Sugar Secrets…& Guilt Page 2

  “What anniversary party?”

  “The one at the Balinard Hotel!”

  “Well, maybe if you’d ever mentioned it to me, I might have kept this weekend free!”

  Kerry. Cat and Nick watched as the conversation between the two lads batted back and forth. Ollie Stanton, wiping his hands as he sauntered over from his stint in the kitchen, caught most of it too.

  “What?! I told you about it… ages ago!” said Matt indignantly.

  “Like when?” countered Joe.

  “Like… I can’t remember!”

  “Like you never asked!” Joe responded, looking as irked as mild-mannered Joe ever could.

  “You know your trouble, Matt,” said Catrina, pointing a long, painted nail at her friend. “You’re so self-centred that you just supposed poor Joe here doesn’t have a life. You thought all you had to do was whistle and he’d come running!”

  Matt’s face was slightly flushed with indignation. But then it never took much to stir up a battle of barbed words between him and Cat.

  “I do not think that! I—”

  “And, let’s face it,” continued Cat merrily, “you haven’t had a brain since Gaby chucked you. I mean. I know you’ve said you’re over her, but you spend half your time in a daze. I bet you didn’t ask Joe. I bet you.”

  “Hold up! Quit right there!” Ollie refereed, seeing by the hurt in Matt’s face that Cat had hit a raw nerve. It was true, Ollie knew; Matt was finding it harder to get over Gaby than he’d thought.

  “So, Joe,” Kerry leapt in, following her boyfriend’s lead, “what’s taking you down to your dad’s? Got anything planned?”

  “Uh, yeah…” Joe mumbled. “I’m, um… I’m starting up driving lessons with him again this weekend.”

  “Oh, Joe!” gasped Kerry, clapping her hands together. “I’m so pleased!”

  Joe shrugged shyly and said nothing.

  Ever since Joe’s first ever lesson had ended in disaster-when he’d crashed his father’s car after a deer leapt into the road in front of him, injuring everyone-he seemed to have lost his bottle. For Kerry, in particular, who still bore the aches and pains of a slowly healing collarbone and ribs, this was brilliant news. The last thing she wanted was for Joe to feel so guilty over the blameless accident that it put paid to his plans to learn to drive.

  “Good on you, Joe!” said Matt, regaining his composure after Cat’s tongue-lashing and thumping his friend on the shoulder. “Not that it helps me much. Not since Ollie got too busy to help me out either…”

  He was only joking, but Kerry knew that the whole balance of their group friendship had changed since she and Ollie had become a couple. The nights Ollie might have tagged along with Matt, lending a helping hand, were now the free nights he spent with her. In the light of Joe’s news, she felt it was time to make a gesture.

  Glancing up first at her boyfriend, she turned to Matt.

  “Ollie’s not too busy to help-not ‘cause of me anyway. We weren’t doing anything much tonight, were we, Ol?”

  Ollie looked slightly surprised, but agreed with her.

  “So,” said Kerry, staring straight at Matt, “we can both come with you. We’ll both be your little helpers, if you want!”

  Matt’s instant reaction was to say no thanks-he loved Ollie and Kerry, but the thought of playing gooseberry to the most sickeningly happy couple in the whole of Winstead was more than he could stand. ‘Specially when it was only a reminder of what he used to have…

  But, as far as offers went, it sounded like a better bet than humping all his gear to a boring twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party on his lonesome.

  “Kez,” he said, fixing his friend with a serious look, “you’re on…”

  CHAPTER 3

  UNCERTAIN FUTURE, UNSETTLED PAST

  Cat sat flopped on the sofa in front of some saddo Saturday afternoon film, not even remotely interested in starting her usual hours-long pampering and preening for the big night out ahead.

  By contrast, half-an-hour before, her mum had breezed out of the house clutching a bunch of dry cleaning receipts. She’d seemed all of a flutter to Cat-irritatingly perky and excited at her impending little ‘holiday’. The ‘holiday’ that involved inspecting this ‘property’; this new home she hadn’t even bothered discussing with her only daughter.

