Chapter 4
Paul “Rock Giant” Reed
Paul made good use of the nearby treeline, then took his time strolling back to the bus.
With the sun having burned off the morning mist, he could see more of the band enclosure.
Plenty of buses were still shut up with their curtains drawn, but there were pockets of activity, and the site management were already in full organisational flow, waving in additional buses and trucks full of gear.
Roadies for various groups were trotting about, or else whizzing past on push bikes.
A few had golf buggies and seemed to think that made them it.
He spotted Ronnie’s manager setting up her deck chair under the awning of her camper van.
He liked Lyra. Found her easy to relate to.
For different reasons, they’d both had nomadic youths.
“Morning, Lyra.”
“There was someone around a little while ago looking for you.”
That brought him to a halt. He turned his head to regard her, unused to being a person that anyone looked for. “Really? Who?”
“Didn’t leave a name. Looked like she was channelling Siouxsie Sioux circa 1982.”
Chair sorted, Lyra pulled her laptop onto her knee, while Paul chewed over possibilities.
The description narrowed it to any one of a number of people, most of whom, if he was being totally honest, he wasn’t desperate to see.
That is, he’d love to see them, but his bowels weren’t so happy with the notion.
“I’ll keep an eye open. If she turns up again, you could always point her at the bus. ”
“I could, but as Graham is keen to remind me at every opportunity, I’m not your manager—”
“Just a splendid human being.”
He startled a grin out of her. She shook her head. “And I’m not in the habit of pointing random ladies at rock stars. Nothing good ever comes of it. You’re all bad news.”
“Me?” He turned his hand towards his chest. “Bad news?”
“The worst sort.”
He didn’t take it personally. He knew she was generalising, and likely she’d seen enough during her years in the business and as a kid on the road with her dad to have solid evidence for the opinion. “Later, Lyra.” He gave her a salute.
“Later, Mr Reed.”
He’d barely gone twelve paces before said Siouxsie Sioux wannabe materialised. Although to be fair, he’d have said Patricia Morrison rather than Siouxsie.
“Well, if it isn’t Paul Reed in the flesh,” said the woman. “Found you, you elusive bugger.”
She was accompanied by another figure he knew only too well.
The sun caught him straight in the eyes leaving him temporarily blinded to the waif he nevertheless opened his arms to.
She dived into his embrace, legs wrapped around his hips, clinging on tight for a solid minute.
There was barely anything to her, hardly a weight in his arms, but the press of her lips against his cheek was real, as was the familiar jasmine scent of her, and that made him smile.
“Hello, E. How are you doing?” he said after he’d started to feel rather like a stately oak being assaulted by a druid.
“Do you know how many laps of this dung heap I’ve done trying to find your giantness?”
“No more than two, I reckon.”
She tipped her head back to look at him, legs still wrapped around his waist as she clung to him like a baby monkey.
“Four. Four laps. I’ve been heckled, I’ve been propositioned, I have the names of three guys who can get me anything, and had the worst tofu burger I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering. ”
“It was like toasted carpet with a side of woolly bears,” her companion added.
“Eloise.” He acknowledged her with a nod, but she leaned in for a kiss, even though he still had Elspeth in his arms. No doubt he now had a black lip print on his jaw.
“Tell me your brekkie was equally shit,” Elspeth said.
“Spook cooked. Thus, it was perfection.” He smacked his lips in appreciation.
Elspeth groaned in frustration.
Eloise gave a sigh. “To be expected, I suppose. The rest of the man’s divine, so, of course his cooking is too.
Although, he’s also now taken, if the gossips are to be believed.
” She gave a sorrowful sigh. “Dish, Paul. I mean, what’s that about?
I thought you were putting in a good word for me.
” She crooked one sharply winged eyebrow.
“For you?” he gasped in mock horror as Elspeth finally relinquished her grip on him and slithered down his body onto terra firma. “I swear it was Sev who asked. I gave him the full spiel, not that he bit.”
“You did not mistake me for my sister,” Eloise huffed, then poked his midriff, where his babydoll fit T-shirt was showing an inch of skin between its hem and the waistband of his jeans. “Still bouncy, I see.”
