The crowd cheered each fresh eruption, and applauded the multicoloured fragments that sprayed the heavens as each new salvo of fireworks was ignited.
Hailey was standing at the bottom of the steps leading down from the VIP stand, watching as car after car arrived to ferry guests from the gig venue to the Pavilion Hotel for the ensuing party. Most had already left, though she knew for a fact that the band themselves wouldn’t be arriving there for another hour at least. Their partners had gone to join them backstage. So had James Marsh and countless members of the local and national press, as well as music journalists and other interested individuals.
The crowd was drifting away now.
The scene they left behind them was one of utter devastation. Empty bottles, scraps of paper, plastic cups, containers – even abandoned clothes and footwear. What had been one of the best outdoor concert venues in the country, just hours earlier, now resembled an enormous dustbin.
But that, mused Hailey, was one of the few things that
Everything she’d needed to handle she’d done immaculately, and now – with virtually
It had been a great gig; that was all that mattered to the paying customers. All that mattered to the VIPs now was how much free food and drink they could stuff down their throats when they got to the party itself.
She felt a hand tugging at her skirt. Hailey looked down to see Becky smiling up at her.
‘Did you enjoy that?’ Hailey asked, bending down to kiss her little girl.
‘It was great, Mum,’ Becky said.
Even Rob was grinning. ‘Maybe I was wrong,’ he said. ‘They’re not
Becky put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh, Dad,’ she said, ‘they were awesome.’
‘Awesome, eh?’ Rob said and swept her up into his arms.
Hailey smiled as she saw him swing their daughter around, heard her giggles of delight.
‘You two go on to the hotel,’ Hailey said, touching her husband’s cheek. ‘I’ve got to make sure the last of this lot get into their cars safely. I won’t be long.’
Rob nodded. ‘What about the band?’ he asked.
‘Their record company is taking care of them. They’ll be there, though.’
‘So you’re not the
Hailey smiled.
There was a car pulling up.
‘You two go in this one,’ Hailey told him. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
The driver stopped the Jag and climbed out to open the doors for Rob and Becky.
She kissed her daughter.
‘Don’t talk to any strange men,’ said Rob cryptically.
He slid in beside Becky. The doors were slammed shut and the Jag pulled away.
Cars continued to arrive, picked up passengers, then left.
Hailey looked at her watch. Then at the next car heading towards her.
She frowned. This was no Jag or Mercedes.
It looked familiar.
The Scorpio halted next to her, and she saw that it was indeed Adam Walker’s car.
Caroline Hacket was driving. Walker was sitting in the back.
He pushed open the front passenger door.
As Caroline looked across at her, Hailey saw that her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks tear-stained.
‘Get in,’ said Walker flatly.
‘What’s wrong?’ Hailey asked. ‘What are you doing?’
It was then that she saw the gun. The pistol was pressed against the back of the driving seat where Caroline sat.
‘Get in, Hailey,’ Walker murmured. ‘Or I’ll blow her in half.’
106
THE EXPLOSION OF white light was almost blinding.
Dozens of flashes went off simultaneously as each car’s doors were opened.
Rob could see hordes of newsmen gathered around the entrance to the Pavilion Hotel. There were also several camera crews from local and national television, and the powerful lights used to illuminate the hotel forecourt added to the general brilliance.
Reporters fought to get close to each car as it pulled up, though only anxious to snatch a few words with the members of Waterhole – should they be the ones to emerge.
Becky watched them jostling for position.
‘What are those people doing, Dad?’ she wanted to know.
‘Their jobs.’ Rob grinned as the procession of cars approaching the hotel continued.
He saw Nicholas Barber clamber from one of those ahead, pausing a moment on the steps to wave theatrically at the half a dozen newsmen who bothered to snap him.
Barber loitered a moment longer, as if determined that all the assembled hacks should get a good look at him. He saw James Marsh walking towards the main entrance and, smiling broadly, stepped towards the factory’s owner to shake his hand.
More lights. More microphones shoved in his direction. Barber was keen to foster the new government’s belief in its own popularity. It preached constantly of its awareness of public tastes. Prided itself on being comprised of men and women who considered themselves no different from those who had voted them into power.
Rob looked on at this charade with distaste. Watching Barber pose with his arm around Marsh’s shoulder.
Two stretch limos were approaching the hotel and the media, almost as one, swung to meet them.
The limos slowed to a crawl, then stopped to disgorge their passengers.
Waterhole and their various partners emerged into the glare of camera flashes and a volley of questions.
‘There they are, Dad,’ said Becky excitedly.
Rob nodded and watched as the band members made their way towards the main entrance.
‘That’s Craig and Simon,’ Becky informed him. ‘They’re brothers.’
Rob watched impassively.
Craig Levine was wearing a battered leather jacket, jeans and a baseball cap. Close behind him, Jenny Kenton adjusted her dark glasses, ran a hand through her hair, and stared unsmilingly at the assembled photographers.
As the other band members made their way towards the entrance, two of them adopted a goose-stepping march.
Becky giggled. Rob shook his head.
‘They’re great, aren’t they, Dad?’ Becky said.
‘If you say so, babe,’ Rob murmured, grinning at her.
He saw Nicholas Barber posing for more photos, this time with both Marsh
Then they all made their way inside, the photographers still shouting for more pictures.
Rob looked around.
‘Where’s Mum?’ Becky wanted to know, as if reading his mind.
‘She’ll be here soon.’
