Sugar Secrets…& Ambition

by Mel Sparke

  “Hi, Billy!” smiled Sonja, giving her other friends a cursory wave as she focused on the person she was most keen to speak to. “I just spotted you through the window. Are those my pictures?”

  “Gotta run!” said Cat, disappearing out from behind the counter and grabbing her stuff in a nanosecond.

  Although he was still reeling from his faux pas and aware of a throbbing pain from her pinch, it was all Ollie could do not to laugh at the sight of Cat pouting and pulling cartoon modelling poses behind Sonja’s back before she disappeared out the door…

  CHAPTER 13

  BARBED WORDS AND BAD MOODS

  “Mmm - I’m not sure about this one; my hair looks too dark.” Sonja squinted sulkily at the enlarged photo in front of her. The carefully wiped window table in the End was strewn with an assortment of colour images.

  “Yes, a bit, but it’s a great full-length shot of you,” said Billy patiently, pulling out several more prints from the envelope he’d been carrying. “And anyway, in these two headshots, you can see your hair much more clearly.”

  “Hmm,” said Sonja dubiously as she flicked through the photos. “I wish I could have seen the negatives and chosen the prints myself, of course…”

  Andy shot Billy a look that said “isn’t she being a bit ungrateful?” Billy replied with a quick “dunno” shrug.

  Sonja, lost in looking at her own image, was unaware of the silent exchange.

  “Well, there wasn’t time for that,” Billy answered her. “You wanted them turned round really quickly to send off today, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, Billy rushed like crazy last night to get the negatives developed and print up the shots too - he had to phone and ask Alex if he would open up early just to get it all done! “ Andy backed him up.

  “And it wasn’t as if I just chose these shots willy-nilly, I did get his advice on which ones I should print up.”

  “And Alex knows what he’s talking about,” nodded Andy. “Don’t forget either, Billy here’s an award-winning photographer!” Andy was talking about the competition Billy had won in the summer - with a photo he’d taken of Maya.

  “Yeah, but winning a local competition and getting his picture printed in the Winstead Gazette doesn’t mean Billy’s gonna get Vogue or Elle begging him to do their next front cover!” Sonja laughed.

  The fact that Billy and Andy weren’t laughing back seemed to go right over the top of her head.

  “They’re good,” said Anna, leaning over the table to look at Billy’s handiwork as she passed by, tray in hand.

  “Thanks, Anna!” grinned Billy.

  “Mm,” nodded Sonja, acknowledging the waitress’s praise, but with a wary acceptance.

  She still hadn’t quite forgiven Anna for her lack of enthusiasm the previous week. There’d been a little frostiness between them the last few days because of it, but Sonja wasn’t about to back down. Of course, part of the problem was that it wasn’t just Anna who seemed to have a downer on her plans for modelling.

  None of her friends seemed to be very interested or encouraging - not even Kerry. It wasn’t that she’d said anything particularly negative, it was just that every time Sonja brought up the subject, Kerry always sounded slightly bored and started talking about something else.

  Was I right before? wondered Sonja, thinking back to her sharp words with Anna. Are they all a bit jealous of me?

  Anna turned away from the booth and scooped up a trayful of tomato sauce-smeared plates from the neighbouring table.

  She’d heard Sonja’s tactless comments about Billy’s achievements and registered the two boys’ stunned expressions.

  What’s up with Sonja at the moment? she wondered to herself, her powers of intuition failing to give her any clues. Why is she acting so completely thoughtlessly?

  Anna too was still stinging from their conversation the previous week. She couldn’t understand why Sonja had turned on her like that - apparently deliberately misunderstanding what Anna was getting at with her friendly advice. Anna had only just become friends with Ollie’s crowd, only just let her defences down and started to trust people again, and the last thing she wanted was to fall out with anyone.

  But, sensitive as she was, Anna was proud too - which is why she’d come to Winstead to make it on her own in the first place. And she wasn’t just going to thaw out and pretend that everything was all right again. Sonja had no right to snap at her and expect her to take it.

