‘Hello?’
‘It’s me. Listen, would you do me a favour, Sorcha? The car’s gone in for a service and the garage has just rung to say they need to fit some new brake pads. I can’t collect it until tomorrow morning. Would you come to Metropolitan and pick me up? I thought we could go for a bite of supper. It might do you good to get out.’
‘Okay.’ Sorcha was reluctant to go near Metropolitan, but after Helen’s kindness, she could hardly refuse such a small favour.
‘Good. I’ll tell the receptionist to expect you. She’ll know where to find me. See you around six.’
‘Yes, bye, Helen.’
Sorcha put down the receiver and locked the front door behind her.
Con entered the glass doors of Metropolitan Records and strolled up to the reception desk.
‘Hello, Mr Daly,’ the receptionist smiled. ‘Suite two is allready for you. I’m Miranda, by the way. I started here last week.’
‘Oh.’ Con frowned. ‘Is suite one not available? That’s where I usually work. I much prefer it.’
‘Er...’ Miranda scanned the booking list. ‘No, I’m sorry. Mr Longthorne is working in it.’
‘No, Derek left half an hour ago while you were at lunch,’ said Melody, the other receptionist. ‘He said he wouldn’t be back, so you can go in there.’ She leant over and smiled at Con, dangling the key on her fingers.
‘Thanks, Melody.’ Con took the key and walked off through the lobby to the stairs leading down to the basement.
‘Mr Daly, you haven’t signed in,’ Miranda called after him.
‘Leave him be, Miranda.’
‘But Miss McCarthy said wealwayshad to get everybody to sign in no matter who they were,’ persisted Miranda.
‘In this building, Con Daly is above God and Helen said nothing about immortals. Now answer that switchboard, for goodness’ sake.’
Con unlocked the door to recording suite one. As he entered, he could smell Derek’s pungent aftershave still lingering in the air. His mohair cardigan was neatly folded on the sofa and a pile of notes in his small rounded handwriting were taped to the desk. It was obvious he had not yet finished.
Con hoped the receptionist was right and he wouldn’t be back today. The last thing he needed was a showdown with his former bandmate.
He sat down on the swivel stool and switched on the console. The song inside him was ringing round his head, asking to be laid down. He’d record the melody line first. The song should be as simple as possible, just him and his old acoustic guitar. The chorus was where he could turn up the volume and arrangesome nice harmonies and instrumentation for Todd, Ian and Derek,ifthey agreed to play on the last track.
Con took his guitar out of its case and disappeared into a world of his own.
Sorcha pulled up in front of Metropolitan Records at five to six.
As she’d driven across London, she had begun to think about the child growing inside her. It was what she’d wanted all those years. Whatever the problems she faced, she would not think of the baby as something negative.
Sorcha touched her stomach timidly. ‘We’ll be fine, baby,’ she murmured. Then she reached for her handbag, got out of the car and walked through the entrance.
‘Hello.’ Sorcha felt uncomfortable and nervous being inside the building so closely associated with Con.
‘Hello, Mrs Daly. Miss McCarthy’s just called me to say she’s downstairs in recording suite two. She asked for you to go straight down and join her as she might be a while yet.’
‘I...okay,’ Sorcha acquiesced, praying she wouldn’t have to hang around long. She took the steps down to the basement and headed along the dimly lit corridor to recording suite number two. The room was in darkness and the door was locked. The receptionist must have got the suite number wrong. She walked further along and peered into suite one. The lights were on, but it too looked deserted. Sorcha pushed the door open and stepped inside. The control room and the recording studio beyond the glass were empty. Turning, Sorcha went to leave, but before she could grab the handle, the door was opened for her.
Con stood there, a plastic cup of coffee in his hand.
They stared at each other. Sorcha noticed Con had visibly paled.
‘Hello, Sorcha.’
‘Hello.’
