glass of fresh juice.

- Juice is great – he clinked the bottom of the glass on the table – and the demo was very, very good. I think you’ve managed to get some very interesting bass lines.

Alfie chuckled – No one cares about the bass, mate.

- Yeah, usually no one cares about the bass. But it was just that that made me say yes to Hallburn, on the spot.

- And the couple o’ quid – Fred chimed in, taking a napkin.

- Would you say no to a couple of quid? - he gave him a sideways glance, but turned his attention back to me - But how do we go on about it, kid? Hallburn said something about some gigs and… we would see how it went? What’s all that about?

I went over everything that had been said at the meeting and made sure to say this would be a make-or-break sort of deal. We definitely could not bomb this one.

As Simon had been the only one who had heard the tape, I played it for the general audience to get a grasp of what we were about to embark on. I also had copies of the scores ready for them and, luckily, some better and some worse, they could all read music.

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The first chords of Lost echoed in the room. This was the first time I was watching strangers listening to my music and it was absolutely nerve-racking. All I could envision were sneers from those older and more experienced musicians. But there were no sneers… There were, instead, feet tapping along to the rhythm, heads bobbing. To my utter surprise, they were enjoying it.

Whispered echoes came along and I could see Simon twitching his fingers in sync with the bass line. Eleanora from the tape shouted and, in the room, muted glances were passed around. I saw some grins. But they looked like the good kind of grin.

Time for Fleeting, raw and primal. A call of the wild and untamed emotions. And, to top it all off, the ethereal scenario of Beyond the Veil, ghostly and eerie.

- This is bloody brilliant – Martin had an ear-to-ear grin. He looked as happy as a little child who had just been given a shiny new toy and his hair danced with every word – I don’t know how you did that on your own, but it’s pure genius.

Alfie got up and sat behind the drums, trying to recreate some passages, from the sketchy sampler that were desperately in need of a human touch, as he kept muttering oh, this is good, to himself.

Simon sat back on the armchair, spreading his legs, as if had just emerged a victor from a battle – I’d told you lot this was a banger.

- You said it was a banger, you didn’t say this was a career opportunity – Freddie walked over to the window, his hands in his pockets, as he peeked at the street – How old are you? Because now I feel intimidated by a little girl – he laughed.

Martin came over and sat facing me, leaning forward, with a reassuring look I ended up learning only he could have – How do you want to do this, El? Can I call you El?

I laid the battle plan I had envisioned. As we had only 30 minutes to show what we were worth I’d thought it best if we added a couple of cover songs to the mix. There was a lot to prepare already, and we might as well go along with at least two songs everyone was familiar with and not dabble too much with the unknown.

We went back and forth for a while, until we only had two songs left, from all of those we had put on the table: The Man Who Sold the World, by David Bowie and Rebel Yell, by Billy Idol, so we could show some range. We would darken up Bowie and amp up Idol.

I also took the chance to tell them that, if all went well, I was not looking for a band to provide me with input. This was my project, my vision and, more importantly, my music. The famous phrase this is not a democracy was first uttered within New House walls and they all said they were fine with that as long as they got paid.

And so, we went to work straight away as no one knew how long we would have to make things perfect.

Robbie Hallburn called the next day, telling me we had a grand total of 9 days to get our set ready to be shown to the world. And so, from that phone call onwards, every day, the magnificent four stood at our entrance, ready for another nose to the grindstone day.

Funnily enough, it was easier to get my own tracks right than the covers. Those needed a few extra tweaks to turn out perfect but I think we managed to do a good job. So good that we became very proficient in covering songs, which did turn out for the best in more than one occasion.

That Saturday, Peter joined us. He appeared excited but I knew him well enough to see the tinge of sadness in his eyes that it was Freddie, and not him, who was manning the guitar. Even so, he had been, and would be, a key player in all of my career. He may never have been a part of the band on stage, but his presence would be a constant for a very long time. He was one of those people that made things happen, his own sort of magician.

That night, he went out with my band and the only thing I could do was watch them all climb down the steps and drive away. Although they did bring exciting, albeit hungover, news the next morning.

- You will not believe what was on yesterday, in the Underground – Alfie nibbled on a slice of lemon cake, very slowly, to check if his stomach agreed with it.

- I do not. But I assume you’re about to tell me – I took the microphone stand to the middle of the room and turned the knob, to adjust its height.

- She’s not gonna believe you – Peter grinned like a Cheshire cat, his face half-hidden by a gigantic mug of black coffee.

Alfie bit his lip, echoing him – She’s not gonna believe me.

- Oh, ye of little faith – I said into the microphone, a little louder than I needed to, and I could feel those headaches cringing all around me. That pulled a smile out of my little sadistic bastard self.

Simon had his eyes closed and groaned loudly – My dear, if we had so little faith in you, believe me, we would not be here on a bloody Sunday morning. - he gave Alfie a little smack on the back of the head – Go on, tell her, don’t be a prick.

Alfie gave me a wide smile, which only made his already puffy eyes narrow even more – Lost. They played Lost, last night.

I felt my eyebrows furrowing and, for a moment, I thought he was pulling my leg and waited for the mockery that did not come.

- People went crazy – Martin said, in the croaky voice of someone who was on very little sleep and had been singing his heart out all night – They knew the lyrics and everything.

Simon yawned loudly – I mean, we were drunk, sure. But I don’t think we were all hallucinating.

- How…? - was all I could say, before my eyes fell on Peter, who was avoiding me, suddenly finding the portrait of great-aunt Josephine extremely interesting – How?

- Does it matter, really? - Freddie was fiddling with the guitar, which was still turned off. He always had a grumpy type of hangover – Focus on the good part, El. People loved it. By the way, I stole this for you – he got up and took a paper that he had folded twice and handed it to me.

I was still looking straight at Peter and yes, he had all the looks of a guilty man, ready to take on the scaffold. He had access to the demo, he was a frequent flyer of the Underground and, yes, two plus two was still four. I unfolded the poster and there it was, Eleanora’s Sundown, in small script among the other bands.

I decided to turn a blind eye to Peter’s little transgression. That A4 poster right there was, so far, a crowning moment and I would ride that little wave of pride for as long as I could.

That night, I folded it again and put it in an envelope, addressed to Japan. Sharing is caring, right?