Probably meaning not Danny so much as Prof Levin. Hard times for a producer with a studio and overheads, now that a band could make a perfectly professional album with digital kit in someone’s spare bedroom. She knew Lol was worried about Prof going back on the booze, if only out of boredom.
‘And, um…’ Upturning his pencil, letting it slide through his fingers to the pad. ‘I’ve had another approach.’
‘Sorry?’
‘An agency. Nu-folk stuff – reputable. They could break me into tours, have me headlining middling events next autumn, and…’ Lol leaned back. ‘There we are. Serious money.’
‘Oh.’
With downloads and burn-offs, the profits were in gigs again.
‘I said maybe I’d get back to them,’ Lol said.
‘Of course.’
‘I won’t, obviously.’
‘Lol, don’t let-’
‘It’s not just that. I mean, it’s not just you.’
Merrily felt like the stone flags were falling away beneath her chair. That what he was saying was not what he was thinking.
Lol said, ‘I don’t actually want to be rich. You know that.’
‘I do?’
‘Well… be nice, in a way, to be so loaded you could buy out Ward Savitch. But realistically…’ Lol put his hands on his knees, stared down at them. ‘I’ve been handed a second chance, right? So I want things to be different from what they might’ve been if I’d made it first time. Partly because there’s going to be less time. And also… Like, when Prof says, we need more body on this album and why doesn’t he see if Tom Storey’s available, I’m going, no, there’s actually this guy called Danny Thomas who’s an ex-subsistence farmer and isn’t quite as good as Tom Storey, but is good enough…’
‘You didn’t tell me that, either. You didn’t tell me Prof wanted to get you Tom Storey.’
Unlikely to be an idle promise, because Prof had been around a long time and knew these ageing rock gods from way back, and some of them owed him favours. Merrily felt starved. What else hadn’t he told her?
Lol said, ‘Just we’ve not had that much time to talk lately, have we?’
‘Because you’ve been at Danny’s barn night after bloody-You just didn’t want to tell me, did you?’
‘You have enough to-’
‘So we have separate problems now? We keep our problems to ourselves? We keep them apart? Now you don’t need me to bounce this stuff off because you’ve got Danny?’
‘I don’t want a row…’
‘Jesus, Lol… you never want a bloody row.’
Merrily jerked her chair back. What was the matter with her? She liked Danny Thomas. She was glad that Lol was working with a local guy. But was he turning down tours only because he thought it would be incompatible with the life of a woman tied to a parish?
‘I like it here,’ Lol said. ‘I like being a guy living in a village where one day you’re playing music, the next you’re doing… something else.’
He pulled over the lyrics pad, pencilled a circle around something, then pushed it in front of Merrily. She read:
When life’s become a bitch
Dig out another ditch
Find some recovery
Back in the JCB
Referencing the times he’d spent helping Gomer Parry. She wasn’t really taking this in. She was thinking, This is a test. It had to happen one day. The Christian thing would be to persuade him to do the tour.
She saw a man walk into the bar, carrying a black bin liner.
‘Look,’ Lol said, ‘I’ve agreed with Barry to do a few more gigs here – at the Swan.’
‘And would that be a living?’ Merrily clutched her head. ‘All right, I’m sorry…’
‘And maybe something outside in the summer, with more music. Other people.’
‘A music festival? In Ledwardine?’
‘Too big a word. We’re thinking no more than one day… and a night. Just an idea. Well, Danny’s idea. He has Glastonbury dreams. I was going to see what you thought before we took it any further, because… festivals of any kind haven’t always gone well here, have they? Anyway, it would be useful to have the album finished and mastered and out there, before it happens. If it happens.’
‘Does the album have a title yet?’
‘ A Message from the Morning.’
‘Oh God, I knew that. What’s the matter with me? Lol, look…’ Merrily reached across the table for his hand. ‘Maybe we should grab half a day. Drive over to Wales. Talk about all this. And other things.’
Lol said, ‘What’s up with Barry?’
Merrily turned her chair around. Barry was back and the man was holding up the bin liner. Barry was wiping his hands on a towel.
‘He’s not happy, Lol.’
Lol said, ‘Why were you asking him about Syd Spicer?’
‘It’s a long story.’
The guy put the bin sack on the bar.
‘For you, Barry.’
He was gangly, long-faced, jutting jaw. And not sober. Barry looked up, doing his professional beam.
‘Is this roadkill, sir, or did one of you finally learn how to shoot?’
‘Dinner.’ The guy slapped the bag on the bar. ‘My dinner for tomorrow, Barry.’
He wore a camouflage jacket, newish. He had a loose, rubbery mouth.
‘I wanna eat it,’ he said.
Merrily saw Lol look up, frown.
‘I thought he’d gone back to… wherever he came from. I thought they’d all gone.’
‘Guest of The Court?’
‘They love to find bits of lead shot in their dinner,’ Lol said. ‘Real men.’
‘Do us a favour, sir,’ Barry said, ‘Take it round the back. Not everybody likes dead game in the bar. Especially when it’s over a month out of season.’
‘It never fucking is, landlord!’
‘Then it’s probably unfit for human consumption,’ Barry said calmly. ‘Round the back, eh?’
‘I need to eat it.’
‘We’ll talk about it round the back.’
‘I can only thank God Jane’s not here,’ Merrily said.
She saw Lol wince.
16
Halfway across the square, under the amber wash of the fake gas lamps, Jane lost the certainty. Not cold feet exactly, just the need for a second opinion. Why ruin Mum’s night? She hadn’t seen Lol for days.
She slipped into the shadowy sanctuary of the little oak- pillared market hall, pulled out her mobile and called Eirion’s phone.
Eirion’s answering service kicked in.
‘It’s me,’ Jane said.
She’d give him two minutes to call back and then walk across to the Swan, see what kind of mood Mum was in. Let the fates decide.
She was alone under the stone-tiled roof of the market hall which sometimes looked even more ancient than it was, like a prehistoric burial chamber. In her plan of the Ledwardine henge, the market hall was just off-centre, maybe marking a confluence of energies. A fair bit of energy had been expended here, all those shadowy couples exploring each other’s bodies up against the pillars.
Which made her think about Eirion at university, with all its temptations, although he’d sworn to her…
Sod it. Jane tucked away her phone and walked across to the Swan, reaching the bottom of the three stone steps just as the door opened. She backed away as someone stumbled out, the porch lamp lighting his face and his slobbery mouth.
Oh God, no.
Still here? Weren’t they all supposed to have gone home to their penthouses? How long did these bloody courses go on?
Still here, still pissed.
I’ll be seeing you… girlie.
Bad, bad news. Jane slid into the alley which led to the Swan’s backyard. He might not even remember her, probably tried it on with a few more women since then, but it wasn’t worth the risk. She stood leaning against the wall, waiting for him to go.
Obviously not the time to talk to Mum. Too many negative signs.
The phone shuddered in her pocket. She eased it out of her jeans, moving further into the alley, holding it very tight to her ear.
‘I was finishing a curry,’ Eirion said. ‘Some things must never be interrupted. And, before you ask, yes, it was a vegetable curry. Not easy to obtain in this part of Cardiff.’