I just knew my professional relationship with Marla was to be short-lived when, first of all, she laughed at me for bringing security everywhere I went and second, for telling me at the album’s launch party (at The Underground, because where else can a person release an album, if not back to roots, right?) that I needed to perk up, as I looked like I was about to cry every darned minute.

- It’s not surprising, really. Just looking at your fans, you’d think they would consider your tears some aqua vitae, or something – she laughed – Bottle it and sell it, you’ll make a fortune.

Well, joke was on her, really, when I used my dad’s contacts that Christmas, got to talks with a Japanese perfumer and worked with him to launch my very first piece of original merchandise: Tears by Eleanora, the perfume.

So, yes, now people could don my tears and go about their days. The first batch was tiny, but it sold like hotcakes, or buns, or whatever delicious pastry sells well while hot.

Another win under my belt.

And that was all I cared about, by now: winning. It may have been because it was sort of a small high, that feeling of yes, I did it, I made this, opposite to the Mariana Trench low I was dragging myself through most of the time. I may be a creature of darkness, but everyone needs the sun, every now and then, even me. And those wins and approval I was so desperately seeking were that very sun, just above the surface tension of the water I could not break through.

I read every single piece that came out about the album and I loved to read words like pungent, tortuous, dark and my personal favourite it leaves you utterly empty when it ends.

I barely saw my home for the first three months of 1996. My music was airing on MTV, and we would hear it on the radio, as we drove endlessly, on dark roads, on dark nights. That was the time of day when we also met our fans, and it just gave us a sort of confirmation bias for the very strong possibility that we could be vampires. Well, the boys could be vampires, because I was more of a Victorian ghost, by now, just hovering by with dark circles under my eyes, threatening to fall asleep any minute but also not wanting to, lest the nightmares also came with the much needed rest.

And those victories I so desperately craved for were starting to no longer give me that glimpse of the sun anymore. I just kept collecting them like a greedy raven, to gaze upon my shiny treasures every now and then. And, whenever I looked away from that glittering trove, all I could hear were the screams that were playing in loop, from that very dark corner of my mind where shadows writhed.

I was barely even speaking to people any longer, to the point where I once went into a room and Martin held his hand out to me.

- Hi, I’m Martin. Nice to meet you. Oh, silly me! It’s just my boss. It’s like she doesn’t even know me anymore.

- Listen – Freddie was sitting by me, while we made a quick stop at a service station, one arm crossed over his chest and the other one holding the cigarette away from me – If you need to talk about something, anything, we’re here for you, OK?

I nodded, twisting the chocolate wrapper in my hands. It was like I was becoming mute by my own accord, as I did not trust what could come out.

- We’re all family, alright, love? We’re not just here to work and make a couple of quid. We’re in this together, OK?

I blinked, trying to suppress the tears that were now clouding my vision. I did not want him to see me cry.

- We might not be blood family, but we’re your road one – Freddie said and, for a fraction of a second, he placed his hand over my shoulder. The touch itself was innocuous and deep down, I knew just how innocent and well-meaning it was, but I shuddered and jerked away, with a gasp – El…?

Freddie pulled his hand back to himself and became extremely serious – El… What’s wrong? What happened…?

Luckily for me, the conversation was interrupted by some lovely girls who had recognized us. Luckily for me and for Freddie as well, because I know myself well enough to know that I would rather push him away than let him in on my secrets.

----------------------------------------

- … and you have a meeting with a director that asked to speak with you, next week. I’ve already passed that info to Holly, she’ll fill you in. – Marla said, over the phone. Those days, the fewer people I had around me, the better.

- A director? Are we shooting a new video?

- No, this one’s from Hollywood – It was always like this with Marla, we never really clicked enough so that either of us could enjoy this symbiotic work relationship.

I frowned – From Hollywood? What does he want?

- I don’t know – I heard her pull a drag and blow the smoke out – Maybe he wants to use one of your songs for a movie.

I just shook my head, closing my eyes and trying not to sigh out loud – If he wanted to use one of my songs, wouldn’t his team just get in touch with the label? Why bother coming all the way across the ocean to talk to me?

- Yeah, maybe you’re right.

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- Well, you’re the bloody agent, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know how these things work?

I heard a muffled snicker from just a few feet from me. Peter had come home for a few days and had made a point of having dinner with me. I just told Marla I did not need her there for the meeting and hung up the phone, with an exasperated sigh.

- Please, please, please – I turned around, to meet Peter’s eyes, still squinting with a mocking smile – just study faster, or whatever. I will offer you a job on the spot, as soon as you finish your degree.

- I appreciate the offer, but now, come – he tilted his head – sit down and eat.

I just buried my face in my hands, as I sat down and he handed me a tray with pasta al pesto with little pieces of fresh mozzarella.

- I thought we were just having some sammies – I said, as I looked down. It did look good, either way.

- Yeah, well, I thought you might need something a little heartier than a sandwich – he stabbed a piece of cheese and bit into it – I saw you on the telly and I think you’re just wasting away. So, eat up, because you still have some growing up to do. Hopefully.

I pushed the pasta around the plate for a while, before making the effort of trying a little bit. It was delicious and I realised how little I had been enjoying food lately. It all tasted of ash.

- I’m guessing the new agent is not up to par – he said, casually as he turned the TV on. - Oh, and talking of work and such, you don’t happen to know how or why my tuition was already paid for when I tried to pay for it myself, do you?

