Chapter 5

The day after they arrived home, the Randalls were sitting at the kitchen table after breakfast. Willow sipped her tea and smiled.

“It was nice for Mac to give us the Watford shed. I’m not certain that we’ll have a magnificent recording studio, though. I’ve been trying to remember the times we’ve been there, and it didn’t seem that big.”

“You’re right, my darling. I was thinking about that as well. The space we used was about as big as a normal stage, with the back wall covered in old carpet to absorb some sound. Come to think of it, the toilets and kitchen areas did seem as if they were built for a bigger space.”

Willow went up to the office where they had left the file and keys, coming back to the table and opening it.

“OK. We have the new title deeds with the property numbers and the transfer documents. It looks like we have a plan of the property. Yes, it is part of a larger building and not just the bit we’ve been into. We’re going to have to go and see what he actually left us. There are a few keys on the ring. I’m not sure if the Rocks ever practised without him being there and opening up. There are two, here, that look like padlock keys. I think a trip is in order.”

They went to shower and dress, with both in jeans and loose tops, in case there was a lot of dust. They took Willows’ trusty BMW to Watford and parked outside the shed. They opened up the usual door and went in. Garry frowned.

“That’s a normal factory side door. You wouldn’t get the big amps in through that without a lot of difficulty. Mac did say that they had only been using this place for about ten years, as before that, they had use of a theatre that got demolished for a shopping centre.”

They went further in, with Garry looking at the equipment.

“The keyboard is the latest bit of kit. These amps all look old enough to have been brought in when they moved from the theatre. I’ve never been game to rummage in the rest of the stuff, before, but it looks as if there are a number of guitar cases on the floor over there, with the extra mic stands and percussion instruments. I think that they had a gong on one of their albums before I joined them.”

“I never was much into them when I was younger, too brash at that time. They were going for about thirty years or so, weren’t they?”

“Maybe forty. Mac was the last line-up change before me and you. The other two guitarists weren’t the originals, either. I think that Joe would have been the only one from the original ‘Falling Boulders’. I heard that there was some discussion with the ‘Rolling Stones’ that led to the change to ‘Toxic Rocks’, around the time that they were getting more work. They did start out as a Stones cover band. It may pay to see if there are any books written about them, seeing that we’re now their last active members.”

“Do you realise how crazy that seems. Two of us that hadn’t been born when they were getting famous now legatees of their memory. These amps may be only good for practise, and I doubt that they were ever on a stage, so we had better go and see the rest, if we can.”

They went back outside and walked around the building. On the back wall, there was a large double sliding door, with a big padlock and an access way from the road. Willow took the keyring from her bag and tried a key in the padlock. The hasp was stiff, but opened with a bit of prising, and they managed to slide one door back, wide enough to look in. It was dark and dusty, so Garry went back to the car to fetch a couple of torches that they carried. When he returned, Willow had been standing inside, allowing her eyes to get used to the dim light.

“Darling. If you go to the right, I think that I can see a bank of switches on the wall, about twenty feet from the door. I wonder if there’s power on.”

He shone the torch and located the switches, then went and started flicking them. As the lights came on, they started as dull red and slowly brightened to a white light.

“Typical factory lights of their day. I would say that they were up there before the Rocks moved here. What are you looking at, my sweet. It looks like a pile of old stage scenery.”

“It’s a treasure trove, Garry. There’s one bit that I’ve seen on an album cover in the shop at Abbey Road. Look, there’s a big pile of old amps. If I’m not mistaken, they look like old valve amps from last century. If you’ve seen old Beatles footage, they used small Vox units then. If this is what they brought here from that theatre, we’re sitting on the remnants of the stage props from early shows, along with much of the equipment. Look! There’s even a bass drum with ‘Falling Rocks’ on it. This is a historical goldmine.”

“I think that you’re right. We’ll need to talk to Mac and the others before we do anything about this. It could well be worth a lot of money in an auction of pop memorabilia. Have a look around while I go back to the car and get some WD40 for that padlock and spray the door runners so we can get in easier next time. Then, we’ll go into London to a big book shop and see what they have on early Rocks, hopefully, with pictures of them on stage.”

Willow continued to browse around and trying to gauge the size of the place. She reckoned that the interior, with the connecting wall removed, would be about a hundred and fifty feet by about a hundred and twenty. They would need to look at the plans again. Garry came back with the spray and a rag and squirted the spray into the lock hinge and the keyhole, working it until it was easier to use. Then he went along the door runners and made sure that the grooves, and all the wheels, had been well lubricated.

