Aubergine Studios didn't feel like the same studio it used to be. It still had the homely atmosphere, but I was never quite as comfortable as I once was. That studio used to be my second home, more so than any other place I frequented. Every time I felt bad, all I needed was to visit the studio and I would be alright. Now, it seemed to be exactly the opposite. I couldn't go into the studio with good spirits without expecting them to be dampened.
I knew it had nothing to do with the studio itself, rather, who was in it. Mitch, Ellen, and Linda were still there, and for that I was grateful. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if every familiar face had gone away. Even Minerva was a welcome sight, and I had only known her for a month or so. The problem rested with a certain uptight brunette who couldn't find a hat large enough to contain her big head.
"That was bloody brilliant, it was," I grinned.
Minerva blushed. She stood just before us with her guitar and had just finished the song she wrote. All of us clapped, Linda and I the most enthusiastically. Tabitha gave a half-hearted clap.
"Thanks," she muttered.
Linda nodded, "We'll have to put it on the new album."
"I think it should open the thing," I replied, "It's got a great intro."
Minerva looked like she was going to faint. The first album of Storms Over London, and the newcomer was already opening the album. In any other situation, it would have been Linda or me. Those with more experience and more fame usually go first, but not in our case. Our system thrived on the music and the music alone, not the popularity of the person.
"What about you, Lindy?" I asked.
Linda shook her head, "I don't write, I only play."
"You wrote before."
"I only added chords to your songs," she replied, "And I know you have one."
I grinned, "Don't I always?"
"Exactly."
As I went to the piano, Ellen came in. She always made it a point to visit us in the studio even if she didn't have any work to do. Her visits were as a friend, and I was always grateful for them. To my great relief, she never brought Prudence with her. I never did get along with Ellen's new assistant. Our personalities clashed, especially when I was used to the wallflower of Peter Marvelle. Every time I saw Prudence, I found myself longing for the boy who I often forgot was there.
I was a bit hesitant to play the song. It was special, perhaps one of the most important songs I have ever written. Each word stood as a tribute to the woman I loved more than anyone on Earth. This song was my everlasting proclamation of love for Molly Mackenzie, and nobody would ever know it.
"I met you, I loved you, I lost you," I sang, "Tales of sorrow and love, seen as cliche. You were my dove, but you weren't here to stay."
The song brought tears to my eyes. Linda sat next to me and placed a supportive hand on my shoulder. She understood, I could it it in the unshed tears glistening in her eyes. When I finished, both of us were near tears.
"Amelia, that was beautiful," Ellen sighed.
Tears hung in her eyes as well. She and Linda were the only two people who knew who that song was about. To anyone else, it was just another silly love song. Minerva clasped her hands and smiled, "I loved it."
"It was amazing," Linda hugged my shoulders, "As usual."
I patted her arm, "Thanks, Lindy."
"I think it's a load of rubbish."
All of us turned to face Tabitha. Her lips were locked as if she had just eaten a sour lemon. She glared at me as if threatening me to fight her, a threat which I gladly accepted. I spun around and stood, "And why is that?"
"It's too slow," Tabitha replied, "The lyrics are redundant, and it's been done before. A lost love, bla bla bla."
Tabitha open and closed her hand as if miming a person talking. I sneered, "We've done slow songs before, and people identify with a lost love."
"It's cheesy."
"It's romantic," I spat, "People like romance."
"People are sick of romance."
"They can never get sick of romance!"
Tabitha rolled her eyes, "It's too sad. It's going to make people cry."
"At least I make people feel things. Your songs just make people want to claw their ears off."
"Take that back!" Tabitha shouted.
I flung my hands up, "Sorry, can't take back the truth!"
"You wanker!"
"Arse!"
"Tosser!"
"Daft Sod!"
"Egotistical git!"
"Girls, please, break it up!" Ellen stepped between us, "I will not tolerate any fighting, understood?"
I crossed my arms and frowned, "She started it."
"I did not, you child!"
"You did too! And who are you callin' child, I'm older than you!"
"Barely!"
"Stop it this instant!" Ellen shouted, "I expected better of you two."
Ellen glared at each of us individually. Tabitha turned her shoulder as I sighed, "Sorry, Ellen. I'll bite my tongue."
"Good, now, the four of you are a team and you will decide this as a team," Ellen said, "We already know Amelia and Tabitha's opinions, what about you two? Linda? Minerva? What do you think?"
Linda glanced at me, "I think it needs to go on the album."
"Thank you, Lindy," I nodded at her.
Tabitha snorted, "There's only a tiny bit of bias there."
"Oh, bugger off."
"Amelia," Ellen cut in.
Her glare made me shut up. She turned to Minerva and smiled, "What about you, Minerva?"
Minerva stuttered. Tabitha was holding her pinned beneath her glare. My gaze was a bit softer, a small smile creeping across my lips. She locked eyes with me and smiled, "I like it a lot."
"Then, it's settled," Ellen smiled, "The song will be recorded and will feature on the album."
Tabitha crossed her arms and huffed, "I say this wasn't fair."
"It wasn't? Everybody had a vote," Ellen cooly replied.
"And they were all biased," Tabitha spat, "We need another opinion. Mitch, we need your opinion!"
The intercom buzzed, "Please don't bring me into this."
"Don't bring Mitch into this," I repeated, "I won fair and square, I can't help that you're a git."
"Amelia, you're not helping," Linda whispered.
"Makes me feel better."
Tabitha stomped up to the window of the production room, "What do you think? Do you like McCartney's song?"
I sneered, "So, we're going to play it that way, huh?"
There were several ways you could use a person's last name. Most people used it jokingly or professionally, others used it in anger. John only ever called Paul 'McCartney' when he was boiling in anger. This was no different, Tabitha was angry so she played the last name game. That game took two players, and I was on the other side of the board.
"I think it is a good song," Mitch replied, "It has a strong possibility of becoming a hit."
Tabitha frowned. I chuckled, "That enough for you, Plinkett?"
"Fuck off, McCartney."
"It's settled, Storms Over London will record Amelia's song," Ellen smiled.
I grinned, "Jolly good. Let's get to work then, yeah?"
Throughout the entire recording session, Tabitha shot me cold glares. This wasn't the first argument we had gotten into and it wouldn't be the last. It was just another sign that the rot was beginning to set in.
(Photo- Amelia, 1967. Taken by Linda Eastman.)