‘Which one?’ asked Marcelo, with a quietly cheeky smile. ‘I mean, do you feel more at home in London, or LA, or on the Amalfi Coast?’

It seemed this was the life where her carbon footprint was the highest.

‘I don’t know. I suppose I would say London.’

Marcelo took a sharp intake of breath, as if the next question was something he had to swim under. He scratched his beard. ‘Okay, but I suppose it must be hard for you, as I know you shared that flat with your brother?’

‘Why would it be hard?’

Joanna gave her a curious glance from above her cocktail.

Marcelo looked at her with sentimental fondness. His eyes seemed glazed. ‘I mean,’ he went on, after a delicate sip of beer, ‘your brother was such a big part of your life, such a big part of the band . . .’

Was.

So much dread in such a small word. Like a stone falling through water.

She remembered asking Ravi about her brother before the encore. She remembered the crowd’s reaction when she had mentioned her brother on stage.

‘He’s still around. He was here tonight.’

‘She means she feels him,’ said Joanna. ‘They all feel him. He was such a strong spirit. Troubled, but strong . . . It was a tragedy how the drink and drugs and the whole life got to him in the end . . .’

‘What are you talking about?’ Nora asked. She was no longer acting a life. She genuinely needed to know.

Marcelo looked sad for her. ‘You know, it’s only been two years since his death . . . his overdose . . .’

Nora gasped.

She didn’t arrive back in the library instantly because she hadn’t absorbed it. She stood up, dazed, and staggered out of the suite.

‘Nora?’ laughed Joanna, nervously. ‘Nora?’

She got in the lift and went down to the bar. To Ravi.

‘You said Joe was schmoozing the media.’

‘What?’

‘You said. I asked you what Joe was doing and you said, “schmoozing the media”.’

He put his beer down and stared at her like a riddle. ‘And I was right. She was schmoozing the media.’

‘She?’

He pointed over to Joanna, who was looking aghast as she headed over from the lifts in the lobby.

‘Yeah. Jo. She was with the press.’

And Nora felt the sadness like a punch.

‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘Oh Joe . . . oh Joe . . . oh . . .’

And the grand hotel bar disappeared. The table, the drinks, Joanna, Marcelo, the sound guy, the hotel guests, Ravi, the others, the marble floor, the barman, the waiters, the chandeliers, the flowers, all became nothing at all.

‘Howl’

To the winter forest And nowhere to go This girl runs

From all she knows The pressure rises to the top The pressure rises (it won’t stop) They want your body They want your soul They want fake smiles That’s rock and roll The wolves surround you A fever dream

The wolves surround you So start the scream Howl, into the night, Howl, until the light, Howl, your turn to fight, Howl, just make it right Howl howl howl howl (Motherfucker)

You can’t fight for ever You have to comply If your life isn’t working You have to ask why (Spoken)

Remember

When we were young enough Not to fear tomorrow Or mourn yesterday And we were just Us

And time was just Now

And we were in

Life

Not rising through Like arms in a sleeve Because we had time We had time to breathe The bad times are here The bad times have come But life can’t be over When it hasn’t begun The lake shines and the water’s cold All that glitters can turn to gold Silence the music to improve the tune Stop the fake smiles and howl at the moon Howl, into the night, Howl, until the light, Howl, your turn to fight, Howl, just make it right Howl howl howl howl (Repeat to fade)

Love and Pain

‘I hate this . . . process,’ Nora told Mrs Elm, with real force in her voice. ‘I want it to STOP!’

‘Please be quiet,’ said Mrs Elm, with a white knight in her hand, concentrating on her move. ‘This is a library.’

‘We’re the only two people here!’

‘That’s not the point. It is still a library. If you are in a cathedral, you are quiet because you are in a cathedral, not because other people are there. It’s the same with a library.’

‘Okay,’ Nora said, in a lower voice. ‘I don’t like this. I want it to stop. I want to cancel my membership of the library. I would like to hand in my library card.’

‘You are the library card.’

Nora returned to her original point. ‘I want it to stop.’

‘No you don’t.’

‘Yes I do.’

‘Then why are you still here?’

‘Because I have no choice.’

‘Trust me, Nora. If you really didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be here. I told you this right at the start.’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it is too painful.’

‘Why is it painful?’

‘Because it’s real. In one life, my brother is dead.’