Sugar Secrets…& Confessions Page 2

  And of course, it’d have to get him to Brighton and back more than anywhere, so he could see his girlfriend, Meg, who was going to be studying there. His heart turned cartwheels at the thought of her. Joe’s life had taken on a whole new meaning since he’d met her at his father’s wedding a few weeks ago. He felt there was a new purpose to living.

  He wondered how Meg was getting on with her parents on holiday in Greece. Before she’d met Joe she’d been really looking forward to getting away once her exams were over, but now… now she just wished he was going too. Joe thought that was sweet when she’d told him. Still, at least she’d be back at home on Saturday. Then he could tell her his news about the festival and invite her along. It’d be the perfect excuse to spend a lot more time with her.

  Ollie interrupted Joe’s romantic thoughts and brought him back to the present.

  “You know, it’s hard to keep level-headed about this festival thing,” he said, turning to Joe with anticipation written all over his face. “I mean, I know we’re only one of maybe seven or eight unknown bands playing, but even so, it’s such a massive opportunity. There are bound to be loads of people in the music business there - A and R, independent labels, other promoters. If something doesn’t come out of it then maybe we don’t deserve to make it!” Ollie thumped the dashboard so hard it made Joe’s battered Fiat rattle alarmingly.

  “Steady on, mate, one false move and it’s likely to fall apart,” joked Joe, patting the steering wheel in front of him as he slotted his key into the ignition.

  “Sorry,” Ollie chuckled. “I’m just getting a bit wound up, that’s all. Anyway, you know what I mean, don’t you? About the band?”

  “Oh, sure. I feel exactly the same way,” said Joe, starting the engine and putting his seat belt on. “I only wish I was gonna be around more once summer’s over. I tell you what, it’ll be just my luck if the band takes off once I’ve upped and left for London. There you’ll be, giving it loads on MTV, with another drummer - one who can make rehearsals at the drop of a hat. And I’ll be relegated to watching you on the telly from my grotty hall of residence, forever doomed to be known as the saddo who got left behind.”

  “Aw, don’t worry, mate,” chuckled Ollie. “We might send you a postcard from the video shoot in the Caribbean: y’know, look what you’re missing out on. Loser!’ Or something. We’ll even fax you a copy of our first cheque when we sign to a major record company… ‘£400,000 - read it and weep. Love, your old mate, Ollie Stanton.’”

  “And when you’re playing Wembley I’ll be phoning you up, begging to be put on the guest list, and you’ll refuse to take my calls.”

  “As if I’d do a rotten thing like that,” Ollie protested, grinning manically at the thought.

  They drove towards Central Sounds where they were meeting Matt to look for some better equipment to hire for the festival. Joe found himself thinking back to the moment at the end of the Battle of the Bands competition when he’d told Ollie - in no uncertain terms - that by September he wouldn’t be involved in The Loud any more. He was going off to London and stuff you, Ollie (or at least, that’s how it had come across).

  At the time Joe had been angry with the way Ollie had been riding roughshod over his friends (in particular Anna) to further The Loud’s cause.

  Later, when they’d both had time to calm down, it was Ollie who had made peace between them. It had been on the Sunday in the café after Ollie had made amends with Anna. He’d presented her with the beauty voucher The Loud had won as their prize for being runners-up in the competition. Afterwards, Ollie had walked over to Joe and apologised “for being a prat”.

  “Oh, right,” Joe had said. “It’s OK. Actually, I was going to say sorry to you too.”

  “For…?”

  “For telling you I was leaving the band in the way that I did.”

  “What, you mean shouting ‘I’m leaving the band!’ at me after the competition, then us not speaking the whole way home in the minibus?” Ollie had giggled and soon the two friends were joking about the incident, all animosity between them forgotten.

  Joe found himself chuckling out loud as he drove along the high street towards the music shop.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Ollie.

  “I was just thinking about us falling out after the competition. It was weird not speaking to you. But I guess one big row in all the years we’ve known each other is pretty good going.”

  “You’re right. But then if we fell out much more than that, we wouldn’t have stayed mates, would we? Or be playing together in a band?”

