Sugar Secrets…& Mistakes Read online

  It was now Wednesday. Should he call her? Should he?

  Matt’s eyes flipped from the stultifyingly dull images on the screen to the phone on the table by the window.

  Do it, said a voice in his head. What are you waiting for?

  Because I feel weird, like I’ve never felt before – and I don’t know if that’s a good thing, came another, more cautionary, voice.

  Well, if that’s the way you feel, teased the first voice. If you’re too scared, then don’t do it. Who cares if you just passed up the love of your life?

  With two bounds. Matt propelled himself off the sofa and over to the phone. He didn’t have to look up her number – he knew it off by heart.

  “Hello?” he said, breathlessly as he heard her answer at the other end of the line…

  CHAPTER 12

  NIGGLES AND NEW STARTS

  Ollie woke up to the sound of the phone instead of the trill of the alarm clock. Dozy and lazy, he stretched out in the bed, blew some ruffled strands of floppy brown hair off his sleepy face, and luxuriated in the knowledge that it was his day off.

  He loved it when he got Fridays off. They were his least favourite, most hassled day at work, mainly because it was the time of the week when the massed ranks of mother and baby groups descended on the café, filling it with the ear-splitting sound of wailing as one baby set the others off every few minutes.

  Apart from that, there were copious demands from mothers for bottles of milk to be heated (Ollie could never get the temperature quite right) and tables, chairs, floors and often walls to clean of strange gooey food substances after they’d left. It wasn’t that he disliked kids – he loved them – but he preferred to come across them one or two at a time and not have to deal with a lorry load all at once.

  Even though his curtains were closed, the intensity of the sun was apparent, seeping brightness through every woven fibre, sneaking in shafts along every edge. It made Ollie feel ridiculously happy, on top of knowing he had a baby-free day.

  Then, in a flash, the light dimmed as if someone had switched off a light bulb. An unseen cloud had drifted across the sun and Ollie felt his mood slump. The nagging thoughts that had dogged him and kept him from falling asleep for ages the night before now came flooding back in full force.

  What’s wrong with Kerry? Why has she been so distant the last week or so? It’s as if every time I try and touch her she stiffens up. What have I done? Ollie tortured himself again.

  More thoughts from the night before followed on.

  Maybe I’m over-reacting… Maybe she’s just having a bad week. People have bad weeks. Maybe she’s dreading starting back at sixth form. Maybe I should talk to her about it – or maybe I should just give her a bit of space…

  A thumping of footsteps along the hall followed by a thumping at his bedroom door disturbed Ollie’s train of thought.

  “Ol – you in the land of the living?” asked Stuart Stanton, peeking round his son’s bedroom door.

  “Yeah, sure,” yawned Ollie, pushing himself upright. “What’s up?”

  “Your favourite girl wants to talk to you…” his father said cryptically, walking over towards the bed and holding out the white cordless phone.

  Kerry? Ollie thought quizzically, scratching his head with one hand while he reached out for the phone with the other. Why’s she phoning? We’re seeing each other this afternoon – or is she blowing me out?

  “Kez?”

  “No – it’s Tasha, you moron!” his twin sister’s voice came down the line.

  “Tash!” Ollie exclaimed, bouncing out of bed. “How are you? Where are you?”

  “Oh, keep up, for God’s sake!” she chastised him amiably. “I’m in Sydney! I told you I was going last time I spoke to you!”

  “Wow, yeah! Sydney – amazing! I totally forgot you were going there!”

  “Obviously…”

  “Well, what’s Australia like? Is it totally amazing?”

  “To be honest, I haven’t seen much yet – we only arrived last night and so far today I’ve been in taxis, the model agency office and the hotel restaurant. That’s it.”

  “So why are you phoning now?” Ollie started being cheeky back, now that he’d woken up properly and got over the surprise of hearing Natasha’s voice. “Surely you could have waited a few days till you had something interesting to tell us…”

  “I’m phoning because… because I suddenly wanted to hear all your voices,” Natasha explained, her tone revealing the hint of a tearful quiver. “Well, not yours, of course.”