  Cat sighed. It had been good to talk it through with her mates at lunchtime, but in a way, it had also seemed to make it more real-especially when Cat had seen tears of pity threaten to well in Kerry’s eyes at the news.

  Bless Kerry for being such a sweetie, thought Cat bleakly, but her sympathy’s only made me feel a whole lot more sorry for myself…

  A new town and a new start, or being left behind in Winstead to fend for herself? Both options totally depressed Cat. Despite her five-second burst of enthusiasm for striking out independently earlier in the café, Cat knew deep down that she wasn’t ready to go solo. She knew that for certain, even if her uncaring mother didn’t seem to…

  Suddenly, Cat thought about taking advantage of her mother’s temporary absence this afternoon; she decided to go and stick on one of her favourite CDs really loud, just to try and chase the blues away. But right that second, the slam of the front door announced Sylvia Osgood’s return.

  “God, Catrina, are you still just lounging around? Haven’t you got anything useful to do?”

  Cat flickered her eyes towards her mother, standing in the doorway of the living room, arms laden with crinkling plastic covered clothes.

  “Mooching around half asleep at three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, for goodness sake,” she heard Sylvia grumble. “It’s not normal!”

  Is it normal not to tell your own daughter about something that could affect her whole life? Cat ranted in silence. Then, unable to keep her bad mood bottled up any longer, she sat up and let fly.

  “Leave me alone, Mum-you make me sick! Just go and pack for your precious holiday! Just sod off and leave me without a moment’s notice, why don’t you!”

  Sylvia Osgood was obviously not to be goaded into a major sparring match. She swept off to her bedroom, throwing her final comment back over her shoulder. “Fine! God you’re so selfish! I don’t know where you get it from!”

  “you…” muttered Cat, flinging herself back on the sofa to scowl at the ceiling once more.

  “Where are you?”

  “Outside my house. I just got out of the car.”

  “Right-I can hear the gravel crunching now that you’re walking,” said Sonja, her voice coming clearly through the mobile phone.

  “I’m opening the front door now. Is this exciting enough for you?” said Matt, balancing the mobile between his ear and his shoulder as he juggled with keys and a couple of bulging plastic bags.

  “Thrilling,” said Sonja. “So why do you sound so breathless?”

  “Because I’m trying to talk to you, wrestle the keys out of the lock and get my shopping indoors.”

  “What’ve you been buying?”

  “Nothing exciting. Just some stuff from Tescos.”

  “Wooh, spending your Saturday afternoons in the supermarket! Aren’t you getting domesticated?” gasped Sonja cheekily. “Or were you just buying your week’s supply of Pot Noodle?”

  Matt closed the front door with his foot and headed towards the kitchen.

  “OK, Nosy,” he grinned, thumping the bags down on the big pine table and hauling out the contents. “Let’s see… I got a family-size pack of loo roll, some deodorant, razors, washing powder and a big bottle of shower gel that smells—”

  Matt sniffed, grimaced and stuck the top back on.

  “—like Cat wearing all her bottles of perfume at the same time!”

  “Well, Matt, I have to say that those don’t sound as nice as Pot Noodle for your tea tonight,” teased Sonja.

  “I got some of those ready-made meal things you shove in the microwave too,” Matt laughed.

  “But, hey, what’s with the washing powder? You’ve
got no more idea how to work the washing machine than you have the cooker!”

  “The cleaner left me a note to get some,” Matt muttered, almost apologetically, as he swung open the big fridge door and bundled the ready-made meals inside. He always felt a bit uncomfortable at the idea of having what his dad called a ‘housekeeper’ pop in a couple of times a week to tidy the house, do the laundry and generally clean up. Not that Matt ever actually felt like offering to take over those duties full time either.

  “Sonja-is there a point to you phoning me or were you just in the mood to wind someone up?” he asked, checking his watch. He had a couple of hours to kill before he’d have to leave for the Balinard Hotel.

  “Matt, it’s always a pleasure to wind you up,” laughed Sonja, “but, yes, I do have a reason. You were wittering on about a brilliant compilation CD earlier this week and I wanted to know what it was called-I fancy buying it for Owen.”

