Band Cramp

Winter was lifting from the pavements peppered with electric glint. It was still the time of year when the air was chilly and the light was bleak come mid afternoon. The descent of frost had blanketed the noises of the world, pushing people into their warm homes or locking them within their heated cars. With breath coalescing into steam, the condemned teenager was contemplating whether to continue to Stefan's home, or to turn back from impending humiliation. As he thought about the ridiculous name of "The Horn Club", the street lamps began their timid glow in the waning sunlight.

The piece of paper looked pale in Gareth's gloved hand. He squinted to examine the cyan ink. "248 Winchester Road, SG19 1RQ." This was perhaps the longest residential road that Gareth had ever trudged down, so he had to be near, now... surely?

With a glance up at the three story house to his right, Gareth had found his destination. It may have been tall, but it wasn't the cleanest looking exterior. With cracked bricks and a white paint splodge slammed against the pond coloured garage door, Gareth guessed that the area was somehow wilder than his own.

Taking his right glove off and putting down the new trumpet case he'd been given from camp, Gareth knocked on the wooden door three times. No answer. He knocked again. Finally, with a creak of the door, Stefan answered his call in what looked like a deer-stalker hat.

'Gazza, my good friend, how are you?' Stefan smiled.

'Cold. Really cold,' Gareth shivered in response.

'Come in, come in. Sadie's already arrived and we've been waiting for you. Just head through the hallway and up the stairs to the living room.'

Unsure whether to rush into the warmth or to take his time to reach the devilish Sadie, Gareth took an uneasy step through the doorway and past Stefan.

The hallway was strangely sparse, with cream walls and no pictures of any kind to bring life to the area. The floor was tiled and cold, as Gareth removed his shoes to place them on the make-shift shoe rack. The darkness, in front, led to possibly the kitchen. To Gareth's right was the staircase leading up, also with no carpet to speak of. Unsure of what was beyond the darkness, Gareth ascended the creaking staircase with hesitation. However, as he reached the top, he found himself in a different world; the warmer cream walls were full of painted plants, the rose carpet was long and welcoming, there was an inviting light at the end of the hallway. Gareth followed the light and found himself in what appeared to be the living room, decorated in much the same way as the hallway, only with a faux fireplace, two burgundy sofas and a large flowery rug in its centre. Sadie stood on the rug with several music stands... and a tall man wearing an earthy trench coat.

'Welcome to The Horn Club,' Stefan beamed, marching into the room behind Gareth.

'This the delinquent?' came the direct and dry voice of the tall man, pointing a finger at Gareth.

'I've been called worse,' Gareth nodded, eyeing the man with suspicion.

The man grunted and turned away from Gareth, back to the music stand he was setting up. Annoyed and bemused, Gareth slowly walked around the figure, placing his trumpet case on the rug. The man was much older, his hair greying and his face worn. He wore leather gloves and several mismatched layers of clothing beneath his open, stained coat. Had Gareth not known any better, he would have likened this man to one of the homeless guys he'd seen in town on those cold and empty nights.

'Be a good girl, Sadie, and don't breath a word to your mam, you hear?' he dryly whispered, kissing Sadie on the forehead.

'She won't know,' Sadie winked, 'otherwise I wouldn't be here at all.'

'Good. I'll pick you up at 7.00pm.'

'Dad?' Sadie started, as he went to leave. He turned around, inquisitively. 'Mam said she wants her quills back.'

The man, known as Sadie's dad, looked momentarily pained.

'Tell her she ain't gonna get 'em.'

With that, Sadie's father disappeared down the hallway and into the darkness, Stefan in tow. It seemed Gareth's initial assumption was correct - everyone had their own problems, but used Adonis to stay away from them. Gareth wondered if Sadie should be here, at all. Clearing his breath to break the awkward silence, Gareth decided to ask.

'Where's your mum?'

