Son of Right-Wing Politician Revives Satanic Band

Those who hung out in the Baggot Inn or Toners in the mid-eighties will remember Jake Saunders and his band, Shard. Now reformed, Saunders had taken Shard back on the road again with their new album, Collapsing the Stone. The Shard line-up remains the same apart from one change. Instead of drummer Bad Boy Barry Balfe, who emigrated to Canada, Shard now has a female drummer. With this new addition they can no longer be called a ‘boy band’, a tag that also conflicts with the aging process of its members.

The younger Shard were often accused of performing Satanic rituals on stage and indoctrinating their young fans into devil worship through brainwashing lyrics. This added to their brief notoriety but the band broke up when Saunders married his then seventeen-year-old pregnant girlfriend.

Saunders is the son of Eleanor Saunders, the leader of First Affiliation. She was unavailable for comment when contacted by this reporter. She also refused to comment on her son’s impending divorce. His wife, Nadine Saunders, is currently in London seeking the dissolution of their marriage. Yet she and her soon-to-be ex-husband attended last year’s conference where Eleanor Saunders, in her keynote address, presented them as a perfect example of marital harmony. The conference was interrupted by a protest led by gay rights activist, Maggie Doyle, and her wife Feral Childe, drummer with Shard.

Politics and hypocrisy are inseparable. Like love and marriage they go together but an inside source within the party insists that the double standards displayed by the leader of First Affiliation will no longer be tolerated. A vote of confidence in her leadership is expected to be held shortly.

Jake’s coffee was cold when he tasted it. His phone rang. It had to be Eleanor. If she had not already read the article she was sure to have heard about it. Shard’s hyped publicity, the link between him and Eleanor that would be established, the threat to her position, she had known it would all come true. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he answered the phone but it was Mik Abel calling, apologetic and apoplectic.

‘It’s too late now.’ Jake cut him off in mid-rant. ‘I need to go and see my mother… try to explain.’

He was driving along the Howth Road when his phone rang again. This time it had to be Eleanor. He let it ring. Better a face-to-face confrontation than a blow-up over the phone. The ringing stopped then started again. On the third call he pulled into the side of the road and checked his ID screen. The three calls were from an unfamiliar number and added to his anxiety as he rang the caller back.

‘Jake, is that you?’ The voice was high-pitched, shaky but vaguely familiar.

‘Who is this?’

‘It’s Cora. I’m with Eleanor. We’re waiting for the ambulance.’

‘What’s wrong. Is she – ’

‘She’s going to be fine, Jake. But you need to go directly to the Mater Hospital.’

‘I’m nearly at her house. I was coming to see her.’

‘Okay… but hurry. I’m expecting the ambulance any minute.’

‘What’s happened to her?’

‘It’s just a little turn.’ Cora failed miserably to sound unconcerned. His mother must be listening. Jake switched on the ignition and was about to pull into the traffic when he heard the siren. An ambulance raced by on the outside. His heart raced with it as he gave chase.

Eleanor was being carried out on a stretcher when he arrived at the bungalow. On this occasion she made no effort to pull off her oxygen mask. Nor was she shooting impatient orders at the paramedics. Her fine, black eyebrows, those arrogant, intimidating arches, had collapsed in a slack, downwards slide. Her mouth was pulled to one side. Jake had seen enough television advertisements to recognise the signs of a stroke.

In the ambulance he held her hand. She was still conscious but he had no idea of her awareness. Her words were slurred and indecipherable when the female paramedic asked her name.

‘You’re doing real good, Eleanor.’ She adjusted the oxygen mask and took Eleanor’s pulse. ‘We’re nearly at the hospital. There’s an expert team waiting to look after you. You’ll be in excellent hands.’

At the hospital she was immediately whisked into intensive care. Cora, who had followed in her car, joined Jake in the waiting room and told him what he had already guessed. Eleanor had read the feature in Core shortly before Lorna Mason phoned to inform her that a vote of confidence was being organised as soon as possible.

‘I drove over to her as soon as I heard.’ Cora’s cheeks quivered as she pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and sobbed into it.

‘I’m glad you were there.’ Jake put his arm around her and waited until she was able to speak again.

‘She kept saying the story had legs but she seemed okay after Lorna called. You know Eleanor… she loves a fight. But then she suddenly collapsed. I thought she was going to die right there in front of me.’

‘Thanks to you she arrived here on time for them to give her that clot busting drug. It’s going to make all the difference to her recovery.’ He felt queasy, shivery. ‘She’s lucky you were there with her.’

‘Lorna Mason and her lot have had it in for Eleanor since she changed her mind about Sea Aster. They were just looking for an excuse to attack her.’

‘What change of mind?’

‘The planning permission.’ Cora looked at him in surprise. ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘That she changed her mind after it was granted. Oh, dear, I shouldn’t have said anything – ’

‘When did this happen?’

‘As soon as you and Nadine moved into Sea Aster. I was the only one she told about your marriage. She kept hoping…’ She dabbed her eyes, squeezed her handkerchief into her fist. ‘Poor Eleanor. She’ll have to resign. What will she do without the party?’

‘Let’s get her better first. We’ll worry about the party later.’

Three tabloid journalists rang. They wanted information on the various angles covered in Core, particularly on the Satanic aspects of Shard. Eleanor was right. The story had as many legs as a centipede. He gave them Mik’s number. Let him use his publicity skills to kill it.

Cora was running rosary beads through her fingers when he went outside to ring Nadine. Her shock reverberated back at him. ‘I’ll organise a flight and be with you as soon as I can,’ she said. ‘Had she been unwell? Were there any signs?’

‘I’m responsible.’

‘Why… what happened?’

‘A stupid magazine feature about the band. All that Satanic nonsense was dragged up again.’

‘But why? That’s ancient history.’

‘We were mentioned, you and I… our marriage break-up and that conference Eleanor organised.’

‘Oh, Christ… poor Eleanor.’

‘It’s typical Core.’

A young girl in a wheelchair almost knocked him over as she pushed past him.

‘Fuck off outa da way,’ she growled, her eyes lost in the fug of drugs.

‘Did you say Core?’ Nadine asked.

‘Yes. I told Mik – ’

‘Who wrote it?’

‘Jimmy French. I should have followed my gut instinct and refused to have anything to do with it.’

‘Stop beating yourself up. Core thrives on that kind of sensationalism. Liam Brett is a creep and Jimmy French is cut from the same cloth.’

‘Liam Brett? I thought he was the editor of Lustrous.’

‘He edits both magazines.’

‘I see…’

‘What is it?’ Her voice quickened.

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t fob me off, Jake. Has she anything to do with this?’

‘I don’t know… it’s possible.’

‘We’ll talk about all that when I see you,’ said Nadine. ‘Go back to Eleanor. She’s all that matters for the time being. I’ll be with you as soon as possible.’