This Sunday afternoon, there was a noticeable difference in the Brand household.
For once, nobody had forgotten about guitar.
There were three guitars in the sitting room.
Three music books.
Three picks.
And, most importantly, three children who had been told that Ted was coming at three o’clock.
Mr Brand had even put a reminder on his phone.
Mrs Brand had put one on hers.
Marjory had put one on hers.
And Alfie had written it in the family calendar.
This was perhaps slightly excessive.
But after the previous week’s frantic search for two guitars and the discovery that one of them had apparently been living under a pile of things nobody wanted to admit owning, the adults had decided that they were going to take guitar seriously.
At least for seven days.
Alfie had certainly taken it seriously.
He had practised every day.
He had practised after school.
He had practised before dinner.
He had even practised while waiting for his bath to run.
He had worked through the chords Ted had given him and had started experimenting with changing between them more quickly.
By Sunday afternoon, he was sitting on the sofa with his guitar across his lap, quietly playing through a little progression.
It sounded good.
Really good.
Mrs Brand stopped in the doorway.
She listened.
Then she smiled.
“Alfie.”
He looked up.
“Yes?”
“That sounds brilliant.”
“Thanks.”
Mr Brand appeared behind her.
“I think he might actually be quite good.”
Alfie smiled.
“I’m getting better.”
Barry walked past carrying a cushion.
“I’m better too.”
Alfie stopped playing.
“At what?”
Barry thought.
“Everything.”
Marmaduke followed him into the room.
“I think Barry means guitar.”
Barry nodded.
“Yes.”
Alfie looked at the guitar.
“You haven’t practised.”
Barry looked offended.
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It should.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because guitar isn’t played with your brain.”
Barry looked at his hands.
“That’s disappointing.”
Marmaduke picked up his guitar.
“I practised.”
Barry turned towards him.
“You did?”
“A little.”
“How much?”
Marmaduke shrugged.
“Ten minutes.”
Barry looked at him suspiciously.
“Without me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were playing football.”
Barry thought about that.
“Oh.”
Marmaduke smiled.
“I can change between A and D faster now.”
Barry stared at him.
“You can?”
“Mostly.”
“Show me.”
Marmaduke carefully put his fingers into position.
He played A.
Then moved his fingers.
D.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was definitely D.
Barry stared.
“That’s amazing.”
Marmaduke grinned.
“I know.”
Barry immediately looked at Alfie.
“Can you do it?”
Alfie raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Faster than Marm?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
Alfie did.
A.
D.
A.
D.
Smoothly.
Barry stared.
Then he turned to Marmaduke.
“We need a band.”
Marmaduke nodded.
“Definitely.”
“What sort?”
“A guitar band?”
“No.”
Barry shook his head.
“Too ordinary.”
Marmaduke looked puzzled.
“What do we need?”
Barry lowered his voice.
“Explosions.”
Marmaduke’s eyes widened.
“Explosions?”
“Rock bands have explosions.”
“Do they?”
Barry nodded confidently.
“I’ve seen them.”
“You’re four.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Barry paused.
“On television.”
Alfie had heard enough.
“No.”
Barry turned.
“You haven’t even heard the idea.”
“I heard the word explosions.”
“That’s the important bit.”
“No.”
Barry frowned.
“Our band needs excitement.”
“Our band?”
“Yes.”
Alfie looked at Marmaduke.
“Are you in this?”
Marmaduke considered it.
“Maybe.”
Barry pointed at him.
“See?”
Alfie sighed.
“I don’t think you understand what a band is.”
“I do.”
“What is it?”
“Three boys.”
“Yes.”
“With guitars.”
“Yes.”
“And explosions.”
“No.”
Barry looked disappointed.
“You’re not very rock and roll.”
Alfie returned to his guitar.
“I’m trying to keep everyone alive.”
At exactly three minutes past three, there was a knock at the door.
Barry sprinted towards it.
“TED!”
He opened the door.
Ted stood outside.
The long hair was still there.
The Guns N’ Roses T-shirt had been replaced by another black rock T-shirt.
Barry looked at it.
“What does that one say?”
Ted looked down.
