Peter’s calculations had hit the nail on the head and we did break even with Firefly very early in the year. Of course we were no top-sellers, but we did get by enough that I had no more of that debt hovering over me, even if I was almost virtually broke, as I kept channelling whatever I could earn to pay the boys’ wages. It was an unusual arrangement, to keep them strictly as session musicians and not actually form a band, but it kept them happy and motivated.

Bishop was as happy a clam, regardless of whether clams are even aware of the concept of happiness or not, when I had dropped casually that we’d been invited for a small live show on a local radio. He also took the chance to summon my presence for a meeting back at HQ.

- What’s new, pussycat? - he asked, as soon as I passed the threshold, not even giving me enough wiggle room to greet him.

I gave him a feline smile – Straight for the killing.

He motioned for me to have a seat and to unravel all the news I had for him. Well, he’d be happy to know that our little video had aired on TV (rather late, but it did have air time) and that Peter was actively negotiating the opening act for Obsidian’s tour, which would mean a bigger audience and proper venues, with proper sound systems so that our songs would not actually seem like a blurb of sound coming from a gramophone horn.

- Obsidian, eh? - he pouted approvingly. He had shaved recently, but still felt the need to scratch his inexistent beard – Not bad, Little Monster. I like that.

- I would like it to happen very much as well. What about you? Because this was clearly a conversation we could have had over the phone, and you insisted on summoning me as if I were a crossroads demon.

His laugh bounced all over the room. When his money was no longer on the line and only profits loomed on the horizon, Bishop became so much younger and lighter – Well, little devil, I summoned you, to inform you that your album is selling like hotcakes.

- That’s wonderful news – I cheered up as well.

- In Germany.

I arched my eyebrows – In Germany…?

- To be fair, in Germany and in Poland – he brought out the numbers to show me – So, it’s selling like hot schnitzel, I don’t know.

- Schnitzel’s Austrian – I said, mindlessly, as I looked at what he was showing me. It was true. For a debut album from a bunch of unknowns, the numbers were amazing.

- I don’t know what they eat in Germany – he shrugged, not really bothered by his culinary faux-pas.

- Currywurst, Weißwurst, spätzle… Loads of delicious bread.

- Doesn’t matter – he cut me off – What matters is that you have a market opening, so get your bloody foot in the door and pry it open. Get Peter to book you a couple of shows over there.

- Do you think we can do it? - my insecurity was striking once again.

- Why? Are we scared? Widdle scaredy Duchess of Somerset?… - he taunted me, making his voice whiny and annoying – Because if you just want to keep on playing in Widecombe-on-the-Moor, darling, that can be arranged.

- I don’t think I even know where that is…

- Dartmoor, darling. Devon. Lovely, but not for you. - he reached for his cigarettes, but the packet was empty. He crumpled it and tossed it in the rubbish, before fetching another one from the drawer – You need wider horizons. So, my advice would be for you to brush up your German and charge head-on. Hmm, by the way… - Bishop handed me a folder with concepts for a future photoshoot.

- That’s a lot of pink… And a lot of skin.

- Just a concept, darling – he downplayed it – No one here will be sexualising your image, don’t worry about that. Just meet up with the stylist and go from there – he touched his forehead with the tip of his index finger, leaving a trail of smoke, from the fast movements – I remember the clauses, love.

I laughed and asked if I could keep the concept art, which he agreed on.

I made a beeline to find Peter and tell him the good news.

- Germany? - there were books and notes scattered all over the table. Peter was studying hard for his exams. He had his goal set on St. Andrews University and was making sure he would not fail – This is interesting… I did send copies to local media.

- Hmm-mm – I said as I stole one of his cookies and took a bite out of it. Delicious, as only Collins could make them.

He drummed his fingers on the table, re-checking Bishop’s numbers – How are we going to go about all this?

- Same way? Get in, play and get out? - I laughed.

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- Sure – he said, as he swatted my hand when I tried stealing another cookie from him – But you’ll do the talking. - he took the last one and broke it in half, handing me a piece.

In March we were landing in Germany, for a couple of shows and praying our gear had made it in one piece. We had considered driving down there but had unanimously decided that such a journey could be the end of our already struggling van.

Freddie was telling us about how his great-grandfather had come from Silesia and Alfie was going on and on about how there was this myth that continental girls were far more relaxed than the girls back at home and Peter was just warning him that he needed to impress the audience and the media before he impressed the ladies.

- What I do need is a coffee… - Martin yawned. Even his bouncy hair looked sleepy – Getting up at five in the morning is inhumane, to say the least. There must be something in the Geneva Convention about this…

I offered myself as a tribute to fetch everyone a fresh cup of caffeine, as they waited on our luggage, and Peter trotted along.

- You do know you don’t have to be with me literally every step of the way, don’t you? - I asked, as I rummaged through my bag for my purse.

Peter just shrugged.

- What was it, that Lady Margaret made you promise?

- None of your business, young lady – he gave me a half-grin.