I fixed my eyes on the television, as I ate a little bit more pasta – I have no idea what you’re talking about.

- I imagined you wouldn’t.

- Best to keep it at that.

- Ellie…

I turned to look at him again. I could feel the hollowness under my eyes, as if it was dragging me down and urging me to just sleep forevermore – You worked hard for me. And I am trying to give back in the only way that I can. So, let’s leave it at that.

He took a while, looking at me, until I averted his gaze. There it was, once again, etched on his face: pity.

- Whatever you might need, I’m here.

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I was flanked by Collins, Jools and Holly, as Felix Blake’s car drove down the lawn and stopped by our doorstep. Collins motioned to open the door and the man that came out was agape, looking at the house, as he took off his sunglasses. His face was gaunt, but his eyes shone bright, as he smiled in amusement.

It was always nice, to see people’s reactions to my Hall.

- I love it! - he said, with his American accent that seemed so out of place here. He took a moment before his eyes landed on me and he made a quick motion, walking with his arm already outstretched – Felix Blake, it’s really nice to meet you. I’m a fan.

- Thank you, Mr Blake – I smiled – Welcome to Somerset Hall.

He introduced both his PA and his producer and I, in turn, Holly, Jools and Collins, as I took them inside, to the drawing room. Collins started serving them coffee, which they had chosen over tea, also bringing along the petit fours, to go with it.

- Absolutely delicious – he said, after taking a sip and looking around – I see that the music business is going well for you.

I smiled politely – I get by, but this is my family home.

His eyes fell on a coat of arms, hung over the fireplace – Blackburn?

- Among a few others.

He just nodded – Very interesting…

- To what may I owe the pleasure, Mr. Blake?

He took another sip – This coffee is amazing. Congratulations. - he smiled at Collins, who took it like the champ butler he was, showing no emotion at all, just a polite nod. Blake did not have that stereotypical Hollywood smile that can blind you from a distance, but he did smile very warmly – Well, Eleanora, may I call you that? I’m here on business.

I nodded, as I put my tea cup back on the table, encouraging him to carry on.

- As I said before, I’m a fan – he imitated my gesture and crossed his legs – A big fan. I happened to be taking a family trip through my wife’s old country, when someone said there was a free concert about to go down – He was very thin so, when he smiled, the skin was so taut over his bones, that there was no trace of any puffiness under his eyes – After Szczecin, I just went crazy and had to have anything you could have released already. Your new album, Eris, is amazing by the way, and I think you have this grasp on subtlety and on the beauty of the art that really makes you one of a kind.

I felt a sudden flash of colour on my cheeks. - Those are lovely words, Mr. Blake. And I’m glad you enjoyed the show. But I am afraid I don’t know enough about your work to be able to say the same.

He just laughed and shook his head, saying it was perfectly normal that I did not know him, as this was to be his first solo project, after having worked in the industry for over 20 years. He made a motion for his PA, who handed him a portfolio, which he then gave to me.

It was some concept art for, what I assumed, would be his film. There was a darkness and sorrow to the atmosphere that gripped me immediately until I took a closer look at one of the characters.

- Is this… - I hesitated – Is this me?

He put his open palm over his chest and had a relieved look on his face – I’m glad they’ve managed to make it obvious.

- I don’t understand.

- I’ll be very American and go straight to the point – he leaned over, his eyes eager – I think you have a very key sort of aesthetics that I think are just sublime. And, as much as I think about it and turn it over in my head, I can’t seem to find anyone else I can picture as her, as Rose – he pointed out to the drawing of the female character.

- But…

- Be my Rose Vaughn. It would be an honour for me if you were the lead in my debut.

I just blinked, from him to the concept art and back to him again – I’m afraid I am no actress, Mr. Blake. I’m just a singer… I’m sorry to disappoint you and make you come so far.

Felix Blake just moved his head towards his producer, who handed him a script – The part does not have many lines, but it does have a lot of expression and emotion – he rested the stack of papers on his lap – And I’ve been watching your interviews back to back, ever since this idea got stuck in my head. I’ve been watching your music videos and looking at your photos and, do you know who I see?

I shook my head. This whole encounter was becoming more surreal with each word.

- I see someone who wears her heart on her sleeve. A genuine person. Innocent, but not naïve. I see Rose – he slid his fingers along the edges of the script. - You are my Rose.

There was a moment where I hesitated, when I did not know what to say.

- That is the sort of look I am talking about – he had such a flow of energy that I could only imagine how contagious it could become, if one was to work with him. He reached out the script towards me – Please take a moment to read it.

I took the volume from his hands. The Dark Heart, it read on the front page.

- I will read it, Mr. Blake. But, as I said, I am not an actress.

We talked for another hour, his producer also chiming in, telling me all about the film’s vision and concept, about how they believed it could be the next big cult movie for a new generation.

I handed him the concept art when they were getting up to leave – No – he said – those are for Rose.

- Mr. Blake – I called out, just as he was getting in the car. I had a lingering question in my mind that I could not let fly under the radar – May I just ask you if my agent has contacted you?

- No – he said – I’ve managed to get her number from your label.

That was good enough for me.

- I don’t mean to brag… – Collins muttered from behind me, as their car drove away.

- But Peter is infinitely better at this job, yes – I completed the thought and could almost feel the warmth of the glowing aura of pride, on Collins.