“Yup, and you’re still—”
“Fantastic. Gorgeous. And the fairest of the three.”
He laughed along with her. As one of triplets, there was always a competition of some fashion being waged between her and her sisters.
They hadn’t seen one another in a hot minute, not since the birthday get together his folks had organised right around the time Spook took his leave of absence.
He’d aged another year since then. But that was time for you, it had a way of eating up moments, so before you knew it, that promise to catch-up was at least eighteen months overdue.
“So, how are you doing?”
Eloise laughed at him. “I’m in a soon to be muddy field that looks exactly the same as every other muddy field I’ve ever had the pleasure of occupying, how do you think?”
“Bloody awesome.”
“Bloody awesome,” she returned in a deadpan tone, before they both cracked smiles.
“And you E?” He winced even as he asked, afraid of the answer.
That night, two years gone, was forever etched into his brain.
The dark shadow of Xane’s body silhouetted against the night sky; her limp body cradled in his arms. The two of them soaked through and her as pale as if she’d been drained dry.
An involuntary shiver tickled his spine.
Hard not to recall how clammy she’d felt, or to hear the insistent drip…
drip…drip of the water. The noise had been due to the water falling off their clothes, but his brain, then and now, said otherwise.
She stuck her tongue out at him, before wrapping her tiny sprite-like form about his person again.
Warm and very much alive. He was pleased to see she’d gone blonde again, and was rocking some colours, be they rather autumnal tones.
In fact, she seemed to be leaning into the hedge witch aesthetics.
It was different to what he’d grown used to, harkened back to a time before Black Halo, before the gothic aesthetics took over, when they were just kids, and he hadn’t felt like there were brambles between them.
But she looked better for it, and that he liked.
The last few times they’d met in person, she’d resembled a walking corpse, but there was a blush of colour in her cheeks now, and her smile was honest and broad. “I’m good, Paul.”
“Good. It’s fucking good to see you, E.” He gave her another squeeze, emotions still conflicted.
Eloise coughed.
Prompting him to amend his remark. “It’s fucking good to see both of you.”
“You’ve been missed. We thought you’d have made it to Mayfest at least, after you failed to show your face last Christmas.”
And there it was, the scrape of thorns and the reminder that he hadn’t been doing his duty. There’d just been such a lot on. Things to contend with; Spook’s disappearance, his return, and them then being holed up to record their latest album.
“You know how it is.”
“I do. You’re avoiding us.”
“As if.”
She gave him a stern look that said, ha, you don’t fool me, but at least she didn’t go all prosecuting lawyer on him and make him stage a defence.
Elspeth linked arms with him, prompting Eloise to claim his other arm, which wasn’t comfortable for any of them, given he was tall, and they were both titchy.
He wriggled out of their holds and looped his arms around their shoulders instead.
They all started strolling because standing still at a festival was never a good idea.
Someone always asked you for something, offered you something, or else you sank up to your shins.
Lyra saw them and shook her head. He guessed he was living up to the rock star stereotype, at least to an outside observer.
The dew was barely dry, and he already had a girl on each arm.
Shame that he had no intention of ever banging either of them. They were practically his sisters.
“How are they all, or shouldn’t I ask?” Elspeth ventured after a few paces. She didn’t look at the Black Halo bus parked behind them, but he knew who she was enquiring about.
“Why shouldn’t you ask?” While it was true that she hadn’t departed the band on the best of terms, they’d still been her friends, her family for years.
“They’re good. Not gonna lie, things were rough for a while, but they’re good now.
” The major turning point had come at the end of February, and then again as the Beltane fires burned.
“It’s all become weirdly settled and domestic. ”
“All coupled and throupled up, so I’ve heard.”
Precisely. He gave a nod. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that she’d started the settling down trend, but he didn’t want to bring a blight upon the moment by reminding her of her loss.
She and Steve had been married barely five days before his tragic death, and this was the first time he’d seen her and thought she might eventually climb out from under the blanket of grief that had been smothering her ever since.
“At least you’re still reliably nomadic and unattached.”
He cocked a brow.
“Oh, come off it. Don’t try that shit with me, Paul Reed. I know you. And what would I do if you were pre-occupied with some other lass?”
“E, I love you, but…”