the salon, discovered her waiting in the doorway. ‘What’s happened? Are you OK?’
‘I’m great.’ Roo wiped her sodden hair away from her face and followed her inside. ‘I’ve been up all night. Writing.’
Yasmin passed her a towel. ‘Here, dry yourself off. I didn’t know you were doing that now. What is it, an autobiography?’
‘Not that kind of writing. I’ve done a song. It’s really good.’ Roo shook her head and tried again. ‘Actually it’s not, it’s better than that. It’s brilliant.’
‘Ooh, how fab! Sing it to me, then!’
At the best of times Roo’s singing voice resembled a cat in a vet’s waiting room. ‘I can’t. I need Ceecee to do it. Can you give me her number?’
Yasmin was clearly puzzled. ‘Ceecee Milton? Why?’
‘Because this is the best song I’ve ever written. I can’t quite believe I’ve done it, but I have. And I want us to put it out as a charity single,’ said Roo. ‘For your hospice. If we do this properly, we can make it happen. In a big way.’
‘Really? Seriously? Oh my God, how?’
‘Scam. Beg. Use every contact we have.’ Roo’s head was positively bursting with possibilities. ‘And get a buzz going.’
‘How do we do that?’
‘Well, I think mainly we want to use a mixture of rumor and gossip and technology.’ Were her eyes shining? Roo thought they probably were. ‘And some truly massive lies.’
***
Ellie had never seen anything like it. Summoned to a townhouse in St John’s Wood, it was eight in the evening by the time she arrived. The huge extension at the back of the house had been turned into a recording studio, there were technical types doing technical things at the mixing desks, and the buzz in the air was tangible. Roo was there at the center of things, running on Diet Coke and adrenaline. Having pulled every string she could conceivably lay her hands on, she had brought together a team of experts to weave their magic. Musicians, music producers, and backing singers were milling around the studio, listening and contributing and contacting others who might be able to help their cause. And there was Yasmin with her baby son on her hip, chatting to statuesque Ceecee Milton, who was black and beautiful and balancing her own baby daughter on hers.
‘Hello!’ Spotting her and beckoning Ellie over, Yasmin said, ‘Can you believe all this is happening? This is Ceecee, by the way.’
‘Hi there.’ Ceecee had a wonderful smile. ‘You must be the one with the invisible baby.’
‘Sorry about that.’ Ellie glanced at Yasmin. ‘The good thing is, the nappies are invisible too.’ She paused to listen as someone flicked a switch and the opening bars of music filled the room. ‘This is just amazing.’
‘Wait till you hear the whole thing.’ The music stopped. ‘Ceecee’s voice is fantastic. I can’t get over how they’ve done it all in one day. And the track itself…’
Someone raised their hand for silence, the music began again, and everyone listened intently. Within thirty seconds Ellie knew just how special it was. Ceecee’s heartbreaking vocals were making the little hairs on her arms stand on end. As the song continued, the backing singers joined in and Ceecee’s own voice began to soar. ‘You’re the light in my life… you’re everything… when it’s dark you’re my light, you’re my world, all I believe in…’
Oh God, there was such emotion in the words, Ellie had to turn away. She was going to cry, how embarrassing. Fumbling in her bag, she surreptitiously pulled out a mini pack of Kleenex. The next moment Yasmin was in need of a tissue as well. Gazing around, Ellie saw they weren’t the only ones. The music, haunting and powerful and emotive, was impossible to resist; it gripped you by the throat and didn’t let go. Grown men were standing there with tears in their eyes. Yasmin’s son Ben, blithely indifferent, wriggled and pulled her hair and kicked one of his booties off. The skinny man with the goatee who had been at the recording desk put his arm around Roo’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze as the song reached its crescendo…
Ellie only knew that such an extreme reaction to a song you were hearing for the first time was a rare thing. When the final notes had died away, there was absolute silence for a couple of seconds. Then Ceecee dabbed her eyes and said huskily, ‘Damn, I’m good,’ and the studio erupted with whoops and cheers and wild applause.