Sadie's demonic gaze burned through Gareth at that moment, the lamp lights reflecting off of her glasses. Realising he could have phrased the question better, Gareth was about to apologise, when Sadie suddenly removed her glasses to wipe them. Her eyes were a pale turquoise and were red around the edges. Somehow, her glasses had masked the pain she'd seen, and Gareth could see that she was perhaps not as demonic as he first thought.

'Mam doesn't like me doing band stuff,' Sadie responded with a sigh, 'she thinks I'm with dad all evening. She even thought I was away with him for the weekend, but I was at band camp, instead.'

'Oh,' Gareth responded, feeling slightly sorry for her.

It seemed the way of most marriages Gareth had witnessed; his own mum's, Warren's, the falling marriage of Yammers... it seemed reasonable to assume that Sadie's parents were divorced, or on their way down that dark avenue if they were already living apart.

'Does he, I mean your dad, does he-'

'No, he doesn't mind. I'm glad he supports me with band, to be honest,' Sadie smiled, her face looking like it belonged to someone else.

As he examined her for the first time without fear, he realised that she wasn't too dissimilar from Kelsey in her mannerisms. Sadie was a timid girl who seemingly wanted to do her best. There was no faulting her on that front and she was even following her heart by playing the trumpet, despite what her mother wanted. Gareth admired her and her poppy red hair, dyed to no doubt express herself in ways that'd probably offend her mother.

As Sadie placed her glasses back on, Stefan returned.

'Don't mind ol' Jim, he was just dropping off Sadie and helping her set up. It's the only time of the week he sees her, really,' Stefan explained, grabbing another music stand and extending its top section. 'I'd rather him than Sadie's mother, though!'

Sadie laughed at that.

'All up in her face, huh?' Gareth guessed.

'She has a habit of, well, it's not my place to say, actually. Besides, listening to "squealing trumpets" is not a pleasurable pastime for her,' Stefan winked, causing Gareth to become acutely aware that it was now just the three of them.

Stefan led Gareth to the centre of the room and guided him next to Sadie, who he now saw was wearing a My Little Pony t-shirt. As Gareth stooped to release his trumpet from its soft, black incarceration, Stefan stuck a music stand next to the case. As Gareth stood back up, his horn in hand, he noticed there were several sheets of music on the stand.

Marked with "Trumpet 3" at the top, the sheet music looked alien. It was like trying to read another language of pictures and blobs, lined up and down like a roller coaster. Gareth was baffled.

'Don't worry, that's why you're here,' Stefan replied, reading Gareth's face.

'This is much worse than those lip exercises you gave me!' Gareth exclaimed.

'Just put the fingering on, like with mine, otherwise it'll be hell,' Sadie creepily suggested.

Stefan complied, writing those familiar 0s, 1s and 2s below each music note blob. When he had finished, he stood up and placed his pen on the music stand.

'Part one is "Bombing Mission" from Final Fantasy VII, and our opening number. All those movements you eloquently portrayed, on the field, apply to the counts in this piece of music. So...' Stefan trailed off, thinking how best to explain the process of reading music.

Disgruntled at the sudden silence and feeling a little stupid, Gareth surveyed the sheet of music a little more, before breaking the silence.

'Mate, tell you what, you both play the tune and I'll try and follow the fingering under the notes. How's that?' Gareth suggested, thinking this was the best way to get around his inability to read the music notes.

With a shrug and a nod, Stefan and Sadie took their places, only for the sound of flushing water to echo from upstairs. Confused, Gareth looked at Stefan for an answer. Weren't they the only ones in?

Thudding down the stairs and into the living room came the hoarse horse laugh of Lofty.

'I thought The Horn Club was trumpets, only? Gareth questioned.

'Well, tonight I'm feeling a bit horny, too' Lofty whinnied, causing Gareth to roll his eyes.

It became apparent that Lofty thought himself an esteemed trumpet player. Gareth put the two and two together from his triangle argument at band camp, realising Lofty was here to try and grab the glory from Gareth. Well, that wasn't going to happen.

'Just play and I'll try and follow it,' Gareth repeated, choosing to ignore Lofty.

