Sapphic Voices Romance

IMAGES

Part One

This is a novel - it builds upon itself. We do not have the beginning, the middle and the end within a few pages. This is a journey - please settle back and enjoy it.

There are a very few mild references to heterosexual sex, some bad language [relevant to the Story] and references to new and old songs - mainly British. I hope my American friends recognise the songs, however.

PROLOGUE

The song reached a crescendo, the drummer stood, legs apart, his sticks a blur. The lead guitarist’s head was thrown back. The singer’s voice screamed out the last note, the sweat on her face spraying across the writhing mass of humanity, known as the mosh pit. The crowd whistled, screamed and shouted. The singer yelled at the sea of faces, visually staccato in the strobe lights.

“That’s it suckers. See you the next fuckin’ time!” The voices yelled their pleasure, as the four jumped from the stage, fingers raised in crude signs.


The band members entered the change rooms, sweat dripping from their faces onto already-soaked clothing.

“They loved us. Man, they loved us!” Storm’s adrenalins were really pumping. She punched the drummer on the arm, “You were great, Cloud. You were really flying out there tonight. I don’t think I could’ve bettered that myself!” The drummer grinned at his sister, knowing that the compliment, though backhanded, was genuine.


“Hey! You guys really stirred them up out there for us. I liked that last song, man. Own composition?” The singer from ‘Desecration’, the top-line band for the night, drawled the question, looking at the four of them through lack-lustre eyes.

“Yeah. Storm wrote it.” Cloud replied with a nod in the direction of their own lead vocalist. The singer’s expression showed a hint of surprise as he turned to look at Storm. His interest quickened as he took in the buttoned linen shirt, open to the waist, showing the cleavage of ample breasts. The sweat had contrived to make the shirt almost see-through and the singer’s eyes were riveted to the dark outline of erect nipples.

“What’re you doing after the gig, sweetheart? Want to be shown a real good time?” Storm’s eyes drifted down from the singer’s face, past the narrow shoulders and flat stomach coming to rest on the slight bulge to one side of his fly. Her eyes still on the stirring mound, she took a step towards the singer.

“That sounds like a good idea, lover-boy. That is, if that thing ever get angry!” her finger pointed to the swelling in the singer’s pants.

“Hey! Hang on just a minute Storm. Tonight’s mine, remember?” Kenny’s face looked thunderous.

“Oh yeah. That’s cool Kenny. I forgot. Sorry pal.” she turned back to the singer, “Tonight’s off! Maybe some other time.” Her hand brushed his groin as she turned towards Kenny. “Sorry, Kenny. You won’t be disappointed, honey.”


‘Desecration’ got their cue to go on stage and left the change room to the relief of both Storm and Kenny.

“Thanks, pal. Yet again, I owe you!” Storm brushed a kiss on Kenny’s cheek. She looked at his worried face, “What’s the matter, Kenny? It’s not that idiot is it?”

“No, of course not, Storm. Those baboons don’t worry me.” He looked around at the other three. “That was pretty gross tonight. Did you hear those young kids shouting out? Things like ‘Kill all Kykes!’ ‘Gas them all!’ and all the rest. I hate it, guys. I hate stirring them up to hatred and violence.”


Storm put a hand on Kenny’s arm, soothing him.

“C’mon, Kenny. It’s not just us. They’ve got all that hatred inside them already. Maybe it helps to release it in this way.”

“No! It can’t help them. Seeing Jim in his stormtroopers uniform just makes them think we sympathise with them. I don’t like it! I don’t like being called ‘Stormtroopers’ either!”

“Hey, hang on a minute, you agreed to the name as well!” Storm was beginning to lose her temper.


The sounds of a commotion, which had been filtering in from the dance floor, got more pronounced. Sounds that didn’t seem quite right. The screaming was different and the shouting sounded part threatening and part frightened. The shrieking of sirens joined the discord. The four Stormtroopers looked at each other. Jim was the first to break the silence.

“Well,” he drawled “it doesn’t appear to be a fire. I guess we’ll hear soon enough what it’s all about. Button it, you two. Argue about it tomorrow. I’m knackered. I’m out of here. See y’all tomorrow.”

Before Jim could leave, one of the bouncers came into the change room and told them there’d been a bit of a rumpus out on the floor.

“A Jewboy got sliced. Someone managed to get a blade in here. Police have collared the dickhead what done it. Serve the bastard right. Got us all in the shit. Ambulance has picked up the Jewboy.”

“How bad was he hurt?” Kenny wanted to know.

“Fucked if I know. Shitloads of blood everywhere but. Don’t think he’ll kark it; screaming his head off, he was. I don’t suppose you guys’d worry if there’s one kyke less, eh!”


Kenny’s face was pale. He threw a glance in Storm’s direction before turning to the others.

“I want a meeting in the next day or so. This can’t go on. I’ll come with you Jim, I don’t feel like partying.” He turned away, grabbed his jacket and, head lowered, he left the room.

Chapter 1

Storm was last to arrive at Kenny’s house and immediately got the feeling that discussions had already been under way and decisions made.

“Hi, guys. What’ve you all decided then? Am I allowed to know?” Sarcasm dripped from her. Cloud tried to pacify her, “C’mon sis, you know we wouldn’t decide anything without you. Just listen for a moment about my thoughts on this. Come on Storm. Just for me, hey?” Storm smiled, to acknowledge the cajolery in his tone. She grabbed a coke and sat on a vacant stool, shoulders set. Cloud ruffled her hair.

“I think our name is inflammatory. I’d like to change it.” He took a deep breath. “And, while we’re at it, I’d like us to change our image, our music, our direction our ….” He saw the darkening look on his sister’s face and pre-empted her protests. “I know we tried other music once and it didn’t work: but we were younger then, not as good musically. I know we’ve been pretty successful as we are now.” Storm couldn’t help but interject, “Too bloody right we’ve been successful. We’ve done two ‘Big Day Out’ gigs. Only the best local talent gets that invite!”

“I know, I know! But that’s only one section, only the young kids. I think we should aim more at an older age. You know we can play the music. For God’s sake, half of our rehearsal time goes into playing the old sixties songs, or some of your other compositions. Come on, Storm. Just think about it. Now is the time to change. Soon it’ll be too late.”

Storm’s chin was thrust out. She wasn’t convinced.

“It’s too late now, Cloud. We’re established. They like us as we are. If we change, we’ll lose the ones that like us and we’ll have to start right from the beginning with all the others. How can we change our image? Fuckin' impossible!”

