The remainder of that year was a very dark time, for me. We would be doing performance after performance, just relentlessly storming unto the proverbial breach, and I was made aware that our music was already airing on some radio stations. Nothing much, but it was a start.

Peter had stuck to the idea that we should be recording a music video and had already talked to some friends, who knew some friends who came by the Hall on a very cold December morning. We all went into the foggy woods, North of the house, and shot our very first videoclip, for Lost. Peter kept talking about how it could get us a foot in television and the possibilities that such a feat could entail.

He also estimated that, with the sales growing at the rate they were, our debt to Bishop could be settled around February or March. But it could be sooner, if we just kept on working hard.

With the money from the film production, I was able to pay Hannah what she was due, and an extra bonus for all the years of good service, and send her away. There was no need for so many people tending to me and the house. My very big and very empty house.

I also knew that both tenants were willing to buy the farms and that left me more at ease, regarding Collins and Edgar’s paychecks.

This was also the time when I started both frantically writing music and devouring books. I needed to make my brain numb to the pain and the only way was either to empty it of everything it had in there, or get lost in fiction.

I would buy new and used books wherever we passed by and always came back with piles of them, which Collins then double-checked, to see if we already had them somewhere in the house. If we did, he would set them apart, and Peter would take them to his old school, as donations to its library.

Do you know how musicians always seem to have a very special, alluring and magical aura? Well, they do, but only if they don’t reek of desperation. And my four boys were now confident enough on stage to attract all sorts of attention towards them.

By the end of the year, our names started being tossed about and they rode that wave as best as they could. And by that, I mean that boys with instruments become magnets for thirsty girls.

And so, whatever area we were given, as backstage, was starting to not be just our own anymore. The girls swooned all over the boys and they enjoyed every second of their attention. They would, at times, vanish and, even if I knew what was going on, I truly felt none of the appeal of any of that. Not even the attention bit, which seemed to be a major turn-on for so many people. But I never blamed them, after all, road life was so tiring that I understood they needed to release some pressure.

But, in those days, especially, all I wanted was to be left alone.

It had been our last show, before Christmas, and we had all our gear ready to be packed up. We were just waiting for the person in charge to drop by and pay us what we were owed. And were they taking their sweet time, probably trying to find an excuse to leave us hanging… It had already happened, in the past.

I was feeling angry and tired and depressed, all at the same time, so I just sat in a corner reading a book, as we all stood by. I was never good neither at managing, nor at hiding emotions, so I always preferred to self-isolate myself, as a cautionary measure.

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- Great gig – a boy who seemed to be around Peter’s age came by and sat next to me. I was really not in the mood for a conversation, so I thanked him, shortly, before turning my attention back to the pages once more.

He took a sip of his beer – You doing alright? You don’t look like it.

- I’m just tired – I shook my head. That was the utmost truth. I was absolutely knackered.

- Yeah, life on the road probably isn’t easy – wasn’t he the chatterbox… - I don’t know if I’d manage it. Probably not without some pick-me-up here and there.

- Hmm-mm…

He reached into his jacket and showed me something on the tip of his finger.

- What’s that? - I asked, furrowing my brows, looking with disgust at that bottom-of-the-pocket pill.

- A little pick-me-up. To help you out. You’ll perk up in no time.

If I had to describe what happened next, I would say a bird of prey came down from the sky and snatched the guy’s hand with lightning speed. I think he was even more surprised than I was, as he got up with a jolt.

- What the fuck do you think you’re doing, mate? - Peter was furious and I don’t think I had ever seen him like that in my life – Do you know how old she is, you wanker?

The guy managed to free his hand and started backing up – I don’t know, mate. I swear I don’t know.

Peter grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back, baring his teeth – You’re going to grab your fucking drugs and you’re gonna get the fuck out right now, mate. Or I swear I’ll call the cops and tell them all about you handing out speed to a thirteen-year-old.

- Easy, mate – he put both his hands up, trying to appease that fury that was unleashing upon him. – I didn’t know. Come on. How was I supposed to know?

The other four were already on both of them, trying to get Peter to let go of him and de-escalate the situation.

- Get the fuck out, before I bash your fucking teeth in.

Simon was not-so-gently pushing the guy away and telling him to piss off, otherwise his odds would turn very sour. Five to one sour.

-And you. You were chatting this wanker up!? - Peter’s anger turned on to me, as he swatted Martin’s hand off his chest.

I had been frozen in place in the few seconds that whole vicious interaction had taken place, my brain lost as to how to react to it all, but that outburst from my friend broke the spell and also drew some outraged heys, from Martin and Alfie.

- Chatting… - the outrage! I got up – I don’t know who you think you are talking to, but I would advise you to mind your tone.

Alfie got himself between the two of us – El… Peter… Let’s just calm down, alright? There’s no need to fight.

I pushed Alfie out of the way and pressed the book spine to Peter’s chest, making sure to look him in the eyes – Never, in your life, raise your voice to me again.

Freddie grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me back – El, Alfie’s right, there’s no need to fight. Come on, let’s get you outside. You need to get some air.

- I don’t need some air. I just need to get out of this bloody place – I was adamant with all of them for the first time in my life – I want to get paid and I want to go home, so grab your bloody things and get moving.

- I’ll see what’s happening, love – Martin tried soothing me, turning to the girls next – Come now, girls. Show’s over. - he winked at them – We’ll always have next time, alright?

I went out and felt the fat drops of rain that were already working together to form a large puddle right by our beat-down van. I truly just wanted to curl up in my bed and forget about all of this for a while.

- El – Peter followed me outside.

- No – was the only thing that I said to him. The last thing that I wanted right now was to keep on fighting because I was in that very bitter mood that would make me say things I did not want to say out loud.

- Just let me explain – he stood by my side.

- We will talk later.

- You sound like your grandmother on a foul day – he muttered, before turning on his heel and getting back inside.

I could understand that he was tired and feeling on edge, but so was everyone else. And yet, in all those years I had known him, I had never seen him having that sort of reaction. Ever.

Some pieces started clicking, in my mind. Could Mami also have made him promise he would look after me? It would not be unlike her, to never leave loose ends behind. Come to think of it, it was the most likely scenario. But it did not grant him the right to talk down to me. That I would never allow.