Sugar Secrets…& Shocks Page 5

  “What girl Trudie?” asked Anna.

  “You know - the girl in Ibiza!” said Kerry brightly. “The one who…”

  Kerry’s smile froze on her face as she realised that it was Sonja, not Anna, who she’d told about Trudie.

  In fact, Kerry had not only kept her promise to Matt not to mention the Trudie incident to Anna, she (and Ollie) had also kept it from all their other friends - apart from when Kerry confided in her best mate, Sonja. That was until now. Until she’d opened her mouth and very nearly put her foot right in it.

  “Oh, Trudie was just this girl me and Ollie met,” Kerry mumbled, feeling her face go bright red.

  She was just about to explain more, to add, “Remember I told you me and Ollie got stuck with an annoying couple? Well, the girl was called Trudie,” when Sonja arrived.

  “Hey, you two - haven’t you noticed? The guys are just about to start!” said Sonja, dragging a stool over and settling herself down between the two girls.

  Kerry turned her attention towards the stage where Ollie was adjusting the height of his mike, while Joe settled himself behind the drum kit, and Billy and Andy fixed their leads into their guitar and bass. She’d never been so relieved to get out of a tricky situation.

  Anna stared at the stage too, but didn’t take in anything that was going on - an unexpected finger of doubt had just intruded on her evening and her scalp prickled with shock.

  Who the hell is this Trudie? she asked herself, thoughts and doubts racing through her mind.

  Someone who was a man-eater like Cat, that was obvious. Someone who was out in Ibiza. Someone Kerry shouldn’t have mentioned to Anna, from the way she’d blushed and stumbled over her words.

  Is there something Matt hasn’t told me? wondered Anna, her heart beating louder than the opening drum beats Joe was now hammering out on stage.

  CHAPTER 8

  MAYA OPENS HER EYES

  Maya tiptoed closer to the sound of the rushing water, her feet almost sliding on the damp, slippery stones.

  “Hey!”

  Before she got closer to the edge, Alex’s shout made her spin round.

  “Gotcha!” he grinned, lowering his camera from his face.

  “Hey, not fair!” she giggled, “you could have warned me you were taking a photo - I was pulling a horrible face there!”

  “No, you weren’t,” Alex laughed, bounding up the rocks to join her. “You could never pull a horrible face - even if you tried. You’re just 100 per cent gorgeous, Maya Joshi, so get used to it!”

  Maya’s heart did a mini somersault and she found herself looking away shyly as she held out her hand to Alex to help him up. It was funny: she still hadn’t got used to the compliments he gave her. Among her group of friends, she never felt she could compare to Sonja’s striking blonde beauty, or Kerry and Anna’s natural prettiness, or even Cat’s unquestionable, if unsubtle, attractiveness.

  “Stop fooling around and get a load of this view!” She tried to joke her way out of the situation as he reached her side.

  “Who’s fooling around? And the view’s just fine from where I’m standing…”

  Maya turned to see him staring straight at her, a soppy smile playing on his lips.

  “You idiot!” she laughed, slapping a hand on either side of his face and physically turning his head away from her and over to the view she wanted him to check out.

  “Wow!” gasped Alex, gazing across at the waterfall tumbling down into the bubbling cauldron of pools below. Then, turning back to Maya, he pulled her towards him and kissed her gently.

  Maya beamed happily. They’d had a brilliant day out so far, driving around the countryside north of Winstead, with Maya pointing out all her childhood holiday haunts. They’d taken a detour off the main road and visited the donkey sanctuary, where Alex had laughed out loud at her memories of crying (aged eight) when one particular donkey had taken a shine to her little woolly hat - and eaten it.

  After that, they’d stopped at a picturesque old country pub for lunch, where Maya had managed to thrash Alex at the Crazy Golf game laid out in the gardens. But of everything they’d seen that day, the falls in Bluebell Wood had to be the best.

  “When I was about ten, I took a photo of the falls on my parents’ camera,” Maya explained. “And I kept that picture Blu-tack’d on the wall beside my dressing table for years.”