“No; it’s not, Storm.” Kenny’s tone was quiet in comparison to Storm’s rising voice. “There is a way, kiddo. There’s this agency. They're called ‘Self-Image’. They specialise in changing a person’s image.” Storm snorted, unimpressed.

“It’s a bloody sight easier to change a person’s image than a rock band’s image. Come on, Kenny, have they ever worked with a rock band?”

“No but…..”

“Exactly!”


Kenny chose his words with care. He knew Storm well, so he knew her tendency to argue for the sake of it. He wanted to diffuse the animosity.

“Storm, let’s just talk this over huh? We can all have our say. How about if we just get someone from the agency to talk to us. You know Aaron Styles and his mates?” At Storm’s nod, he continued. “You know their aim is to get to the Olympics? Well, the Sports Institute has got this firm in to advise on the image needed for very visible athletes. In fact, Aaron was telling me that the boss of this agency has just taken on the job as their manager. It’s a bit of a trial, as she hasn’t done that sort of thing before but they’re willing to take a chance. That’s all I’m asking for – just give them a chance.”


Storm looked at Kenny, then at Cloud and finally at Jim.

“I suppose you’ve already decided on this, have you? Even you, Jim? After all, you were the one who thought of the idea of wearing the uniform.” Jim grinned; delighting, as always, in disagreeing with her.

“I think it’s a great idea, sweetheart.” Storm flinched at the inflammatory, sexist term but refrained from being drawn into the normal argument.

“So; I presume we’re going to vote on it?” The nods confirmed her flat comment. “OK, all in favour.” Jim’s hand shot up. Kenny lifted a finger and Cloud smiled compassionately at the stormy face of his sister and nodded his head.


“Sorry, love but I think it’s necessary.”

“All those against?” Storm put her hand up high. “I think the whole thing stinks and we’re going to lose everything. You’ve won the vote, so I’ll give it a go. We have another vote though, after we’ve talked to this agency thing. Right?” They agreed and Kenny said he’d organise the meeting with someone from the agency.


Storm waited for Cloud and Jim to go and then settled down on the old armchair, glaring into space. Her wintry eyes turned towards Kenny.

“Do you really think this thing has a chance? I think we’re just going to lose everything!” Kenny went over to her and sat on the arm of the chair. He stroked her short hair, knowing how much she needed approbation and love. She always needed people to like her and, if they showed that they didn’t, she could be outrageous. Her attitude of ‘take me as I am – or stuff you’ was pronounced and had gained her many enemies.


Kenny knew that Storm’s childhood had had very little love in it and had been the sole cause of her current attitude. Cloud had been her only avenue to compassion and love within her family. Never having the chance to know her father well, Storm was constantly rejected by her pleasure loving mother. When Storm had tried to be a good child, an obedient daughter, her mother had sneered at her and called her ‘Miss Goody-Goody’. When she’d tried to please her mother, she’d been pushed aside for whichever man was on the scene at the time.


Storm had learned that only outrageous behaviour on her part would win any sort of approval from her mother. She’d cultivated a rebellious attitude and, though it disgusted her at times, she’d been gratified by a smile, occasionally, from her mother. A product of the sixties, her mother had always felt that the world, as well as her ex-husband, owed her a living. She clung to the hippy-type lifestyle of her youth and was generally in a smoke-filled haze with an occasional foray into other designer drugs.


Kenny had met Storm when she was thirteen and they’d gravitated to one another. Their love of music bonded them and Storm spent hours on end teaching Kenny the old sixties hits. These songs had been the most important things in her life. They’d been her lifeline. She’d spent hours and hours tucked away in her own room, letting the beat of the tunes drown out her mother’s drunken activities.


Kenny bent down to kiss Storm’s brow, soothing, calming.

“Give it a try, love. I really think we can do it.” Storm pulled a face but nodded slowly. A glint of mischief came into her eyes as she started humming a tune. Kenny listened awhile then laughed.

“The King’s ‘Devil in disguise’ no less. I’m honoured.” He thought for a while, “OK then;” and he started humming, before singing softly,

“You’re just a devil woman
with evil on her mind
beware the devil woman
she’s gonna get you - get you - get you.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Storm was determined to have the last word.

Chapter 2

Storm refused to struggle and break away from the unwanted caresses. She whispered through gritted teeth at the man, whose arms circled her, smothering her. ‘If you don’t get your hands off me this bloody minute, you’re gonna be swallowing your testicles any time now!’

“But you said …..”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said. I’m not in the mood now.”


They glared at each other, his arms still around her.

“Excuse me” a glacial voice from behind them, “I would like to use the lift”. Storm turned her icy stare from the man and found herself face to face with a woman dressed in business clothes. In the small confines of the car park lift lobby, the woman made it clear that she expected the couple to part to allow her to call for a lift.


In sheer perversity at the woman’s disapproving expression, Storm wound her arms around the man’s neck, pulling his face down to her own.

“Thank you for a wonderful night, er… Brent. I’ll see myself up from here.” Ignoring the bemused look on the man’s face she turned her back to him, punching the ‘up’ button.


The woman entered the lift behind her, the stiff, straight spine indicating her pique at Storm’s lack of manners. Storm, aggravated by the woman’s silent criticism, stretched her arms high above her head, showing an expanse of bare midriff.

“Nothing like a good man to get the day off to a great start. What d’ya reckon?” The woman didn’t look impressed with the performance.

“Really?” was said in a dry tone, the deep voice frosty cool. “Which floor?” She pressed five for herself and then four in response to Storm’s answer. Storm looked sideways at the woman’s profile. ‘A real cold-arse here. Stiff as a poker. Pity I haven’t got time to stir up her coals some more!’


The lift doors slid open to reveal a hallway with lush, red carpet, paintings adorning the walls and a basket of flowers on a stand opposite the lift door, welcoming visitors. Forgetting her erstwhile lift companion, Storm stepped out and looked around with pleasure, her senses touched by the decor. She breathed in the scent of fresh flowers and vowed that, some day, she would have an office, or a floor, in a building such as this.


She made her way to the door which announced that ‘Self Image’ was within. She pushed open the heavy door to find a reception area, with the impeccably dressed, smiling receptionist ready to welcome her and lead her into a large, well-furnished room where the rest of the band waited for her. She sat on the arm of the ‘old gold’ leather armchair that Kenny was relaxing in. She remembered the man she had just left.

“Bloody man kept pawing me.” she complained to Kenny, he laughed, “Shit, Storm! You do have to expect that sometimes, the way you lead them on.” She screwed up her face, with distaste.

“Why can’t they all be like you, my love?” she lamented, as she slid down onto his knee. She wound her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose into his long black hair, breathing in the scent of his cologne, feeling safe and secure.