'You can listen all night long, mate, whilst you let Lofty do all the work instead,' Lofty chimed in, grabbing Gareth's trumpet from his hands.

'Hey!' Gareth yelled, as Lofty pushed him aside.

'Let him do it for now, Gazza, and follow what he's playing on the sheet of music. Your part is slightly different to mine and Sadie's, anyway, but structurally it's the same,' Stefan reassured.

Gareth shook his head in defeat, striding to Lofty so he could watch over his back.

'We'll start from when we come in, not all those bars worth of rest at the very start, okay? One, two, one, two, three, breathe...' Stefan announced, cutting off and proceeding to play with everyone else.

With intense concentration and keeping his eyes on the splodges of musical notes, Gareth felt confident he was following the numbers in pen just fine. Having Lofty play Gareth's part of the tune helped, of course, so he could hear how it should musically sound. The tune was slow enough to follow, at least for a while, and the notes were within his range. There was thankfully nothing higher in pitch than a middle C - that dreaded note Gareth struggled to play. Of course, he lost his place on the sheet music about half-way in, but it didn't faze him. The tune seemed repetitive at that point, so as long as he repeated what he was doing, he'd be fine.

Stefan cut them all off as they reached what sounded like the tune's natural end, and nodded.

'Great, but watch we don't slow everything down after the speed up. On the field, we'll have to watch Chase's arms in time,' Stefan noted.

'I got it, Stefan,' Gareth assured.

'No you ain't,' Lofty replied, 'as I'll be taking over this part and trumpet.'

'You mad?' Gareth spat.

'Mate, at least I can play. You're better off playing the triangle.'

'The... triangle?!'

'All right, that's enough!' Stefan shouted over the raised voices of Lofty and Gareth. 'Lofty, give your horn back to Gareth.'

'But-'

'Chase's orders. He's to play the instrument he stole.'

Lofty grumpily shoved the trumpet back into Gareth's clasp, before stomping off to the nearby sofa and flopping onto its cushions.

'If you're ready, we'll go from the top,' Stefan smiled.

'The top?' Gareth asked.

'The start of where you come in, musically. Where we started, before.'

Gareth nodded, about to raise the trumpet to his mouth. He stopped short, looking down at the mouthpiece and wrinkling his nose at all the Lofty drool that had been blown into it. With a quick rub of the inside of his mouthpiece, he placed it on his lips and blew when Stefan commanded it.

Following the inked fingering, as opposed to the notes themselves, Gareth thought he played the piece considerably well for his first attempt. He blew a few times out of synchronisation with both Stefan and Sadie, but overall he kept to their pace, his notes generally lower than theirs. This must be what being a "Trumpet 3" meant - the same piece of music, but slightly lower with harmonious fluidity to Stefan and Sadie's pieces.

Half-way through, Gareth lost where he should be playing. Thinking back to earlier with Lofty, he continued playing the same bit again and again... at least until his lips suddenly wore out on him. From that point on, he suddenly couldn't play, no matter how hard he blew a raspberry into the mouthpiece. Finally, the tune ended.

'Why did you stop, Gazza? You were doing so well up to that point,' Stefan asked.

'My lips gave out. It was like... someone punched me in the mouth.'

'Ah, your lip muscles. As I've said to you before, they'll take time to build up so you can handle music for not only a longer period of time, but also play higher than a middle C. Just keep practising and it'll come, don't worry,' Stefan assured.

'I can play better,' Lofty scoffed.

'Why are you even here, Lofty?' Sadie scowled, evidently a little annoyed at Lofty's comments.

'It's 'cause I know I can do a better job and be a trumpet player!' Lofty shouted. 'But as I'm the only one who recognises that, I'll just head home, now, before I'm even less welcome.'

'Walking away from an argument? Unlike you, Lofty. Thanks for coming, anyway,' Stefan sighed with relief.

'Yeah, it's fine, mate. Just watch out for the water flooding your bog, upstairs. I might have blocked the toilet. See you at rehearsal, Sunday,' and with that, Lofty thudded down the stairs and let himself out of the house, leaving Stefan to sigh.