  What Anna really wanted was a chance to get Sonja on her own and ask her what all this was about. But the opportunity hadn’t arisen so far.

  Maybe next Wednesday, when the girls all come to mine, Anna suddenly thought. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to her then. That’s if she comes…

  “What’s up with you?” asked Ollie, looking over at his sister. She was flicking through a magazine so fast and furiously that the pages seemed to be crackling with her irritation.

  “Nothing,” snapped Natasha, glaring back at her twin, whose foot was drum-drum-drumming out an annoying beat on the living room floor. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Ollie glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece.

  “What’s wrong with me is that it’s 10 o’clock and I thought Nick would have phoned by now.”

  “About this gig thing?”

  “Yes, about this ‘gig thing’.” Ollie sighed at his sister’s lack of interest. “I’m dying to find out what he’s got lined up for us, after that message he gave to Matt this afternoon.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” yawned Natasha, chucking her magazine to one side. “We are talking Uncle Nick here. It’s not going to be that amazing, whatever it is.”

  “Well, we’ll see, Miss Cynical! For all we know, there’s maybe an A&R man in town—”

  “Ha!” snorted Natasha. “A record company A&R man dragging himself from London to Winstead in search of new talent? I don’t think so!”

  “Tash, the world doesn’t begin and end in London, y’know! There are small independent record companies all over the place!” Ollie retorted. “And anyway, since Winstead’s so dreary and dull to you, why don’t you just disappear back off to your precious London instead of hanging around here looking miserable all the time?”

  Natasha looked half surprised at her brother’s outburst. He was normally so easygoing. But before she could answer him back, the phone rang in the hall and Ollie bounded over the arm of the chair to get it.

  “Nick! What’s happening?” she heard her brother say.

  “Uh-huh… Yep… OK - when? Really? That soon? But who… Oh, go on! You can’t leave it like that! Aw, come on, Nick!”

  By the time Ollie got off the phone and sloped back into the living room, he had a grin the size of a planet plastered across his face. Pretending she hadn’t been earwigging, Natasha looked up from the magazine she wasn’t reading again and looked at him enquiringly.

  “Nick’s only set us up with a gig at The Bell next Saturday week. Guy Fawkes night!”

  “The Bell? That dive of a pub?”

  “Winstead’s top live music venue,” Ollie corrected her. The Loud (in an earlier incarnation)had played there once before, stepping in when another band had cancelled. Then they’d been doing covers of other people’s records. This would be the first night they’d be playing their own music, in their own right, and with their new line-up.

  “So what’s so important about that then?” asked Natasha, referring to her uncle’s mysterious message earlier in the day.

  “He says he’s got someone coming down to watch us - someone who could make a real difference to our careers!”

  “Who’s that? The noise abatement officer from the council? Coming to confiscate your gear for making too much of a racket?”

  Ollie was too excited to rise to her sarky comments.

  “He wouldn’t say; said it would be a surprise.”

  “Wow! Then it must be the head of Sony records with a multimillion-pound deal!” sniped Natasha, all wide-eyed sarca
sm. “I’d better iron your shirt ready for your appearance on Top Of The Pops next week then!”

  “When did you get so bitter and twisted?” asked Ollie, irked by her attitude.

  Natasha said nothing and turned back to her magazine.

  “God!” Ollie blurted out suddenly, leaping over the armchair again. “Got to phone the other lads and let them know the news!”

  “Don’t wish too hard for what you want,” Natasha muttered under her breath. “It might not be what you expect…”

  CHAPTER 14

  ME, MYSELF, I

  It had been a hectic Saturday morning so far. Most of Winstead seemed to have been struck down by colds and flu, judging by the amount of people who’d packed the shop asking for cold remedies, pills and potions.

  Taking advantage of a late morning lull, Kerry got out from behind the till and set about restocking the empty shelf where the boxes of paper tissues were kept. There were a lot of runny noses in Winstead this weekend.

  Crouching down, Kerry was lost in thoughts of Disney videos and Star Wars toys - it was her kid brother’s seventh birthday in a week’s time, and she still wasn’t sure what to buy him for a present. She didn’t notice Sonja until her friend appeared by her side, crouching down to her level.