  “Was it maybe The Chillout Album 2?” said Matt, furrowing his brow. He listened, played, talked and thought about so many different albums-worth of music every week it was hard to remember what he’d been raving about.

  “Yeah? That sounds familiar. I was in town shopping this morning, but I couldn’t remember the name of it when I went into Central Sounds. I was so annoyed!”

  “Was that where you were today? We were all wondering why you didn’t turn up at the End.”

  “Well, that and the fact that me and my sisters were out shopping for something for my mum’s birthday.”

  “Oh, right-you’re all going out for some big family meal tonight, aren’t you?” Matt remembered from a long-ago conversation with his friend.

  “Yeah, it should be good. We don’t all go out together that often.”

  Matt stopped dead in the middle of the tiled kitchen floor. Something about what Sonja had just said bugged him and he couldn’t figure out why.

  “Um, speaking of family stuff,” he said as his mind whirled and tried make sense of the mysterious feeling he’d just had. “Did you know Cat’s news? She thinks her mum’s moving. Like, leaving Winstead, moving.”

  “What?” exclaimed Sonja. “Since when? Aunt Sylvia’s never said anything to my dad-well, nothing that I’ve heard about!”

  “Well, I dunno. Maybe Cat’s got it wrong-you know what she’s like,” Matt shrugged. “I mean, Cat doesn’t know for sure; it was just something she overheard.”

  “Hmmm-maybe I should speak to her before I stir anything up with my folks. I don’t want to spoil tonight with stuff that might just be all in Cat’s head…” Sonja mused. “But it wouldn’t surprise me if Cat’s mum did something out of the blue like that. She’s never exactly got into the role of the loving, caring mother, has she?”

  Then it clicked for Matt. Mothers… mothers’ birthdays… mothers who wouldn’t win any parenting awards in the foreseeable future…

  When was the last time I heard from Mum? he wondered, searching his memory banks. Of course-the Christmas card with the cheque in. And the photo…

  “You still there, Matt?”

  “Yeah, yeah…” he muttered, finding his voice. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Got to get ready for this job I’m doing tonight.”

  “Sure,” came Sonja’s reply. “Maybe see you at the End tomorrow morning?”

  “Maybe. See you…” muttered Matt, pressing the End Call button as Sonja said goodbye.

  He threw the phone on the table, went out of the kitchen into the hall and padded down the two short flights of steps that led to his roomy den.

  “Where is it?” he mumbled to himself, glancing round the vast room with its jumble of furniture. Kicking a bean bag out of the way, he pulled open the bottom drawer of a dark-stained chest. It was packed with old letters, postcards, photos and what looked suspiciously like school notebooks.

  Rifling through the top layer, Matt quickly found what he’d been looking for-a cheery Christmas card of a cartoon-like angel. Flopping down on the polished (and well-scuffed) wooden floorboards, Matt flipped open the card.

  There was the cheque, still uncashed, and there was his mother’s handwriting: To my darling son, from Mummy x.

  Matt stared hard at the words and tried to will away the feeling of anger that rose in him.

  ‘“My darling son’-what a joke!” he muttered darkly. “How long did it take her to get bored with me once she met Simon and had the girls?”

  The girls… Matt picked up the photo inside the card and stared at the two small children with their baby-teeth sweet smiles, dressed in matching cutesy dresses, with the beaming couple in between them, hugging them close.

  And that was meant to make me feel good at Christmas? he thought bitterly as the picture of the perfect happy family clouded fuzzily in front of his eyes. Hey, Mum, maybe I should send you a card for your birthday next weekend with a photo of me and dad, holding up a sign saying. ‘Doing great without you!’

  Matt wiped the traitorous tears away angrily and went to stuff the card and the photo back in the drawer.

  It was then that he saw Gaby, smiling up at him, her eyes full of love.

  Slowly, he picked up the picture of his ex-girlfriend, the sunshine of last summer radiating off her skin, her toes digging into the sand on that long-ago day trip to Maiden Bay.

  He laid it in front of him on the wooden floor, beside the photo of his mother. The two women he’d loved the most.

  The two women who didn’t want him.

  Matt’s shoulders heaved with sudden, unexpected sobs.