While he was doing that, Willow took a load of photos on her phone before they turned off the lights and pulled the door closed. With it safely locked, they went back to the other entrance and switched off those lights before locking up. Back in the car, they headed into London.

“Go to the parking spot for the apartment, love. We can have lunch at the restaurant and then walk to the Senate Library. I’ve still got my card, and they’re likely to have records of the books we need, seeing that the university is linked to the School of Music.”

They parked the car and walked back to the apartment to shower and change out of the dusty clothes. Looking a lot better, they went down to the restaurant and managed to get a table for two, having lunch and chatting with Julie about the latest tour that had kept them away for so long, even though her father was more of a regular. After the meal, they walked to the Senate Library, where Willow logged on a computer to research any books about the Rocks or the ‘Falling Boulders’.

There were several listed that dealt with the later years, but only one that dealt with the original band. They went and found a copy on the shelves and took it to a secluded corner of the reading area. Eagerly, they went to the photos and looked at the band in its early days. Either, the author had been there at the time, or else had been given access to the bands’ own collection. There was a picture of the original band on stage, and Willow found the picture she had taken of the bass drum, suppressing a squeal when it looked identical.

Other bits and pieces also turned up on the later pictures, with the stage dotted with scenery that channelled Stones album covers and stage props of the nineties and into the beginning of the current century. Garry looked at the publisher and found a current number for them on his phone. He rang, and after some talk to prove that he was ‘that’ Garry Randall, asked about the book and the author. Willow pulled a notebook from her bag and waited. He recited a number, which she wrote down, and he finished the call.

“OK. Quick precis is that the book has been out of print for fifteen years. The author, Jeremy Short, is writing one of the books on the Rocks that follows this into the time that they moved out of the theatre. The publisher gave me that number but warned that the author would be into his late sixties or seventies, so not to hold out any hope.”

He punched in the number, and they held their breath as it rang. He was about to quit the call when it was answered.

“Is that Jeremy Short?”

“It is.”

“Mister Short, my name is Garry Randall and I’m sitting here with my wife, Willow. We have a copy of your book, ‘Falling into a Toxic Future’, in front of us, and would like to talk to you.”

“Are you the Randalls that toured with Mac?”

“We are.”

“You won’t mind if I record our conversation, then. I’m working on the last chapter of the bands’ history before I die. How can I help you?”

“Does you phone accept pictures?”

“It does.”

“Willow will be sending you a few to look at before we see you. Can you give me an address, please?”

He gave them an address, a Care Home just south of Dunstable, and Garry told him that they would be there in about an hour, or so, as they were in London at the moment. Willow sent a selection of pictures and they put the book back and then went to get the car, heading out of London and picking up the M1 before getting off on the road to Dunstable. When they found the Care Home, they went in and spoke to reception.

They were escorted to a sitting area, where a man was sitting at a table, an old typewriter in front of him. He stood, stiffly, as they walked in.

“Garry and Willow, welcome to my humble abode. Find a seat and tell me where you found these pictures. They look a lot like the jumble of props that I saw in the practise theatre before it was demolished.”

Willow took out her phone.

“These are the rest of the pictures, sir, and they were taken this morning. In Watford.”

“Oh, my. You’re telling me that they dumped nothing?”

“It looks like it. Mac surprised us, the last time we saw him, with the title deeds to his shed there. We’ve been there to rehearse shows and work up new songs for close to four years, while Garry was there the year before. We had no idea that there was part of the building that we hadn’t seen. We opened it up this morning, and it was so dusty that we needed to shower and change before we came to see you. It looks like they put their practise amps in and built a dividing wall before filling the place with what they took out of the theatre. If you look closely at the pile of amps, they look like old valve driven units from the seventies.”

“Have you spoken to the rest of the band about this?”

“Not yet. We were hoping that you could confirm that it was all genuine first. The building was Macs’, at the end, and Joe was the last surviving member of the band that moved there. Mac may have bought the building from the rest of the band at the time he joined them. There are only us and the two main guitarists still around.”

“What do you intend to do with this?”

