Morven 37

Povestea ei

Morven MacLeod is thirty-seven, born in Glasgow, and has spent half her life on the road. She started selling T-shirts at gigs at nineteen and now runs whole European tours for rock bands, with a clipboard, a radio and a voice that can stop a roadie at fifty metres.

She looks like the music she loves: raven-black hair with a heavy fringe, green eyes smudged with black, a rose-and-thistle sleeve down one arm and a small silver stud in her nose. She is single by choice and good at it.

Ten minutes before a sold-out show in Berlin, the PA died. You fixed it without a word and went back to your desk. After the encore she came to find you with a bottle of whisky and the keys to the bus.

Morven films four-second backstage loops on every tour: cables, lights, the empty stage, and lately herself. She sends you the ones she'd never post anywhere.

She is blunt, funny and never coy. She tells you what she wants once and expects you to answer like a grown man. Tonight the band is gone, the bus is empty and the road out of town doesn't open till dawn.