Sugar Secrets…& Ambition

by Mel Sparke

  “How long have you been there?” Ollie, breathless from the exertion of singing, asked his uncle.

  “Long enough to hear you play three tracks - and they were great. Weren’t they?” he said, turning to someone else in the shadows.

  Natasha slunk forward into the light.

  “Yeah, not bad,” she shrugged, giving her brother a cheeky smile.

  “Gee, thanks for your overwhelming enthusiasm!” Ollie teased back.

  Nick’s jeans were a little overly tight for his chunky thighs and you could practically hear the denim groan as he eased himself down to a perching position on Billy’s amp. You could definitely hear Billy groan as he watched 15 stone of bloke make himself comfortable on his precious piece of musical equipment.

  “Listen, lads,” said Nick, pushing the sleeves of his leather jacket up as if he meant to get down to work. “I know a thing or two about the music business…”

  Oh, here goes, thought Ollie. Some old anecdote about him hanging out with the Rolling Stones again…

  “…and I think you’ve really got something there. Know what I mean?”

  The four boys half nodded and grunted at the compliment.

  “So I’m prepared to—”

  “To what?” Ollie interrupted laughingly. “Let me off my evening shifts at the End - so I can rehearse more?”

  He wasn’t expecting what his uncle came out with next.

  “To be your manager!”

  The only sound that broke the silence was a loud clatter as Joe’s drumsticks fell to the floor.

  “So…” began Andy, staring across the table in the bustling front bar of The Swan at a morose-looking Ollie. “Does he know what he’s talking about then?”

  Andy didn’t know much about Ollie’s Uncle Nick, but he wasn’t entirely convinced that a small town egg and chips-style café owner dressed like a Stars In Their Eyes replica of Status Quo could really do anything for them as a manager.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” said Ollie, with a touch of urgency in his voice. His uncle had only been gone two minutes and he felt guilty for his lack of enthusiasm in front of the others. “I mean, I really like Nick - he’s a great guy and a great laugh and everything. But it’s just that he’s…”

  Billy and Andy stared at Ollie, waiting for him to enlighten them and finish the sentence. Joe stared at the table and didn’t seem about to help out.

  “He’s just a chancer,” said Natasha succinctly, her arms folded across her chest and a look of amusement on her face at the events she’d just witnessed.

  “Aw, Tasha! That’s not fair!” Ollie protested.

  “Yes it is,” she said defiantly. “I like Uncle Nick as much as you do, but he’s still a bit of a chancer. All those endless stories about his days as a roadie, all the celebrity rock stars he used to hang out with… half of it’s made up. If not more.”

  Ollie gaped at her cynicism. The other boys said nothing.

  “But you’ve got to look at it this way, lads,” Natasha said firmly, her model-learnt poise only reinforcing her position of control among the four boys. “What’ve you got to lose? Even if only a tenth of what he says about his past in the music business is actually true, it still means Nick knows a hell of a lot more than you do.”

  That particular truth took a second to sink in and before any of them could acknowledge that she had a point, Natasha was off again.

  “So let him do what he can for you,” she shrugged. “Then, if you get anywhere, you just dump him for a proper manager.”

  “The business woman has spoken,” Ollie said dryly, looking at his sister, half in awe at the sense she made and half in shock at her ruthlessness.

  “Natasha?” said Billy.

  “Yes?” she said patiently, as if she was a primary teacher surrounded by a bunch of five-year-olds.

  “You don’t fancy being our manager do you?” he grinned.

  “In your dreams…” she drawled.

  CHAPTER 7

  DEVELOPMENTS

  She was early. No one else had arrived yet at the low-built, breeze-block building that housed the photography club.

  “Hi, Maya!”

  Well, no one apart from Alex McKay, who ran the club.

  “Hi, Alex!” Maya smiled at the rangy Glaswegian, whose long limbs spilled over the plastic chair he was sitting on.

  Maya idly wondered what Alex’s home was like; she imagined a Georgian flat, all high ceilings and elongated windows in keeping with his tall, skinny frame.

