Free Complicit by Nicci French

fools of ourselves.’
    ‘Aren’t you going to start? I’ve got to be away by five.’
    ‘That’ll be no problem.’
    ‘You’re supposed to be in charge,’ he said. ‘You need to assert yourself from the beginning. Come on, now.’ He clapped his hands in a way that made me feel glad we’d split up and irritated that I’d let him into the band. There was certainly one too many guitars; he was right about that.
    ‘Quiet,’ he continued. ‘Bonnie’s got something to say.’
    There was an ominous silence. I coughed. This was ridiculous. I was used to dealing with thirty hormonal teenagers. I could handle this.
    ‘I’m grateful you all came,’ I said, ‘and grateful to Sally for letting us play here.’ I looked around but Sally had gone. I’d last seen her running out of the room in pursuit of Lola. ‘This is mainly a chance for us to meet up and get to know each other. I thought we could start by having a go with something simple.’
    ‘Have you got any music?’ said Amos.
    ‘We need to talk about what we want to play. Maybe some of you have suggestions. But my first idea is that we could try a tune. I mean a very basic tune that I could play and then everyone can have a go at it on their own instrument. If it works, then it’s a fun thing to dance to and it can go on pretty much indefinitely.’
    There was much bustle as people took instruments out of cases and tuned them. Guy knocked one of his cymbals over. Neal switched on his amp, which resulted in feedback that virtually shook the house. I looked at Hayden. He hadn’t taken his guitar out of its case. In fact, he hadn’t noticeably moved. Was he contemptuous? Amused? Bored? Had he finally realized what he’d got himself into? Well, I’d warned him.
    With trepidation, I took out my banjo. It was crazy but I would hardly have felt less nervous if I’d removed my shirt and bra. The sight of it was greeted with a murmur of surprise.
    ‘What the hell’s that?’ said Amos.
    ‘Are you actually going to play it?’ asked Neal, grinning.
    But Hayden finally stood up and came over to me. He lifted the banjo out of my hands and cradled it as if it were a newborn baby. Then he ran his hands over the strings, releasing a high, delicate sound. He smiled at me. ‘Good,’ he said, and returned to the sofa.
    ‘I’m going to play a tune called “Nashville Blues”. Sorry, Sonia, there are no words to this one.’
    ‘That’s a relief,’ she said, to general laughter.
    ‘Guy,’ I continued, ‘you follow me. You’ll just need brushes. And you, Neal, as well. It should be easy enough for you. Then, when we’re done, maybe someone else can pick up the tune and we’ll see how it goes.’ I fitted the picks onto my fingers and fiddled a bit with the tuning. Then I looked at Neal and Guy. ‘Listen to a few bars and then follow me. OK?’
    One of the things I love about the banjo is that the first note of a tune sound tentative and when you get going it sounds as if a clockwork motor has started and two people are playing at once. As I got into the tune I saw a slow smile coming over Sonia’s face and she began to nod in time. When I got to the end I went into a vamp. Then I looked around. ‘Anybody?’ I said.
    Before anyone else could do anything, Amos stepped forward with his guitar and started to play. It sounded awful, so awful that after a few bars it became literally impossible for anyone to continue and we all ground to a halt in such disarray that everybody was laughing. Amos turned bright red.
    ‘Well, that was interesting,’ I said. ‘And brave. Let’s start again.’ I looked around. ‘Joakim. You have a go.’
    I played through the tune, then looked at him and nodded. He started to play, frowning with concentration, glancing at me. It was all right, not bad, but then he pulled a face, stopped and shook his head. ‘I can’t,’ he said, almost with a scowl. ‘Sorry. I just can’t.’
    ‘It was good,’ said Hayden, from the