Elated, Tanner Francis raised his head, and closed his eyes. It was an offertory of thanks that despite his misgivings, Cecile, rather than saying goodbye, was proposing another opportunity to meet. She'd be in London for the next two weeks, and wondered if he'd like a lunchtime drink.

The words 'lunchtime drink' said to Tanner that things were still very much on a tentative, formal footing. Perhaps, on reflection, it was for the best. He thought back to Erica, and how he'd jumped into a relationship without ever really knowing her. Yes, a lunchtime drink would be fine.

Tanner decided to book a decent studio, for The Bellevilles' first meeting with Renard. He'd already met up with Damon and Cliff at the pub, a few nights before, and was pleased to see that Damon looked in much better shape than Cliff's story had led him to believe. His eyes however, now carried a hang dog look, suggesting he'd become accustomed to living on his wits, and his frame seemed less fuller than before, but nevertheless, he seemed content to be here, despite the laconic opener.

“The tragedy of rock, the travesty of roll.........eh Tan ?”

“Never mind all that. It will be a bloody travesty if we don't take this seriously. This is business boys, you never know where this could lead if we can pull it off.” He looked at Damon “We don't often get second chances, so promise me you'll give it your best, and I'll match it.”

Tanner then explained what he knew of Renard, and how he thought he should be handled.

“I'll bring him to rehearsal and introduce you. He won't admit it, but he'll be a bit in awe of you guys, and that's no bad thing. I want you to drill him in exactly how you remember Marrat operated, every little detail, yeah ?”

They nodded. Neither ever said it, but Tanner's sergeant majorly style, perversely seemed to instil their loyalty, in a way that neither had experienced before. It felt good to be back, but could Renard really do it? and if so, what if Marrat himself, ever got wind of it?

Tanner seemed to show little concern whenever the subject was raised. For him, it seemed that twenty five years, with neither word nor sighting, were proof alone that he was no longer around.

Jack Renard was on best behaviour when Tanner picked him up. As with the others, Tanner had visited him previously, and laid down the law. Erica had already told him a good deal about his behaviour, and how to handle him, but in this instance, he would use more pressure than usual. This was a unique opportunity, and he knew Renard wanted it.

“We gotta get this right, first time, Ren. I know how you fuck about with the Stones, 'cos you know there'll always be some other sucker who'll give you a shot.......but this is a real band. At least the other two have tasted it. They have nothing to prove....... you do, and you have one chance. Bollocks this up, you'll never get another.”

Tanner's sudden activity with the band, gave a perfect cover for his lunchtime drink with Cecile. Before recent events, his daily routine was pretty predictable, but now he was hardly visiting the office, which was proving too much of a distraction. As well as meetings with the band, he was in continual contact with Blanchard. Emails and phone calls flew back and forth. Tanner, with his usual attention to detail, wanted to be kept informed, and insisted on total control.

Using his connections from the agency, he contacted one of his best sound engineers. He'd need a driver and a roadie too, but decided to take care of that nearer the time. The issue of finding a suitable replacement for Michel Le Noir also needed to be considered, and for this, he remembered the conversations he'd had with Neil Holt, an ex bassist of Stoned Again, who'd finally persuaded him to deal with Renard in the first place. Although, by no means a double for the Frenchman, he did have enough about him to take on the role. He was a solid, reliable musician, and most importantly, already knew Renard, which Tanner felt would give the band some kind of cohesion.

The drink with Cecile then, was easily concealed as yet another meeting with one of the band's growing entourage, and Erica barely blinked as Tanner casually mentioned that he was off to Covent Garden, to talk about a deal for a tour bus.

“I am glad that you decided to come. I thought that in Paris, you seemed a bit uncomfortable”

Tanner's initial nervousness faded, as he suddenly realised that she obviously felt as unsure as him about how that first meeting had gone.

“We're not naturals at this are we ?”

“Let's drink to that. How is it going with this group of yours...What were they called, again ?”

The words passed easily, and this time, without touching on anything too sensitive, their personalities were slowly brought into focus. The effect was that for both of them, the outside world gradually seemed to fade away. The busy bar had become no more than a blurred backdrop, to a delicious voyage of discovery. Every twist and turn of the conversation seemed to reveal something new, yet exquisitely captivating. Sense of time faded, and it was only when Tanner's phone rang out, breaking the spell, that he realised that they'd over run by forty minutes. It was Blanchard.

“Tanner ? We need to discuss wot 'otel you want in Pari.............”  

Tanner gently replied that he'd have the information for him in an hour, and hung up.

“The world always interferes, doesn't it ?”

