After the final concert of a grueling tour, Carlene had flown home to her farm, arriving early on Sunday morning. Her flight crew had dropped her off and departed, there was an ample guest house for their use and they would gladly have remained but she didn’t plan to go anywhere for a while. Her mother, who lived half an hour away, stopped by Sunday afternoon, Carlene had slept almost until noon, totally exhausted from too many nights on the road. She dearly loved her mother and they were extremely close. She always felt wonderfully grounded when they were together. She missed her brother and sister, both off at college many miles away. She began rehearsing the songs she would record during the week, she loved them more with each pass. She had once hated country music, or so she thought. There had been a time when she rejected her rural roots and almost got caught up in the big city whirl of a fashion model. Phil had changed that, not the Phil who was coming to record with her but. “hi I’m Jill” I said, “pleased to meet you”. “Albert” he said, “I stay across the landing at number 4, if you need anything or just fancy a chat just pop over, my doors always open and I know how difficult it is being on your own and being in a new place”. With that he nodded at me then turned and left. “Thank you” I called after him, “I’ll do that”, but not having the slightest intention of ever knocking on his door.A couple of days later I came home after a pretty soul destroying tour of the job centres and local bars and shops. “Sorry, we’ve nothing just now” was the message from them all. I let myself into the apartment and immediately the cold hit me. “Shit” I thought as I realised my heating was definitely not working. I went to the boiler which was silent and had no idea what to do. I knew I couldn’t afford to call a service engineer and stood there wondering what the hell to do. After the day I’d had it was just the final straw. I heard the sound of a key in a lock.
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