Chapter 2

They all hugged and hi-fived. They had a project, and it had enough different facets to use all the skills that the class contained. For the rest of the afternoon, they talked about it. Vivienne went to the board and wrote up the basic album plotline and the song titles, explaining how they fitted into the story.

Some of the class volunteered to come back next week with some ideas on extra dialogue, while Willow and Vivienne said that they would think about extra songs, and how they could alter the existing ones to be more operatic.

When they had all left, Mister Jamieson sat back and smiled. This particular group had been the brightest one he had taught, even before Willow had joined it. He stood and gathered his papers and went off to let the Head know that there was something else coming their way that the school had never done before.

On the way out, Willow told Vivienne that she had organised a minibus in the morning, picking up at around ten at the Britannia to go to the studio. Vivienne wanted to come along, having not been anywhere near the studio since their orchestra session. On the drive home, Willow phoned Wilhelm to warn him that there would be a minibus at the studio in the morning.

She sat back in the car seat and sighed.

“I could get used to this comfort. The old people mover was a bit harsh.”

“You will, Willow, when you’re being driven around from party to party.”

“Not me, Sebastian. I’m no party girl. It’s over a year before I can start learning to drive, I wonder if I could get a discount from where Dad works?”

“He’s at Aston Martin. I’m sure that if you ask nicely, they’ll lend you one to promote the brand.”

“Ha! That reminded me of something that our manager spoke to Dad about, way back. He spoke about ‘Brand Willow’ as if I was a box of cornflakes.”

“It’s quite likely that somewhere, in a head office, someone is wondering if you’ll be the face of their brand.”

“I can just see that now. Eat your Acme Prunes and sit like Willow Rose.”

He pulled up outside her house.

“See you in the morning, Miss Prune.”

“See you, Sebastian.”

She went in and changed, then started preparing dinner. As she sliced and diced, she thought about how her day had lifted her out of her doldrums. She thought about the opera. The album started with her, as Tatiana, bemoaning the quest that her father had put on his website. What the stage show would need would be an opening scene with her and the father, where he lays down the law. She wondered if it should be a totally sung part.

When her parents came home, they cooked the dinner and relaxed in front of the TV. Willow was so bored; she said goodnight and went upstairs to prepare for bed. It may be a big day in the morning.

She woke, feeling better than she had felt for a while. There was a weak sun, and it hadn’t snowed for several days. She showered and made ready for the day, picking out a smart skirt suit that she had picked up in London. She had a light breakfast with her parents, and they all prepared to be picked up. They all looked good when Sebastian pulled up. Locking up, they went out, Willow with a bag with the Gold Records in.

At the Britannia, there was more than expected waiting. Willow got out to say hello to her guests. Terry Savage, her lecturer, had Hugh Kelly with him. Then there was Derek Coward, the chairman of ENO, with Norman Strong, his producer. Vivienne was standing a little way apart and Willow beckoned her over.

“Gentlemen, this is Vivienne Armstrong, she plays the flute in Summer Rose.”

They all exchanged greetings and boarded the minibus. Willow was last in and picked up the microphone as Sebastian pulled away.

“Good morning. The two that you haven’t been formally introduced to yet are my parents, Ashley and Wendy Rose. The gentlemen who have joined us are Terry Savage, the lecturer of the uni course I took last year. His companion today is Mister Hugh Kelly, who gave me those other three items, Dad. Then we have Derek Coward, the chairman of the English National Opera, with his producer, Norman Strong. Vivienne has joined us for this visit and our driver is Sebastian, my regular security to and from school.”

She waited as nods were exchanged.

“We’re going to Leicester, where the Summer Love Studio is located. I have a Gold Record, which I will be presenting to Sarah Wilkinson, as the mixing board operator on my latest album. It’s really for the team there, but they only name the operator. The other two there are Josh Hamilton and Sydney Morris. For your information, Vivienne is the other main composer in Summer Rose, having contributed most of our ‘Magic Laptop’ album.”

Norman laughed.

“Now, that’s something I would like to talk about. That was almost an opera. It was, of course, a take on the ‘Magic Flute’, set in modern times.”

Vivienne smiled.

“It was, and started life as a single song that was a bit of a mash-up of the whole story. Willow pointed out the obvious, and that was that it could be expanded into a full album. Actually, we have just started to work on expanding it into a two-hour operetta for a school project, to be put on the stage there at the end of June.”

“That’s interesting. I’d certainly like to see that.”

“If you keep an eye on our school website, Mister Strong, you’ll see when tickets are being released.”

Terry looked at Ashley.

“Mister Rose, I believe that you work at Aston Martin as a design engineer.”

“I do. I think we use the seats supplied by Mister Kelly.”

Hugh laughed.