The door opened and Storm took in the calf length skirt and tailored jacket before her glance slid up to the slightly familiar face. She puzzled for a while until the green eyes met her own and she recognised the woman in the lift. The slight widening of those clear eyes was the only sign of recognition shown, as the woman crossed the room in a smooth motion.

“Good morning. I apologise for being a little late. I hope you’ve made yourselves comfortable.” Not even a flicker in the direction of the couple lounging on the plush chair. “My name is Kathryn Lansdown and it will be my pleasure to see if we can work together towards the goal that you’ve set yourselves.” A slight smile as her glance encompassed the four visitors. Cloud stood and made the appropriate introductions.


“Before we start; who would like a coffee?” Amid a chorus of ‘Yes, please’ and ‘That’d be great’ Storm’s voice was clear, with a hint of belligerence, “A cup of tea’d be better.” Kathryn acknowledged this with a nod and, going behind the large solid desk, pressed the intercom switch.

“Miranda; would you be able to bring us three coffees and…” she paused, her eyes on Storm, “two teas please. Thank you.” somewhat deflating Storm’s contrariness by her own choice of drink.


The hot drinks duly arrived and Kathryn poured, adding the cream and sugar as requested. A slightly uncomfortable Kenny gave Storm a slight push.

“Up you get love. Let me drink my coffee.” Storm stood up and collected her tea from the embossed, silver tray before wandering over to savour the view of the city from the full length windows. The building being situated on the heights of West Perth, the view was magnificent, taking in the blue expanse of the Swan River, surrounding what was generally referred to as the ‘Pretty City’. She turned and glanced back around the spacious office, noting that the décors and furnishings gave no hint as to the character of the current occupant.


“All right.” Kathryn started the business side of the meeting. “Let’s see if I have the facts right. You are interested in changing your image to reach a wider audience than you have at present. You also want to change your name from the possibly inflammable ‘Stormtroopers’.” Cloud answered as designated spokesperson. He explained that they wanted to move away from the heavy rock and alternative sound, into more commercial music.


They discussed the aims of the band in general, with Kenny and Jim interjecting with their views. Kathryn listened thoughtfully and watched the three male members of the band as they talked. Storm was ranging about the room, sometimes wandering behind Kathryn's chair. She was noticeably quiet, not having any input in the other band members’ dreams.


“Is this the view and the goal of all of you?” Kathryn needed to know. Cloud looked at Storm before answering, “It’s the majority decision of the band to listen to your suggestions before committing ourselves fully.” Kathryn was pensive, her face giving nothing away.

“You know my company hasn’t tackled this particular task before. I must admit that it is only my own interest in music that has tempted me to try such an undertaking. Before I commit to anything I feel I need to see, or rather hear, you perform. I do admit to not having heard of your band, or heard you play.”


As Kathryn was talking, Storm had moved slightly closer from behind. She started humming and then softly singing the words of a song.

‘Thought you were a clever girl
giving up the social whirl
you can’t come back
be the first in line’

Kathryn ignored the voice, “I’d like to come, to listen to you rehearse if possible: try to get a feel of your musical abilities.”

‘You’re obsolete my baby
my poor old-fashioned baby
I said baby, baby, baby
you’re out of time’

Kathryn turned her chair round so she could face Storm.

“Could we leave Chris Farlowe to another time do you think?” she smiled as she saw the surprise on Storm’s face at her knowledge of the artist’s name. She tried to bridge the gap that Storm’s animosity had created, “Tell me: Are they your real names – Cloud and Storm?”

“Sure are. Our mother was a bit ….”

“Too right they are. Do you have a problem with that?” Storm interrupted her brother’s explanation.

“No, not at all.” Kathryn turned back to the men. “I was just wondering, as the names are authentic, whether you’d considered ‘Stormclouds’ as a name? You probably have, of course.” She saw Cloud’s head tip to one side as he considered the name.

“Actually, we didn’t think of any other name. Stormtroopers was the first suggestion and it sounded good, so we went with it.” He turned to Jim and Kenny. “What do you guys reckon? You know Storm and I don’t want to push ourselves forward.”


Kenny said he thought it was a great name. Jim said it sounded fine to him. They all looked at Storm, who had originally suggested ‘Stormtroopers’. Her face was closed as she shrugged and turned to Kathryn.

“We’ll discuss it, as well as other names, when we’re alone. Along with your other suggestions of course. By the way,” she smiled sweetly at Kathryn, “what makes you think you can make any sort of judgement of our music? It’s not likely that our music will correspond to the music that you’d probably like.” Kathryn turned her chair once more to fully face Storm.

“I think my general knowledge of music will be able to recognise ability and talent of any genre.” Kathryn’s voice was cool. It warmed as she turned back to the men. “Would you allow me to attend…

‘You’re obsolete my baby
my poor old-fashioned baby’

a rehearsal…

‘I said baby, baby, baby
you’re out of time’

in the near future? Then we can continue our talks.”


They made arrangements to meet two days hence at the rehearsal studio and the band prepared to take their leave.

“I look forward to seeing you all again, then.” Kathryn’s practised smile encompassed them all.

***

As Kathryn closed the door on her prospective clients her expression changed to one of thoughtfulness as she pondered the challenge. She wondered if she would be able to deal with Storm’s obvious animosity. She knew very well, from personal experience, that for anyone to change, they really had to want to. The true secret was seeing the exact way one must adapt, having a clear goal in mind and planning the changes methodically. She thought again about Storm and her lip curled slightly. Storm was just the type of frivolous, thoughtless woman that she despised. Spend the night with one man, then be all over her regular boyfriend. If she were to be at all successful at changing their image, then changing Storm’s off stage behaviour would be the most essential and the most difficult.


Kathryn’s own gut feeling was that she shouldn’t take the job. In a way Storm was right, her appreciation of alternate, hard rock was much less than her love of current, popular music, classical music and, her favourite, the old sixties music. She thought she would be able to show an objectivity but had the feeling that their talent would not stretch to changing styles. She hesitated to write them off completely though, the memory of the tuneful, slightly husky, voice was still with her. ‘Fancy a young girl like that knowing Chris Farlowe’s ‘Out of Time’: never mind bringing it to mind so cleverly at so apt a moment, however rude and bad-mannered.’


Kathryn mentally shrugged before her thoughts left the band and switched to her next appointment with Jonathon Reece, the owner of a small chain of hotels. She massaged her neck, relaxing the tight muscles; wondering, with anticipation, what Jon’s visit would be about. Jonathon was a good friend and had, in the past, been a great help in building up her business; especially in its infancy and developing years. After having dealings with him when she was booking seminars at the hotel he was working for, he had approached her agency three years ago with an unusual proposal. He had asked for her, personally, to act as consultant for the small hotel that he was building in Perth. He wanted her to develop the image of the hotel before it was even built; to set the right tone.


