Elliot sits next to me on the steps in silence.

We look out across Kitty’s vegetable patch. The forest surrounding the clearing is cloaked in darkness, but closer in, silvery starlight bathes the lettuces and cabbages in a soft glow. The light glimmers on the still surface of the water in the birdbath at the garden’s centre. For the first time since Kitty unearthed the secret garden from its prison beneath the brambles, I notice that the birdbath’s column is actually a stone figure, covered in ivy. A beautiful face, a flowing robe, two arms outstretched, holding the water-filled bowl – and two perfect, folded wings sweeping the ground.

An angel.

That’s right. The angel doesn’t necessarily need to be Alastaire. It could be a statue. Or a painting. Or a lingerie-clad supermodel in a Victoria’s Secret show. Maybe Mia wants me to get in the phone to Gigi Hadid? Nice one, Mia. You could have been a bit more specific.

“Are you ok?” Elliot asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You seem bothered by something.”

“That obvious, huh?” I say. “It’s nothing. Probably. Anyway, what did you want to talk about?”

Elliot’s quiet again, staring out into the pitch black trees.

I sneak a glance at him, noticing that as usual, he’s giving off an aura of cool, composed confidence. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look really worried, or upset, or even super happy, come to think of it. He’s the strong and silent type, and when he talks, it’s usually important.

Which makes me all the more nervous for what he’s about to say now.

Finally, he speaks, his light grey eyes still fixed on the dark forest crowded around our oasis of starlight.

“Before I joined Fable, I thought I’d grow up to be a soccer player like my dad.”

He says it without sadness or regret. His voice is calm, thoughtful, matter of fact.

He must know that I’m aware of that. It’s common knowledge amongst Enfablers, and even non-fans too, that Elliot’s dad is one of the world’s most famous soccer players. That’s how he ended up at the private boys school where he met the other band members. Why’s he telling me this now?

“This time we’re spending with you, here, now… it’s the first time in a while that I haven’t had a million cameras in my face every moment of every day. I’m not saying things would be any different had I followed in my father’s footsteps. But the music industry… it’s different. You’re selling every part of yourself. Your voice. Your image. Your soul.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

He keeps his eyes fixed on the darkness, as if he’s watching something out there. I strain my eyes, trying to spot something, anything at all – but all I see is the unbroken blackness of night between the trees.

“It’s been six months since I last saw my family,” he says. “Four months since I last saw my girlfriend.”

“You have a girlfriend?” I say, before I can stop myself.

“Not a lot of people know about her,” he says. “Only people I can trust. At the very least, I wanted to give her a normal life. A private life. Which is something I no longer have.”

Thoughts of what happened with Ben and the girl at the Melbourne show race through my mind. Hell, even the crazy mob of fans that formed outside my house after my neighbors spotted Felix. The paparazzi would be the least of this girl’s concerns if news of the relationship were to leak out.

Elliot’s protecting her.

Suddenly I want to know absolutely everything about her. How old is she? Where does she live? Is she serious and sincere like Elliot, or is it a case of opposites attract, and she’s wild and sociable?

I want to ask him a million questions about her, but it’s obvious that her privacy is important to him. So I hold back my curiosity.

“You must miss her,” I say.

“I do,” he says. “But that’s what this industry’s like. The music always comes first. I’m not even eighteen yet, and my career is my whole life.”

I nod, wondering why he didn’t just ask his girlfriend to come stay with us at the cabin.

Maybe because he's still protecting her. From something even worse than crazy fans and photographers.

“If we give your demo to BYG after we’ve finished this album, you know your future is made, right?” He asks, watching for my reaction.

I nod.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go for it. I’m just saying that while you still have privacy, your family, a chance to have a normal relationship… a normal life… you should think about how much all that means to you.”

“Elliot!” Ben yells from inside the cabin. “I’m eating your dinner if you don’t come and claim it.”

Elliot rises up from his spot on the step.

“Think over what I said,” he says, before heading inside.

As I hear the door shut, a sudden movement in the darkness of the trees catches my eye.

I can’t be sure, but for a moment, I thought I saw two glinting golden eyes staring out of the woods.

Perfectly round with a long black slit in each centre.

Snake’s eyes.

I leap up, and stumble backwards, not daring to take my eyes from the dark spot where I saw the lights. I feel behind me for the doorknob, twist it, and make a dash for the safety of the house.

Once inside I lock and bolt the door, checking it twice.

It’s just my imagination. It can’t be real. It’s all PTSD. It has to be. The eyes I think I just saw, Mia’s voice at the grave, everything – it’s nothing that a visit to Dr. Martel’s couch and a solid dose of meds couldn’t sort out. Right. As soon as the Fable guys are on their flight back to London, I’m paying the head doctor a visit.

For now, a hot bath is probably all I can do to calm my nerves.

A hot bath and a glass of champagne.

Let’s live a little.