“Let’s put all this Mister stuff away this morning. I’m Hugh and this is Terry. I’ve been a client of the University of London for some years, picking the brains of their brightest. Not many as bright as your daughter, Ashley. We do have a subsidiary that provide first class seating for expensive motor cars, among other things we do. I was at the Albert Hall, Norman, when your artists joined the Blue Coat Orchestra, led by Willow, in the ‘Messiah’. It was a superlative experience. I believe that you performed ‘Creation’ before the summer, Willow.”

“We did, Hugh. Three nights in the Coventry Cathedral, filmed for the BBC. We recorded both oratorio at our studio, the biggest group we’ve ever had to record.”

She went and sat next to Vivienne as there was general talk. Viv leaned close.

“This is a high-powered bunch today.”

“Yes. Terry is here to see the project that I used as an example during the course, Hugh is a surprise. The other two were in the school to speak to the Head, probably about another collaboration.”

When Sebastian pulled into the parking area, he stopped where the shed used to be, now marked out as ‘Coach Only’ parking. Willow went to the front.

“We’ll have a quick look at the newer bits of the site first. This used to be a distribution centre, and our tenant is now a tenant of our band property in Small Heath. If you’ll like to get out, I’ll show you around.”

When they were standing in front of the vehicle, she pointed out the offices.

“Upstairs is the nerve centre of the band property portfolio, as well as the operation of the studio, and the ground floor is the new home for the Leicester Arts Alliance. They are involved with all the schools and dramatic groups in the city. If you come over to this door, you can have a look at one of the changes that we’ve made. She opened the door and the sound of loud dance music hit their ears. They all had a look in to see a dance group practising a stage show. She shut the door, cutting off the sound.

“As you can hear, we’ve soundproofed what used to be an industrial site, along with laying a laminate floor suitable for dance or drama. Now, if you follow me, I’ll take you to the studio proper. Sebastian, if they turn up, there should be a reporter and photographer arriving soon. Can you bring them through, please.”

They followed her into the long shed, where some more cars were parked in marked spaces.

“This used to be used for pallet racks and a forklift workshop. What you see, in front of you, used to be a cold store for vegetables. The walls were eighteen inches thick with expanded foam.”

They went through the open door, and into the rest area, where Josh was talking to some people.

“Good morning, Josh, how are you this morning?”

“Extra good seeing you, Willow. These are my parents and my two sisters. I’ve just been showing them the wonder wall. I’ve made some changes; I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s where you work Josh, all good unless you have a wall of nude calendars.”

Introductions were made, and he showed Willow and Vivienne what he had done.

“I’ve been looking at the saved files in the system, and they’re fabulous. I’ve moved the awards around a bit, putting them higher and lower, so that there’s space for photos that I’ve printed off from the visual files. There’s one from every session, so far, and plenty of room for more.”

Willow called Norman over.

“Here are pictures of the school orchestra recording ‘Messiah’ and ‘Creation.’ The first had around forty players and the same number of singers.”

She spoke to Josh’s sisters, who had albums to sign, happy that two of the band were here and happy to talk. Sebastian came in with two other men.

“Willow, this is Jeff and Bernie, from the local paper. They were wondering about so many cars and so little noise.”

“Thanks, Sebastian. Gentlemen, if you all follow me, we can get to something of a surprise.”

She led them through the control room, and into the studio, where the team had set up tables and chairs and had laid out crisps and biscuits. Sarah saw them come in and came over to Willow and gave her a hug.

“Thank you for this, Willow. My folks have been getting on to me about this mysterious place where I work. I’ve a bit to talk to you about, afterwards, so don’t rush off.”

“Don’t intend to, Sarah. I’ve brought along a couple of gentlemen who wanted to have a look at the place. One pair is, I think, only for interest, but the others are the chairman and producer for the English National Opera. There are two from the local paper here, so, I’ll get to the good bit of my visit first. Can you call for quiet and for everyone to gather, I’ll get introduced around after.”

Sarah called out for everyone to gather around. The newsmen stood near Willow. When there was quiet, Willow could speak normally.

“For those of you who have never been here before. This is the Summer Love Studio, specially built in an old cold store after Summer Rose bought this site. The whole site has gone from a distribution centre to be an arts centre. What used to be the assembly building is now, at this moment, being used as a dance studio, but can be used for drama or music practise. This room has seen the recording of several hit records before Sarah, Sydney, and Josh came on board. Since then, they have recorded some groups from the Blue Coat School, and an album that I recorded here, back in November. That album was called ‘A Girl has to have Standards’ and has sold very well.”

There was some polite applause.

“So well, that I was presented with a Gold Record before Christmas. Josh, here is another one for the wall.”

She pulled it out of her bag and passed it to Josh, noting that Sydney had her hand on his arm as they looked at it.

“On that same evening, they gave me another to bring along, today.”