Her company had been growing in the three years that had preceded that offer. It had evolved from a one person agency, specialising in lecturing and giving seminars on image changing in the business world; to a small business with a staff of five. She had already started to expand into the more high-priced individual image making when Jonathon had approached her with his ambitious proposal.


She had looked on Jonathon’s proposition as a huge challenge and, after finalising some of her own personal clients, had left her staff to run the day to day aspects of the agency, while she had thrown herself into the six month consultancy contract.


It was now history that the Crown hotel had become a resounding success and Kathryn’s influence on furnishings, room amenities and even entertainment in the small night-club was substantial. She had been able to use all her past experience of hotel management in Melbourne, six years prior to Jonathon’s request. Kathryn’s reputation had flourished as a direct result of the success of the Crown hotel.


Kathryn rang through to her secretary.

“Oh, Miranda. When Mr. Reece arrives, could you ask him to come straight in. Also could you put a note in my diary for 4 p.m. on Thursday.” Her thoughts briefly returned to Storm McInnes's well-named, stormy face. “Just jot down ‘Stormclouds - Beaufort St. Mt. Lawley’. Thank you, Miranda.”


While Kathryn looked forward to his arrival, she remembered how, early on in the previous year, she had waited with just such pleased anticipation for Jonathon’s appointment time. The reason for that visit had surprised and excited her. Jonathon had wanted her to go to Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe for a three month consultancy contract to oversee the fitting out of his second hotel which had just been built. He had wanted her to emulate her work at the Perth Crown hotel, keeping in mind the local flavour and ambience. At 35 years of age and being, by choice, single and emotionally unattached, Kathryn had agreed to Jonathon’s suggestion; and hadn’t regretted the decision for one minute.


Her three months in Harare had been idyllic and, with the help of the hotel manager, David Torrance, she had made Harare’s Crown Hotel as big a success as the Perth hotel. Her mouth curled into a smile as she thought about David and how close they’d become, confiding in him as she had with nobody else. They had seemed to connect with each other and she had loved to go out dancing with him in the warm Zimbabwean evenings. They had both been sad when it had been time for her to return to Perth.


Kathryn knew that she would have to refuse any similar commission, if that was Jonathon’s intent. She preferred to stay in Perth with as small a work-load as possible at present. Kathryn had some tentative plans and these had recently been growing in her mind. She had been contemplating finally putting pen to paper and trying to write a follow-up to her first moderately successful book, ‘How not to lose a business!’. The proceeds of this first book had set her up in business when she’d arrived in Perth in 1993, soon after her 30th birthday. It was slightly ironic that, at the time of writing this first-up book, she had been recovering from having lost a three year old business. She had also been learning how to be alone again after the simultaneous ending of a three year relationship. She was now toying with the idea of another book; this time on the back of a very successful business venture.

***

The opening of the door interrupted her reverie and she smiled in greeting as she stood and moved from behind her desk to greet Jonathon. Her hands were outstretched in welcome and Jonathon enveloped them with his own big, warm hands.

“Jon, it’s so nice to see you. You’re looking very well.” Jon’s smile lit his large, handsome face as he bent his head to kiss Kathryn’s cheek.

“You, my love, are as beautiful as usual. Marry me!” Kathryn laughed at the standing joke, knowing that Jon and Jenny were blissfully happy in this, their second year of married life.

“You know very well how lucky you are that I refused your so-kind offer three years ago. How is Jen? I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. You’ll have to come over to dinner.” Jonathon’s smile turned into a leer. “Both of you, I mean!” she admonished with a grin.


They settled into the comfortable armchairs, sipping the coffee that Miranda had brought in, unasked. They caught up with news of mutual friends, sharing some minor gossip, until Jonathon put down his coffee cup with purpose.

“And so to business, my love. Have you heard from David lately?”

“I got a quick scrawl a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t answered it yet, I’m afraid. Why? Is there a problem?” Kathryn was concerned.

“No, no problem. He’s been having a little trouble booking overseas acts for the ‘Coronet’ bar, that’s all. Most of the acts are too expensive for his budget and, while the local acts are superb as you know, the international flavour of the hotel demands international acts. His suggestion to me was that we ask you to come on board again, as our Australian agent, for acquiring performers from both here and the Eastern States. With your previous experience of booking entertainers, both when you were in Melbourne and when we were setting up the Crown here, he was hoping that you’d still have some contacts. Needless to say, I’m completely in agreement with him. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. What do you think?”


Kathryn had listened with keen interest at Jon’s proposal, even as her mind filed and sorted all her possible contacts. She was tempted by the offer. The music industry was a field that had always fascinated her and, during the times that she had touched the periphery of it, she had sensed and been drawn to the excitement.

“I can’t deny it’s tempting, Jon. However, I have almost made the decision to take time off to write the book you’ve all been nagging me about. I was going to keep on with a couple of special little projects, like the handling of the West Australian athletes in line for the Olympics; but they will only take a few hours a week. I could keep my ears open and approach some of the local agents that I still see occasionally but I don’t think I could take it on officially, my love.” Her tone was apologetic, as she was genuinely sorry to have to say ‘no’. “Is there any particular time that he’s short of an act?” Jon looked at the notebook he’d brought along.

“It seems like the main problem is a three week slot next month. The nineteenth of October through to the tenth of November.” He looked at his watch, ‘It’s the tenth of September today, that’s - what? five weeks on Saturday.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what: I’ll undertake to get you an act for those three weeks; but after that, I’m afraid you’re on your own. Sound fair?”

“More than fair, Kath. As always. OK, so what’s the book about then?” Business finished, Jon was curious.

“I’m not quite sure.” Kathryn laughed. “I know it’s about the changing of an image but I’m not quite sure of the direction it will take yet. I’m looking for a specific; but I haven't quite got what I want yet. I intend to go back over my old files and look for something unique. That’s why I need the free time. Background and research for these kind of books take the most time. If I could meet someone special now and be able to take specific notes it would be much easier. I was contemplating the athletes, wondering if I could work with that but it’s not quite right.” Her frown of concentration cleared, the slight creases in her forehead smoothed away. ‘Don’t get me started, Jon. I’d go on for ever!”


They talked a little more before Jon rose, stretching his long legs, towering over Kathryn.