  “What’s new?” he asked, ticking her name off on his attendance list.

  “Um, well, I’m off to Florence next week, so I’ll miss class, I’m afraid,” she said, wriggling out of her jacket. “Or have you cancelled next week because of the holiday?”

  “Nah,” he grinned, looking and sounding for a second more like Matt or Ollie or Joe than a lecturer. “I’m not going away - just spent all my money on buying a flat, so I thought I might as well keep going for anyone who’s up for coming.”

  Maya smiled to herself; his mentioning buying a flat right after her own little musing was one of those delicious coincidences that make you wonder if you’re psychic.

  “But Florence? Wow!” he smiled. “I hope you’re taking your camera. It’ll be brilliant this time of year - all moody skies and no tourists clogging up the view.”

  “Apart from me and my family!” Maya laughed.

  “Fair point. So why are your folks taking you over there at this time of year?”

  “My mother’s friend from the hospital got a job over there last year and has been hassling her to come for a visit,” said Maya, rifling around in her bag for the spool of film she wanted to develop. “I think this was just the best time for both families to get time off.”

  “Well, you’ll love it, honestly,” said Alex, with noticeable yearning in his voice.

  Maya stopped rummaging in her bag and looked up at him. “Have you been there?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he nodded. “Spent three months there after college on a bursary. One of the best summers of my life…”

  Maya sat down opposite him. This she wanted to hear; she’d read plenty about how beautiful Florence was meant to be, but it had all seemed too twee and Helena-Bonham-Carter-in-ruffles-‘n’-lace for her to relate to. Now here was someone whose opinion she valued and trusted - no one else she knew was as down-to-earth and easygoing as Alex - and she couldn’t wait to get his alternative real-life guide to one of Italy’s most historic cities.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” yelped a voice close by.

  “Hi, Billy,” she smiled tolerantly, the way she did when her little brother Ravi held up worms for her to examine.

  Maya liked Billy a lot, but as a friend. He was just a bit too full-on for her to be anything more than that. They had dated just the once, but Maya knew straightaway that it wasn’t going to work. Since then, he’d got so in with her friends so quickly that it had taken Maya a while to feel comfortable with the fact that he was around her so frequently.

  “Hi, Alex. Brilliant - we’re first here!” said Billy, yanking off his coat and bounding around the room with Tigger-like enthusiasm. “Are you developing or printing tonight, Maya?”

  “Developing,” Maya answered.

  “Great - me too! Let’s get in the dark room before anyone else arrives.”

  “OK,” Maya responded, reluctantly getting up from her chair. She’d have much rather stayed and talked to Alex, but then this was a photography club - she knew she should take advantage of the equipment when it was free. And anyway, as soon as the others started arriving, Alex’s time would be taken up talking technique and picture crops, not long-ago visits to Florence.

  “What’ve you got to develop then?” asked Billy, once they were locked away together in the red-glowed blackness of the dark room.

  “Just some shots of my brother Ravi and Kerry’s little brother Lewis mucking around at the kids’ play park on Sunday,” said Maya, concentrating on loading the spool of
film on to the big plastic roller which would then be immersed in developer. “What about you?”

  “My headmaster asked me to do some photos for the new sports pavilion - y’know, shots of all the school sports teams in action, blown up big, properly framed and everything. Got some good stuff with the swimming team and the volleyball crew already.”

  “That’ll be right up your street then, won’t it? Your two favourite subjects - sport and photography - together,” Maya said encouragingly, pleased that now he’d begun to concentrate, he wasn’t bouncing off the walls with so much exhausting energy.

  “Yeah,” he nodded, his head bowed over a length of film he was extricating from the spool on the worktop in front of him. ‘“Course, you’re forgetting my other favourite subject…”

  For a second, Maya had the uncomfortable feeling that he meant her… But she was convinced that that was all over now and that he fancied Anna. (Though she knew, because Anna had told her, that Anna didn’t fancy him.)

  “Uh-huh? What’s that?” she asked as casually as she could.