She pulled the other one out.

“This one has the inscription, ‘For passing five hundred thousand sales, this is awarded to the producer of ‘A Girl has to have Standards’, Sarah Wilkinson.”

There were cheers and applause. Willow presented the award to Sarah, and they stood for the photos, firstly by the newspaper, and then by a lot of family members with their phones. When it eased, Willow called for quiet.

“Although that award has Sarah’s name on it, as far as I’m concerned, it was a team effort. I expect to be coming back in a month or two with the Platinum versions to go on the wall. Now, you now know that I’m Willow, and this young lady beside me is Vivienne, who plays flute in Summer Rose. The last time we were here, together, we were part of the Blue Coat Orchestra. Now, I’m parched, are there drinks?’

There was a long period where family members got selfies with the two of them, Ashley and Wendy getting to know the team, and the newsmen getting pictures and taking notes. Willow took them out and let them look into the other shed, where the dancers were still working hard. She took them into the Arts Alliance office and introduced them to the ladies, who had met them before.

Going back into the studio, she caught up with her four guests.

“Sorry to have abandoned you, gentlemen. There is a bit more I need to show you.”

She took them to the bottom of the studio, slid the door back and opened the other one to show them the storeroom and the entry from the lane.

“You may have wondered how we got the amps and the Steinway in. I suppose we could get a car in here. The climate is controlled by a reverse-cycle unit, and you can set it to a temperature of your choice. If you need the dimensions, the studio is thirty-seven feet across, and the whole structure was a hundred and ten feet long before we made the changes. Does anyone have any questions?”

Derek laughed.

“Just the one. What do you charge?”

“We have started charging from the beginning of the month. For professional bands, it’s a thousand pounds an hour, with a minimum of five hours. If you’re looking at an extended time, say a week of eight-hour days, we can bring it back to five hundred an hour. As you can see, it’s state-of-the-art. Josh and Sydney can show you our visual system. There are twelve cameras, and you can choose an overview, and then replace it with other views as you like, so ending up with a file that’s already edited and synchronised with the audio file, allowing you to pump out CDs or DVDs within fifteen minutes of finishing the session.”

“That’s better than we have when we’re at Abbey Road. Cheaper, too.”

“So far, the main output has been Summer Rose, G-Force, and the old Hikers. Plus, my solo album. That will, I hope, be added to as we attract other bands. One thing you would have noticed, is the sound suppression. We could crank up the amps in here and you could whisper to each other in the car park.”

“Yes, that practise area was a shock when you opened the door.”

“Does it come up to the project, Terry?’

“That and more. You can earn a million a year out of this and only have the wages and outgoings. You wouldn’t have been thinking of this when you originally bought the site.”

“No. It was just a hide-away for the band, but the others have lost interest. We now have a site in Small Heath, and a shopping centre in Manchester. They will bring in a tidy wage for years to come. Have you seen what you came to see?”

“Not until we’ve been shown the audio and visual equipment, coming, Derek?”

She stood there with Terry and Hugh. Hugh had a wry smile.

“You never fail to impress, Willow. I had imagined a typical small band area when I looked at the papers Terry showed me. This is magnificent. I see that you have a blue screen, have you used it yet?”

“Not yet. It’s there if anyone wants to record something in front of it, and then add the picture to look like they’re not inside. I suppose it could be used to film an advert. All the cameras can be taken off the brackets and used manually.”

“What are we doing for lunch, Willow.”

“There’s a fish and chip and pizza shop close by. What do you have in mind, Hugh?”

“If all the family members have left, I would like to host you and the team somewhere nice. This has been a really good experience.”

“All right. I know that Sarah wants to talk to me. Let’s shut this door and go and see if they’re ready to go home.”

When they got back to the control room area, any family members were in the rest area, taking selfies with the awards, Josh having added the two new ones to the selection. Willow asked Josh if he would like to join her and the guests for lunch after the studio was closed. Then she went back to the control room, where Sarah was explaining the mixing board to Terry and Sydney was outputting a DVD for Norman. She saw Willow.

“This is a composite of today, Willow. We had all the cameras and a few microphones on, with the system switching through them at twenty-second intervals. I think these gentlemen are impressed.”

“If you’ve done, Hugh is taking us all to lunch. Have you found a good restaurant in town?”

“Josh took me to a place for New Year’s Eve, it’s pretty swish.”

“That will be good. Hugh likes swish. If the three of you squeeze into the minibus, you can guide us there.”

They waited until all the family members had left, all smiling happily, and then Sarah went through the studio, checking that everything was secured, and that there was nobody still in the toilets. They went back to the minibus and were guided to the good restaurant, where they had a big table set up for them and all enjoyed a good lunch.