  “Guess what?” grinned Sonja.

  “Owen’s been in touch?” Kerry suggested.

  “No,” Sonja replied, her smile fading slightly. “No, I got a phone call this morning from that agency I contacted up in the city!”

  Kerry’s heart sank at the mention of modelling yet again; but seeing the excitement in her best friend’s face, she immediately felt mean.

  After all, I bored Sonny rigid about Ollie when we first started going out and she put up with it. Kerry reasoned to herself. It’s only fair that I should do the same for her.

  “Wow!” she gasped, hoping she sounded convincingly enthusiastic. “That’s amazing. You’ve heard from them already? You only sent the photos off on Thursday!”

  “I know. Brilliant, isn’t it?” beamed Sonja. “They sound really keen!”

  “Why, what did they say to you?” asked Kerry, standing up. Pins and needles were prickling her legs, and anyway, being upright meant she could check and see if the shop suddenly got busy. Mr Hardy was pretty easy-going and didn’t mind friends popping in, unless his staff ignored customers for the sake of gossip.

  “Well,” said Sonja, straightening up too, “it was a bloke. He said his name was Anthony Jones and…”

  Sonja was obviously dragging this out for dramatic effect.

  “And?” said Kerry, playing along.

  “And he sounded very, y’know, professional and…”

  “And?”

  “And he wants me to go to their office on Monday afternoon for a chat!” Sonja finally squealed, unable to keep up the pretence of cool any longer.

  “That’s brilliant! I’m really pleased for you!” smiled Kerry. Then a thought suddenly struck her. “But we’re back at college on Monday.”

  “Yeah, well I reckon I can skip classes just this once,” shrugged Sonja matter-of-factly. “The first day back after a break is never much of a full-on day. Even the teachers need to ease themselves back in gently, don’t they?”

  Kerry had never skived a day in her life; skipping a study period was as daring as she’d ever been in that department. She’d wanted to bunk off plenty of times, but her weighty sense of guilt never allowed her to.

  But now she felt guilty for a different reason - guilty for being a lousy friend. In the face of Sonja’s excitement, she felt gloomy as she remembered how much she’d been slagging her friend off to Ollie lately. It was time she made it up to her.

  “Sonja?” said Kerry in a low voice, her heart pitter-pattering at the rebellious idea in her head. “It’s just a thought… but what if I skip college too? I could come along and keep you company!”

  She was completely taken aback when Sonja unexpectedly burst out laughing at her suggestion.

  “Come on, Kerry!” smirked Sonja. “I’m not exactly eight years old! I don’t need anyone to hold my hand!”

  Kerry was relieved to see two boys walk into the shop at that precise moment. She could feel the heat of a blush stealing across her cheeks - caused by anger and indignation at Sonja’s tactless words - and she didn’t know how to respond.

  “‘Scuse me,” she muttered in Sonja’s direction before she stomped off to take up her position behind the counter.

  Serving the boys took a few minutes; they were foreign and weren’t sure how to ask for plasters in English. It was only when one of them pointed to his ankle and explained that his boot was hurting that Kerry clicked they were talking blisters. She’d probably have understood them a lot more quickly if her mind hadn’t been fizzing with frustration.

  For all her earlier thoughts of regret, it was now apparent that she’d been right in the first place. Sonja was behaving like Cat at her worst, and she was being completely self-centred and obsessive about this modelling stuff. In fact, Sonja was so self-absorbed that she hadn’t even noticed that she’d offended her best friend and was blithely checking out the make-up stand till Kerry was free again.

  “They were quite cute,” Sonja said casually as the two lads made their way out.

  Kerry looked at them as they passed the window and suddenly remembered where she’d seen them before. They’d been in the End the week before last; she’d tripped over one of their backpacks.

  “They’re the lads Anna and Maya were eyeing up in the café not so long ago. Remember?” Kerry prompted her, wondering if Sonja would pick up the new cool tone in her voice.

  “Nope,” shrugged Sonja disinterestedly.

