DAVEY WALKED INTO THE venue to be greeted by his mates standing on the stage rocking out. Kev and Louis had never played in a band together before, but the weeks of rehearsal had paid off and Kitchen Sink and The Sound melded into one band. The only person missing was Johnny. Kev spied Davey first. ‘The man of the hour,’ he said.

‘You’re not seriously thinking of wearing that boiler suit?’ Davey said, pointing at Kev squeezed into a boiler suit two sizes too small.

‘It’s me look.’

‘And it was shite back then, too,’ Francie said, and he jumped down off the stage and took Davey into his big embrace. ‘Welcome home.’

‘Some homecoming.’

‘As the kids say, it’s gonna be epic.’

Jay nodded. ‘You all right, DB?’

‘Hanging in there, Jay. You?’

‘I think me kids are plotting to kill me, but other than that it’s all good.’

‘All right, Davey?’ Louis said, kneeling down on the stage and offering his hand. Davey reached up and they shook hands.

‘Right, let’s get this going,’ Francie said, handing Davey the set list. ‘We’re doing half Kitchen Sink stuff, half The Sound’s stuff.’

‘Right,’ Davey said, taking his jacket off and pulling out his sticks from his back pocket. He got behind the kit.

‘This is the kit? Where are the cymbals and the rack toms?’

‘You’ve got a snare, kick drums and some high hats – any more than that and you’d make a bollocks of it,’ Francie said.

‘Ah, for fu . . .’ He sat behind the kit and knocked out a beat. ‘You do realise this kit needs tuning?’

‘Better get tuning, then,’ Kev said.

Davey took a tuning key out of his pocket. ‘This is going to be a slow-moving car crash.’

Jay laughed. ‘Can’t wait.’

When the kit was tuned and Davey got his head around playing half a kit, they practised the first song. It went OK – he messed up once or twice, but got into the groove quick enough.

‘Nice,’ Francie said when they’d finished.

‘So, we’re doing this without a singer?’ Davey asked.

‘Nah, Louis’s nephew is gonna do the singing.’

‘Before you freak out,’ Louis said, ‘he’s good.’

‘He’s better than good,’ Francie said. ‘He’ll do Johnny justice.’

‘So where is he?’

‘Working a shift in Tesco. He’ll be here any minute.’

They were halfway through the second set when Jason walked through the door. He was in his mid-twenties, with tight short hair – a broad, body-beautiful gym nut, built like The Rock; he may have worked in Tesco but he looked like a rock star. He jumped up on the stage and immediately glided towards Davey – for a big dude, he was light on his feet.

He shook Davey’s hand. ‘I’ve heard so much about you, it’s a real honour to meet you.’