When they had finished, Sarah still hadn’t had the talk she wanted. She said that she would take them home if Viv wanted to stay as well. Willow raised her voice and told the table that she and Sarah had business to talk about, and that Sebastian would take the others home with Sarah driving her and Vivienne later. Hugh made the comment that business talk always came first if it’s your business. He thanked her and the team for the inspection and the experience.

“One of my subsidiaries needs to record adverts for TV. They are prepared to pay for a full day. The studio is as modern as it could be, you can show them the result while they wipe the sweat off. I’ll get them to contact you, Sarah, to book. All they need is a small band.”

Willow grinned.

“A four-piece electric or more classical, Hugh?”

“Electric would be good.”

“A singer or just the music?”

“Singer. Do you have anything in mind?”

“If you record on a weekend, I can get you a totally unknown, but very talented, group of twelve-year-olds. They are from the school and the main two are twins called Petunia and Ivy Vines.”

“Sam Vines’ girls?”

“Yes, do you know him.”

“I’ve been trying to buy him out for years and put the business in a purpose-built factory. Now, the beggar has moved into one in Small Heath. Wait! Is he one of your tenants?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment, Hugh.”

“Let me guess, the tenant here is now sharing the site with him.”

“My lips are sealed, Hugh.”

“If you can get them, Sarah, let them know who’s making the advert, and tell them that I’ll be here to oversee the session. Sam will be here with them, I’ll bet. That way we can have a very quiet conversation in a room that doesn’t need a ‘cone of silence’.”

Sebastian drove them all back to the studio, and the five got out, with calls of thanks and ‘see you again’. Sarah led the way up to the upper office and they all had comfort stops and Josh put a kettle on. They sat at the big table, and Willow looked at Sarah.

“What do you want to talk about, Sarah?”

“The money, Willow. With the flats, we’re being paid too much, for starters. We’re all getting some more from the school when we teach. The thing is that we’re underworked here.”

“That’s not going to last long, team. I thought that I may be underpaying you. You got the invoice and receipt books from the accountant?”

“Yes.”

“You now have the EFT unit linked to a bank account that I set up last year?”

“Yes.”

“How much work do you think we generated today? Any idea?”

“Did we?”

“I would expect that Hugh would be sending regular work here, if only as a cover for him to be on site in a soundproof room with people he wants to talk to. He is a multi-millionaire, possibly even a billionaire, so he’ll pay the thousand an hour without blinking, and he’ll pay on the day. The two from the ENO are very interested. If they do book, I expect that it would be the full week, if not longer. They put on several shows a year, working up to three years in advance. Doing a show here, with an orchestra, will test you to the full. It will mean that they can spend a week, in secret, make changes on the fly, and have an in-house supplied record of what they’ve achieved. When word gets out that there’s Gold and Platinum awards on the walls, there’ll be a queue of bands wanting to record. It’s early days, and the real work starts now. Up until now, you’ve been learning and settling in. Ask me in six months if you want less money.”

“If you’re happy, Willow. I thought that we needed to say it.”

“Look, the three of you were virtual unknowns in the recording game. You now have a Gold Record, and your picture will be in the local paper next week, no doubt with a story about the site. That, linked to my name, will have the phone ringing off the hook. This time next year, I expect that you’ll need to take down some of the old awards to make way for the new ones. Now, sometime in June, I’ll be booking a full day to record an operetta that we’ll be writing for the school. Viv, do you have anything in mind?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, Willow, I have a stack of songs that I had been writing before we went hard rock. I listened to your album and wondered if I was good enough to put a solo out. I’d need an accompanist. That Steinway looks good.”

“If they’re full of happiness, you could call it ‘Joie de Viv. If you want to work through them, we could make a booking now for a full day, my treat.”

“Could we?”

“Of course we could. Back yourself, Viv. I’ll play for you as an anonymous pianist. You can send me the basic songs by email, and I’ll add piano at home and email it back, as usual.”

“All right. Can we do next Saturday, Sarah. I’ll get my Mum to drive us and pick you up about nine, Willow.”

“Is there any particular sound, or atmosphere you want to get?”

“I liked the sound of yours. It was if you were in a smoky dive in Paris.”

“We can do smoky dives, can’t we, Sarah?”

“You bet we can. As well as singing next to rolling waves, under a flightpath, sitting on a toilet seat in a railway station. I’ve had a good read of the instruction manual. Do you want to sound as if you’re singing to penguins on an ice flow, I’m your girl. Look, you two. I feel so much better about what we’re doing. You’ve seemed to be overgenerous up to now, but I see that you have a total grasp at what the business is about.”

“All I ask is that you record Sydney reciting poetry in front of that blue screen and the add a background of your choice. We can look at it when we see you next Saturday. Are you, or the happy couple driving us home?”

Sydney snorted.

“That obvious, was it?”

Marianne Gregory © 2025