We arrived at the festival site at seven o'clock that evening, a little ahead of schedule. I'd spent most of the afternoon wrestling with the reaction Maggie's flirtation with Niles was stirring in me, and had ended up firmly reminding myself that, as attractive as our chauffeur might be, as drop-dead gorgeous as he looked in those new blue jeans which so uncannily matched his eyes, he was still off limits for me. Just because he was no longer a married man, I couldn't (and shouldn't) forget that he was both my employer's brother, and way out of my league.

It didn't make watching Maggie paw at him any easier, though.

Once we had bedded the motor home into its slot, I called Michael on Niles' cell phone. My brother sounded tired, but encouraged us to make our way to the backstage entrance, where he would meet us with passes. When I conveyed this news to Maggie, she squealed and hugged Niles in delight. He smiled and patted her back awkwardly, when she didn't let go.

The sun was starting to go down as we wandered around to the meeting place. It had been a bright, sunny day and the evening air was pleasant. We passed vehicles of any and every description, most of them filled to bursting point, and heard snatches of all kinds of music from car stereos and portable hifi's. Groups were scattered along the embankments, stretched out on rugs or sitting cross legged in circles. Haircuts every shade of the rainbow broke up the green of the lush grass. A few barbecues were going, permeating the air with the scent of charcoal and grilling meat. The whole atmosphere was charged with fun, tolerance and relaxation.

You wouldn't have thought it to look at Niles, however. Every time we passed someone walking the other way, I felt him stiffen and rest a conspicuous hand on his wallet pocket. In the end, I sighed in exasperation, clamped his over-protective arm firmly between mine and told him to relax. From the tense way he permitted me to hang on to him, he didn't exactly follow that instruction.

True to his word, Michael was standing at the security gate, waiting for us. He looked older than when I had last seen him and this made me worry for a second or two, before I realised that he jolly well should look older, as we hadn't seen each other for several years. He called my name and raced out to meet me, then he picked me up as though I were still six years old (which isn't really a sensible analogy, as Michael would only have been eight at that time) and spun me round. I saw Niles smiling at the reunion, and Maggie, predictably enough, checking out my brother's backside.

"It's so good to see you, sis!" Michael said, and planted a big kiss on my cheek. He put me down and looked at me properly, just as I did him. His face had been transformed by a goatee, and he had lost weight, presumably with the physical toll of touring. His feet were bare beneath the saggy, draw-string trousers he sported, and his T-shirt was faded from washing. He looked nothing like a rock star, but then again, I guess musicians in contemporary jazz bands don't really think of themselves as such.

"Oh, you too, Mickey," I said, teasing him with his childhood nickname as I reached to ruffle his hair. "I'd like you to meet my friends." I introduced Niles first, and the two men shook hands, before Maggie stepped in between them and turned on the charm.

A few mintues later we'd been sorted out with the passes necessary to access the backstage area and were wandering through a little makeshift village of trailers, marquees and tents. "You chaps fancy a spot of dinner?" Michael asked, walking along with his arm around my shoulders. "The catering here isn't half bad, and there's plenty of choice."

Niles, walking on my other side, caught my eye and we nodded together, agreeing without even speaking. "Okay," I said to Michael. "Let's go."

We settled at a table in the corner of one of the larger marquees, with plates of hot buffet. I began to ask Michael how the tour was going. Maggie was on fine form, of course, showing off her knowledge of the Indigo Haze album, asking which songs they would be performing in their set, demanding to know when she could expect a new CD to be released. Michael was the soul of politeness. He answered all the questions with charm and tact. At a break in the conversation, he turned to Niles, who had been content to let Maggie and I hog the talking, and said, "How about you, Niles? Are you musical, at all?"

Poor Niles seemed a little disconcerted to suddenly be the centre of attention. Sometimes I forget how shy he can be. "Oh! Umm .. actually, yes. I play the piano. But my tastes tend more towards the classical than the contemporary." He blanched then, as though worried he might have said something to offend. "I enjoyed listening to your tape during the journey today, though."

Michael reached over and clapped Niles on the arm. "Cheers, mate!" he grinned amiably. "Listen, you should meet Pete, our own keys man. He's into the classical stuff, too."

Maggie squeaked. "Pete Young!" she announced.

Michael looked at her and then caught my eye with half an admonishing smile. I understood. I'd had no idea that Maggie was going to behave like a starstruck teenager on this trip. "Aye, Pete Young" he agreed. A glance round the table showed that we'd all finished, so he stood up. "Right this way."

On the short walk over to the trailer allocated for Indigo Haze, Michael took me to one side. "Listen, Daph - I'm not in the market for totty -"

"I know, love, and I'm sorry," I apologised. "I had no idea she'd behave like this. If it's any consolation, she doesn't have her sights set on you, particularly. She's been all over poor Niles, ever since I introduced them two days ago."

Michael shot me a knowing look. "Well, bear in mind that, even though I'm not about to take advantage of a young lady throwing herself at me, some of the other fellas will be only too willing."

I pressed my lips together for a moment, considering, before letting out a sigh. "She's twenty-six," I decided, eventually. "She's old enough to know better, and I can't spend the entire weekend baby-sitting her."

"Fair enough. Just so long as you understand."

I squeezed my brother's hand, to say thank you for being so considerate (although I knew for a fact that his gentlemanly conduct had more to do with the possibility of his girlfriend, Sharon - legendary on Manchester's Moss Side for the ferocity of her head-butt - finding out, than anything more chivalrous), and by then we'd arrived at the trailer. Michael skipped up the steps and opened the door, gesturing that we should follow him inside.