“And did you?”

“No way. Not someone with his talent. We might have had a few problems down the line, if things had got that far. Playing licensed premises, you know, stuff like that, but we figured we’d just deal with all that when we got there.”

“What about who his real father was? Did you know that?”

Liz looked away. “He didn’t tell us that until later, either. He didn’t seem to want anything to do with Neil Byrd and his legacy.”

“How did you find out?” Banks asked. “I mean, did Luke just come right out and tell you who his father was?”

“No. No. He didn’t like to talk about him. It was something on the radio while he was over here, a review of that new compilation. He got upset about it and then it just sort of slipped out. It made a lot of sense.”

“What do you mean?” Annie asked.

“That voice. His talent. There was something about it all that rang a bell.”

“What happened after you knew?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did it make a difference?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, come on, Liz,” said Banks. “You had Neil Byrd’s son in your band. You can’t expect us to believe that you weren’t aware that would make a big difference commercially.”

“Okay,” said Liz. “Sure, we were all aware of that. But the point is that we weren’t anywhere commercially at that time. We’re still not. We haven’t even played in public yet, for crying out loud. And now, without Luke…I don’t know.”

Banks moved away from the window and sat on a hard-backed chair against the wall. Annie shifted on her beanbag, as if trying to get comfortable. It was the first time he’d seen her look ill at ease in any sort of seat, then he realized she might have hurt herself falling over in the bookshop. She should be at the hospital getting checked out, especially the way on-the-job injury insurance worked these days, but there was no telling her. He didn’t blame her; he’d be doing the same himself.

“Who did the singing?” Banks asked.

“Mostly me and Luke.”

“What kind of music do you play?”

“What does it matter?”

“Let’s just say I’m interested. Humor me.”

“It’s hard to describe,” Liz answered.

“Try.”

She looked at him, as if trying to size up his musical knowledge. “Well, it’s all about the songs, really. We’re not trendy and we don’t go in for long solos and stuff. It’s more…have you heard of David Gray?”

“Yes.”

“Beth Orton?”

“Yes.”

If Liz was surprised by Banks’s familiarity with contemporary music, she didn’t show it. “Well, we’re not like them, but that’s sort of what we’re interested in. Having something to say, and maybe a bit jazzy and bluesy. I play quite a bit of flute as well as organ.”

“Did you know that Luke was taking violin lessons?”

“Yes. That would have been wonderful. We were looking to expand, bring in more musicians, but we were being very careful about it.” She looked Banks in the eye. “We were serious about making a real go of this, you know,” she said. “But without selling out or being commercial. We’re absolutely gutted by what’s happened. Not just as a band, I mean, but personally, too.”