  CHAPTER 4

  BIG NIGHT, BIG SHOCK…

  “Sure this isn’t too dull for you? Staying in at mine on a Saturday night?” said Alex McKay.

  Maya Joshi was stunned that he’d asked-she’d actually been staring down at the plates of delicately-scented Thai food he was stacking up on the dining table in front of her, worrying that he might be regretting going out with someone he couldn’t just take along to a pub or somewhere without a second thought.

  She’d never felt so underage as when his friend had phoned earlier, his voice booming through the answering machine before Alex could grab it, inviting him along to a wine bar that evening which Maya knew was strictly for over-twenty-ones. She could pass as eighteen in some places round Winstead - not that she ever felt entirely

  Only Cat noticed it at first; the men were too busy with their bad taste jokes and her mother was too busy glowering at them. She looked in puzzlement at the stocky lad who was hovering just outside the kitchen, with a full black bin-liner in his hands.

  “I finished clearing up the beer cans and stuff in the living room…” he shrugged.

  Cat still stared at him, wondering why this stranger had stuck around after everyone-even her other friends-had gone home, and why he felt the need to be such a Boy Scout that he was tidying the place up too.

  It was only when she spotted his specs, tucked into the neck of his T-shirt, that she recognised her rescuer once again.

  “Omigod! Come in!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and ushering him over to the table. Some automatic reflex that had been dormant for the last week sprang back into action, and she found herself smoothing her messed-up hair and giving him her best girlish smile.

  “Mum, this is-Who are you?” Cat interrupted herself, as the boy dumped the black bag by the bin and sat down on a spare chair next to her.

  “I’m, um, Zac,” he said, pulling his dark-rimmed glasses from their resting place and slipping them on.

  “Wow, that’s a big compliment, I don’t think,” said Matt flatly.

  Kerry and Ollie exchanged glances. Matt had been in a weird mood this Saturday night and neither of them could figure out why.

  “Why isn’t it a compliment?” asked Kerry, looking slightly offended for the old boy’s sake. “It means you’re really good at what you do, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah but, Kez, the trouble is I don’t want to be doing this stuff!” he frowned. “I want to be playing at cool clubs, making a name for m
yself on the dance scene; not slogging away at crap geriatric dos like this!”

  “Hey, chill out, Matt!” Ollie tried to laugh. “You’re making it sound like the world’s passing you by.”

  “Yep,” Matt muttered, shoving his headphones over his ears and effectively shutting out his mates. “That sounds about right…”

  Time was passing Cat by and she hadn’t even realised.

  “So,” said the boy with the six-pack chest, most of it on show since his shirt was unbuttoned to the waist. “Do I get your number then, Cat?”

  “Maybe,” purred Cat, searching around in her bag for a pen. She gasped and giggled as she suddenly felt his finger trace its way round the henna tattoo that looped around her exposed belly button.

  Donna-who’d organised this night out for all the girls on the beauty course-had traced the henna on the day before at college and Cat was well pleased with the result. Not just because it went brilliantly with her vaguely Indian-inspired outfit, but because of all the attention it had got her over the course of the evening. A host of lads-some decidedly cute-had commented on it and, like her latest catch, the lovely Luke, had also felt compelled to touch it.

  Scrabbling around, Cat gave up on the idea of finding a pen and settled on an eyeliner pencil instead.

  “Come here,” she smiled seductively at Luke, making a grab for his arm. Rolling his floppy, unbuttoned shirt sleeve up, she began to write her mobile phone number straight on to his skin.

  Luke was the third boy she’d given her number to during the evening, but he was the one she liked the best-who could resist someone as gorgeous as him, especially the way he danced…? But Cat felt equally gorgeous, especially with all the admiring glances she’d been getting.

  Her outfit-a cropped, short-sleeve top and knee-length, split skirt in cerise-pink sari material with gold print trim-had really turned heads in a room full of mostly black clothes. Cat was more than pleased with her choice, even if Wendy from her class had been a bit snippy and asked Cat on the coach if she realised they were just going out to a British club on a rainy March night-not heading to Cream in Ibiza in the middle of summer.