  She wants to get back to talking about herself again, sensed Kerry. But let’s just try something out - let’s see if I can get her off the subject.

  “Speaking of Anna, her girls’ night on Wednesday should be a laugh, shouldn’t it?” said Kerry, picking up her boxes of tissues and starting to fill the shelf once again.

  “Dunno about that,” sniffed Sonja. “Anna’s been a bit funny with me. Did I tell you?”

  “No,” replied Kerry, intrigued.

  “Mmm, well, she started trying to give me a lecture about the perils and pitfalls of modelling or something,” said Sonja animatedly, full of righteous indignation. “But I think she’s basically just jealous.”

  Kerry almost felt like laughing - Sonja just couldn’t manage to make it through a sentence without using the ‘m’ word.

  Brushing past that topic, Kerry tried again.

  “Maya’s back tomorrow. It’ll be great to hear about her holiday, won’t it?”

  “Yes. I can’t wait to show her the photos Billy did of me!”

  Kerry gritted her teeth and decided to give her friend one last chance to change the subject.

  “Next Saturday is Lewis’s birthday. We’re going to give him a party and then take the kids along to the fireworks in the park since it’s Bonfire Night too.”

  This was a real tester; Sonja was very fond of Lewis. She and Kerry had been friends for ever and they’d both gone up to the hospital together to coo over the bundle of pink baby that was Lewis the day after he was born.

  “Hmm? Sorry, what did you say?” asked Sonja, her mind wandering off to somewhere more glamorous.

  “Nothing,” muttered Kerry, realising she was totally wasting her time.

  CHAPTER 15

  GREAT EXPECTATIONS

  There, that must be it! thought Sonja as she turned into the busy street. Ahead of her, halfway along the road, was an impressive, mirrored glass and red-brick building.

  Architect-designed spaces, state-of-the-art interiors, staff who looked not that far off being models themselves: Sonja had seen it all before in her favourite magazines, in the sort of behind-the-scenes of major London modelling agencies that they regularly featured. Oh, yes, Sonja knew what to expect.

  ‘Barnes & Partners Accountants’ said the brass plate besi
de the front door of the impressive modern building.

  That can’t be right! frowned Sonja, reaching into her coat pocket and retrieving the piece of paper on which she’d scribbled down the address. So. 49 Red Lion Street…

  She looked back up at the doorway in front of her and searched for a number. There it was… 39. She still had a way to go.

  Turning, her spirits sank when she glanced at the row of ordinary shops that ran along the remaining length of the street. Nothing looked as promising as the building she’d mistakenly stopped at.

  “41…” she counted under her breath, passing a betting shop. Number 43 was a neighbouring door that had to lead to the property above.

  “45…”

  A vacuum repair shop, flanked by another uninspiring door to somewhere.

  “47…”

  A hardware shop, with its contents of tackily-coloured plastic buckets and mops spilling out on to the pavement, almost blocking Sonja’s path.

  And there: number 49 Red Lion Street. A plain brown door with a row of grubby bell pushes to the right of it.

  Sonja tried to swallow her disappointment and turned her attention to the names under each of the three black and white bell pushes.

  “Doggy Locks Luxury Grooming Parlour…” she muttered, reading the top name. “Destiny Awaits Dating Agency… Ah, here we go - First Call Models!”

  She pressed the appropriate buzzer and waited for a response, her heart pounding. All of a sudden, Sonja wished she’d said yes to Kerry’s offer of company today.

  “Hello?” said a scratchy female voice via an intercom.

  “Hi! This is Sonja Harvey - I have an appointment with Anthony Jones at 2.00 pm?”

  “Oh, yes; come on up. First floor.”

  The door clicked open and Sonja walked into a small hallway with a scattering of uncollected junk mail on the floor. A clatter of footsteps and whining coming from the stairwell made her jump. Suddenly, a stressed-looking old English sheepdog with an equally stressed-looking owner came rushing down the steps. They fled out of the still-open front door, leaving behind the sickly sweet smell of dog shampoo and slightly burnt hair, before the door banged shut with a wall-juddering thud.