The flying medic met them just over a kilometer away from the studio. The Vampire swooped over them, and then landed on the road, turning to face the direction the slowing bus was coming from. Loydell braked and switched the engine off. The snub-nosed plane taxied to a halt a few meters from the bus.
Two medics got on board the bus and Loydell quickly explained what had happened. The medics carried Miss Arbogast into the Vampire and the small, but powerful Goblin engine started up with a soft roar. The plane taxied down the road and the nose rose fractionally. Then the plane took off, climbing gently into the bright blue sky.
The remainder of the trip was without incident. The school party arrived at the Mount Squires Recording Studio fifteen minutes later than Miss Arbogast's ETA.
Pretty damn good time keeping, all things considered, thought Loydell, as he pulled the bus into the parking lot. As he switched the engine off, a stocky, middle-aged man came out of the studio and walked towards the bus.
“I expect perfect behavior,” Loydell told his students, as he opened the doors and let them file off. At the studio door they waited quietly as Loydell got off the bus and introduced himself to the man.
“Roger Loydell. Good to meet you. Sorry we're late, but we had an emergency.”
“Trevor Bolder,” the man said, sticking his hand out. “A few minutes here or there's not a problem. What was it? Flat tyre, I bet. Or overheating.”
“Stroke, I think,” Loydell said, shaking the proffered hand.
Bolder laughed. “Stroke. Not bad. Okay, shall we go in?”
Loydell nodded and followed Bolder into the studio.
The interior was cool and clean, but odd.
Loydell had been into a number of recording studios over the years and knew the general layouts, but this particular one was definitely in a class of its own regarding utility. Everything was there - mixing desk, computer, sound room, instruments, amplifiers, intercoms, the whole works, but there was something about it - something slightly out of kilter that made Loydell start to take stock very carefully. It took him a while.
As Loydell assimilated, Bolder showed the students around.
“Feel free to touch things,” he said. “It's all quite robust.”
Given free rein, the students descended on the equipment and the inevitable barrage of questions began.
“Sir, how do you switch this on?” Keith Miller asked.
“What famous groups have been here?” Julie Kershaw wanted to know.
“Can this do overdubs, Sir?” Alan MacQuade asked.
“Can we make a record?” Lee Pettit demanded hopefully.
“Is this the on switch?” Sinead Jackson said, pointing to a red button.
“Where are the drumsticks?” Michael Barton asked, looking around.
Loydell walked around the studio, watching his students as they began to familiarize themselves with the equipment. It was then that he realized what it was about the studio.
It wasn't used for recording any more! The equipment was far too old!
Looking at the antique mixing desk, he was certain of it. Oh, it had all of the controls in the right place and he was sure it still worked properly, but the way it just sat there in the center of the room, no cables for mikes, guitars, keyboards, or any other instruments running into it, and none running from it to the computer, made him think that the studio had actually ceased to be a working studio a long time ago.
Loydell made his way over to Bolder, who was showing five students how to damp down a drum sound.
“Do you have many school visits?” he asked.
“Not enough really,” Bolder answered. “I'd do a few more, but we're a bit out of the way here. There's hardly-” He stopped talking abruptly and turned back to the drum machine.
“By the way, how much is this visit going to cost us?” Loydell asked. He hadn't had time to ask Miss Arbogast about expenses.
“Come to my office,” Bolder said. “We'll talk finances there.”
Loydell nodded and followed Bolder into a small metal cubicle. There was a chair, desk and filing cabinet - and that was all. Bolder stood behind the desk.
“I'm surprised you have to ask me about the price,” Bolder said. “Didn't Cassie Arbogast tell you? It's the same as always. And how come she didn't come on this trip? She never normally misses one.”
Loydell stared at Trevor Bolder.
“You don't know, do you? No one's bothered to tell you, have they? That's why I said stroke. On the way here she had a stroke or a heart attack and the medics took her to the hospital, probably the one in Kalgorlie Boulder - I think that's the nearest one to here.”
