Chapter 8
August 1974
There was only a single light on in the sound room, and it was to the front, above a machine that Gerry would have been terrified to stand anywhere near, let alone dare to touch. Besides, there in the back—with his legs tucked up and his chin on his knees, away from Phil, Bella, the sound guy, and the band, and far from the discussions and the arguing—was just perfect. He’d never minded the dark, and without everything else to distract him, Gerry could just sit there and watch everything Mark did through the glass of the recording booth.
Above Mark, two spotlights provided light for the ignored notes in front of him. His hands sat in his lap, folded together, in perfect schoolboy pose. He looked serene, angelic, and completely at ease with where he was and what he