“There are several music museums that would like to pick from the pile. I can see the one in Liverpool setting up a mock stage with the amps and drum set of the original band. There are a lot of things that we haven’t examined, yet. Cases and guitar cases. There may even be a full kit of stage gear from those days. One prop looked like the cover from one of their early albums. Otherwise, we were thinking of auctioning the rest to fund the building of a recording studio on the site.”

“Look, I’d love to help you in any way I can. When you’ve been able to pull these out and clean them off, I would be happy to authenticate them, as long as there’s no problem with the other band members. It would give me something to finish my book with. Now, before I let you go, I’ll turn this recorder on, and you can tell me all about yourselves and the last few years.”

They spent a couple of hours with him, telling him about their pathway to become part of the Rocks, as well as some anecdotes about the more recent tours. Then, Garry carried the typewriter to his room, and they took him out to a local pub for dinner, where Willow was recognised and had to sign some autographs. He was a good companion, well up with most of the Rocks over the years, and very interested in being told that Mac would be getting into car racing.

When they got home, they called Mac, seeing that it would be tomorrow morning there. He was blasé about the contents of the other part of the shed, and he told them to deal with it as they wish. The next day, they called the other two guitarists. They both said that they had never been into the other part, and to do what they wanted. In all three cases, they asked for a written permission to do as they wanted, with no claims on the items or any proceeds, to be sent by email or post.

The hard part was to call Joes’ wife. Of anyone, it was more her property than anybody. All she wanted was a say in the distribution of the items, with an offer to help identify them, as she had been to most of the shows and a lot of the practise sessions. She offered to help to pull items out for cleaning.

The next thing was to put together a working group. Obviously, the rest of ‘Garreth’ were contacted, and a working bee was arranged for the next Monday morning. Gerry was coming south from Coventry, so was designated as the transport for Jeremy. On Monday morning, all in old clothes, with brooms, brushes and a box of rags, the padlock was ceremonially opened, and the lights put on. They all stood and gazed at the collection.

Jeremy and Joes’ wife were given seats, and, as things were pulled out and cleaned off, they agreed on which show or period each thing came from. The cleaned items were placed by the outer wall. Gerry was looking at the musical instruments, finding a dozen good guitars and another dozen cheaper ones from the period.

Zara and Geoff were looking through cases of stage outfits, shaking them out and showing them to the two experts to designate a period, repacking carefully with a note to show the date and shows. When they finished in that part of the shed, they were sent to the used part to bring back any guitars and cases of outfits and continue the work.

They all went to the restaurant for lunch, not staying long, as all were keen to get this done. In the afternoon, they finished the initial dust and wipe of the props and swept the area they had cleared. Before they locked up, they put the items back in a structured order, with each major era, or show, able to be placed with a big note, signed by the two people best to authenticate them, confirming the links and dates. The one that made Jeremy tremble was the complete set of amps, drums, props, guitars and outfits that were identical to the picture in his book. They all took photos, some as selfies, with the displays.

Jeremy said that it gave him a great impetus to finish his last book on the Rocks, with an appendix which outlined the ‘Garreth’ era. He promised to have a short chapter on what they had done that day, with his pictures. He also asked if Willow and Garry could take him home. After a last look around and securing the building, Zara and Geoff went off to their apartment, Gerry went off to Coventry, Joes’ wife drove away after some hugs, and Jeremy directed Garry to an industrial area in Luton, and a row of lockups. Inside one, among his old furniture, there were five boxes of unsold copies of his book, which he gave them to do with as they wished. When they took him back to the care Home, he hugged them both before going in, telling them that the day had been one of the best of his life.

Back at home, Willow transferred the pictures to her computer, wrote a description of each item and where if fitted into the Rocks’ history. She sent Mac and the other two guitarists a copy of the description and photos, including a picture of the authentication note for each group. She also sent a copy to Rufus, with a covering note of how they came to be rummaging around in historical relics.

Rufus rang her the next day.

“Willow, that bunch of pictures that you sent me. I have to say that I had to sit down as I looked at them. They made me realise how long I’ve been in the business. I was a very young man with a lot of ideas when I met the original ‘Falling Boulders’. I had a van and carried them around. They asked me to manage them, and I set up ‘Boulder Buddy’ at that time. Can we meet at the Watford site, so I can see the collection? I’ll give you lunch after.”

“All right. How about eleven at the site?”

“See you there. I’ll lead you to my office after that, as there are other things I want to discuss.”

