‘Wrong number,’ I tell them when her phone goes dead. Only Jake pays attention, his expression alert and tense.

‘Was I very unhappy?’ I ask him when he drives me back to my ward.

‘You needed the freedom to make your own choices,’ he says.

‘And did I?’

‘Yes.’ Something in his voice prevents me asking further questions.

He will leave me for a few days soon. Shard are building a German fan base. He worries about leaving me but I’m fine. Madge Brennan has taken me on as her pet project and has organised a visitor’s rota that includes some of my old neighbours from Oakdale. I’ll be well entertained until he returns. The day has taken its toll. My arms are limp, my mind blank. And once again I’m filled with dread in case I fall headlong back into the void.

Jenny rings to wish me a happy birthday. She tells me about a holiday we spent together, trips we took to Whistler, Grouse Mountain, Vancouver Island. Her words form pictures, ski slopes, snow sculptures, a clock that puffs steam like an old-fashioned train. Lakes glinting like shattered crystal. Someone is standing beside me, not Jenny or her friendly Larry, but someone whose name escapes me until Jenny gently nudges me into the past. Daveth… Daveth…

He came to Mount Veronica. I remember his voice. He talked about a green sky but his words made no sense until now. I close my eyes, almost swooning as my body reacts to what my mind cannot grasp. His hands on my hips, lifting me. Shafts of pleasure slanting upwards and I shudder into the hard thrust of his passion, beg him to reach deeper. I recall how we cried out in that dense space and how the sultry tang of our spent passion perfumed the night.

All is silent in Mount Veronica. It’s time to sleep. Instead of fighting the waves that threaten to overwhelm me, I sail with them through the glittering floes.

Chapter 74

Jake

Ali returned to London. Until she boarded the plane with Sara, he feared she would change her mind. Ali’s role in the fantasy series was minor but her agent believed it would create a new sci-fi fanbase. When she told Jake the series was based around a race of superwomen with incredible telepathic abilities he immediately thought of body stockings. Men leering. Ali ordered him to get over himself. Some men would leer at a piano leg, she said, and that was their problem. She said it kindly and nodded, as if she understood when he told her that, as her father, he was programmed to worry about her. It was an incurable condition.

He was alone now but he had no time to be lonely. Nadine hoped to be home for Christmas when all the family would be together again. The attic must be finished by then. Once it was floored and rewired, two skylight windows would be installed in the roof. Light would illuminate the shadows beneath the eaves. The walls also needed insulation and plastering. The settlement from the insurance company for the fire would help but the budget was growing alarmingly. The bank managers Daryl approached with his business plan were not interested. Their attitude, once he mentioned monitors, mixing consoles and multi-track recorders, suggested they were dealing with a regressed teenager.

Undaunted, Jake set up a crowd-funding campaign called Attic Action and invited Shard fans to donate small amounts of money to the establishment of Tõnality Recording Studios. To his amazement there was an immediate response. This was linked to the Shard website. A Facebook page with photographs showed the various stages of progress in the attic. He posted the Before photographs when the crates, boxes and bags still had to be removed and captioned it, How is it possible to lose everything in your life except clutter?

The After photograph was captioned, De-clutter is the new Xanax. Feel much calmer. Finally believe it’s possible to make a fresh start.

The number of Likes and Comments increased, as did the hits on the Shard website. His tweets on Twitter were read and retweeted. He was in the whirl of social media, feeding information on forthcoming gigs, relaying messages to fans, encouraging comments on Collapsing the Stone, releasing sound bites of new songs, retro photographs and posters of the young Shard. He rescued an old electric guitar from one of the crates, restrung it and played it for a YouTube video. This was posted under the caption, Two old friends reunited. Rosanna had bought it for him for his fourteenth birthday. This present had led to the formation of the original Shard and Jake blogged about it being his favourite guitar.

Before leaving for Berlin he took a final look around the attic and nodded, satisfied. An electrician had already inspected the attic and the rewiring would begin as soon as he returned. He drove to Mount Veronica. Nadine was sleepy by the time he left, exhausted from the rigorous therapies she endured every day.

The band were staying in an apartment owned by the promotor. They played aboard a boat on the Spree and in beer halls, nightclubs and at a Christmas market. Jake searched for a flash of blue among the revellers, an upraised arm. He would recognise that slender curve from a forest of heaving limbs. He thought he glimpsed her once but the women in the shimmery blue top had spiky blonde hair and a sinewy physique that was at variance with Karin’s sensuous form.

It was after two in the morning when he went to bed after the last gig. His mobile rang as he was drifting asleep. He banked down his panic when he realised the caller was not phoning from Mount Veronica. He thought of Eleanor. A relapse? Sara, still so tiny? He lived at a constant level of high anxiety.

‘I know my bitch fiancée is with you.’ Liam Brett was loudly aggressive. ‘Tell her to answer her phone so that I can inform her in person that our sham of an engagement is off.’

‘Tell her yourself,’ Jake replied. ‘She’s not here.’

‘Don’t mess with me, Saunders. Put her on the phone.’

‘You heard me. She’s not here.’

‘How’s that then?’ Liam demanded. ‘She’s been to every fucking gig you ever played. Why should this one be any different?’

‘Because you’ve moved to Brisbane.’

‘Brisbane? What the hell – ’

‘Gold Coast… beach wedding. Fresh start. Don’t tell me Karin was lying.’

‘Put her on now and I’ll talk to her about lying.’ The slurred words were followed by a clatter, as if Liam had dropped his phone.

Jake felt an unexpected sympathy for the other man, drunk and at the mercy of his own imagination. They had each experienced that same high octane passion and were now hollowed out. Karin Moylan was like a moth that flew too close to the flame, seeking its heat, not just for her own searing but for those she chose to fly with her.

‘Listen, Liam, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Karin but it’s nothing to do with me. I’m in Germany and it’s two in the morning – ’

‘I know where you are. She’s not the only one who reads your Facebook page. You’ve done everything you can to break us up and you’ve succeeded. You’re welcome to her, you pathetic fuck.’

Jake ended the call and stepped outside to the balcony. The city still rocked, the sky flared ruby-red. No sign of blue anywhere.

Chapter 75

Outside Dublin airport the queue for taxis moved briskly.

‘Mallard Cove?’ The taxi driver sighed heavily when he heard Jake’s address. ‘You could walk there in the time it’ll take me to drive you. Have you any idea how long I’ve been queuing for a decent fare?’

‘I haven’t a clue.’ The man’s obvious displeasure provoked an angry response from Jake. ‘And I’m too tired to work out the maths.’

They remained silent on the short journey, apart from a low expletive from the driver when the taxi juddered over a pothole on Mallard Cove.