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same and I get sick of eating out all the time. I like to cook. See, not many people know that about me. If I wasn’t a rock god, hmmm, I think I’d have been a chef. I had an Italian grandmother so I think I get that from her.
    Leura was so nice that time of the year. It had cooled down nicely and the leaves were beginning to crisp and turn into every shade of Autumn. My body clock gets screwed up when I tour because I’m zipping between weather zones and that’s supremely odd. Unnatural.
    Olive had a birthday the weekend before. I could not believe she was thirteen. Sweet Jesus. When did that happen? She was practically a young woman. Mum sent her fifty dollars in a card and Meg took her into Katoomba to spend it. It was late-night Thursday shopping and then the girls were going to have a pizza together. Olive would no doubt buy crystals or Tarot cards or something equally esoteric. She was like a little oomie goomie witch child. That’s her mother. Astrology. Runes. Star charts and whatever. Bunch of baloney if you ask me but I’m happy that it makes them happy. The Blue Mountains has a lot of that alternative stuff happening. I just liked the crisp air and the views. Meg missed the city and the hustle and bustle. But after a thirty-city tour, I was in heaven up there in the hills.
    We were down on the edge of the escarpment and I didn’t think I could ever tire of that view. It was like a verdant version of the Grand Canyon, craggy bluffs and sweeping green-black pockets of forest. I felt like some kind of ancient god living on Mt Olympus.
    I had a radio interview at eight which is why I’d sent them out of the house. Some Melbourne music program I hadn’t done before. I wasn’t going to crack open the beer until that was done and dusted. I wanted to make sense and sound half-way intelligent on the phone.  I was just putting a load of washing in the dryer when I heard the front door bell.
    I wasn’t expecting anyone and no-one just pops in up here. That’s one of the reasons we moved out of the city. Maybe Ollie our sheepdog had gotten out again, I thought . He’s a terrible wanderer. I opened the door and had no idea how messed up my night was going to get from that point.
    Two girls. A blonde and a brunette. The smaller one was in a school uniform.
    ‘Yep, what can I do for you?’ I asked.
    They just stared. Clearly fans who were wanting an autograph of photo or something, I thought, laughing nervously. Uncomfortably.
    ‘So? Hello? What do you want?’
    ‘Chris?’ the pretty blonde smiled. ‘Don’t you remember us?’
    I thought and looked hard at them and then it hit me in the chest like a sneaky upper cut. Fucking hell. It was those two chicks from that final gig. I had the feeling there was more to this than just a friendly drop by for a cup of tea and to shoot the breeze. It reeked.
    ‘Um…yeah..like girls I don’t think it’s appropriate to come to my family home and…how did you even find this place?’
    ‘We just asked a local cab driver,’ the small dark one said.
    The school uniform was distracting me. More than distracting me, it was making me feel like I was going to pass out. These girls looked similar to those trampy groupies but in the light of day, in my goddamn front foyer, they looked like kids.
    ‘What do you want?’ I said more forcefully and frowned hard.
    ‘I’m pregnant,’ the small uniformed one said and I felt the ground beneath me begin to give way.
    I stumbled back, and almost fell on the slate tiles. I crumpled my fingers into fists and forced myself to breath.
    ‘Chris?’ one of them said.
    ‘I was trashed,’ I bumbled and stuttered. ‘You girls…seriously…I don’t do that sort of thing. I’m married and it was just a one-off end-of-tour slip up. You were like bloody harpies. I feel like you took advantage of me . You…’ I pointed to the pixie one with the short dark hair. ‘I remember waking up at some stage and you were like….doing things that