  “Even if it’s not for much longer,” Joe said woefully.

  “Actually, I’ve been thinking about what you said that day about not being in the band any more, and so long as you keep churning out songs for us, and making the trips home, I think we can work something out,” said Ollie cheerily.

  “Well, of course there’s Meg now, but I’m bound to be coming home quite often, if only so that Mum can do my washing,” Joe laughed. “And as for the songwriting - well, it doesn’t matter where I live, I’ll always write. I can’t imagine not doing it. I’m writing something new right now - d’you want me to get it done for the festival?”

  “Yeah? What’s it like?” Ollie demanded excitedly.

  “Well, it’s a bit of a love song actually,” said Joe, blushing. “It’s something I’m writing for Meg.”

  “Oh wow, man, that’s great!” Ollie enthused. “And it’ll be ready for us to rehearse before Dansby?”

  Joe nodded. “I think so.”

  “Well, that’s settled then. There’s no way you’re leaving the band. I know you’ll be in London and won’t be around much, but when you’re not studying - or snogging Meg - you can come home, dump your laundry, pick up your sticks and carry on where you left off.”

  Joe frowned. “But what’ll you do the rest of the time, when you’ve got a gig and I can’t make it?”

  “It’ll be all right,” Ollie replied airily. “We’ll have to call in a sub. Get in a session musician. Don’t worry, we’ll work something out so everyone’s happy. Just make sure you don’t go off and join a band down there.”

  “Now there’s a thought,” hooted Joe. “I could go and get myself involved in next year’s Travis. Then I’ll be the one coming back and wafting my wads around, rubbing your noses in it.”

  “Don’t even try it, mate, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  CHAPTER 4

  LISTENING IN

  “Brrrrr… brrrrr… brrrrr…”

  Ollie turned away from the chip fryer he’d just switched on and leapt in the direction of the ringing phone.

  “I’ll get it,” he shouted as he hurried through the kitchen, past Nick and Anna, who were going through the café order book trying to work out why they’d had a delivery of fifty bagels instead of fifteen that morning.

  “I still don’t understand how you didn’t notice when they arrived,” Ollie heard Nick saying to Anna as he rushed for the phone in the café.

  “They were hidden under umpteen sliced whites and crusty cobs, that’s why,” replied Anna. “I didn’t see them until the baker had gone.”

  OIlie picked up the receiver. Please let it be Saul, he prayed to himself, crossing his fingers for luck. But it was soon obvious it wasn’t the Dansby promoter he was so desperate to hear from. Judging by the time delay, the call sounded as if it was from abroad.

  “Hello. May I speak with Nicholaaas?” the American-sounding woman drawled.

  “Sorry? Who?” OIlie asked, his brow furrowed.

  “Nicholaaas Stanton. Perhaps I’ve dialled the wrong number…?”

  The penny dropped. “Oh, you mean Nick?” OIlie exclaimed. “I got confused there for a minute. Hold on. I’ll get him for you.”

  Dammit! Ollie cursed.

  It was two days since the unexpected call from that Saul guy. He hadn’t left a contact number, just said he’d be in touch. Although OIlie figured he must be busy working on suc
h a big event, he’d hoped to have heard from Saul again by now. In bleaker moments OIlie wondered if it wasn’t just someone messing around. Yeah, great joke if it is, OIlie thought bitterly. Like I’m really laughing.

  “For you, Nick,” OIlie yelled, dropping the phone on to the table in front of him and heading despondently back to his fryer to throw in a pile of uncooked chips.

  Nick carried on rifling through the reams of delivery notes in front of him, talking intently to Anna. He either hadn’t heard or was ignoring OIlie.

  “Hey, Nicholaaas!” OIlie persisted, when he realised his uncle had made no move towards the telephone. “There’s a woman on the phone for you - sounds like she’s calling from America.”

  Nick’s head jerked round to look at OIlie. His mouth fell open.

  “Seriously?” he demanded, clearly shocked.

  “Uh-huh. Well, she had an American accent and there’s a time delay on the line.”