“It’s just a band.”
“Are there guns?”
“No.”
“Roses?”
“No.”
“Explosions?”
Ted laughed.
“No.”
Barry looked disappointed.
“Not very good, then.”
Ted stepped inside.
“Hello, Barry.”
“Hello, Ted.”
“Ready for guitar?”
Barry nodded.
“Yes.”
Ted smiled.
“Good.”
Barry leaned closer.
“And explosions?”
Ted stopped.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Ted walked into the sitting room.
“Hello, everyone.”
“Hi, Ted,” said Alfie.
Marmaduke waved.
Barry pointed at Alfie.
“He’s got really good.”
Ted smiled.
“I can see that.”
Alfie picked up his guitar.
Ted sat down.
“Okay, Alfie. Show me what you’ve been doing.”
Alfie played.
Ted listened.
Then he nodded.
“That’s really good.”
Alfie smiled.
“You’ve got the chord changes much cleaner.”
Alfie continued.
Ted listened for a little longer.
“Excellent.”
Mrs Brand, standing in the doorway, looked delighted.
Mr Brand looked slightly stunned.
“When did that happen?”
Alfie looked up.
“Practising.”
Mr Brand nodded.
“Right.”
Barry whispered to Marmaduke.
“He’s doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“Being good.”
Ted turned towards Marmaduke.
“Your turn.”
Marmaduke picked up his guitar.
He looked slightly nervous.
“I’m not as good as Alfie.”
Ted smiled.
“You don’t need to be.”
Marmaduke played A.
Then D.
Then back to A.
He hesitated.
Then D.
Ted nodded.
“That’s good progress.”
Marmaduke smiled.
“You think?”
“Definitely.”
Barry watched.
“You did it without getting stuck.”
“I know.”
Ted turned towards Barry.
“And now you.”
Barry picked up his guitar.
He looked at it.
Ted waited.
Barry looked at Ted.
Ted looked at Barry.
Barry looked at the guitar.
Finally he said, “I remember which way round it goes.”
Ted smiled.
“That’s a good start.”
Barry played an A chord.
It sounded like a drawer being thrown down a staircase.
Ted nodded.
“Excellent.”
Barry beamed.
Then he played it again.
This time it sounded like two drawers.
Ted laughed.
“You’re getting louder.”
Barry looked proud.
“I’ve been practising.”
Alfie stared at him.
“No you haven’t.”
“I practised today.”
“When?”
“Just now.”
“That doesn’t count.”
Barry ignored him.
Ted showed Barry the chord again.
“Try moving this finger here.”
Barry did.
“Now this one.”
Barry moved it.
“Good.”
Then he accidentally moved his entire hand.
The chord disappeared.
Barry frowned.
“Where did it go?”
Ted laughed.
“You moved your fingers.”
“Oh.”
Barry tried again.
This time he got it.
Not perfectly.
Not even particularly beautifully.
But there was definitely a recognisable chord.
Ted nodded.
“That’s much better.”
Barry looked delighted.
“I can do it!”
Marmaduke smiled.
“I told you.”
Barry played it again.
Then again.
Then again.
After the fifth attempt, Mrs Brand gently said, “Maybe we could give the strings a little rest.”
Barry looked at her.
“But I’m a musician.”
“You’ve been a musician for approximately thirty seconds.”
“It’s going very well.”
Ted laughed.
“Okay. Let’s do something together.”
The three boys sat beside one another.
Ted showed them a simple progression.
Alfie picked it up immediately.
Marmaduke followed.
Barry concentrated so hard that his tongue came out of the corner of his mouth.
A.
D.
A.
D.
For a few seconds, it worked.
Not perfectly.
But together.
Ted stopped.
“That’s it.”
The boys looked up.
“That,” Ted said, “is the beginning of playing as a group.”
Barry’s eyes widened.
“A band?”
“A band.”
Barry turned to Marmaduke.
“I told you.”
Alfie smiled.
“Technically, yes.”
Barry looked around the room.
“We need a name.”
Ted grinned.
“Already?”
“Yes.”
Marmaduke thought.
“The Rock Boys?”
“No.”
“The Guitar Guys?”
