by Mel Sparke
“OK! Yeah!” Matt did a swift U-turn. “I was kind of hoping he’d say he’d help out.”
“You got away lightly, mate. Be grateful!” said Billy, turning back to the wall and sploshing on more blue paint.
“By the way, is it still going strong? Your dad and Cat’s mum, I mean,” asked Joe.
“The big romance? Oh, yeah, definitely,” replied Matt, rolling his eyes. “She’s been round here loads of times since they ‘came out’. It’s all ‘Matthew, darling’ this and ‘Sylvia, love’ that.”
“Isn’t it freaking you out?” Ollie asked.
“It’s been hard getting my head around it all, but I think I’m getting used to it.”
“Wow, no wonder. The idea of having Cat as a future stepsister must be pretty scary…”
Matt knew when he was being got at and shook his paintbrush at Ollie, covering his mate with a shower of tiny paint spots.
“Oi!” laughed Ollie. “What’s your problem?”
“Friends like you! Anyway, it’s not Cat I’m so scared of-it’s her God-awful mother…”
Ollie and Joe shuddered in agreement.
“What’s the big deal with this woman?” asked Billy. He and Andy had only met her once, if you could call it a meeting. They’d seen her arrive at Matt’s house on the fateful night of the party, getting out of Mr Ryan’s car about the same time as the firemen were leaping into action.
“Well, you know Cruella De Vil?” asked Ollie and both lads nodded. “Think much, much worse.”
“She looked OK, though. Quite attractive and that, for someone’s mum,” Billy commented.
“Oh, yeah, she’s a looker, I suppose, but she’s a bit of a hard bitch. She’s given Cat a really tough time over the years,” explained Matt.
“What’s your dad see in her then?” asked Andy, sweeping his black hair back with one hand and unwittingly wiping a streak of pale blue through it at the same time.
“Wish I knew…” said Matt. “But he seems well gone on her.”
“Hey, listen-before I forget,” said Ollie, changing the subject. “Got any plans for your birthday next week?”
Matt was stumped. He’d completely forgotten that his nineteenth birthday was speeding into view. His mind had been too cluttered up lately with this business of his dad, the fire and, of course, what had happened with Anna just before the alarm had been raised…
“Well?” demanded Ollie.
“Uh, urn, no,” said Matt. “No plans. Why?”
His heart sank suddenly as a long-forgotten conversation with Gaby surfaced in his memory. They’d been shopping in town one Saturday in December, talking about how brilliant Christmas and birthdays were. “I wonder what we’ll be doing on your next birthday?” she’d smiled.
Who’d have guessed we weren’t even going to last two more weeks? thought Matt glumly. Not me. that’s for sure…
“Well, since your birthday lands on a Sunday, why don’t we make a day of it?” Ollie suggested, dragging his mate away from his melancholy thoughts. “There was a thing in the Winstead Gazette about Bushmeade Theme Park. There’s an offer on just now for a cheap train ticket and entrance fee, if you travel from the city.”
“That sounds like a laugh!” said Billy enthusiastically.
“Too right,” nodded Ollie. “And a theme park’s a great place for sad, single losers like you guys to meet cute girls. Andy excepted, of course.”
While the others laughed, Matt felt the sting of Ollie’s remark. He didn’t want to be single and he didn’t want to meet anyone new at the theme park. There was only one girl he wanted to be with.
Only it’s my bad luck that she doesn’t seem to want to be with me.
CHAPTER 3
SIZE MATTERS…
“Well, I wouldn’t mind being related to him. He’s a bit of all right!”
“Vikki! I told you-there’s no way I’m going to be related to Matt Ryan. Just ‘cause our parents are having a fling, it doesn’t mean they’re shopping for engagement rings. Now do me up!”
It was 5 o’clock on a dull and drizzly Monday afternoon and the girls were entertaining themselves with a bit of clothes-hunting. Cat looked at her reflection in the mirror at the end of the changing room, while her college friend tugged at the zip of the dress Cat was trying on.
“Hey, girl-you sure you picked up the right size?” asked Vikki Grant, frowning as she wrestled with the zip.