'I need to rid the toilet of its Lofties before my parents return. Whilst I do that, the Playstation will show you the start of Final Fantasy and the tune we'll be playing. It's important to examine the start and the tune so that you have it in your head for when we next play. We need to learn this music by heart, as well as visualise that opening in our heads,' Stefan explained, leaning down and pulling out an antiquated Playstation 2 console from inside a cabinet. Flipping up a small screen attached to the black box of a console, Stefan continued. 'Press New Game and I'll be back in a moment.'

As the game loaded and Stefan bounded upstairs with a pair of marigold gloves, Gareth and Sadie gathered around the tiny screen and old-fashioned black control pad. A gloved hand pointed to the New Game option. Shrugging, Gareth pressed the X button, only for nothing to happen, and then the circle button to proceed with the start.

An old cutscene played, showing stars and a woman walking down a grimy street. As the camera pulled out, Gareth recognised the tune they were playing, revealing more and more of an industrial city, before the title appeared at his musical entrance. The camera pushed to a train, before what appeared to be the main character jumped off and readied himself for action. The tune was much faster in pace, now, which Gareth also recognised.

As the scene ended, Gareth had a much better idea of how the tune should sound, now, and readied himself for another go. Dated graphics aside, he was happy to have seen the dynamic opening and to have heard the tune's origin.

Stefan returned with a disgruntled look on his face and rolled up sleeves.

'The matter's been... dealt with,' Stefan announced, choosing his words carefully.

'The graphics looked really old,' Gareth noted.

'Nevermind the graphics, it's the scene you must visualise with the most important aspect - the music. Visualise the scene, not the graphics, and accompany that with the tune. The graphics just help inform the shapes we make on the field, all the while running to them as we play the music,' Stefan explained, turning the console off. 'Now, let's try that rhythm, once more.'

So they did. Gareth, with the tune rooted in his head and the scene playing before his eyes, was able to buzz the tune with much more gusto and emotion than before. This time was much better, at least until his lips wore out, once again.

'Keep practising and you'll get there, but that was much better, the both of you,' Stefan nodded, beaming with pleasure that they were getting somewhere.

'This is why we need the Horn Club, Mam,' Sadie said quietly to herself.

'Let's move onto Part 2,' Stefan cleared his throat, bringing Gareth and Sadie's attention back to him.

Replacing his sheet of music with one topped with 'Part 2', Gareth saw that this tune looked easier than the first, with much less of the page filled with alien blotches.

'Part 2 - the main theme from Halo,' Stefan explained.

'Halo? Ain't that the series with guns in space, on the X-Box? Daz used to play it all the time, 'till Call of Duty,' Gareth recognised.

'Correct. It was a popular first person shooter series for an entire generation. It was essentially Microsoft's representative series for its line of consoles. Each one of our show tunes represents a console and period of console history for video games. Part 1 realises how influential the game Final Fantasy VII became, focusing on third party franchises - it represents the PC and console. It's opening is perfectly slow before bringing up the ante,' guided Stefan, although Gareth didn't quite understand all the details. 'Part 2 is our show's ballad. It's a slow piece with a lot of emotion, representing the X-Box. Part 3 is called "Nintendon't" and has a lot of well known Nintendo pieces in from across their console history, representing the SNES, Nintendo 64 and Wii, amongst others. It also has Sonic the Hedgehog's theme from the Sega consoles in there, to show the rivalry between Mario and Sonic. Part 4 is our finale - the Metal Gear Solid theme, starting a bit slow, before pummelling the audience with a high octane piece. This represents the Playstation.'

Gareth was lost, but at least he knew the ins and out of each musical piece, now.

'We'll show you how this piece goes,' Sadie said, a glint in her eye.

And so the evening continued with Gareth following Stefan and Sadie's example, trying to remember each tune by memory so he could have a stab at them at home. He played each tune until he lips became tired. He did better with the first two pieces of music than with Part 3 and Part 4. Part 3 was very spliced up and felt more like several smaller tunes had been rammed into one piece, whilst Part 4 was just too difficult for Gareth to follow.

