‘Hardly. Luna isn’t quite as much of a diva as you might think, but I don’t imagine she’d ever consent to climbing into Billy’s old Beetle. God knows what even holds that thing together. No, when we get people of her calibre here, we usually rent a decent ride.’

Karen recalls a rusty, light blue VW Beetle parked outside the studio next to a shiny black Audi with tinted windows.

Brynn turns his head and looks around the room.

‘He’s standing over there if you want to talk to him.’

Chapter 8

8

Billy Formby is so gaunt and pale he comes off as virtually anaemic. Karen stares at the emaciated man walking towards them with poorly disguised fascination. His fingernails, chewed to the quick and covered with chipped silver nail polish, are a stark contrast to his long eyelashes and carefully put together outfit: a black mesh tank top and something that looks like a mix between baggy trousers and a sarong. His platinum-blond hair just brushes his shoulders, and half of his face is hidden behind a sweeping fringe.

After they’ve said hi and Karen has explained why she’s there, he gingerly sits down on the edge of the sofa and gracefully pushes the fringe out of his eyes. Only now does she realise they’re red from crying.

‘It’s my fault,’ he says, spreading his arms theatrically.

Karen suppresses a smile.

‘Is that right? And what do you mean by that?’

‘I was supposed to look after her. That’s what I’m paid to do.’

‘Yes, I understand you’ve been working as something akin to a personal assistant. But only since Luna has been here, right? You haven’t worked with her before?’

Billy shakes his head and presses his trembling lips into a thin line.

‘No, and it will never be more than that now. I was hoping she might want to keep me on. That maybe she’d let me come along this autumn—’

He breaks off and tosses his head, sending his long fringe sweeping to the side of his face like a curtain in the wind.

‘On tour, you mean?’ Karen asks.

He nods and his quivering chin speaks of dashed hopes. Karen decides to try a different tack.

‘How did you get your job here at KGB?’

‘Through Kore. Or I should say, through his boyfriend, Eirik. Or both, actually, I suppose.’

Karen asks her next question mostly out of politeness.

‘I see, and how do you know them?’

Billy Formby waves his hand dismissively.

‘All the gays in this town know each other. Almost all of us, anyway. I never had a thing with either of them, though,’ he adds emphatically. ‘I mean, they’re great and all, but . . .’

‘Twice as old as you,’ Karen finishes for him. ‘I understand. And where did you work before?’