  Nick hotfooted it through the kitchen, into the café and grabbed the receiver. Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, he looked behind him to see if Anna and OIlie were listening in. Which of course they were, both having followed him to stare.

  “We’ll be getting busy soon,” he hissed. “Can we have some action in there or something?”

  Anna and OIlie looked at each other from behind the café counter and smiled.

  “I was pretty busy, thanks, until you had a paddy over the bread order,” Anna hissed back, playfully flicking a hand towel in his direction and heading back into the kitchen.

  “Keep an eye on the chips, Anna,” said OIlie as he picked up a damp cloth and sauntered over to a table to begin wiping it down. He was keen to hear who it was that had flustered his uncle so much. But Nick kept his hand over the receiver and looked pointedly at his nephew, who, on spying a group of people coming into the café, admitted defeat and left him in peace.

  As he took orders, Ollie tried to keep one ear on the conversation going on between his uncle and the mystery lady. She seemed to be doing most of the talking, while Nick roared with over-the-top laughter every now and again or came out with what sounded to Ollie like corny old chat-up lines.

  This made Ollie cringe and he’d catch Anna’s eye then stick his fingers down his throat, pretending to be sick, which made her laugh out loud.

  When the long exchange came to an end, Ollie couldn’t wait to try and wind his uncle up.

  “So, who was that on the phone?” he asked innocently. “Someone putting in a sandwich order from America?”

  Nick blustered his way past Ollie, determined not to rise to the bait.

  “Just someone I met in Nashville,” he said, adding, “have you done that order of fries yet?”

  “Yep. She seemed very friendly,” Ollie pressed. “May I speak with Nicholaaaaas please?’” he imitated, exaggerating her accent. “Get to know her well out there?”

  “Don’t be daft,” answered Nick. “We just happened to like the same music and she promised to try and get some records for me out there. She was calling to let me know she’d found them. Now, is that it or is there anything else you want to know?”

  Ollie and Anna giggled at the look on Nick’s face and carried on with their duties, enjoying seeing the normally laid-back Nick getting somewhat riled by Ollie’s teasing.

  The café bell went and a load of noisy lads came in. Ollie turned to see Matt, Joe, Andy and another guy he didn’t recognise, heading towards the crowd’s usual table.

  “Hi, Ol,” called Matt, throwing a menu at the new guy. “A massive fry-up for me and whatever this lot are having, please. We bumped into each other at Central Sounds. I was window shopping, like you do when you’re skint…”

  “And me and Andy were fantasising about what we’d buy there if we had endless pots of money,” Joe added.

  “Yeah, we could have kitted ourselves out like Oasis if we had the odd ten grand to spare.”

  “But then all the money in the world wouldn’t make OIlie a better singer, would it?” teased Matt, his face cracking into a wide grin.

  “No, and the more stuff we hire, the more chance it gives our sound engineer to make a balls-up, doesn’t it?” OIlie retorted, laughing at Matt.

  “We met my old mate Deke there too,” Matt carried on. The guy sitting next to Matt nodded to OIlie then carried on studying his menu. “We used to be at school together, then he left and picked up this brilliant job working for a big music promoter, which involves him swanning around the country putting on acts at different venues and earning pots of money. While I, on the other hand, left school and bummed around and did nothing. Story of my life, eh?”

  “Someone pass the man a tissue,” suggested Andy.

  “Anyway,” continued Matt, idly scratching his head, “window shopping like that gave me some ideas for my music system at home. I reckon that I could take in a load of my old equipment and trade it in for a few bits of new stuff. Then, for my next party, I could have the sound so fantastic everyone’ll think they’re up the front of a Chemical Brothers gig at Brixton Academy.”

  Deke laughed.

  “No, seriously, it’s gonna be my biggest and best party yet. One you’ll all be talking about for months.”

  Now it was Andy’s turn to laugh. “What, you mean more of a talking point than the one where your house nearly got burnt down?”

  “Uh, well, I guess that was notorious for all the wrong reasons,” Matt replied. “This one’ll be cracking though, I promise you.”

  “Hey, Matt, it sounds like you have some, er, interesting parties,” smirked Deke.