“Thanks for listening to our proposal anyway, Kath. Jen and I will see you soon, hopefully.” He bent over to kiss Kathryn’s cheek, aware of the faint scent of expensive perfume. Always perfectly coifed, make-up expertly applied, Kathryn exuded class and good taste. He wondered, for the thousandth time, how she would look flushed and dishevelled from lovemaking. Someone, someday was sure to see. He hoped, for her sake, that it wouldn’t be long. He wanted to see her as happy as he was with his Jen. He had thought for a while that David and her would make a go of it, as their closeness had been evident but they had remained friends only.


Kathryn saw the searching look that Jon gave her, knowing instinctively the direction of his thoughts.

“Oh, get on with you, Jon! I’m quite happy as I am. Now, off you go; I have a luncheon appointment.” She laughed at Jon’s raised eyebrows. “He’s nineteen and pimply.” she saw Jonathon to the door. “He sure can run, though.”

Chapter 3

It was a miserable day. The heavy, metal-grey clouds occasionally overflowed, dumping their contents onto the suburbs of Perth when Kathryn arrived at the studio in Mt. Lawley at 3.50 on Thursday afternoon. Cloud had told her that they practised from three until five and, if she came at four o’clock, they would have had the chance to tune up and warm up first before showing her their repertoire.

Kathryn shivered a little as she entered through the heavy, sound-proofed outer door and paused in the small ante room, hesitating before opening the door to the studio proper. She thought with annoyance that maybe she’d mixed up her dates, because it definitely didn’t seem to be ‘Stormclouds’ she could hear playing from inside the studio. At first she thought it was a tape, until she realised that it wasn’t any version that she’d ever heard of ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’.


The strong female voice rang out,

‘…..that too many people have died’ The voice softened, almost to a whisper.
‘the answer my friend
is blowin’ in the wind
the answer
is blowin’ in the wind’


The lump in Kathryn’s throat was testament to the emotion that was put into the last verse of the song. As the final chords died away, she put her hand on the door to leave, only to stay the motion as she heard Storm’s unmistakable voice, through the inner door.

“OK, no more of that shit, hey guys? Let’s get things rolling; Ms. High and Mighty will be here any moment. Jim, let’s roll with ‘Young, Free then Dead’. OK? Ready Cloud, Kenny?”


The opening bars were played of a song Kathryn had never heard. The drums took up the beat and the voice she had just heard caressing the lyrics of a classic song, joined in, almost screaming the first line. Most of the words were unintelligible and, when Kathryn pushed open the door, she understood the reason why. The microphone was pressed so close up to Storm’s mouth, it allowed almost no movement of the lips, the words running in to one another.


Kathryn was noticed but not acknowledged by the members of the band. They rolled from one song to the next, some unknown and some barely recognisable to Kathryn. She watched the gyrations of Storm’s body and slowly came to recognise that, though the lyrics of most of the songs were crude, inflammable and often endorsing suicide, she exuded a sexiness that belied the words.


Kathryn could feel the beat bouncing off the walls, through the floor and into her chest. The pounding was hypnotic and she had to force her mind from its pulse and on to the individual talents of the members of the band. Cloud’s performance on the drums appeared dynamic, though Kathryn’s lack of knowledge didn’t allow her to notice any possible mistakes. Jim, on the lead guitar, seemed talented and, when he did a guitar solo, he also appeared to perform it flawlessly. Kenny, on bass, looked laid back and very handsome. She could imagine him being a draw-card for his looks alone.


Kathryn’s eyes kept straying, involuntarily, to the lead singer who delivered each song with passion and energy. She got the impression that Storm was ‘in the zone’ as the saying went; and not aware, after the first glance, of Kathryn even being there. Kathryn wondered if Storm was on any drugs, amphetamines maybe, as her energy appeared boundless. She knew that drugs were a big part of the music scene and accepted that it was probable that they took something. She only hoped it wasn’t too regular and that they had it under control.


Kathryn became aware, with a surge of surprise, that all of her thinking was being directed towards an acceptance of the challenge. She wasn’t quite sure when the decision had been made; but she knew that Storm’s rendition of ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ would’ve been a big influence. It had showed that Storm, at least, had the capacity to vary her singing style and, if the overheard song was anything to go by, the slower, ballad type songs would suit her very well. She watched Storm again and a rogue thought flashed through her mind, that it would be a pity to douse Storm’s present, raunchy performance completely. It was exciting and somehow intoxicating.


The band wound up their last song and Kathryn glanced at her watch, surprised to see that it was close to five o’clock. Cloud approached her, a grin on his perspiring face, his T-shirt sticking to his chest and shoulders. If this is what they were like in cool surroundings with no lights, Kathryn wondered how their constitution could possibly cope with a steamy night-club and strong, hot lights.

“We have to be out of here by five” Cloud told her, “Did you want to talk now, or leave it until another day?” Without waiting for a reply, he continued, “Kenny’s pad is just round the corner.” He couldn’t quite keep the eagerness out of his voice. Kathryn smiled her reassurance, “I’ve finished for the day so, if it’s all right with the others, it would be really good to get some of the decisions out of the way and…"Kathryn saw the young singer approach from the corner of her eye, “you can tell me what you have all decided.” She added with tact.


Out once more in the cold and wet, Kathryn followed Cloud’s directions to Kenny’s unit, picking up a couple of bottles of wine from a liquor-store on the way. She parked on the road outside the modern, well cared for unit and walked through the small, pretty courtyard, to the door. The hum of conversation stopped as she knocked and walked in. She guessed that she had been the main topic but refrained from comment. She noticed they’d all changed into dry T-shirts which pleased her, as an unlooked for maternal instinct had come to the fore, fearing that they’d all catch pneumonia with the cool air on wet T-shirts. She offered up the wine as her contribution, wanting to indicate to the band that these talks were informal and friendly.


The background music, from the radio housed in the impressive music centre, indicated they were tuned into the local station that played sixties and seventies music. As Cloud opened the wine and Kenny and Jim had a discussion on a piece of music Kenny had written, Kathryn glanced around the tastefully furnished lounge, humming along with the current song.

‘When I woke up this morning
you were on my mi..i..i..ind
I said, you were on my mind
I got troubles whoh-whoh
I got worries whoh-whoh…..’ Storm refused the proffered wine, as she looked over at Kathryn.

“Who sang this one then?” she challenged. Kathryn answered, without breaking the beat.

“Crispian St. Peters.” Storm looked surprised and a little aggrieved.

“I only know the British ones.” Kathryn explained apologetically. ‘I wouldn’t know many of your Aussie ones. I was brought up in England with two older sisters who played music all the time when I was small. I loved it then – still do.”