Cat ignored the comment and breathed in harder. She always picked clothes a size smaller than she actually was. The tightness made her look skinnier and sexier. Or so she thought.
“Not bad,” she commented, turning sideways and checking out the wine-coloured, bead-edged dress. “And that top of yours is nice too, Vik.”
Vikki turned this way and that, her long black extensions spinning out as she checked out the deep purple, lacy shirt.
“Mmm, it is nice. It’s just a shame that it’s about the only thing I could find that fits me, besides the fitting room curtain…”
Cat stared at her friend in surprise. She’d never have guessed that someone as outgoing and confident as Vikki would be unhappy with her shape.
“Don’t put yourself down like that, Vikki-you look great just the way you are!”
“What? Hey, don’t get me wrong, Cat,” Vikki laughed out loud. “I’m not the one with the problem; it’s shops like this!”
Cat frowned. This was her favourite place to buy clothes in Winstead. What did Vikki have against it?
“Did you see how much of their stuff only seems to go up to a size 12?” Vikki pointed out, drawing a baby-doll-sized dress in the air with both her index fingers. “Don’t these people realise that girls my size are just as sexy and gorgeous as any waif? Don’t they realise I’ve got lots of lovely money in my purse that I could be spending in their shop, if they just got their act together?”
Cat nodded, getting her friend’s point at last. But even though she felt for Vikki, she was only really half paying attention; Cat’s mind was buzzing too madly this afternoon to concentrate on any one subject properly. After a truly horrible time last month, when her life had hit an all-time low, it had just occurred to Cat that things seemed to be turning around for her now.
Her mum’s affair with Matthew Ryan Snr didn’t bother her as much as it seemed to bother her mate, Matt Jnr: Sylvia Osgood had been acting almost pleasantly towards her daughter lately. As far as Cat was concerned, if love made her mother a human being, then she was quite happy, thank you very much.
More good news had come in the shape of the upcoming college drama review. Despite being on the Beauty Therapy course, the fact that Cat had saved the day by stepping in and taking over the star role of Cinderella in the Drama Department Christmas panto had earned her multiple Brownie points.
The English and Drama Department head, Jeff Patterson, hadn’t forgotten how his behind-the-scenes make-up artist had helped him out of a tight spot (she knew all the lines from helping the original Cinderella rehearse) and had given her a small but juicy part in one of the short plays that were being put on.
Of course, Cat wasn’t so thrilled with the theme of this production as she had been with the all-singing, all-dancing, all-hamming-it-up Cinderella, but, as Jeff Patterson said, you could hardly do a panto at a community festival that was celebrating urban life in the twenty-first century. And so Cat and Vikki had found themselves rehearsing the parts of impoverished single mothers in a piece Mr Patterson had written himself.
Both girls were excited to be acting opposite each other, but Cat did have to bite her lip in disappointment when she saw the costumes. Clothes for a gritty, social drama just didn’t compare to Cinderella’s fairytale ballgown.
“Maybe I should write to the shop manager about the size policy. What do you reckon? Cat? Cat-yoo-hoo… God! You’re not daydreaming about that boy again, are you?”
Cat glanced round into Vikki’s face, realising she’d let her thoughts drift off.
“Zac? No
I wasn’t thinking about him actually,” she shrugged, reluctantly discarding her thoughts of silvery-white netting and Prince Charming.
“Well, that must be a first. He’s all you’ve been talking about the last couple of weeks!”
“And why shouldn’t I? He’s only the most sweet, kind, gentle, sensitive, thoughtful boy I’ve ever been out with,” said Cat. Then a wicked grin spread across her face. “And I should know. I’ve been out with enough!”
“He also seems pretty shy and quiet,” Vikki pointed out, pulling off the purple top over her head. “What do you two talk about?”
“Normal stuff!” Cat replied.
But when she tried to replay any of their conversations in her head, it did tend to be her own voice she heard mostly, while Zac looked dreamily at her and nodded his head in agreement.
But what does it matter if he’s on the quiet side? she assured herself, stretching back awkwardly to undo the zip of the dress. Loads of lads I’ve been out with either totally love the sound of their own voices-drivelling on about their precious PlayStation scores or how crazy their obnoxious mates are-or they just grunt. Zac’s not like that.