'My lips... I just can't play that fast or high,' Gareth wheezed, dropping out from Part 4's music.

'It's fine. Anyway, it's five to seven, so it's best we started to pack up. Before we do, let's quickly warm down,' Stefan replied.

After playing a few simple scales to make sure Gareth's lips didn't pop if left tightened and unattended, Gareth felt exhausted but proud of the evening's efforts. With a smile on his face, he went to put his horn in its case.

'We're all still learning, Gazza, and none of us have mastered the finale, yet. You have time before we start on the marching of Part 4 on the field,' assured Stefan. 'You know, you're not so bad, really.'

'My mates say otherwise,' scoffed Gareth, now struggling with the music stand.

'I don't think mates abandon each other. I think mates...' Stefan paused, before amending his sentence, 'No, FRIENDS stick together... as a unit.'

Sadie smiled for the first time without any malicious glint or demonic values, causing Gareth to smile back for the first time. Stefan also smiled, having jumped in to retract Gareth's music stand with ease.

'You know, your horn should be named,' Stefan suggested.

Gareth raised an eyebrow. Naming a trumpet seemed like a ridiculous notion, to him.

'Mine's name is Jim,' Sadie responded, waving her trumpet in front of her.

'Mine's called Fleur,' Stefan stared back at Gareth, cutting Gareth's incredulous look short.

Looking down at this case and picking it up, Gareth had only one name in his head.

'Kerry-Anne,' he coughed, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

'Good name. Keep it. It will help you form an attachment with your trumpet, which you'll then transfer to the music and field,' Stefan confirmed, unsure of why Gareth was turning bright red.

The Westminster Chimes sounded around them, which Gareth assumed to be the doorbell. Stefan skipped down the hallway and down the stairs, before returning with Sadie's dad.

'Good practise?' he asked. Sadie nodded. 'Then let's get you home, my girl.'

'She did well this evening, Mr. Shaquille,' Stefan commented.

'I'm sure she did, better than him, no doubt,' he chuckled, pointing at Gareth.

Feeling a little annoyed, as his short tempter always sparked when someone insulted him, Gareth decided to back down and not make anything more of it. He watched as Sadie and Jim left the living room, before picking up his own trumpet case.

'See you next Wednesday?' Stefan asked, seeing him out the door.

'Next Wednesday,' Gareth confirmed, walking back out into the shivering street.

********************

Gareth trudged down the street, thinking over the new music. He'd been walking for twenty minutes down back-alleys and pitch black country paths to reach his home, as Gareth knew the tillage particularly well. He, Darren and Nathan would often run and hide down such small crooks and crannies, after causing some form of disruption.

Stefan's house was relatively close to the band Scout hut, whilst Gareth lived on the other side town. So it was no surprise this was taking a while. Just as Gareth turned to head down one of the tillage's main roads, a familiar face turned up.

'Oiya, Gazza, you pleb!' Darren called, running to him.

'Daz, mate,' Gareth smiled.

Darren didn't return the grin. Instead, his eyes were guided to Gareth's trumpet case.
'You still goin' through with it, then?' Darren coldly responded, his gaze turning as steely as the air around them.

Gareth sighed and turned to carry on walking. Darren blocked him, his face demanding an explanation.

'It's the only way I'll get to avoid prison, mate,' Gareth responded.

'You're out all weekend, bruv. You're out tonigh'. Since when was band more impor'ent than me, blud?'

'Look, if it'll make you feel better, we can hang out 'till my curfew.'

'Your wot?' Darren mocked. 'Baby's got a curfew? Aww, baby, you lettin' the fuzz and your mummy push you around?'

'Shut up, Daz, I've got an ankle tag. Do you wanna spend time with me or what?'

Darren spat at the floor and then nodded.

'Go on, then,' Darren responded.

They walked in mostly silence until reaching the outside of Gareth's mum's house. From the outside, home looked so alien and run down.