“All the songs I know are from Pommy land anyway.” Storm’s tone was careless. “My mum had them all on LPs. I learnt them all.” Kathryn was pleased with the slight break-through of Storm’s reserve and took it a step further by teasing her.

“I’ll have to see if you know some of my more obscure artists and songs.”

“Yeah, anytime. I bet I do!”


Kenny broke in to get the discussion back on track by asking Kathryn outright what she’d thought of the band’s playing.

“Well: as I said, I’m not completely up on that type of music and the majority of it was in the style you’re trying to leave behind. I think, however, that there’s an ability there and, if you’re willing to give it a good try, my opinion is that it’ll be possible to change the style.” Kathryn was careful not to say the word ‘improve’. “I would be willing to give my advice as to the things you’d need to change, enhance and maybe lose.”


“How would you go about all that?” Storm’s eyes, looking into hers, were alert and interested.

“Firstly, I really need to know if we’ve got an agreement here. I need a commitment – from all of you.” This last was said with a glance at Storm. “There’s no point going into this half-cocked you know. It has to be all or nothing and …. I really need your trust here.”


Kenny was the first to agree to Kathryn’s terms. Jim and Cloud, with differing glances at Storm, also agreed. All eyes were on Storm.

“It’s everyone or not at all.” Kathryn’s voice was gentle, “I really need your voluntary co-operation on this, Storm.”

“Would I be able to make suggestions? Have my say? Or is it totally autocratic?” Storm demanded to know, a trace of belligerence still in her tone.

“Yes, you could make suggestions. I would discuss all changes with all of you and give my advice on what should be done. If you don’t like it, we’d discuss it some more and maybe compromise. You do have to be prepared to evaluate my suggestions though and not dismiss them out of hand.” Kathryn wanted the cards on the table from the start. Storm shrugged.

“Oh, well – that appears OK. Go for it, then. Now – back to my first question. How will you go about it?”


Kathryn outlined her plans, starting with the suggestion that she organise to video their next gig. She wanted them to perform exactly as they normally did, explaining that she needed to see a live performance to get a benchmark and have it on tape to be able to evaluate it.

“Once I’ve got a handle on some changes, I’ll have to watch some rehearsals and we’ll talk about the type of songs for you to work with. I’ll look at your clothes, your body language on stage and the image you portray off-stage. If you become the success we’re aiming at, your off-stage image will be very important.


I presume you haven’t got a manager as yet. You’ll need one, you know. You'll need someone who will know which gigs are right for you. Which songs you’ll send to record companies – and when.”


Storm made no comment and the men were a bit hesitant about the suggestion, saying that Storm had always done the management work; their booking and book-keeping etc. and they were happy with this arrangement.

“Well, think about it a bit. Hopefully we’ll be making Storm so busy that she won’t have time to do all that as well. Until then, however: Storm, as designated manager, could you pop by the office tomorrow afternoon sometime and I’ll have the paperwork ready for you to take away and everyone can look at it; then, hopefully, sign?”


They finished the wine and Kathryn said her good-byes, going into the evening chill, leaving the other four to talk. Cloud asked Storm what she really thought about it but she was non-committal.

“It’ll depend what she wants to change, won’t it?”

Chapter 4

The music was too loud for conversation between Kathryn and the cameraman and she was glad of their knowledge of each other and that the makeshift sign work seemed to be working. The ‘Stormtroopers’ were due on stage at any minute and Reg indicated that all was in readiness.

Kathryn looked down from their elevated position on the mass of young humanity that heaved below them. Not for anything would she be that young again, she reflected. Reg Hoskins caught her eye and grimaced his agreement to her unspoken thought.

The small stage was in darkness, the band’s equipment already there, high up, out of reach of the crowd. Reg was under instructions to turn the camera predominantly on the band, with a pan of the dancers on occasions to see their reactions. Kathryn watched the undulating crowd standing, dancing, swaying; and she wondered where they found the beat in this type of music. She, herself, couldn’t pick up any noticeable rhythm; and she loved to dance.

Her thoughts were still on the vagaries of youth when she saw the shadows of the four band-members climb the short flight of steps. They set up in position as Kathryn gave Reg the nod to start rolling. The song the DJ was currently playing, wound down to silence. The first chord of the lead guitarist put the previous decibel level in the shade, the sheer magnitude of noise that was generated prompted Reg to reach for his earplugs. A spotlight came on, pinpointing Jim in its glare. His Stormtroopers uniform and helmet was vivid in the naked light and the mass yelled their approval. Cloud joined in on the drums and the spotlight searched for and found him; standing, legs akimbo, putting his all into the opening bars of this, their first number. Kathryn found she was waiting, impatiently, for the spotlight to spear Storm and, when it did, she released the air in her lungs with a sigh. ‘What a build-up!’ She reflected, ‘We’ll have to keep something similar. But quieter!’

Kathryn watched the first few songs, her ears becoming accustomed – ‘or benumbed!’ her mind said – to the noise level. She was fascinated by the bright green laser lights, which made patterns and tunnels in the air above the dancers’ heads. Her mind wandered a little, knowing that she would be able to watch and evaluate the band’s performance in the quietude of work, or her home. She remembered back a week or so when Storm had come into her office to collect the papers. She had made them up as simply as possible and she briefly explained the points to Storm, being gratified at the younger woman’s quick grasp and obvious understanding of them. Storm had looked at Kathryn’s name at the top of the document.

“Hey!” Storm had laughed, “Your initials are K D. There’s a singer called….”

“Yes, I know. kd lang.” Kathryn had grimaced. “I’ll never live it down; and, I’ll tell you now, before you find out anyway -- my second name is also Dawn!”

“Hey, that’s wicked. – ‘kd lansdown’ eh?” Kathryn had enjoyed the sound of her amusement. As she’d left, that day, she’d said, “See you later then, kd. I’ll sing one of your songs for you, the next time you come to rehearsal.” Kathryn looked forward to it, as kd lang was a favourite of hers and she had a feeling that Storm would be able to do justice to her songs.


