‘Yes, I am. I can’t be part of the band any more,’ Omar said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Sharif heard the seriousness in Omar’s voice, and looked at him with a sudden cold fury, as though he’d been betrayed. ‘You know what, kid. You can’t stop being a part of the band, as that would mean that you actually belonged in the first place,’ he said cruelly. ‘I’m not sorry you’re buggering off. I only let you in because I was sorry for you. You were always the weakest link.’ Nodding at the doorman, he walked back into the club.

Omar walked down towards Liverpool Street. He would get a bus to Marble Arch to get the Oxford Tube back to college. He realized how much he was looking forward to seeing Jim over tea and biscuits, and telling him about his last gig.

The Trouble with December Evenings

JONTY AND SHONA were sitting in the staffroom, long after the end of school, and were both avoiding going home for similar reasons. Jonty had argued with his wife, and was flicking through the Ceefax pages, going through a packet of bourbons all by himself. Shona was doing some marking, which she could just as well do at home, but didn’t really want to. Things would be better at home when Omar came back for the Christmas holidays; she hoped he hadn’t made any plans with his new friends from college. She wondered what he’d think of Patrick-Bob. And Sharif would come back for Christmas Day, maybe she could persuade him to stay until New Year. It would all be back to normal then; they could go back to being a happy family for a few days.

Jonty and Shona were both surprised by Dermot walking into the staffroom. Jonty had stopped trying to look busy around Dermot, and raised his hand in a silent greeting. ‘Hello, both,’ Dermot said affably. ‘Still burning the midnight oil?’

’It feels like midnight,’ Jonty said despondently,looking at the pitch-black gloom outside. ‘Where’ve you been?’

‘I was setting some stuff up in the language lab,’ Dermot said vaguely. ‘It’s hard to get some time in that room without someone else hogging it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Well, it’s six-thirty, so I think that it would be permissible to have a drink. Anyone care to join me?’ He looked expectantly at both of them. ‘Jonty, are you game?’

A text beeped on Jonty’s mobile. He looked at it and sighed. ‘From the Trouble and Strife. Sorry, Dermot. I think I had really better get home. Maybe Shona will go with you?’ He finished off his last bourbon biscuit wearily.

Dermot looked at Shona. ‘Well, Shona, how about it? Will you join me for a drink? A very quick one, I promise.’