Read The Singer for Free Online Page B

fruitier, more expectant.
    ‘No, it’s not authorised. It’s just an idea at the moment. Probably nothingwill come of it.’
    ‘Who did you say, dear?’ Not letting me back down again now. ‘Anyone we know?’
    I pictured Dad in the background, hovering like a little grey ghost, nodding earnestly at her every exclamation.
    ‘No, no one you would have heard of.’
    ‘One of your musician friends, then?’
    ‘Yes, Mother. Vincent Smith. Ever heard of him? He was very big with skinheads and punks in the eighties…’

    ‘Really?” she said again, this time it sounded more like a sigh. ‘Well, that’s lovely for you, dear. And have you a publisher?’
    ‘I’m seeing someone tomorrow,’ I lied. ‘I’ll tell you all about it when there’s actually something to tell. Now, I’m going to have to get off now and get myself some dinner…’
    Shouldn’t have said that either.
    ‘She isn’t there, then, Louise?’ Mother scenting blood. ‘Ididn’t think she was. Is there something you’re not telling me, Edward?’
    ‘She just went to Sainsbury’s to pick up a few things,’ I blurted the first thing that came into my head. ‘She’ll be back any minute to get the dinner on, that’s what I was trying to tell you.’
    ‘There’s no need to shout, dear.’
    ‘Sorry Mother.’ No, there’s every need.
    Teeth grinding spontaneously. ‘Ta ta for now then?’
    ‘Well, enjoy your dinner,’ she concluded, her voice saying she knew it was actually going to be a bowl of Crunchy Nut cornflakes, eaten alone. ‘Give my love to Louise.
When
she gets there.’
    ‘I will. And give mine to Dad. Bye now…’
    I put the phone down feeling fat, useless and one hundred years old.
    Still freezing inside this room.
    My breath hung on the air.
    Still empty.
    Interminable Sundaynight blues coming down.
    After Mother’s interrogation, it was nearly five o’clock, but there was no way of telling how long Louise had actually been out. Seeing as I hadn’t bothered to either come home last night or phone her to tell her I wasn’t, there was no way she was going to extend me any such courtesy. This was designed to make me suffer.
    A gremlin in my head said: What if she didn’tcome home last night either?
    I pushed it away, banged my hand down on the mouse and brought the G3 back to life. Hit remote access status to reconnect and put the kettle back on as it loaded up. I actually could have done with Louise’s fictitious trip to Sainsbury’s. That was the last of the milk, which meant not even cornflakes on the menu, unless I could be bothered to go downstairs to Ali’s.

    Which I couldn’t. Just have to eat them dry, I supposed, taking the packet back to my desk. Back to the eighties.
    ‘What followed sounds like an unholy amalgam of
Spinal Tap, Fatal Attraction
and
Panic in Needle Park’
, I read on:
    Leith was none too pleased about the sudden exit of his girlfriend and quickly mounted an escalating campaign of stalking, threats and attempted violence against Sylvanaand Smith. Their immediate reaction was to get married in Paris, announcing they were to relocate to the City of Lovers to get away from the ‘drag’ of the London scene. This in turn didn’t go down too well with Vincent’s band, but Blood Truth were contractually obligated to a month-long tour of America before anyone could actually settle down anywhere.
    Sylvana’s presence on the tour bus addedto the tensions, as did Uncle Sam’s lacklustre enthusiasm for Blood Truth, especially in the Southern states where Smith’s Elvis apparel was viewed as an insult. The band struggled through their commitments before flying back to London to record their new album, nursing grudges and burgeoning substance problems.
    Initially, Smith left his new missus in Paris, either to protect her from the attentionsof Leith or to shield himself from an increasingly irate Steve Mullin. The on-edge band began recording at Nomis studios in March 1981. Within a week,