Kathryn’s mind reluctantly left behind the sound of Storm’s amusement as her attention came back to the noise around her; the warm, thick smell of humanity assailing her senses. She became aware of some of the words forcing their way above the band’s music to her. She heard the vicious taunts aimed at the Jewish people. She heard the words of death and torture and was sickened at the concept that was brought vividly to mind. She noted that the band wasn’t actively encouraging them in their race hatred but the words of the songs all seemed to be about death, suicide or similar and the Stormtroopers uniform seemed to be a kind of endorsement of the crowd’s feelings. Storm took off her shirt, revealing a skimpy T-shirt that failed to fully cover her ample breasts and Kathryn was surprised to see the cartoon drawing, on the front, of a little boy and girl kissing. The inscription that read ‘I think you’re cute’ made Kathryn smile. The song finished in a crescendo and Storm turned round, arms and legs apart, clearly showing the writing on the back of the T-shirt, ‘WANNA FUCK?’ Kathryn’s generous mouth tightened as the roar from the crowd was encouraged by a gyrating Storm, hands on her thighs while she undulated her hips in a suggestive motion. Storm knelt, a lock of her bleached blonde hair falling across one eye. She leaned towards the crowd, the microphone up against her mouth and, sex oozing from every pore, whispered.

“Who thinks they’re man enough for me?” The male voices rose in a chorus of crude comments and gestures. Storm stood up, shouting out, “Well, just fuck the lot of you! Wankers!”

***

One man in the seething mass didn’t respond to Storm’s inflammatory comments. His body didn’t move but his eyes devoured her every movement.

***

Kathryn was bemused that Storm’s aggressive and insulting behaviour actually seemed to please the swaying mass. She shook her head slightly at the contrariness of youth before shrugging her shoulders.


Kenny, the bass guitarist, played a riff and the other instruments joined in. Kathryn was surprised to recognise Shania Twain’s ‘Man! I feel like a woman’ as she hadn’t heard them practice it. Having something to actually compare it with, on this occasion, she settled down to listen. She was impressed with the rendition, liking Storm’s slightly less raucous performance. She did notice that the band seemed to lose some of the crowd’s attention and realised that this music wasn’t what they wanted to hear. Kathryn, however, was elated, knowing that this song could be incorporated into the new act, without change.


The show finished and Kathryn found herself singing under her breath.

‘The best thing about being a woman
is the prerogative to have a little fun
whoh, oh, oh go totally crazy
forget I’m a lady
men’s shirts - short skirts…..’ Reg interrupted her, asking if he could pack everything up.

“Yeah, go for it, Reg. We’re out of here!” Kathryn stopped and realised she’d spoken in a way that she hadn’t for years. ‘God! One evening amongst this crowd and I’ve forgotten all my hard-earned sophistication!’ They packed up the camera and left the night-club together, joining the throng of night revellers in the heart of Perth. Reg asked if Kathryn would like a coffee but Kathryn, conscious of not giving the wrong signals, refused; citing a busy day coming up.

She took the tape home and put it in her VCR, playing the last song over again. Storm’s performance in this song had seemed more natural, more joyful and the recording endorsed Kathryn’s intuitive feelings of this. She seemed to really enjoy singing the words and a dancing beat was more noticeable. Kathryn wondered how much, if any, of the previous sensationalism was specifically put on for her benefit, as shock value. She chuckled to herself, ‘It’ll take more than that to shock me.’ She may not like the crudeness; but she’d seen the same, if not worse, in her younger days. ‘In my other life!’

Kathryn reluctantly turned off the tape, looking forward to studying it the next day and trying to come up with the necessary changes. Her last thought before sleep was that this project was exciting her, more than any she’d had for a long while.

Chapter 5

Kathryn made some general inquiries about the band from friends who worked within the music industry framework. She was particularly interested in Storm’s lifestyle. She learned of Cloud and Storms’s upbringing with a mother straight from the hippy era. The picture that she was given, was of a household of free sex, drugs and very little discipline. The mother had seemed to have had a succession of men after [and probably before] her husband had left her to return to England. He’d turned out to be a good provider for the children over the years, though Kathryn doubted whether they always saw the full value of it. Their mother, Josie, had also apparently had the knack of attracting wealthy men however, so their standard of living was high.


Josie had died in a car accident, directly as a result of driving under the influence of drugs two years previously. Cloud and Storm had been left comfortably off, more by luck than good judgement on their mother’s behalf. Kathryn was surprised to learn that Storm was twenty-three, as she’d appeared to be much more immature than that. Their mother’s death had happened just days before Storm’s twenty-first birthday and Kathryn momentarily felt a pang of sympathy for Storm. The feeling didn’t last however, as Kathryn’s friends relayed the rumours which were rife about the young singer. Storm had obviously taken the same path as Josie and her past was strewn with jilted lovers. She was known as loud, outrageous, promiscuous and careless of other’s feelings but, Kathryn’s friends told her, there hadn’t been any rumours of over-indulgence with drugs or alcohol and the friends that Storm had were always very supportive of her. There was also a train of thought that she was a pretty bright girl and one rumour had it that she was doing a university degree part-time. Kathryn was inclined to discount that one, along with the more far-fetched rumours. She was more concerned at the image that Storm had, rather than the truth of the stories.


The men in the group had been more circumspect and Kathryn didn’t feel she would have any repair work to do there. She was surprised that the relationship between Storm and Kenny had survived the three years or more that they had, reputedly, been together. Kathryn’s opinion of Kenny dipped a little at this information, as it appeared rather weak of him. Kathryn pulled herself up short with a self-admonishment, her job wasn’t to judge anyone, it was simply to try to project the required image.

She worked on a short list of necessary changes, such as the name change, which was essential. Her advice to the band would be to cancel all engagements under the old name and give themselves at least a month without any engagements to work on new songs and a new act. Basically she wanted them to go underground, to not be seen at all by their regular friends, as contact with them would disrupt their transformation. The getting of a manager she deemed to be essential because he would have to find them new engagements and work alongside them with the new songs, with a view of sending demo discs to the record companies.


Kathryn tried not to be dictatorial in her advice about their appearance on stage, only suggesting a slightly quieter mode of dress for Storm, indicating that the shock value of her previous stage clothes would be lost on the audience they were now targeting. Obviously the stormtroopers uniform would be out, along with the songs that incited violence, hatred and bigotry.


She covered a number of pages with her points and advice, finishing it with the suggestion that they consider the points in detail. She invited them to get in touch when they had discussed her proposals.

***

Storm was indignant when she read Kathryn’s proposals.

“What a bitch! She’s got a bloody nerve!” Kenny tried to calm her down but she refused to be mollified, she continued to rant, “It’s all very well for you guys. You don’t have to do anything different, it’s only me who has to change the way she dresses, it’s only me who has to change her behaviour! God! The woman hates me: and I have to do everything she says? Not bloody likely!” Jim had had enough of Storm’s complaining, “Shut the fuck up, Storm. She’s doing what we’ve asked her to do, for God’s sake! If you’d just pull your head in a bit, we might all be better off!”


Storm looked at Jim with fiery, blue eyes, which held just a hint of hurt.

