1. Welcome to Cherringfest!

Jess Miles took a moment to gaze out from the big stage, shading her eyes from the late-afternoon sun.

To the right and the left, stood two much smaller stages - all facing the bowl-shaped field which, this time tomorrow, would be filled with thousands of people attending Cherringfest.

It was still almost impossible to believe that she was here - a young woman from Cherringham, who would soon be performing at the very same festival she had come to so many times as a wide-eyed kid.

And not performing on one of the smaller stages, where newer bands, comedians, even magicians, all contributed to the relaxed party vibe of the festival. No. She, with her two bandmates, would be playing right here: on the giant Valley Stage - itself making her feel small - surrounded by lights and speakers, and equipment for other big acts.

She looked across at Ryan Crocker, standing yards away across the massive stage, also taking it all in.

Ryan co-wrote the songs with her - his voice a perfect blend with her high soprano. He was - she felt - the real driving force behind their band, Unlost. But right now, typically, he was just standing there, quietly.

She turned back. In front of her, on the lip of the stage, at the canopied area where all the tech guys were assembling the racks of mixers, sat their guitarist, Alfie Parker. The third member of the trio - his fingers seemed almost magical with the sounds they could conjure from his ancient guitar.

Jess felt the hairs on her arm tingle, wanting to hold onto all the feelings of this life-changing moment. The band's journey here had been so sudden, so unexpected, and now, so intense.

But Unlost, was - at least to Jess - always more than just a band.

It was her family. A family of artists.

And, as for herself and Ryan, well, that relationship went even closer.

Life now seemed more like a fantasy - and one she didn't want to end.

She moved close to Ryan. Despite his serious, intense manner, she guessed he, too, would be feeling blown away.

"Something, isn't it, Ryan? Cherringfest, this stage?"

He turned and looked at her.

She wondered - how much of their success had come about because she and Ryan were now linked? Not just as performers, but as a couple?

That, too, she hoped would never end.

He smiled, nodded. But then - Ryan being Ryan - he looked back at the stage.

"Big. That's for sure. But all the stacks of gear here? Looks like a bloody garage sale. We've got a lot to organise before tomorrow. Set the playlist. Work on the new tracks. Grab some rehearsal time ."

Jess smiled. Ryan, despite the songs he wrote, was always the practical one. She looked back at Alfie - lean, serious. His parents had wanted him to become a doctor, but all Alfie had ever wanted to do was summon amazing moments from his Fender Strat.

So far, her relationship with Ryan hadn't interfered with the band. Three amigos. Three artists. And now this Cherringfest booking, and the amazing success of their first album quickly reaching new heights.

Cherringfest: not the biggest of the summer festivals by any means, but everyone knew it was important.

This was a gig that could propel bands out of the tiny clubs into the big tours. Had done already: she could almost recite the list of award winners who had made their breakthrough playing the famous Valley Stage.

She could see that Ryan had his eyes locked on a large drum set, off to one side of the stage on a portable riser - the big bass drum emblazoned with a name anyone coming here would know very well: Lizard. The infamous metal band - led by lead singer Alex King - had dominated the '90s charts. Jess even knew the drummer's name - Will Dumford - who was now studiously fiddling with the tuning screws of the drum set, leaning forward as he touched the skin of the snare, then the toms . as if checking for a pulse.

Will was a local guy - also Cherringham born and bred - whose skills had propelled the Lizard anthems that had driven stadium audiences all around the world totally wild.

Now, though, that era was over, Jess knew.

Lizard surely knew it as well. In fact, the only reason, besides nostalgia, that they were still a "name" was because of the murder of their lead singer five years ago. Since that time, they had been on a world tour.

The Alex King Memorial Tour.

A tour that would never end, not as long, she guessed, as the money kept coming.

They were still a big enough draw to close the festival, playing the big Sunday-night slot.

She thought of the contrast with her band, Unlost. Their creative life, she hoped, really just beginning. Lizard though .? Like watching a mammoth star in the sky slowly fade away.

"Yeah. Our sound check's first thing in the morning," Ryan said, digging out a tattered piece of paper that contained the key information they needed for their Friday-evening performance. "Hope the production manager gets all of Lizard's damn stuff off of here ."

That was when Jess noticed someone standing stage left, hidden in the shadows of the backstage area, talking to a small group of crew.

A lanky man with a mane of hair, and leather trousers. Bottle of beer clutched in one hand. A jagged face with deep ridges and folds showing too many late nights, too much booze and drugs . too much of everything.

Jess recognised him straight away - Lizard's lead guitarist, Nick Taylor.

With Alex King gone, the guitar player was the head of the group, she knew.

She could see from his face, the guy was not happy. When he spotted Jess and her two bandmates, he shot up a hand to silence those he had just been talking with.

And then, with a leonine fierceness, he began moving, as if on a mission, straight towards Jess.

Or rather, straight to Ryan.

It took a second for Ryan to look up from the schedule he held in his hand to see that the leader of Lizard was heading their way.

Jess wanted to take a step back.

Instead, she moved closer to Ryan.

*

Nick Taylor planted himself in front of them, his craggy face now wearing an odd smile that was anything but warm.

"Well, if it isn't the bloody Unlost."

Been drinking hard, Jess could see. Carrying on the lifestyle that made the band infamous.

She tried to think what was wrong. Why had he come over? Something going on here. And it felt none too pleasant.

She looked up at Ryan, who she knew could also have an edge, depending on how things were going.

She was working on that with him.

Still a work in progress. But he'd been clean and sober for nearly a year now.

"Nick Taylor," Ryan said, not responding to the angry tone.

Jess saw another man appear behind Nick, a few steps back. She recognised him too. Karl Thorp, once upon a time the lead singer of a Lizard tribute band, then invited to take over for Alex King.

Big shoes to fill.

And according to the buzz from Lizard fans, his voice - a pale imitation of the original.

Ryan stuck out his hand. Nick looked at it as if it was a weapon aimed at his midsection.

"You know, you guys. Your name? Unlost? Think you should change it to Get Lost." Nick swayed, his nearly empty beer bottle held higher. "Because that's what I'd really love to see happen, losers!"

Jess looked from Nick Taylor (lean, wiry, projecting a ton of anger) to Ryan (face now settling into something dark, eyes narrowed).

Alfie, a few steps behind, took a step closer, put a calming hand on Ryan.

But Ryan shook it off, and instead matched the Lizard guitarist by stepping forward.

"You got a problem, mate? Cause if you do, well, then I guess-"

Jess tried to intervene. "Ryan. Let it go."

Taylor nodded. "Oh, I get it. Big man on the big stage. You know what I think of your band? Your sappy trio? Flash in the bloody pan. Here today ."

Jess thought that might be enough to trigger Ryan to do something. And, as if to make sure that happened, Nick Taylor held up his amber beer bottle, aggressively, waving it right in front of Ryan's face.

"Best listen to the little lady, kid. Hate to see you hurt before you even get to play!"

Behind him, Thorp took a brave step forward.

"Hey, Nick. Give it a break. Just-"

Nick turned and shoved an elbow at the replacement singer, pushing him back so hard that he slammed against a stack of cabinets.

"Shut the hell up, Karl," he said, waving the taunting bottle again.

Then, with Nick turned away, and with that bottle ominously inches away from his face, Ryan moved.

He shot out his right hand to Nick Taylor's chest and pushed the older man, who staggered backwards,...