  Ollie ignored her last token dig and felt genuinely touched. It wasn’t often that super-confident, super-successful Natasha let down her defences and admitted any emotional wobbles to her family.

  “But what’s brought this on? You’ve lived away from home for more than a year now and you’ve jetted off on jobs all over the place.”

  “Yes, but when I’m in London it’s not that far away for me to come home—”

  Ollie had to laugh to himself at that comment. She didn’t seem to bother herself about popping home that often.

  “—and the jobs abroad have just been Europe so far, apart from that one in Japan. And that was so completely brilliant I didn’t have time to be homesick.”

  “Aww, Tasha, so do you miss your darling, wonderful brother?” he asked in as annoying a voice as possible, in an effort to get her laughing instead of blubbing.

  “God, I’m not that lonely!”

  “Well, what can I do to help? Do you want me to keep you posted on what’s happening in the soaps?” he joked, knowing that Natasha had too full-on a social life back in London to bother with anything as dull as telly.

  “No, thanks! No, just distract me – tell me what’s been going on in your life.”

  “Not much. Working away with Nick the slave-driver. Still trying to get my clapped-out Vespa to work.”

  “Oh, that makes me feel better. I’m not exactly missing much, am I?”

  It was a standard brother/sister dig, but Ollie couldn’t help thinking of the difference between their lives. Natasha was earning bucketloads at the age of seventeen, had a passport full of stamps for countries Ollie had never been to, and a flatshare with other models in London’s trendy Notting Hill.

  By comparison, Ollie worked long hours for low pay at a small café by a train station (when he wasn’t helping out at his uncle’s dusty, damp, second-hand record shop next door) and he still lived at home with his parents, in the flat above the pub where he and Natasha had grown up.

  He was happy with his life, but Ollie sometimes did see that it could seem pretty one-dimensional compared to his sister’s.

  “What, Vespa maintenance doesn’t interest you then?”

  “Nope. How’s Kerry? Still in love?”

  “She’s great…” just not right at this moment, he thought, “…and yes, I’m still in love.”

  “What about your mate Matt? Is he still as creepy as ever?”

  “He’s not creepy, Tash! I told you all that stuff was just a misunderstanding.”

  Natasha and Matt had had a brief flirtation during one of her infrequent visits home, and their one proper date had lasted all of ten minutes after Natasha had misinterpreted something Matt had said and decided he was a creep of the highest order. No amount of explanation on Ollie’s part had ever managed to change her mind.

  “Hmm, well, I’m not so sure… Anyway, how’s the band going?”

  “It’s not, really. Me and Joe keep meaning to—”

  “What? Oh, Ol – I’ve got to go, that’s my agent at the door. But listen, Dad said Mum’s out shopping. Get her to give me a call back later, would you?”

  “Sure,” Ollie reassured her, but the phone was already dead.

  Ollie stared at the receiver for a moment, lost in thought, then thumped some numbers out.

  “Hey, Joey!” he yelled down the line.

  “‘Guitarist: looking for a band who are into spiritual sounds, mellow vibes
and good times.’”

  Ollie dropped his finger from the card he was reading from and turned to Joe. “Sounds like this guy wants a girlfriend, not a band.”

  “I can’t see any ads for bass players,” said Joe, scanning the message board in Central Sounds music shop, “but here’s another one for a guitarist…”

  ‘“R U ready for the heavy metal revival?’” Ollie read. “Then I’m the guitarist you’re looking for!’”

  “Oh no, you’re not, mate,” muttered Joe.

  ‘“Ambitious, talented guitarist with great image, looking for like-minded people to take it all the way to the top!’” OIlie intoned off another pinned-up card.

  “Kinda shy, that one, isn’t he?” said Joe, mentally taking note of the guy’s name, so that if they ever came across a guitarist called Aaron in a local band, they could put a face to this less-than-modest ad.

  “Look – this one sounds quite good. ‘Guitarist available (17), influences: indie stuff, old and new. Call Will on…’ – Joe, pass me that pen.”

