Here was the nameplate. 'Dr Carter'.Big and bold and brassy. Tweeds and heavy glasses? Don't be daft lad.She'd been good on the phone, and maybe, just...maybe, it would be Catherine waiting for me, not her mother.I marched down the side of the house - better not to look like a man sneaking into the VD clinic.Two steps up to the door. Ring the bell? No.It looked big enough to wake the dead. The great big knob in the middle of the door wouldn't turn. I pushed and the door opened and I almost fell. I write country music with a little rock and a little blues.’ ‘Have I ever heard any of your songs?’ ‘Well, unless you’re an aficionado of what is currently known as, progressive country, and you don’t strike me as the type, I would doubt it. My rock stuff tends to be more rock-country so you wouldn’t hear it on the typical rock or pop radio station. My blues stuff is still pretty personal. I’ve just formed a jazz-blues trio and we’re going to test the waters this summer.’ ‘You play too? Well. More

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