'Yer mum's been out all day, too,' Darren commented, breaking the silence.

'She what?' Gareth repeated, confused.

'Seen her with some new geezer,' Darren confirmed, heading forward to open the front door. He stopped short, Gareth somewhere behind him. 'So, you gonna drop off tha' trombone or what?'.
Gareth looked at his trumpet case and then at Darren.

'You can come in with me, but I'm not coming out, Daz. My ankle tag'll call the police, soon.'

'Wot? You cares about the fuzz, bruv? Tha' ol' lady, Mz. McGrath, she's got it coming. Got some overalls from me old man. Don't you wanna join in and pretend to check her boiler? You can check it and I can steal any money I find 'round the house.'

'Stealing money from the elderly?' Gareth looked grief-stricken at the thought. What was wrong with him? He'd usually be up for that, but suddenly something felt fundamentally wrong with the idea.
'You ain't the Gazza I knew a few weeks back,' growled Darren in response. 'Fine, blud. If you don't wanna hang with me now, you'll hang later.'

Darren barged passed Gareth, his last sentence somewhat threatening. As Gareth rubbed his shoulder, he considered whether to smack some sense into Darren or just ignore it and go inside. He simply watched as Darren walked into the night, unsure if hitting his mate was the right thing to do. Thinking Darren wasn't worth it, but never-the-less annoyed and frustrated, Gareth shook his head and turned to the front door. It was already ajar. Fearful, Gareth pushed open the dark brown door with an almighty creak.

The house had a midnight interior. It felt lifeless and devoid of warmth, to Gareth. It seemed somehow different. As the lights flicked on and Gareth staggered through the hallway, he stopped just short of the living room. The vase of flowers was missing, as was the rug, Gareth's mum's jewellery box and several pieces of furniture.

Concerned, Gareth raced upstairs to check his room, only to find his bed and blankets, but nothing more.

Darren had stolen from the house.

Gareth cursed beneath his breath, before sitting on his bed to contemplate what to do. It couldn't have been anyone else but Darren. Only Darren and Nathan barged into the house whenever they pleased. The door was always unlocked in the day, due to his mum's open house policy. Darren, evidently annoyed with Gareth's recent activities, had robbed them in order to teach him a lesson. It made sense, to Gareth. This was how Darren thought. He only hoped his mum's valuables fetched a meagre worth.

Sighing and wondering what his mum would say when she finally came home, Gareth returned downstairs to close the front door, as if that would somehow keep Darren out. For the first time in a long time, Gareth felt unsafe in his mum's house. He head to the downstairs hallway and leant against the wall. His eyes fell on the sensor box for his tag. He couldn't get out, but Darren could get in. It's not as if Gareth had a key to the house, either.

Turning to the small kitchen behind him, more to take his mind off of things than hunger, Gareth grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich, before slinking back upstairs.

'Practise,' he said to himself in a hushed voice.

It didn't take long for Gareth to start trying to practise Part 3, once more - the Nintendo musical piece. It also didn't take long for Gareth to become frustrated at not remembering the tunes in this piece. This would have been much easier if he was a gamer. So, he choose the next best thing - he practised part 1 over and over until he was interrupted by a familiar voice entering his room.

'Hey mate, what you doing? Blowing your own trumpet?' Nathan chuckled.

Gareth immediately felt his face flush.

'I didn't hear you come in,' Gareth nervously replied.

'Too busy being crap,' Nathan laughed, walking over to sit on Gareth's bed.

'I need to get better, Nath, but it's hard. They keep telling me I need more breath support, but my lips keep wearing out. They're not strong enough.'

'Listen to you! Sounds like you know your stuff, already,' Nathan responded, before slowly looking around the room. 'Hang on, where's-'

'I know,' Gareth simply responded.

'So that's what Daz wanted to do, earlier. He said he wanted to rob some poor mug, but I wasn't into it,' Nathan mused, standing back up and walking to Gareth's window. 'We got into... an argument. I think he's in a stealing mood, right now, so watch your back.' Nathan paused for a moment, still looking out the window, his back to Gareth. 'Tell me, Gazza, was Bob okay at band camp?'.