She told Garry where she was going, as he was sitting in an armchair, reading the book. She picked up another copy, in case Rufus didn’t have one.

When she got to Watford, she parked next to Rufus, who was sitting in his car, a phone at his ear. He finished speaking and got out to follow her around to the back, where she unlocked, and they pulled one door open. She went to the switchboard and flicked all the switches. She stood, quietly, as he carefully looked at all the separate piles, opening guitar and clothing cases to gaze at the contents.

She didn’t move for over half an hour, until he walked towards her, tears in his eyes, to give her a hug.

“Thank you for this. It brings back so many old memories of friends long gone. Those first days were a lot of fun. We all learned about ourselves then. It was when the Boulders started getting more work that I started getting asked to manage other singers and bands. That was the basis of the business that has made me rich. Leave your car here, and I’ll take you for lunch. I expect that Mac would take you to the steakhouse, it’s where we always went whenever I was this way.”

He took her to lunch, and they talked about the last big tour. Over coffee, he suddenly looked serious.

“Willow. It’s a very strange world. The band that started my business career is the one that brings me to the end of it, even if the band name and the line-up aren’t the same. I’m ready to retire and live a quiet life; all the racing around the world is for the younger ones. You said, a few years ago, that when you had absorbed the way tours worked, you would make me an offer for the agency. Does that still apply?”

“It would depend on what staff you have, Rufus. Also, on how many would stay with the business. There would have to be a good crew behind you to do the daily tasks needed. The other factor would be the price, and the ongoing clientele accepting us.”

“I’ll take you back to your car and you can follow me to my headquarters. I’ll introduce you to the office and let them tell you about their duties.”

She followed him down the M1 and then on the M25 to Waltham Cross, where he turned off and led her through smaller roads until they crossed the Lea Navigation Channel at Enfield Lock and went north on Government Row to a car park. Willow took the book and put it in her big bag when she got out. Rufus pointed to a building on the other side of the car park.

“That’s the Bridge of Hope Children’s Ministry, they fill the car park on Sundays, so we only have couple in to handle any emergencies. That’s on a roster basis. We have numbers five and seven, which have been knocked together to form the office. The water in front is the Lea Navigation Channel, and we have the actual Lea behind the back garden. It’s great to get some sun at lunchtime and watch the birds.”

He led her to the front door of the first house. Over the door was a small sign, reading ‘Red Wolf Agency’. Rufus pointed it out.

“When I first started managing the band, I called the company ‘Boulder Buddy Management’, but it needed to be changed when I actually registered the name. Come on in and be prepared to get a lot of hugs, the girls have loved your music since the Summer Rose days. One thing you may notice is that there are a lot more inside than the number of cars may indicate. I have ploughed money into property, somewhat like yourself, and many who work here come in on foot, or on a cycle. I have around a dozen houses in the area as part of their salaries.”

“Yes, I found that it worked well with the studio, and ensures a stable workforce.”

They went in and Willow saw that they were in a reception area and thought that a side wall of the original hallway had been removed, with a door where it would have continued. Rufus saw her looking.

“The front door to the other house has been altered in a similar way, with a bike rack and lockers. The two houses are opened up at the back, keeping one kitchen that’s been enlarged and modernised. We have fitted a full set of toilets and showers.”

The receptionist smiled broadly and stood up.

“Willow Rose, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. We’ve followed your career even before you joined our agency. The girls all love you. If you’re here for a while, I’m sure that the boss won’t mind us talking to you.”

Rufus laughed.

“Told you! It’s all right, Jacquie, tell the girls to expect us. We’ll be in my office for a little while.”

He opened a door beside the entrance and ushered Willow into what would have been the original sitting room, now with a big desk and a gaming chair behind it, and three cosy armchairs beside a table.

“Take a seat, Willow, and I’ll get Jacquie to organise a drink and to ask Tommy to bring the current business details for you to look at. If you’re still interested after we talk money, you can take the file with you to study further.”

Willow went in, hearing him ask for tea and the full financial file. She sat down and pulled the book out of her bag. She had a quick look at the index and saw a whole chapter on ‘Boulder Buddy’. Before he sat down, she had a quick look at the photo section. Rufus came in and sat.

“What do you have there?”

“It’s a history of the early days of the Rocks. There’s a picture, here, of a very handsome young Rufus.”

Marianne Gregory © 2025