LITMIR.BIZ

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supposed to email within the next week.’

      ‘Right. Well, we’d better push on with the next thing.’ He glanced at the list on the fridge. ‘Josh Greenwood. Let’s ask Mr Google where Josh is these days.’

      We sat at the desk with the laptop. We had both developed an aversion to the sofa. I typed ‘Josh Greenwood’ into the search bar, and there seemed to be millions of references. I narrowed the search by adding ‘Luvsik Kitten’ and we soon found my teenage idol.

      ‘Oh my God! He’s still performing.’ I clicked on the link and a website appeared for a band called ‘Alley Kat’. Apparently, Josh was now leading a group of ageing rockers and they were starting a Christmas tour in two weeks. The ‘gallery’ link led to hundreds of photos of the band in action. He still looked amazing. I gazed at the photos for a few minutes until Des snapped me out of it.

      ‘Stop perving over the pics and go to the gig guide. If you’re going to get a date with him, we have to get the two of you in the same place first.’

      ‘I suppose that would help,’ I said, ‘but I’m still not sure how we’ll manage it.’

      ‘Leave that to me. Hey – they’re going to be in town on Christmas Eve. See if you can get tickets.’

      The gig was sold out, but Des was convinced he could get us in, so I put my trust in him.

      He sat deep in thought for a few minutes and then his eyes lit up and he leapt to his feet.

      ‘Gotta go, Lyd. I’ve got an idea, but I need my own computer to get it rolling.’

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘I’ll tell you later, if I can pull it off.’

      ‘When later?’ I knew I sounded desperate.

      ‘Dunno. As long as it takes, I suppose. I’ll call you.’ He was on his way out of the door already but he turned back and looked at me. ‘About the other night …’ He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘I … er … forgot to say thanks for helping me … with the story.’

      Then he was gone before I could even say, ‘You’re welcome.’

      * * * * *

       Dear Diary,

       Sunday afternoon looks set to go on for ever! Since Des left on his secret mission I’ve done the laundry, changed the bed linen, painted my toenails and watched ‘My Fair Lady’ for the millionth time, singing along with everything. There are some advantages to living alone, after all. When Bob and I were together he hated me singing. He used to glare at me and say, ‘Who the hell do you think you are – the Karaoke Queen? Don’t give up the day job.’

       After a while, I stopped singing altogether. He’d have died if he’d been there last night. No, on second thoughts, he’d probably have killed me before I could even get up on the stage. I wonder what he’ll think if I do pass an audition for ‘Stargazing’? Will he see me on TV and thank God he ditched me before I could embarrass him? I can almost hear him. ‘I thought this was a talent show? Why have they got that useless cow on? Comic relief?’ Then he’ll laugh and think he’s been really clever.

       I put the picture of Josh on the wall above my desk so that I can look at him when I’m writing, and I found some of Luvsik Kitten’s greatest hits on YouTube for inspiration.

       So this is who I am – I write, I sing and I dream of my youth – alone.

      * * * * *

      It was 7 p.m. when I rang his doorbell.

      ‘What took you so long?’ Des ushered me into the living room.

      ‘It’s only been half an hour since you called. I’ve been hanging around the house all day waiting.’ I shivered as I took my coat off. ‘Don’t you ever put the bloody heating on?’

      ‘Sorry, I was busy. I’ll do it now. Go on into the study.’

      I sat in the big swivel chair at the desk. Des is a bit of a computer geek and I knew better than to touch anything. He came in and switched on the monitor. I gasped in amazement. There was a website dedicated to the past glories of Luvsik Kitten, with links to the Alley Kat site we’d viewed earlier. LuvsikMemories.co.uk seemed to be a fanzine with all the usual features: photos, reviews, and articles about the band from long ago. There was a place for fans to leave comments and reminiscences. Several women had posted comments about gigs they’d attended and so forth. There was even a forum where fans discussed their musical tastes, favourite band members and anything else they fancied. I was entranced.

      ‘So, what do you think?’ Des was clearly very pleased with himself.

      ‘I love it!’ I said. ‘How come we didn’t find it this morning, I wonder?’

      Des laughed. ‘Because I didn’t build the site until this afternoon. Is it convincing?’

      ‘You mean it’s not real?’ I was astounded.

      ‘That depends what you mean by “real”. Once I publish the site it’ll be a real working website that people can view and join. It has to be, if it’s going to serve our plan.’

      ‘I’m not sure I see where you’re going with this. Is it legal?’

      ‘Well, all of the links I’ve used are in the public domain. We need permission to use the photos, but that’s probably not going to be a problem because we’re offering free publicity and not planning to make any money out of it. I’ve emailed the various agents involved and we’ll get answers soon.’

      ‘So how’s this going to get me a date with Josh?’

      ‘That really depends on you now, and on what you consider a “date”. Are we talking lunch at the pizzeria so you can tell him you’re his biggest fan? Or do you want the full works – champagne, moonlight and roses, followed by a trip to the moon and stars?’

      I had to think about that. ‘I guess I’ll take whatever I can get,’ I answered eventually.

      ‘Good. That makes it easier all round. Let’s aim for lunch first then.’

      ‘How are we going to do that?’

      Des clicked a tab that we hadn’t yet explored. It gave details of the site’s administrators. Des was listed as editor, and I was listed as assistant editor.

      ‘This is a new fanzine, so we need the support of the band’s most prominent member. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to make contact with Mr Greenwood and get him to agree to an interview for the website. I propose that you arrange to meet him for lunch to conduct the interview; the rest is in the hands of the gods. If you play your cards right over lunch – who knows? Maybe the rest will follow.’

       The rest? Champagne, moonlight and roses – followed by a trip to the moon and stars? Yeah, right - like that was going to happen!

       Chapter 8: Seeing Stars

      The email from the BBC arrived on Thursday. I stared at the details in my inbox for a few minutes, scared to click and read the contents. If I didn’t get in it would be so disappointing, but if I did … well, that would be terrifying. I looked around me; the office was fairly empty with half of my colleagues on their lunch break.

       I’ll leave it until I get home; a few hours won’t make any difference and I’ll have time to put on a brave face before I have to tell anyone.

      But that was easier said than done. Throughout the afternoon I could think of nothing else. I was almost grateful when the phone rang at three-fifteen and my supervisor, Liz, called me into her office. My personnel file lay open on her desk.

      ‘Ah,

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