“You know that most of it is …..”

“Yes, we know.” Cloud tried to settle the situation, “You just don’t have to put on your usual act for a while, that’s all, kiddo. Just be more like the real you, without the pretence.”


The picture the words conjured up; that of a young Storm, hurt showing openly in her face, the butt of her mother’s jokes, scared her. She hadn’t been her normal self for so many years. She knew she was still too vulnerable from the hurt that she’d felt so deeply. That to take off her invisible armour would only leave her susceptible. She knew she couldn’t just shed her camouflage, especially as Kathryn had shown the dislike she felt for the present Storm. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to be seen to bow to Kathryn’s likes and wishes. She made up her mind to go along with Kathryn’s other suggestions but vowed that nothing was going to uncover her protective shell.

***

Cloud rang Kathryn and arranged for them to meet in her office on Friday afternoon at two and then go on to the studio to jam, maybe coming up with some appropriate songs. They arrived in two pairs, Cloud and Jim getting there first. They were having a coffee with Kathryn when Storm and Kenny arrived and, after asking their preference, arranged for the tea and coffee to be brought in.


The discussion was rewarding and Kathryn’s suggestions analysed in detail. They told Kathryn that they’d decided on ‘Stormclouds’ as a name, which was pleasing to her. When they reached the part, in the proposition, about the more circumspect behaviour that was asked of Storm, she was adamant that nobody was going to screw with her life.

“I’ll wear different clothes on stage if I have to but I’m not going to be told what I do with my private life. It’s my fucking business!”

“We are hoping that your private life will become very much the public’s business before too long.” Kathryn spoke between clenched jaws, finding that yet again her temper was starting to rise and wondered how this woman seemed to always get under her skin.


Storm was aware that this woman, sitting so coolly behind her big desk, made her want to hit out and be a thorough bitch but she wasn’t quite sure why. Her mind was still on the question when Cloud, once more, intervened, trying to diffuse the tension in the air and fill the silence.

“By the way, Storm, I saw Vic yesterday and she said she wanted to see you.” Storm thought with affection about their neighbour of the last ten years.

“That old dyke! What does she….?” Storm was interrupted by Kathryn’s cold voice as she asked, in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh; and where do dykes come in your own particular hate list, Storm? Before or after kykes?” Storm was staggered. She felt the blood flow to her face in sudden mortification, that this woman thought she was capable of hating people for their race, or their sexual orientation. Her face paled again as pride came to the rescue and she lifted her head to stare into Kathryn’s angry, green eyes. ‘Let her think what the hell she likes. I’m not defending myself.’ Cloud went to speak out in protest but a flicker from Storm’s piercing eyes stopped his words of defence.


Kathryn made a big effort to regain control of herself, disgusted that she’d let it slip to the extent of letting her anger show. She was puzzled by the momentary expression of hurt in Storm’s eyes before they challenged her own. She knew she had gone too far and she offered Storm an apology.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Storm.” Storm just nodded and dropped her eyes to contemplate her boot, which was resting on the opposite knee. Her fingers tapped a tattoo as she waited for the conversation to continue around her.


The only subject that hadn’t been covered was that of a manager. When Kathryn brought it up, Cloud suddenly snapped his fingers, an idea coming to mind.

“How about you, Kathryn.” Storm’s head snapped up but he continued, “That would make perfect sense. You’re managing Aaron and his mates. Well, what about managing us?” Before Storm could jump in with a repudiation of the offer, Kathryn spoke, “I’m afraid I wouldn’t have time, Cloud. I’m actually cutting down my workload to take six months or so off, to write a book. When we’ve worked out your new image, I’ll only have the athletes left in my portfolio.” She was touched by their suggestion; all except Storm had seemed enthusiastic about the idea.


The discussions at an end, they organised to meet at the studio, after Kathryn had cleared everything from her desk for the week. She saw them to the door and Kathryn was surprised to find herself disappointed when Storm left with no good-bye to ‘kd’.

***

Kathryn arrived at the studio to find the band already set up and ready to go. Cloud explained what they were going to do, “We’re just going to run through a few songs we know, hopefully the type which could fit into the new act. We’ll try a few new songs, or parts of songs anyway, to see if they sound OK.”

“That sounds good, Cloud.” Kathryn answered, “I’ll make notes as we go along. I may have to interrupt occasionally to ask for the name of a song. Would that be acceptable?”

“Yeah, sure. It’s a jam session. We’ll all be talking.”


The band started with an unknown song and they soon got into a pattern of discussion and adjustment. Kathryn was really enjoying the mixture of slow, fast, old and new material. She was starting to appreciate the quality of their playing. They were showing a versatility that was impressive. They played a number of covers and they did them in their own style. Kathryn found herself humming along with them on the old sixties songs, liking the band’s choices. She heard Storm start the lyrics of yet another oldie and recognised one of her favourite’s, the Dusty Springfield classic ‘You don’t own me’. The band picked up the tune.

‘You don’t own me
I’m not just one of your
little toys….’

She met Storm’s look and realised that this one was specifically for her. She couldn’t turn away from the mesmerising eyes and hypnotic voice.

‘You don’t own me
don’t say I can’t go
with other boys’

The tendons on the young singer's neck stood out in thin cords as the voice built up, the power growing.

‘and don’t tell me what to do
and don’t tell me what to say
and please when I’m out with you
don’t put me on display
‘cos … you don’t own me…..’

While Kathryn found herself impaled by those eyes, a grudging admiration built up at both Storm’s voice and her ability to pick the right song for the occasion. She waited for the scathing words to finish and the song to end, then broke into spontaneous applause; both for the song and Storm’s audacity. She gave a little nod in Storm’s direction to acknowledge her understanding of Storm’s aim and was rewarded with a slight softening of expression on the singer’s face. The smile was fleeting but Kathryn was astonished by its magnetism.


When they parted, at the end of a very productive session, Kathryn was sure that the band was capable of realising their ambitions and finding the image they were seeking. Kathryn realised that Storm hadn’t sung the promised kd lang song for her. ‘Maybe next time’ Kathryn hoped. The band had said they would put together the songs chosen from this session and work on a complete act, incorporating most of them. Kathryn had suggested that she ring them early the following week, to see how they were getting on with it. As they’d left the studio, walking outside together into a cool shower of rain, Storm had hunched up against the rain.

“OK, guys, I’m off. See you later.” Storm waved laconically. “See you, kd. Stay cool.”

If you have enjoyed F.J. Davey's "IMAGES, Part One", then please be certain to e-mail her at  francis7[at]bigpond.net.au  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here to continue on to "IMAGES, Part Two"

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