  “Did you? Your first photographic effort! You’ll have to show it to me sometime,” said Alex, turning his attention to the view once more.

  “I don’t have it any more,” said Maya, with a hint of sadness. “When we moved from the city to Winstead, it got lost along the way…”

  “Here - take a replacement photo!”

  Alex unhooked the camera strap from around his neck and handed her his Pentax.

  “OK,” grinned Maya. “But you’ve got to be in it. Crouch down at the edge of the rocks there!”

  “Sure!” said Alex, dropping his tall frame down into a squat. “You know, I can’t believe this place is so close to Winstead and I’d never heard of it!”

  “My parents used to bring us here a lot,” Maya explained, enjoying showing off this bit of scenery to Alex. “We used to do some great days out. Of course, that was before I got to the age where they decided it would be better for me to spend less time having fun and more time studying and going to extra tuition classes…”

  “Don’t knock extra tuition - that’s my job!” grinned Alex.

  Working as a lecturer at the Downfield Adult Education Centre, his job wasn’t bound by term times like other college staff. All through summer, he ran lots of short photography courses as well as keeping up the photography club that Maya, Billy and Andy all attended.

  “Well, one more year at college and then I’ll be free of them breathing down my neck about exams and studying…” sighed Maya, breathing in the fresh smell of wet grass and countryside.

  “Thought any more about what you’re going to do when you leave?” Alex asked, craning his neck slightly to peer over at the rushing water.

  Maya hadn’t. She knew she was putting it off. Her grades so far were good, especially in maths and science, and she knew that was the direction her parents hoped she’d move in. Her mum, in particular, would often mention different careers in passing - her friend the radiologist, her friend the research assistant - and it was all for Maya’s benefit, she was sure. But, so far, Maya had committed to nothing - apart from dropping hints that, when it came to applications, she’d be choosing courses well out of commuting distance of Winstead.

  “No, I haven’t thought any more about it. And I’m not going to until I have to!” she smiled, determined to enjoy not only the day out they were having, but the whole of the summer holidays too, without stressing about her future.

  In fact, Maya was determined not to let anything spoil their day - including thoughts of Wednesday night’s photo club and Ashleigh’s irritating little jibes. And that wasn’t hard to do -Alex had been brilliant the night before, coming along with her to see The Loud and going out of his way to chat to all her friends, not just dashing off as soon as the band had finished, like he often did. It had made her all the more sure, on top of what Brigid had said earlier in the week, that she had absolutely nothing to worry about in her relationship. As long as Alex didn’t bring up the subject of going away together again…

  But the subject that Alex did bring up right then probably couldn’t have stunned her more.

  “Why don’t you think about doing a photography degree?” Alex asked her, out of the blue. “Photography? I couldn’t!” said Maya, spinning her head round to look up at him in surprise.

  Alex looked back down at her with equal astonishment.

  “What do you mean, you couldn’t?” he asked her, smiling but puzzled.

  “Well, because… because it’s just a hobby. I mean, it’s not really a serious job option, is it?” said Maya.

  Alex’s grey eyes stared hard at her for a second then he burst into dee
p howls of laughter.

  “What?” asked Maya, now that it was her turn to be confused.

  “Well, is what I do a joke job?” he asked, his grey eyes twinkling.

  “Oh, no - of course not! I didn’t mean—” Maya was mortified. She hadn’t meant to belittle her boyfriend’s career.

  “C’mere!” said Alex, gathering her into a hug and kissing her. “I know you didn’t. And I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It’s just that you suddenly sounded like you were just coming out with something your mum and dad would say - word for word!”

  Maya frowned slightly, then realised he was right. It was as if her parents had implanted a chip in her head and, although she tried to rebel, she still ended up spouting the party line.

  “I could do a photography degree, though, couldn’t I?” She blinked her dark almond eyes at her boyfriend.

  “Of course you could!” Alex smiled. “You’re a very good photographer, Maya! Why don’t you at least think about it?”

  “Because my parents would flip for a start,” she replied, raising her dark eyebrows.