  “I do. Why don’t you come to the next one?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. So when is it and where?”

  “Saturday night. Eight till late. Be there or… don’t.”

  “Nice one, mate.”

  A shriek of laughter from the table in the corner made them glance round briefly. No one had noticed Maya’s thirteen-year-old sister, Sunny Joshi, arrive with her friends. The sight of two older lads looking at their table made the younger girls burst into further explosive giggles.

  “That new boy’s fit,” Sunny remarked in a low voice to her mate, Lucy. “I wouldn’t mind swapping saliva with him.”

  Lucy glanced over to take a look at Deke. “He’s OK, but I still prefer that Matt guy. He’s just to die for.”

  “Nah, too girlie-looking for me,” Sunny whispered. “I prefer ‘em a bit more macho and rough around the edges.”

  Her girlfriends tittered into their drinks. Then, as they saw Deke stand up, they nudged each other and all turned to stare at him.

  Deke smiled smugly at the effect he was having on them, then turned back to the others. “I’ve got to shoot,” he said, making his way to the door. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Yeah, sure, Deke,” Matt said in a loud voice. “Don’t forget the party on Saturday.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Now’s your chance,” Sunny’s friend Marsha hissed to her. “I dare you to follow him and chat him up!”

  Sunny thought for a moment before replying. “Nah, not here. But I know how we could get to know them all a lot better…”

  CHAPTER 5

  SONJA’S GROWING PROBLEM

  Sonja chucked her bag on the floor just inside the front door and wandered through to the lounge, then into the kitchen. The house seemed deserted, as it had been when she’d first left fifteen minutes ago. Sonja was relieved. She filled the kettle with water, scooped a spoonful of instant coffee into a mug, then absent-mindedly wandered off, back into the lounge, where she picked up the remote control and flicked on the TV.

  She then headed into the hall, picked up her bag, took it through to the kitchen and dumped it on to the scrubbed pine table. She began rooting through it, looking for what she’d just walked to the newsagent’s for. Then Sonja remembered. She hadn’t bought anything. She knew she’d gone there for something, but once she’d got inside, her mind had gone AWOL. A bit like it was now,
and much as it had been for some time.

  Sonja drifted back into the lounge, flicked through the TV channels, returned to the kitchen and poured water from the kettle into her mug. Slopping in the milk and stirring it with a spoon, she wandered back to the lounge and slumped on to the enormous padded sofa. Staring at the television but not taking in the programme, she took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It was cold. Yuk! She must have forgotten to turn the kettle on.

  Sonja felt like screaming with exasperation and not for the first time in recent days; she hated being out of control like this. The irritation turned to annoyance when she heard the telephone start to ring, and by the fifth ring realised the answering machine wasn’t on. Sonja really didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but she couldn’t just ignore it.

  Banging her mug carelessly on to the coffee table and tutting as its contents spilled all over the glass top, she heaved herself off the sofa and went to the phone.

  “Hello…” she said glumly.

  “Hiya, Son, it’s me.”

  Sonja was so shocked to hear Owen Michael’s voice she nearly dropped the phone. Which was crazy, seeing as it wasn’t at all unusual for her boyfriend to call up like this. It was just that now — now — everything was different.

  “Hel-lo, Son? Are you still there?”

  Sonja gathered herself together and finally answered. “Hi, Owen. Sorry, I… er, was watching the telly. Hang on a minute, I’ll turn it off.”

  She put the phone down and dragged herself over to the television, buying time by walking as slowly as possible, her mind racing. What shall I tell him? Should I get It over with right now? Or not? Sonja came back and picked up the phone again.

  “That’s better,” she said, “I can hear you now.”

  “Not disturbing your soapfest, am I?” Owen joked. “I can call back if the Neighbours are in some kind of crisis. Or if Sally from Home and Away has just had a bust up with Alf. I don’t want to ruin your teatime viewing.”

  Sonja smiled for the first time in days. Trust Owen to take the mick. He knew she liked to watch the soaps, following the lives of, as he called it, “fictitious weirdos on the other side of the world.”