  Joe handed over a black ballpoint and watched as OIlie scribbled the name and phone number on his hand before Joe had a chance to dig out a notepad from his pocket.

  “Could be our man, Joey! This could be the start of The Loud getting back on track!”

  Enthusiasm shone from Ollie’s eyes. His conversation with Natasha this morning had made him feel flat at first, then given him the kick up the bum he needed to start getting back to his long-time love: music. That’s why, right after he’d taken her call, OIlie had pestered Joe into getting down to Central Sounds and checking out potential new members for their band.

  “Right, I’ve really got to go, Ol – my shift at the End starts in twenty minutes…” said Joe, glancing down at his watch.

  “Come on then,” Ollie nodded towards the door, “I’ll walk with you – I’m going round to Kerry’s.”

  “Uh, everything cool?” asked Joe vaguely as they stepped out of the fluorescent-lit shop on to the sunshine-splattered pavement. What he was referring to was the state of Ollie and Kerry’s relationship, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask too bluntly.

  “Um, I s’pose,” Ollie shrugged, distractedly kicking the ring-pull from a can into the gutter. “But Kerry’s just been a bit… funny with me lately. Have you noticed?”

  “No,” lied Joe, remembering how she’d snapped at Ollie during their walk home the previous Saturday night. But long-buried loyalty to Kerry would not allow him to criticise her in any way.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, I guess,” Ollie shrugged again, thinking of Kerry’s sweet smile and the way her freckle-covered nose crinkled when she laughed.

  “y’know what Matt would say,” said Joe, who was also visualising Kerry’s sweet smile.

  “What’s that?” Ollie asked seriously, keen for any light to be shed on his worries.

  “He’d say it was her period.”

  “yeah, he would,” grinned Ollie, thinking of their friend’s legendary tactlessness. “A girl doesn’t laugh loudly enough at one of his rotten jokes and he’ll put it down to PMS…”

  Kerry opened her front door out of breath. The faint, dusty pawprints on her white T-shirt and the barking and shrieking drifting through from the garden indicated to Ollie that he’d interrupted some serious silliness going on with Lewis and Barney.

  Ollie gazed at Kerry’s exploding halo of browny-red curls – complete with blades of grass randomly entwined – and his heart melted.

  “What’s going on?” he grinned.

  “Barney’s got the Furby and he won’t give it back,” she gasped. “He seems to want to kill it or bury it or both.”

  Ollie burst out laughing as he stepped into the hallway.

  “C’mere, you…” he said warmly, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into her neck.

  Kerry put her hands round the neck of the boy she loved and couldn’t help that feeling of suffocation rise in her chest again…

  Joe walked towards the End-of-the-Line café, his brow furrowed in anger.

  How can I be this disloyal to my oldest, best friend? How can I be pleased at the fact that something’s not quite right with him and Kerry? he questioned himself. And what the hell chance would I have with Kerry even if something happened and they did split up?

  Just as Joe was about to shove open the café door, some posters newly plastered up on the window caught his eye and made him stop mid-step.

  “Where did Nick come up with this stupid idea…” Joe muttered, shaking his head.

  CHAPTER 13

  NICK’S BIG IDEA

  Nick’s inspired scheme for boosting his Monday evening business had met with groans from his three younger members of staff as he’d spelled out his plan to them one by one.

  “A Back-To-School night? Who wants to be reminded that they’re going back to school next day?” Joe had pointed out.

  “Nah, it’ll be great! Last chance for kids to let their hair down before getting back to the grind!” Nick had tried to explain.

  “I’ll have to wear what?” Anna had gasped when she heard.

  “Just school uniform. y’know, like St Trinian’s – school skirt, short as poss…” he’d fizzled out when he clocked her horrified expression.

  “So if it’s a themed night, are you doing up the café or what?” Ollie had quizzed his uncle when he’d turned up for work on Saturday.

  “Um…” Nick had mumbled, not really having thought his idea through particularly clearly. “I just thought I could make a tape of school-related tracks, like School’s Out, y’know, by Alice Cooper.”

