‘No, not at all,’ said Todd. ‘I mean, we’re not re-forming or anything. This is just a one-off to help a good cause.’
‘Yeah. In some ways it’d be better if he wasn’t found. How would you feel about seeing him again, Todd?’ asked Ian.
‘Rest assured, I’d cope.’ Todd was tight-lipped.
‘Well, as the concert is two weeks away and there’s not been a sniff of Con reported, I think it’s highly unlikely we will be seeing him again. So we must assume he’s not coming and make contingency plans. Because of the excitement that’s been generated by your possible re-formation, the organisers want you on last to keep the audience watching all the way through. I thought you could start off with “Can Someone Tell Me Where She’s Gone?”. You shared the melody line with Con on that one anyway, Todd. Then lead into “She Loves You Truly”. I was wondering whether at that point we should invite Elton or Rod to join you, plug the Con gap a little, sing an old favourite. A lot of bands are joining forces. Makes the evening more interesting.’
Todd shrugged. ‘Whatever,’ he said.
‘The organisers have suggested the concert should close with Con’s last love song.’
‘“Losing You”?’ Todd asked.
Freddy nodded. ‘It’s universally known and they hope its poignancy might stir a few more hands to reach deeper into their pockets. All the performers will join you on stage to sing it, hold hands, you know the kind of thing I’m talking about.’
‘What about this single that you mentioned?’ asked Derek.
‘Yeah, they want someone to compose a new song that can be recorded by all the stars taking part, the proceeds obviously going to the charity. Brad at Metropolitan has offered studio time, the factory will press it onto vinyl for free and there’s a commitment from most of the stars to record their one or two lines.’
‘So it wouldn’t just be The Fishermen then?’
‘No, Derek. You got the wrong end of the stick there, old chap. With one vital member of the band AWOL, it would be impossible to think of putting out a single,’ said Freddy.
‘I see.’
‘So, are we agreed we work on the premise I’ve just described?’
Todd and Ian nodded. Derek studied his hands.
‘I think you should leave maybe two or three days’ space in your diaries for a get-together. I’m sure you’re all pretty rusty and even though it’s for charity, we want to have some semblance of professionalism. I’ll book a studio at Metropolitan to rehearse and try and get whomever we decide on to join the band to come along for a run-through.’
‘Sounds fine to me,’ said Todd.
‘Oh, one last thing. Brad is toying with the idea of issuing a greatest hits LP just around the time of the concert. It may seem mercenary but if you gentlemen are prepared to do your bit to save the starving, then Brad sees no reason not to cash in on any renewed wave of interest in The Fishermen. Anyone got any objections?’
Derek’s face brightened considerably. ‘No, not at all.’
‘Personally, I think it’s morally wrong to cash in on what has up to now seemed a completely selfless idea,’ commented Ian.
‘Don’t be pious, Ian, it doesn’t become you,’ said Todd.
‘Well, there’s not a lot you can do. Metropolitan can release any of your old songs any time they want. It can only be to your financial benefit anyway. Give the royalties away to Africa if it salves your conscience. Okay, so that’s about it, other than announcing the news to the media of course. We’ll have to arrange a press conference for some time in the next few days, but I’ll be in touch with you all as to the date and time of that.’ Freddy smiled. ‘I think it’ll be fun for you to flex your musical muscles again.’
Todd stood up. ‘I’m looking forward to dusting down that old guitar. I gotta run. See you chaps soon.’
‘And me,’ said Ian. ‘Virginia is waiting downstairs. We’re taking the kids to the Trocadero for some spaghetti.’
‘Cheers, gentlemen,’ said Freddy as Ian and Todd left the suite.
‘I must be going too,’ Derek said feebly.
‘How’s business, Derek?’ asked Freddy.
‘Fine, just fine.’ He stood up. ‘Bye then, Freddy.’
Freddy watched him as he left. By chance he’d seen an article chronicling Morgan Electronics’ demise in theFinancial Times. From every pore in his body, Derek exuded desperation.
It was gone four in the morning. Helen was hunched over her desk, smoking her fifteenth cigarette since midnight, a habit she’d started in prison.
