has to have a lead guitarist, Steve.â
âI know we need a new lead guitarist,â Steve Walker said. âBut we donât have to have one
yet
. Not before Eddieâs even cold in his grave. Donât you have any respect?â
Jack Towers puffed nervously on his cigarette. âIâm sorry that Eddieâs dead,â he said. âReally sorry. But we have to be practical. Weâve been cancelling gigs all over the place. Everybody understands us doing that for a few days, but it canât go on indefinitely, or all weâve worked for will have gone down the drain.â
It was evident from the look on Steve Walkerâs face that that had been the wrong thing to say.
âAll
weâve
worked for!â he repeated. âWhat have
you
done? Weâre the ones whoâve written the songs. Weâre the ones who get up on the stage night after night â singinâ till weâre hoarse, playinâ our instruments till weâve got blisters on our fingers. All you have to do as our manager, Jack, is pick up the phone anâ make a few calls.â
âYouâre not beinâ fair to the man, Steve,â Pete Foster said.
Another bad move, Woodend thought. But with Walker in the mood he evidently was in, was there any such thing as a good move?
âSo, you think Iâm not beinâ fair, do you?â Walker ranted. âWell, let me tell you somethinâ, Pete â itâs not a fair world. If it was, Eddie would be standinâ with us right now.â
âLook, Steve,â Jack Towers said, âI was keeping it as a surprise, but I suppose youâd better know now â Iâve managed to get you an audition with a record company in London, two weeks from today.â
Woodend quickly glanced from face to face. Billie Simmonsâ expression told him that the announcement came as news to the drummer, but Pete Fosterâs look said that he had known about the audition for a while.
As for Steve Walker, his face was still blazing with anger. âHow long have you known about this?â he demanded.
Towers shrugged. âA few days.â
âAnd why the bloody hell didnât you tell
me
about it?â
âI was going to â but what with Eddie dying like that . . .â
Heâd been holding it back as a surprise, Woodend thought. Waiting for the right moment to produce it like a rabbit out of a hat â the right moment to show Steve Walker just what a good manager he really was. âAnyway, the fact is that you
have
an audition with a record company,â Jack Towers continued. â
Now
do you see why we need a new guitarist as soon as possible?â
âThere was a time when Iâd have been over the moon to get news like that,â Steve Walker told him. âAnâ do you know what it means to me now? Absolutely nothinâ! Bugger all! In case you three have forgotten it, Eddie was our mate. We went through a lot together. Anâ now, even though heâs only been dead a couple of days, youâre all acting as if he never existed.â
âWe canât throw away the groupâs chances just because Eddieâs dead,â Pete Foster said quietly.
âCanât we?â Steve Walker screamed back at him. âWell, maybe you canât, Pete, but just watch me.â
Elbowing his way between the others, he strode furiously across the room and disappeared through the archway. Those who remained were silent for some seconds, then Pete Foster said, âHeâll be back.â
âIâm not so sure of that,â Jack Towers said worriedly.
âThe Seagulls are the best chance any of us have of ever beinâ famous,â Pete told him. âSteve knows that as well as I do, anâ he wants to be a success â perhaps more than any of us.â
Woodend lit a cigarette, more to be doing
something than because he needed a smoke. He knew that the scene
he