  “Nick,” Ollie had looked wearily at his uncle, “no one’s ever going to have heard of a crumblie old rocker like Alice Cooper. I only know about Alice Cooper because you forced me to listen to one of his albums last time I worked in Slick Riffs.”

  “Well, you know what I mean,” Nick had waffled. “Maybe you and Matt could come up with some appropriate stuff…”

  And after the initial moaning and groaning, everyone had got into the spirit of it: Ollie recycling his old uniform from the loft; Joe borrowing Maya’s little brother’s school cap for the evening; and Anna buying a pair of boy’s grey school trousers out of Oxfam as an acceptable compromise.

  On Monday evening, as the last of the coming-home-from-the-city commuter customers left the End, and the evening contingent began to filter in, Ollie ducked behind the counter and slipped the tape he and Matt had made up into Nick’s state-of-the-art ghetto blaster, dragged down from his flat next door.

  Over at the window booth, Kerry and Sonja stared at the one-off photocopied menu that Nick had devised and winced.

  “Two times table MATHS burger, with ENGLISH mustard’ – that’s just the double-decker burger, right?”

  Kerry shrugged.

  “‘GEOGRAPHy pizza (ITALIAN sauce, FRENCH cheese, GREEK olives)’,” Sonja continued reading. “- that’ll be the normal cheese and tomato pizza with a couple of olives chucked on top then.”

  “Oh, no – look,” said Kerry, pointing to something further down the list. “‘SUNDAE SCHOOL SURPRISE’. What’s the surprise? That it’s just the usual ice-cream sundae with a stupid name?”

  “Jeez, it’s just so not funny,” Sonja shook her head. “You can tell Nick came up with this sad lot, and not Ollie or any of the others.”

  “Too right,” nodded Kerry, staring over her friend’s shoulder at the blackboard where the specials were usually chalked up. Instead, there was a caricature of Nick bursting out of a kiddie-style school uniform, his waistline oozing over a pair of unflattering shorts.

  Now that is quite funny, she thought, marvelling at Joe’s previously unknown and unseen talent for cartoon drawing.

  “Kez?” Sonja hissed over at her, distracting her attention from Joe’s artistic efforts. “Can I ask you something?”

  ‘“Course,” she nodded, wondering why Sonja was whispering.

  “What would you think of me and Matt?”

&nb
sp; “You and Matt what?” At the back of her mind. Kerry knew she’d noted warily how often Sonja seemed to be tagging along with Matt lately, and how Sonja’s normal banter with him had begun to look more like flirting from where Kerry was standing.

  “Me and Matt! As an item!” Sonja’s eyes gleamed.

  “Has something happened?” gasped Kerry in confusion.

  “Not quite, but I think I’d like it to,” Sonja grinned.

  “Since when? You’ve never said you fancy him!”

  “I don’t,” Sonja answered simply.

  “Son – you’re not making any sense!” Kerry was more confused than ever. What was Sonja on about?

  “Well, I mean I’ve tried to imagine myself kissing him and stuff, but I don’t, y’know, get that tingly feeling when you fantasise about someone you really do fancy,” Sonja tried to explain.

  “And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” said Kerry incredulously. “That’s supposed to mean he’d make a perfect boyfriend for you?”

  “Yes! It’s my new theory – I think it could really work between us because we don’t fancy each other. I think the fact that we get on brilliantly is all we need. I think the fancying each other bit would come with time—”

  “Hold on!” Kerry interrupted. “Is this something to do with the mess you got into after falling for Owen and Kyle?”

  “No!” said Sonja defensively. “I just think that love built on friendship could be more important than love built on lust.”

  “Well, to a certain extent you’re right,” Kerry hissed, trying to control the volume of her voice now that she was truly irritated by Sonja’s stupid notion. Luckily, Ollie was cranking the music up pretty loudly in the background. “Friendship is important. But you can’t suddenly turn your spotlight on Matt because you’re on the rebound!”

  Sonja’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t expected Kerry to blast her latest daydream so determinedly. It wasn’t like Kerry at all. She’d wanted her friend to giggle with her, be pleased for her, and help her plan how to engineer the whole romance.

  “But you and Ollie—”