- Because there is more to life than being my agent slash bodyguard.

- I don’t mind it a bit. Go on, Fräulein Eleanora – he let me in front of him – I told you you’d be the one doing all the talking.

A healthy dose of caffeine later and with the relief of knowing that all our worldly stage possessions that we managed to bring over were intact, we headed out and realised that the logistics were really tough, when you have close to nothing to land on and are working on guesses.

- This is shit – Simon complained, as four of us cramped in a taxi- Peter had managed to get a van, to get our stuff to the venue, but had failed to realise that there was not enough seating for everyone – This is the first and last time that we’re travelling like this.

- I know – I said, trying to calm him down. Simon was always someone who was very quick to anger and to get it all out, even if everything was perfectly fine the next minute – But this is just an experiment.

- To feel the pulse of Deutschland – Peter added.

- You can feel its pulse however you see fit, Collins, but logistics’ your department, so get your shit straight.

- Si… - I gave him a sideways look and saw how Freddie clenched his jaw at Simon’s outburst. I knew Si meant well, but his delivery was always on the rough side.

- I’m sorry… - he said, running his fingers down the strap of his bag – I just think this could have been a bit better thought out, blondie.

I shrugged – Well, it is what it is. So, let’s not make a big fuss out of it. Next time, it’ll be better.

Si chewed on his cheek as if he was keeping himself from lashing out more. But while he was right, we were all still learning how things worked.

- Where did you learn to speak German, by the way – he asked, a lot calmer, this time. His storm had passed.

The hotel we were staying at was a step above bad, but many below good. The only really good thing about it was its central location and so, I took everyone away from that dump and out for a stroll. We went to Alexanderplatz, up to the Brandenburg gate, the inevitable Checkpoint Charlie and the inevitable photoshoot there and ended up having currywurst in a Biergarten.

- This is the life! - Martin sighed with satisfaction, as he quenched his thirst with a nice cold beer – Travelling the world, eating nice, hearty food…

- The world – Simon laughed – You’re two hours away from home, Curly.

- It’s a lot more world than we’re used to, OK? - Freddie pointed his fork at him – Besides, when was the last time you left London? And not just for a gig somewhere. - he raised his eyebrows over his sunglasses and got no answer – Thought so.

- The true globetrotter is Ellie here – Alfie laughed, and took a big gulp of the amber liquid, as if he was utterly parched.

- Talking about being a globetrotter – I turned my attention to Peter – How are we with Obsidian? Are we about to embark on an odyssey of taste-testing every variation of mushy peas in the kingdom? Going to France, perhaps, for some petit pois…?

- I’m calling Anthony tomorrow – Peter was talking about his, much more experienced, counterpart, with whom he was negotiating – But I have this gut feeling that we’re bagging the opening act.

If he had a good feeling, that was good enough for me. Peter was never one to dangle the carrot of false hope before our eyes and he usually only talked about things when he was about 90% sure they would work.

That night would be our international debut and the house was sold out. We were trying to enforce a business as usual policy, but this was a milestone, nonetheless, and we were understandably nervous.

- Lady, gentlemen – Peter came barging in from the front of the house. His cheeks were flushed and he was sporting a wide smile – First off, the merch booth is on fire.

Wonderful news. We loved it when merchandise just flew off the booth. It meant quick money.

- And second, I was just talking to Christoph, he’s the owner – he clarified – and he was just telling me that both shows sold out really fast and that he would definitely assure us we could have a third full house, if we wanted to.

- Meaning… - Alfie twirled his drumsticks nimbly, like it was nothing.

- Meaning – Peter crossed his arms – that we have to make a choice, between getting home on our scheduled date, or choosing to have a third gig.

The answer was quite obvious to me and, clearly, to everybody else. Who cared about going home, when we could be making a name for ourselves?

The boys partied hard that night. So hard that I was left to my own devices, the next day, and I was certainly not going to be cooped up in that scummy place to hear their snoring from the other side of paper-thin walls, so I took it upon myself and made my way to the Pergamon, which was always a delight to visit.

I hadn’t realised how I had missed speaking and listening to German so much, and I found myself listening in to people’s conversations, just so I could get a little taste of it. I had no one to speak German to, now that Mami was gone. Granted I did, and still do, think in a weird mish-mash of English, German and French, but that does happen with people who are raised with more than one language. But it is, obviously, not the same as having a nice and proper conversation with a living and sane person.

When I got to the hotel, Peter broke out the good news that Anthony had given us the green light and that Eleanora’s Sundown would be the opening act for Obsidian’s tour, which meant that we were about to have a very busy summer. And, to top it all off, there was a reporter from a famous music magazine who had asked for an interview with me.

That year really was becoming rather promising and that international debut, in Berlin of all places, was just the perfect way to get the party going.

I will always cherish the warmth with which my German fans always greeted me. The ones who were the first to open their arms to me and were never afraid to show how much they cherished my music.

Ich liebe euch alle, meine kleinen Monster.