Page 78 of Two Hit Wonder

"You're not dead, then," Glinna said when Maeve answered.

"Not yet. Give it time."

"I'll give it nothing. I've got six children trying to kill each other over whose turn it is on the computer and a husband who thinks the solution is to buy another computer, as if that wouldn't just give them more weapons. How's London?"

"Beige."

"Right. Okay. Um, listen, I've got news. The cottage is finished."

Maeve sat up. "Finished finished? Water and everything?"

"Water, electric, walls, roof, the lot. They even fixed that draft in the bathroom you kept complaining about. You can come back whenever you want."

The words settled over her like something she'd been waiting to hear for months. Her cottage. Her hiding place. Her small, safe corner of the world where nothing could touch her. "That's brilliant," she said.

"Is it?" Glinna's voice was carefully neutral. A beige voice. "Because, well, you don't sound as excited as I thought you would."

"I am excited."

"Maeve."

"I am. It's just…" She looked around the beige room. At the guitar on the bed. At the notebook full of crossed-out lines. And she blew out a long breath. "It’s just… I think it might be a while before I can come back. We've got Lakeside in a few weeks, and there's still rehearsals, and…" She ran out of excuses.

"And?" Because Glinna could sniff out an excuse from inside a full wetsuit and scuba mask.

Maeve exhaled. "And… I’m not sure, I mean, I don’t know, but maybe… Maybe it might not be forever. When I do come back, I mean. It might be. I don’t know. But it might not. If… if that’s something you think I could do. Something I might be ready for."

There was a pause. Then Glinna laughed, bright and delighted. "Well, thank Christ for that. I was starting to think you'd die in that cottage and Eejit would eat you and I’d have to have uncomfortable conversations with the local Bobby and then no one would ever rent it again because, well, because you’d have sunk into the bones of the place, I suppose."

"Charming," Maeve said, her heart beating hard. She was nervous about this conversation. Glinna’s opinion meant a lot to her. More than anyone else’s, almost.

"My love, you have nothing to worry about. You know who you are, you know what you can do, and you’re stronger than you’ve ever been before." Her voice softened. "I'm glad, Maeve. Glad for you."

Maeve felt her throat tighten. "I think I can do this," she said. "All of it. The band, the tour, the being a person again. I think that maybe I can actually do it."

"Of course you can. I've been telling you that for years."

"I know. I should have listened sooner."

"Yes, you should have. But you're listening now, and that's what matters." There was a crash in the background and the sound of children shouting. "Right, I need to go before someone loses an eye. Call me. You’re not alone, Maeve. You’re never alone. I’m always right here."

"I will. And Glinna? Thank you. For all of it. For pushing me."

"Someone had to. Now go be a rock star or whatever it is you're doing."

She hung up, and Maeve sat there for a moment, phone in hand, feeling lighter than she had in years.

REHEARSAL THAT AFTERNOON was chaos, and Maeve loved every second of it.

They'd nailed down the final setlist for Lakeside over the past week, arguing over song order and tempo and whether they could get away with playing the bridge of "Midnight Girls" twice because Cam liked the drum fill. They couldn't. Cam sulked for approximately four minutes before getting distracted by her phone, which had been buzzing constantly all day.

"If you check that thing one more time," Ellie said from her spot on the amp, "I'm going to throw it in the Thames."

"You wouldn't."

"I absolutely would. I've got three children. I've thrown worse things in worse places."

Cam clutched her phone protectively. "It's important."