Annalise gave a half smile then, affecting a jolting, flirtatious walk towards the stage. ‘Have you met my mother? She doesn’t want me to be good. She doesn’t even want me to do my homework.’

Michael chuckled, and the sound hit my stomach like a kilo weight. He was being sexy too.

‘You don’t strike me as a rebel, Annalise,’ he said. ‘A little English rose is what you are, with that cut-glass accent. You’re nothing like your mother after all that time in British boarding school. But you’ve got a bit of spark to you. For certain.’

Annalise giggled like a kid at a sleepover. How old was she, anyway? Twelve?

‘What are we going to do with you, Annalise?’ Michael asked, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the stage. ‘I know you like performing. But you don’t fit in a rock and roll circus.’

Annalise came right up to the stage then, hands gripping the rubber edge, looking up at Michael with glazed, lovesick eyes. ‘I fit with you.’ Then she noticed me watching and added, ‘Onstage, I mean.’

‘So we need to make that happen,’ said Michael. ‘It’s about time I listened to your songs. Right?’

I marched up to Michael, putting my hands on his shoulders, and glared at Annalise.

Michael turned his head to me, irritated, pushing my hands away. ‘What do you want, Lorna?’

‘Just showing you I love you.’ I kissed his cheek.

Michael ignored me. ‘So how about it,’ he asked Annalise. ‘You want to play me some of your songs after the show tonight?’

Annalise’s smile widened and her square jaw looked even more pronounced. She sort of squealed, then tried to look cool. ‘Hey, that’s great.’

I almost cringed for her.

‘What kind of music do you like, my little English rose?’ Michael asked.

A sound escaped my throat. Something like a ‘Ha!’ but it bit my vocal cords. I glared at Annalise, trying to send killer laser beams from my eyes.

Back off.

‘Well, not my mom’s stuff,’ said Annalise. ‘I like kind of Alanis Morrisette. And Shampoo.’

I really did cringe then. ‘Shampoo?’ I said, voice mocking. ‘Two blonde teenyboppers singing about trouble. How cool.’

Annalise took my hit with an irritated blink, then pulled some cooler music tastes out of the bag. ‘And I like the Vaselines too. And the New York Dolls.’

‘Get out of here,’ said Michael. ‘Lorna loves the New York Dolls.’

‘I’m a real fan,’ I said. ‘Do you know their first album, Annalise? The second track … do you know that one?’ I knew she wouldn’t. I was hitting out at her. Making her feel some of the pain I was feeling.

‘I’m not into CDs,’ said Annalise airily. ‘Most of the time, I see bands live. It’s better listening to music that way.’ She smiled at Michael, and I felt my face turn boiling hot.