In the couple of weeks they’d been going out-ever since he’d pulled her out of Matt’s smoke-filled house-Zac had never let Cat down and she’d seen or spoken to him every day. If he said he’d phone at eight, then he rang at eight. If he said he’d meet her outside Boots at 7.30 pm, then he was there at 7.20.
Cat had never felt so cared for and spoiled, and had never had anyone tell her how pretty she was so often. In return, she was planning on spoiling him back: she’d just spotted a really cool T-shirt in the shop window next door and had decided to buy it for him before she headed home.
It had been on her mind for a while to give Zac some styling tips and the trendy T-shirt would be a good start. He might have an unusual name, but his dress sense was on the slightly less interesting side of bland. About a hundred years after everyone else (thanks to Cat) he was talking about getting his very first pair of combats and looking at the world through a very cool pair of Converse label glasses (bought to replace the ones he’d broken during the fire at Matt’s). Now, on the outside, he was shaping up to be more like the kind of guy Cat was used to being seen with.
“Anyway, speaking of Zac…” said Cat, stepping out of the dress and standing unselfconsciously in her matching baby-blue bra and knicker set and (since all her decent pairs were in the wash) an old pair of Lisa Simpson socks.
“Oh, here we go-what’s so wonderful about him now?” laughed Vikki, buttoning up her own top.
“He said he’s thinking about starting to go to a gym, for me!” trilled Cat.
Vikki paused as she slipped the purple top back on its hanger.
“Hold on, Cat-what do you mean, ‘for you’?”
“Well, I said it would be nice if he, you know, toned up a little bit.”
“Wait. Didn’t you say you really liked him the way he was? How he wasn’t some vain, skinny bloke?”
“Yeah, but he’s the same kind of build as my friend Billy-broad-shouldered, kind of stocky,” Cat began to explain, oblivious to the fact that she was verging on indirectly insulting Vikki. “But Billy’s muscly with it ‘cause of all the football he plays. I just thought it would be good if Zac could—”
“Hey, Cat! Are you trying to say he’d be a better boyfriend if he lost a couple of pounds?” asked Vikki, her dark eyes flashing. “Have you taken a look at me lately? Do you think I’d be a better mate if I slimmed down to fit the Sindy-sized clothes they sell in this stupid shop?!”
Cat, still standing in the middle of the changing room corridor clutching the dress, blinked furiously. Vikki, whom she admired and adored, seemed upset. And she couldn’t figure out why.
A trilling noise interrupted the tense silence that had suddenly developed between them. Cat padded over to the curtained booth where her bag and clothes were stashed, and rummaged around for her ringing phone.
“Hello?” she said, automatically studying herself in the full-length cubicle mirror as she spoke.
As she listened to what the person at the other end had to say, Cat stopped posing in her underwear and stood stock-still. Her toes in her little girl socks curled into the pile of the changing room carpet and her face-even through her layers of fake bronzing-went ashen white.
For a second, Vikki thought Cat was going to faint.
CHAPTER 4
BEAUTIFUL STRANGER
“I’d better not tell Lewis that we’re going to Bushmeade Park on Sunday.”
“Yep, I can see it now; that little face looking up at you, that little tremble in his voice…” said Ollie, gazing at his girlfriend with big, sorrowful eyes-his best impression of Kerry’s little brother.
“Mmm,” Kerry agreed with a little smile. “I can also hear that insistent ‘KERRYKERRYKERRY, can I come? Can I? Can I? PLEESE?!!’”
Ollie laughed at her spot-on impersonation. It wasn’t officially his break, but he was enjoying a welcome lull this Monday teatime in the End and was happy to while away a few spare minutes with Kerry at the booth by the window.
“So is Matt all excited about next Sunday?”
“You know, Kez, it was like he’d forgotten it was even his birthday. When I mentioned it yesterday, he didn’t seem that bothered!”
“I guess a lot’s been happening with him, ever since the fire, really…”
Kerry’s sentence was suddenly drowned out by a clatter of cutlery.