  ‘“Course they would - that’s their style!” Alex grinned. “But they always come round, if you give them a good enough reason. Look at us! You never thought they’d approve of us, did you?”

  Maya shook her head then wished she hadn’t - she felt almost faint.

  “Whoah!” said Alex, seeing her slight wobble.

  Carefully, he turned her around and steered her away from the edge of the high rocks over towards the safety of a wooden bench.

  “All right?” he asked as soon as they’d sat down.

  “Yes… I just felt wobbly for a second there. Must be a bit of vertigo,” Maya lied.

  She had to. She would have felt stupid admitting that her wobbly head was down to nothing more than plain, giddy, unadulterated excitement. It had never occurred to her before -or she’d never allowed herself to seriously consider it - but what was there to stop her considering photography as a profession?

  “Anyway, like I was saying, if you did think about doing some kind of photography course, then your parents would huff and puff - but if you showed them how committed you were, they wouldn’t stand in your way when it came down to it,” Alex continued to reassure Maya as he gathered up pebbles from around his feet and began lazily hurling them over the edge of the rocks. “Think about last year, when you came second in that competition - they were so proud of you, weren’t they?”

  Maya nodded, but said nothing. She was too scared her voice would come out like an excitable helium squeak.

  “And who knows how you’ll get on in this photography clubs’ competition that’s coming up? Which reminds me - they haven’t sent me that information pack yet. I’ll have to ring them up.”

  Maya was hardly listening any more - her mind was off on a tangent of courses and careers, all with a camera bag slung over her shoulder.

  “Oh and speaking of reminding!” Alex suddenly announced. “I forgot to tell you - last night in the pub, when you and Sonja were talking to Matt, Billy asked me if I fancied playing in some charity football match his club’s organised on Sunday. That’ll be a laugh, won’t it?”

  It was Maya’s turn to giggle at him. Alex was an enthusiastic football player, but not a very good one. Tall and rangy, his long limbs didn’t seem to co-ordinate too well out on a football pitch. All she could think of was that Billy must be pretty desperate to ask Alex.

  “Does he know how rubbish you are?” she teased her boyfriend.

  “Hey, you! That’s a rotten thing to say!” Alex grinned at her, aiming a pebble at her head and threatening to throw it.

  “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” Maya laughed, holding up her hands and ducking out of range.

  “Maybe,” shrugged Alex. “Still, I don’t think you deserve to hear my other piece of news now…”

  “Oh, go on, Alex! Tell me!” Maya smiled at him, bumping her way right up beside him and slipping her hand around his shoulders.

  Alex pretended to look huffy, but he couldn’t keep up the act for long.

  “Well, next Friday, Gavin and Louise are having a bit of a do at their new flat. And, of course, we’re invited.”

  “A flat-warming party?” asked Maya, excited by the idea of going out somewhere different.

  Compared to some of Alex’s friends, she didn’t know these two particularly well - they’d only said hello, really, from what she remembered -but a party would be a chance to get to know them better.

  “Well, no - more of a dinner party thing, I think,” said Alex.

  But Maya wasn’t really listening. The idea of a whole new future which included photography was still whirling around her head. She took a deep breath; it was clear she was going to have to get used to the shock of this decision herself, before sharing it with anyone else.

  CHAPTER 9

  MATT GETS AN EYEFUL

  Matt sat up in bed and blearily tried to figure out what day it was and where he was.

  Without too much of a strain, his mind decided that it must be Saturday morning, but that might have been because he had a scrunched-up copy of a newspaper beside him, open at Friday night’s TV pages, along with a greasy box which contained the unappetising remains of a pizza.

  For a second, he assumed in his half-asleep, muddy way of thinking that he was in his cramped Ibiza apartment. Then, with a sickening thud of disappointment, he realised he was, of course, at home in Winstead.

  Damn! he thought, realising he’d done the lazy thing and fallen asleep in the den.