'What do you mean?' Gareth responded, confused.

'Well... Bob has... he... he's bi-polar. He gets cross really quickly, and flicks like a switch between being as peachy as pie, or as furious as a volcano. It's a big concern and I look after him when I'm at home. I can't keep tabs on him at band, so I wanna know how he is.'

'He seemed fine,' Gareth thought aloud, thinking about how Bob defended his brother and briefly threatened Gareth, which wasn't unusual.

Nathan sighed in relief and turned back to face Gareth. Now that he was paying more attention to Nathan and not his trumpet, Gareth examined his face for a moment. Something was different. Sketching around Nathan's baby-faced features, he settled on the large, dark bruise around his left eye. As Gareth went to comment, genuinely concerned, Nathan interrupted him.

'Don't. Just... don't. Darren's furious with just about everything, right now...' Nathan left the sentence hanging, but Gareth didn't need any further explanation.

'If I'd been there, I'd have fought your corner, mate,' Gareth wistfully responded, causing Nathan to slowly nod.

There was a defined silence as they both reflected on their times with Darren, wondering if either of them really considered their antics as particularly enjoyable when the other wasn't present. It was confirmed, in Gareth's mind, that the reason he enjoyed half of the things he'd done, was because Nathan was there - a true friend.

'Anyway,' Nathan sang, clearing his throat to lighten up the atmosphere, 'you may as well keep practising, Gazza, don't mind me. Bob always says that practise makes perfect... and then doesn't ever shut up drumming the table, his car dashboard, his bed-'

'All right, I get the picture,' sighed Gareth, turning back his attention to the trumpet and letting out an out-of-pitch puff.

Calming himself down and continuing his practise, deeply aware of the listening Nathan, Gareth continued to practise what he could of Part 1 - Bombing Mission, before his lips gave out. As he blew bust notes through the instrument, Nathan slowly applauded.

'I reckon you've got a way to go, but it's not bad for a first day's practise,' Nathan smiled.
'Don't patronise me, mate,' Gareth responded, getting up from his bed and packing the trumpet away, 'I'm no good and I know it. Makes me angry.'

'Bob was his own harshest critic and now look at him - he's possibly the best drummer in Adonis. He practises all the time, to get better. You'll do all right, Gazza,' assured Nathan.

There was a loud thud as the door slammed, downstairs. With immediate effect, Gareth raced down the stairs, Nathan behind him, to explain what had happened.

Kerry-Anne Firkins, already in the living room, slumped against the door frame, her eyes fixated upon the devastation. Gareth and Nathan approached her from behind.

'Where's my stuff?' she asked, her voice quiet and her tone cold. Gareth tried to think of the best way to answer, but he needn't have done. 'Darren,' Kerry-Anne whispered, her voice cracking from either upset or fury.

'I, uh, made a lot of progress from band during the weekend. I can play stuff, now,' Gareth awkwardly responded, eager to impress his mother after she had been strangely distant since he returned on Sunday evening.

Kerry-Anne didn't respond, as she hadn't when Gareth had brought up his band activities throughout the other days. She looked on and into the darkness of the living room, her mind elsewhere.

'First, Birch takes advantage of me, and now I don't feel safe in me own home,' Kerry-Anne's voice quivered. 'Even the vase... that vase...' she whimpered, seemingly a little tipsy.

Gareth, unsure of what to say or do for a moment, shuffled awkwardly on the spot, before eventually reaching for the drawer unit in the hallway. Opening the draw, he rummage around in the knick-knacks of wires, wool and paper, before finally locating a pack of cigarettes at its back - Kerry-Anne's favourite hiding place for them when she tells everyone she's quitting. He passed them to his mother, who immediately sparked up her lighter and took a deep, lengthy pull of the soothing smoke. With a deep and satisfied exhalation, she turned to face Gareth for the first time in several days.

'We're changing the locks.'