“Oops!” smiled Anna nervously, bending down to scoop the dirty knives and forks back on to the tray she was carrying.
“Hey, Anna-stick that stuff down for a second and sit down,” said Ollie, waving her over. “There’s no point rushing around when there’s no customers. And no boss, of course.”
Anna fidgeted slightly, half ready to make her excuses and get back in the kitchen. But Ollie was right; apart from the few bits and pieces on her tray, there was nothing to clean and tidy away. And, since he’d sloped off early, there was no Nick to look busy in front of. Reluctantly, she put the tray down and shuffled over to join her friends.
“There you go, madam,” said Ollie, brushing away imaginary crumbs from the red vinyl banquette. “Park your dainty butt there.”
Anna couldn’t help smiling.
“So, Anna-are you OK to get Sunday off?” asked Kerry.
It was always tricky for Anna and Ollie to coincide days off. Along with Nick and some part-time help from Dorothy and Irene and, in emergencies, Joe, they made up the total staff of the End-of-the-Line café.
“‘Course it’ll be fine! I’ll just have to charm Dorothy and Irene into covering for us both!” grinned Ollie. Not only did he get on well with eight-year-old boys, but ladies in their sixties seemed to fall for Ollie’s charms too, if his OAP co-workers were anything to go by. He regularly had them giggling like schoolgirls and often waltzed them round the kitchen when they least expected it.
“No-it’s all right,” Anna protested meekly.
She’d already heard Kerry and Ollie talking about the big birthday day out, which was why she hadn’t been in a hurry to come over and join them. Although she wanted things to be back to a friends-only, relaxed basis with Matt, something was telling her not to go on the Bushmeade trip. She couldn’t exactly make sense of her feelings about him yet, but one thing she did know for sure-it seemed a like good idea to steer clear of him till she’d got things straight in her head
What if we ended up alone together-what would we say to each other? she’d panicked to herself, the second before she’d accidentally scattered the cutlery over the lino. What if Matt
asked me how I felt about him? Or, worse still, what if he didn’t?
“It’s all right… what?” asked Ollie, trying to make sense of Anna’s response. “Have you sorted it all out already?”
“No-it’s just that I don’t think I’ll come,” said Anna, fidgeting with the tiny silver cross she wore round her neck.
“Oh, yes, I wouldn’t mind coming,” Anna said quickly, her mind racing to come up with a plausible excuse. “It’s just that I’m sure Dorothy said something about being busy this weekend. And, anyway, I’m really skint at the moment.”
Anna didn’t like to lie and she hadn’t heard Dorothy say anything of the sort, but at least the part about being broke was true; all her bills seemed to have ganged up and landed on her doorstep that week.
“I’ll lend you money, if you need some,” said Ollie gallantly. He couldn’t bear to think of them all off having a brilliant time on Sunday, while Anna slogged away in the café.
“But Anna just said it’s not only the money, it’s getting cover too,” Kerry pointed out.
Ollie immediately felt guilty. “Why don’t you go then, Anna? I’ll stay and do your shift!”
“No!” Anna protested, wriggling uncomfortably in her seat.
She hadn’t anticipated Ollie being so generous-although it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. He always tended to be a good guy, whatever the situation. But there was no way she was going to let him do this, and no way she was going to deprive Kerry of a day out with her boyfriend. Or herself of an excuse to avoid Matt…
Before Anna got a chance to refuse his kind offer out loud, the bell above the café door tinkled, announcing some long-awaited customers.
“Hi, Sonja!” said Anna brightly, glad of the distraction.
Kerry twisted round in her seat to give her mate a welcoming smile.
“Son, come and sit by me…”
Kerry’s sentence drifted to a halt as she gazed shyly at the stunningly handsome guy at her best friend’s side.
“Peter!” she gasped, feeling her cheeks flush bright red.
CHAPTER 5
BACK IN TOWN
“Peter, you know Kerry, of course,” said Sonja. “And that’s Ollie and this is Anna!”
Ollie, still puzzling over who exactly this lad was and why he’d managed to make Kerry go so pink-cheeked, soon had his questions answered.