  He hadn’t done it deliberately; in fact, he hadn’t even folded out the sofa bed. Matt grimaced as felt the crick in his neck: the sofa was far too small and squashy to be comfortable for someone of his height for a whole night’s sleep. And the achyness he felt had to have something to do with the fact that he must have been cold during the night, since he’d crashed out wearing only a T-shirt and boxers, covered only with the sofa throw - as he now knew it was called.

  It wasn’t the stupidity of zonking out and giving himself such a bad night’s kip that bothered Matt; it was just that ever since Wednesday night’s disastrous ‘family’ dinner, he’d been absolutely determined to go to his own bedroom every night, just to prove to Sylvia Osgood and his father that his room wasn’t redundant and wasn’t a prime candidate to be turned into an extra bathroom for Sylvia’s convenience.

  Speaking of bathrooms… Matt suddenly thought, aware that he needed to pay a visit. He groaned as he stood up stiffly, feeling more like an old man of ninety than a young, fit nineteen-year-old.

  “Christ!” he yelped as he tripped over something that clattered round his feet.

  He stared down at the pile of empty beer cans and was amazed - and slightly ashamed - that he’d drunk all of those, all by himself.

  No wonder I didn’t make it up to bed, he thought to himself, staggering awkwardly towards the stairs that led up to the hall.

  He hadn’t meant to drink so much beer. In fact, Matt never normally drank beer when he was on his own. But, last night, something had made him feel sad - and the only thing he could think of doing was to drown his sorrows.

  There’d been a repeat of a programme on telly last night when he’d got in from Anna’s - just some stupid thing about holidays in the sun, but this one had been about Ibiza. The minute he saw the streets and bars he’d come to know so well in the space of two weeks, Matt’s heart had started to yearn.

  And, apart from that, it had been a bit of a funny night with Anna - she’d kept asking him all about Ibiza again, but had acted really weird when he’d answered her questions. He got the feeling she wasn’t happy with what he was saying. What was that all about? Did she resent him going on about how brilliant it was? But if she did, why did she keep wanting him to talk about it? After that, and the mood the TV programme had left him in, Matt’s hand had strayed too many times to the beers that he kept in his old (and only slightly fire-damaged) fridge in the corner of the den.

>   So, I’ve got a little hangover. So what? he thought rebelliously as he made his way to the small loo under the stairwell, once he’d tramped up the stairs from the basement to the ground floor.

  He turned the handle, leaning his weight against the door. It didn’t budge.

  “Won’t be long!” he heard his father’s muffled voice call out from inside.

  Matt grumbled to himself and stomped off, determined not to hang around and have any meaningful conversation. Ever since Wednesday evening, when he’d barged out of the house after Sylvia Osgood’s proclamation on How Things Were Going To Be, Matt had managed to avoid contact with everyone in the house, except for the inevitable meeting with Cat at The Loud’s gig in the Railway Tavern.

  “What did you go off in a strop for last night?” Cat had asked him, when she was taking a short break from flirting with Dylan.

  “If you don’t understand, I’m not going to explain it to you,” Matt had told her, as he bundled up the leads from the sound desk after the gig was finished.

  “Hey,” Cat had shrugged, “I know my mum can be a bit of a cow, but she’s good at organising things. She’ll get the house sorted.”

  “Yeah? Well, it doesn’t need sorting. And who says she’s got the right to turn my bloody bedroom into a bog?!”

  “God! Calm down!” Cat had hissed, before he’d gone to join the relative sanity of Sonja and the others round the table.

  He’d dreaded having to offer Cat a lift home, but luckily, once he’d told Sonja - and Maya, who’d not heard the unexpurgated version of events in Ibiza - the whole story (minus Trudie, of course), he’d been relieved to find Cat had already left, presumably with Dylan.

  “That’s one good thing about this house,” he muttered as he plodded up the stairs towards the bathroom. “At least it’s big enough to avoid people if you don’t want to see them…”

  At the landing on the first floor, Matt did a quick double take as he passed the full-length mirror that hung on the wall next to his dad’s (and Sylvia’s!) bedroom. He looked terrible - all dark and wrinkled on one side. It wasn’t until he looked closer that he saw what was really wrong with him.