  “Music, of course,” he muttered, engrossed in what he was doing.

  Maya let out a silent sigh of relief and fleetingly told herself off for vainly imagining that Billy still fancied her as well as Anna.

  “You boys had your first rehearsal last night, didn’t you? So it went well?”

  “Yep - better than well. We’ve got ourselves a manager.”

  “A manager? How come?” asked Maya in surprise, looking over at his shadowy figure along the worktop from her. Not that she knew much about the music business, but she thought it would take a lot longer and much more work - gigs, demo tapes, etc - before a new band could snaffle themselves a manager.

  “Nick’s up for it. He caught the end of our rehearsal last night and loved it.”

  “That’s great,” said Maya dubiously.

  She didn’t want to burst Billy’s bubble, but Nick? Sure, he’d worked with bands about a hundred years ago, but that was carrying their equipment about, not managing them. Would Nick know what he was doing?

  “So it’s been an amazing week,” Billy said. “I can’t believe my luck!”

  Maya felt mean all of a sudden at being irritated with Billy earlier. No wonder he was walking two feet off the ground if so much was going right for him.

  Which brought her round to something else that might make him pleased, even if it meant he’d benefit from her own loss.

  “You sound pretty busy,” she began, “but I’ve got another offer for you if you can fit it into your hectic schedule…”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  She could make out his figure straightening up and turning in the dark to face her.

  “It’s Sonja - it’s for Sonja,” Maya said hurriedly, worrying for a second that it might have sounded as if she was about to ask him out or something.

  “What does she want? A foot massage? A signed photo of me?”

  Even the dimness of the room couldn’t extinguish the toothy whiteness of his ear-to-ear grin.

  “No!” Maya laughed at his cheek. “She needs some shots done of her this weekend - she wants to send them out to modelling agencies. She wondered if you’d do them for her?”

  “But what about you? You’re her mate. Doesn’t she want you to do them?” he said with concern.

  “Well, yes, she did ask me, but I’m going away for half term,” Maya muttered, the hurt suddenly rising in her chest again.

  It wasn’t just disappointment at not being able to do the shoot - it was more Sonja’s tactlessness that got her. The way she hadn’t seemed the least bit disappointed that Maya couldn’t do it and had moved on to Billy without a moment’s pause or regret. No “Aw, Maya, but I wanted you to do it!” - just a straightforward “Can’t do it? OK. Next!”

  It’s stupid to let this get to me, Maya told herself sharply. Sonja didn’t mean anything by it.

  But although she tried to tell herself that, deep down Maya wasn’t entirely convinced. Sonja hadn’t just been her usual tactless-but-harmless self the day before; she’d been very self-centred and - whether she meant it or not - mean.

  “Whoo-hoo!”

  Maya gazed up in surprise; she’d been so lost in her anti-Sonja thoughts that she forgot Billy was there for a second and couldn’t think what he might be whoo-hooing about.

  “Taking photos of a beautiful, no - gorgeous girl? Well, you just tell your friend Sonja that I just might be able to fit her into my schedule…”

  Tell her yourself, thought Maya rebelliously.

  CHAPTER 8

  ANYBODY LISTENING?

  “Hey, guess what!”

  “What?” asked Sonja, without lifting her head from the Yellow Pages that she had propped open in front of her.

  “Those two lads were in again!” smiled Anna conspiratorially.

  Dorothy had just arrived for work and given Anna the chance to have a quick break. Since Sonja was sitting alone in the window seat with only the phone book for company, Anna had taken her orange juice and slipped into the red vinyl banquette opposite her.

  “Which lads?” Sonja asked, without any real interest.

  “You know! Those Dutch or Belgian boys or whatever they are. The two lads who were in here a couple of days ago! We were talking about them.”

  Sonja looked up at Anna, wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  “Nah, don’t know ‘em,” she said flatly and dropped her gaze back down to the ‘M’ section she was flicking through.