Tanner explained about the tour, and how it was now looking much more likely.

“If it goes ahead, there's a good chance I'll be in France for a few weeks later in the summer... ....and if that goes well, then…..........maybe, a lot more.......”

Cecile just smiled politely, and said nothing. Tanner had hoped she'd be pleased, but oddly, it seemed to distance her. He was late, he'd have to go, and just hope he hadn't spoiled anything.

“I know you're busy, its okay. I'll write to you soon. Thanks for coming,..... I really enjoyed it”

By the time Tanner and Renard arrived, (deliberately fifteen minutes late) at Frankie's Rehearsal Rooms near Putney Bridge, Holt, Damon and Clifford had already struck up, and were belting out the unmistakable chorus line, to End of the World. Without a word, Renard made straight for the mike, yanking it off the stand, and advanced to the front of the room, turning to face the band.

“...It's just you and me....nothing left in sight....You and me....at the end of the world tonight !”

No one in the band looked up, as Renard, now pacing out a small circle, continued with the next verse, and on to the end. As the last chords rang out, Renard put his mike back, and began to remove his jacket. It was barely off one shoulder, before Damon had launched into Aux Armes, without warning. Clifford and Holt immediately picked up the beat, and made their entrance.

Renard barely had a second to free himself of the jacket before resuming, apparently unfazed, bang on cue, and word perfect. Tanner sensed it was a deliberate ploy by the band, probably instigated by Holt, to force home the message that they weren't here to mess around. His pep talks seemed to have had desired effect, for sure, and considering that this was the first time in two and a half decades that these songs had been played, he had to admit it didn't sound bad at all. At the end of the second song, Renard himself spoke up

“I'd like to try Broad Church, not sure if I can hit it in the original key, though”

“Step it down to D ?” Damon looked over to Holt “You on it, man ?”

“No problem”

And off they went. Tanner wasn't surprised how effortlessly Neil had dropped in. It was as if he'd always been there, instead of only having met them an hour ago. Cliff sounded exactly as he'd always done, solid, focussed, and, Tanner thought, loving every minute. Damon, despite his troubles, certainly hadn't lost anything either. The most surprising thing though, was Jack Renard. Tanner had wondered whether he'd have the ability to live up to his bluster, but, although he didn't have exactly the same snarling rasp as Marrat, it certainly wasn't too far off. The only real difference that struck him was his movement. Marrat, even in rehearsals, could never stand still. Renard, it seemed, was more of a stroller.

After a few songs, Damon called for a smoke break. He sat down on top of his amp with one leg crossed, and proceeded to roll a joint. Tanner introduced Renard to Cliff and Damon, then Neil gave his old band mate a big hug. They'd not met for a few years, but seemed pleased to see each other.

Then finally, Neil turned to the others.....

“So how does he shape up against the French guy ?”

“I can't knock the look, tho' ee don't move like him, but hey ! Its been a while huh, Cliffo ? No one would know, 'cept you, me, Tan, an a few folks from years back, would they ?”

“To be fair, boys, I don't think Jacky ever saw the band either. How would he know ? So, lets, at least, have a stab at it. Also, I'd like the look to be much as we had it, so that means the same kinda togs.....and definitely the gloves”

“The gloves ?”

“Yeah, ee never took 'em off, except for the right one, at gigs, even in rehearsals. You'll see on the sleeve photo, check it out”

“How many rehearsals do we need ?” said Tanner

Damon and Cliff looked at each other, then the guitarist spoke......

“One a week until the tour, then a couple of days back to back, before we travel, should do it. Good idea to put in a warm up show over there, kinda incognito, just to get into the groove”

“Okay, that sounds good to me. Everybody agreed ?”

They nodded

“Right, I'll leave you guys to work on the moves, and anything else you need to get it sounding right. I'll have someone come and help Jack and Neil to get the clothes right, then we'll have a photo shoot. I'll start thinking up a press campaign, and get the album printed.....Oh yeah, a warm up show, good idea DD, shouldn't be a problem.............That leaves one thing........ Assuming that we're all on board, which I think is clear, then I'll go ahead, and sign the contracts. From now until the end of the summer at least, I need your word..............” he looked, in turn, first at Renard, and then to Damon “…... that at least come show time, you behave like professionals, and do your job.......I'll have your balls if you don't..........Got it ?”

In turn, he slowly stared into each man's eyes, receiving a solemn nod. He spat into his palm, and shook each hand in turn, then, lightening the mood, and for the first time ever, he produced a small baggie from an inside pocket, and chopped out five generous lines of powder.

“Vive la France !”