“No.”
“The Three Musicians?”
Barry shook his head.
“Too boring.”
Alfie suggested, “The Three Chords.”
Barry looked horrified.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to have more than three.”
“You can’t play more than three.”
“Not yet.”
Ted laughed.
“What about The Brand and Jacksons?”
“No,” said Barry.
“That sounds like a law firm,” said Mr Brand.
Mrs Brand nodded.
“Definitely no.”
Barry paced around the room.
He was thinking.
This was always dangerous.
Finally he stopped.
“I know.”
Everyone looked at him.
“The Exploding Guitars.”
There was silence.
Ted raised an eyebrow.
Marmaduke nodded slowly.
“I quite like it.”
Alfie shook his head.
“Of course you do.”
Barry continued.
“We need lights.”
“No,” said Mrs Brand.
“And smoke.”
“No.”
“And fireworks.”
“Absolutely not.”
“And a giant stage.”
“No.”
“And a drum kit.”
Mr Brand looked at him.
“You don’t play drums.”
“I will.”
Snowball, who had been sleeping peacefully in her basket, opened one eye.
Barry looked at her.
“She could play drums.”
Snowball closed her eye again.
Ted laughed.
“I think Snowball has declined the position.”
Barry frowned.
“She hasn’t signed anything.”
“Probably because she doesn’t have opposable thumbs.”
Barry considered this.
“Could we give her some?”
“No,” said Mrs Brand.
The lesson continued.
Ted taught them how to play together.
Alfie kept time.
Marmaduke followed carefully.
Barry occasionally forgot where he was and simply strummed enthusiastically.
But gradually, something happened.
The three boys began to sound like a little group.
Not a very polished group.
Not one that was likely to be headlining Wembley Stadium any time soon.
But a group.
Barry looked at Ted.
“We need to perform.”
Ted smiled.
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“After you’ve practised.”
Barry sighed.
There was that word again.
Practice.
It was becoming a recurring problem.
“How much?”
“Ten minutes a day.”
Barry looked horrified.
“Every day?”
Ted nodded.
Barry turned to Marmaduke.
“We’ve joined a very demanding band.”
Marmaduke laughed.
Alfie shook his head.
“You’re the one who wanted to be in it.”
“Yes.”
“And wanted explosions.”
“Yes.”
“And fireworks.”
“Yes.”
“And smoke.”
“Yes.”
Alfie smiled.
“Then practise.”
Barry stared at him.
“You sound like Ted.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
At the end of the lesson, Ted packed his guitar away.
He looked at Alfie.
“You’ve made loads of progress.”
Alfie smiled.
“Thanks.”
“You’re ready to start learning some more complicated things.”
Alfie’s eyes lit up.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Then Ted looked at Marmaduke.
“Keep going like this. You’re making steady progress.”
Marmaduke smiled proudly.
Then Ted looked at Barry.
Barry waited.
“You,” Ted said, “need to practise.”
Barry nodded solemnly.
“I understand.”
Ted smiled.
“And perhaps try not to explode anything.”
Barry nodded again.
“Of course.”
Ted left.
The door closed.
Mr Brand looked at Barry.
“You’re not actually planning explosions, are you?”
Barry looked innocent.
“No.”
Mrs Brand narrowed her eyes.
“Barry.”
“No.”
Marmaduke looked at him.
Barry smiled.
“Not yet.”
Alfie groaned.
Snowball opened one eye.
Barry looked at her.
“Don’t worry, Snowball.”
She stared at him.
“It’s going to be brilliant.”
Snowball blinked.
Barry picked up his guitar.
He strummed one chord.
It sounded terrible.
He grinned.
“Rock and roll.”
Snowball closed her eyes.
She had survived being rescued from a hedge, surgery, an FIV diagnosis, becoming an indoor cat and moving into a house containing four humans.
Yet somehow, she suspected that three small boys forming a rock band might prove to be the greatest challenge of all.
And, somewhere upstairs, Alfie quietly began practising.
Because unlike Barry, he understood the fundamental rule of rock music:
You could have the long hair, the guitars, the T-shirts and even the explosions.
But you still had to do your homework.
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