  “Yes, you do! Really nice-looking… Kerry tripped over a backpack of theirs. Maya and me were saying how we couldn’t figure out why they’d ended up in Winstead of all places…” Anna tried to jog Sonja’s memory.

  But Sonja either genuinely didn’t remember or she wasn’t in the mood to even bother thinking about it. Anna hoped it wasn’t the latter - there was nothing more infuriating than someone deliberately not getting what you were trying to say.

  “Nope, sorry - don’t know who you’re talking about,” Sonja muttered, her eyes glued to the page and her finger dragging down the printed words.

  Anna took a couple of calming breaths and tried to give Sonja the benefit of the doubt.

  “Listen, I was thinking,” she began again tentatively.

  “Mmm?” muttered Sonja. Her attention wasn’t wavering from the phone book.

  “I bought some new stuff for my flat this weekend…”

  No response.

  “Nothing flash - huh, like I could afford anything flash! Just a new rug and a throw for the sofa, that kind of thing. And I just thought it would be nice to have a bit of a girls’ night some time soon. What do you think?”

  “Mmm,” muttered Sonja again, completely missing the significance of Anna’s offer, if she had even heard it.

  Anna’s tiny flat above the End-of-the-Line café had been her own little retreat from the world since she first moved to Winstead. Even though she’d become friends with Sonja and the others, she’d never invited them all round before.

  In truth, she didn’t need a retreat so much now. She’d been longing to have her new friends around for ages, but it had taken quite a while to get the place looking decent. With a mishmash of rubbishy old furniture and fittings (Nick, her landlord, had furnished it with chipped, cheap second-hand gear) and no money to do much about it, Anna had felt too embarrassed to have anyone to visit properly.

  But, after a few months of bargain-hunting and hiding what she couldn’t replace under remnants of Indian cloth and old tablecloths she’d dyed vivid colours, Anna finally felt she had a home she could be (almost) proud of.

  All of which passed straight over Sonja’s self-absorbed head.

  “So, are you up for it?” asked Anna, trying to get more of a response than just “mmm”.

  “Yeah, yeah, your place some time. Sure. No problem,” mumbled Sonja. “Ah! Here we go!”

  She pulled out a small pad and pen from her bag and started scribbling.

  “What h
ave you found?” asked Anna. She realised she wouldn’t get Sonja’s attention today even if she tap-danced on the table and screamed that Leo DiCaprio was walking down the street.

  “The name of a modelling agency up in the city.”

  Anna watched Sonja write a name, address and phone number down. “Is this one that Ollie’s sister recommended?”

  “No - she only knows agencies in London and I don’t want to go that far for work. Anyway,” Sonja looked up and out of the window thoughtfully, “there’s something up with Tasha at the moment. I tried to talk to her about modelling when we were here on Sunday, but she just acted really bored and disinterested.”

  Know the feeling… Anna thought to herself.

  “Have you heard that this agency’s good then?” asked Anna, wondering how Sonja had come to choose it.

  “What do you mean?” Sonja replied defensively, looking directly at Anna for only the second time since she’d sat down, and for only the first time with any real animation on her part.

  “Uh, well, I just meant, does it have a good reputation?” Anna tried to explain. “You know what they’re always saying in magazines: always check an agency’s credentials, in case it’s dodgy.”

  “Oh, give me some credit! It’s not like I’m writing off to ‘Big Boobs Incorporated’ or something. I am a bit smarter than that!”

  Anna felt the cold stare of Sonja’s icy blue eyes and wondered what on earth had got into her. Normally, Sonja was really good fun and always approachable.

  “Well, sorry - ‘course I didn’t think you’d—” Anna started to apologise.

  “You know something?” Sonja interrupted. “Since I mentioned this modelling thing, not one of my friends has had anything encouraging to say. Not Tasha, not Kerry, not Maya, and not even you.”

  Anna was stunned into silence by the accusation.

  “If I didn’t know better,” said Sonja gathering up her pad and pen and shoving them into her bag, “I’d say some people round here were jealous.”

  Standing up, she walked away from the table and shoved the phone book back on the shelf behind the counter.