Love Song

by Sophia Bennett

  ‘I feel sick,’ Ariel moaned, clutching her tummy as we moved forward.

  ‘Not long now,’ I murmured.

  ‘I know. That’s why.’

  It was Deadpan Blonde’s turn. She sauntered across the floor, handed her details to the photographer’s assistant and walked over to the spot where the band were standing. She already had Connor Clark’s full attention. He was looking her up and down like she was a lobster in a restaurant and he’d just ordered lobster.

  She posed between him and Angus, legs casually crossed, doing a peace sign. They spoke to her briefly and that strong emotion from earlier suffused her face. Whatever they said, it had obviously made the four-thousand-mile trip worthwhile.

  ‘Go. GO.’

  Ariel was being lined up to go over already, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  It didn’t take a big detective to work out who was here for the band, and who was just here as a chaperone. Ariel was wearing an oversize blue T-shirt she designed herself, with handwritten lyrics from her favourite Point songs, surrounded by glitter doodles of their signatures. Her hair was dip-dyed sky blue from waist to shoulder – because Jamie often said his favourite colour was blue – and blonde from the shoulders upwards, because once he said it was yellow. I was in one of my old painting shirts and the first pair of shorts I could find.

  ‘Go on. Have fun!’ I said, pushing her forwards.

  She hesitated, looking terrified. ‘Come with me?’

  For the sake of speeding things up, I took her hand and we walked across the brief expanse of carpet towards the band.

  The boys looked over at us and smiled. ‘Where d’you want us?’

  And there we were, face to face with the most famous faces on the planet, and I kind of got why Ariel was so nervous. I wasn’t a fan and even I was practically having an out-of-body experience. It was like meeting the Queen, or walking on the Moon: definitely happening, and yet somehow impossible.

  Ariel was lost for words, but the band had done this a thousand times before. Angus and Connor scooted up one way and Jamie and George went the other, leaving spaces in the middle for Ariel and me.

  ‘Oh, I’m not in this,’ I explained.

  I had just spoken to the collective Point. Weird. Weird. I said human words to them, and they understood.

  ‘Sure you are,’ Jamie said, with a sultry grin, motioning me next to him.

  ‘No, really. I’ll just take a picture.’

  He shrugged, moved in a little and put his arm around Ariel. She stared blankly ahead. Anyone else might think she was brain dead, but I could see her emotions were in lockdown: she was too overwhelmed to think.

  While the photographer lined up the official shot, I got busy with my camera. I got into position in front of them and framed the shot so the boys and Ariel filled the screen. It looked bizarrely familiar after seeing their faces, just like this, on countless videos and posters. Now here was my sister’s face right in the middle of them, as if I’d Photoshopped her in.

  ‘Loving the hair,’ Jamie said, picking up a strand of it and laying it across his upper lip like a moustache. ‘Great colour.’

  ‘I know,’ Ariel breathed, happily.

  Meanwhile, George gave her bunny ears, Angus scowled seductively, and Connor did his ‘Connor-face’ thing, which was his mysterious middle-distance stare. The photographer snapped the official picture. I took mine. And it was over.

  Except it wasn’t.

  As soon as the photographer nodded that she’d got the shot, Ariel suddenly got her courage from somewhere.

  ‘Thank you for the tickets,’ she said shyly, turning to Jamie.

  ‘Um … the tickets?’

  ‘The ones you sent for today. I did the video about your proposal.’ He still looked blank. ‘The one saying how romantic it was. And you wrote back, remember?’

  ‘Um … yeah … sure.’

  My heart lurched. It was obvious, to me at least, that Jamie didn’t remember at all. Getting his note was the greatest moment of my sister’s life, but to him, she was just another loved-up girl in a long queue of them – not as glamorous as his fiancée and not even as cool as Deadpan Blonde. My heart ached for her.

  Move on, Ariel. Jamie clearly has no idea who you are.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, gently. ‘Let’s go.’

  But Ariel stood there, glowing with the joy of standing next to her idol. Nothing would make her move if she could help it.

  ‘Did I hear you right?’ said a voice from behind me. I spun round. Sigrid Santorini was directing the beam of her film-star smile straight at my sister. ‘You did a video about us?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ariel whispered, staring at her shoes.

  ‘Well, aren’t you THE MOST? ’ Sigrid laughed, fluttering her fingers, so the diamond flashed in the light. I caught sight of Angus watching it with the faintest hint of a sneer.

  ‘What’s your name?’ Sigrid asked.

  ‘Ariel,’ she breathed.

  ‘And where are you from?’

  ‘Croydon.’

  Sigrid’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Croydon? Really?’

  Yeah, that area of South London Sigrid would so obviously have heard of. But she seemed intrigued, or faked it well.

  ‘You’re so fascinating,’ she said. ‘Jamie, baby, we must get a picture. Us two with little Rachel here, with that beautiful blue hair. Isn’t she charming? Would you like that, Rachel? My assistant can take it and put it on Instagram. Pamela!’

  The girl in dark clothing emerged from the shadows and dutifully took Sigrid’s phone. While Pamela nudged me out of the way so she could get a good shot, Sigrid squeezed herself next to Jamie, manoeuvring Ariel in front of her. Standing to one side, I glanced back at the queue. This was all taking precious time from the meet-and-greet. The remaining girls did not look happy. Nor did Angus, whose moody pose was morphing into something like disgust.

  Sigrid adjusted her hair so it cascaded over one shoulder, and her pose so she was perfectly three-quarters on. She sucked in her cheeks and turned on her million-dollar smile. Wham! It was like switching on floodlights. She radiated joy. It was almost as if there was an aura of light around her.

  In fact, there was an aura of light around her, bright and flickering. And a strange, unpleasant smell.

  ‘Fire!’

  The word was out of my mouth before I knew I was shouting.

  ‘OMIGOD! WHERE?’ Sigrid yelled.

  I gasped. It seemed to be all around them. Somehow, the banner behind the band had caught light. It was disintegrating super-fast, sending gossamer-light, glowing specks of fabric floating through the air.

  Adrenaline pumped through me. Nononono …

  I’d been here before. My little sister in a flimsy witch’s cape, going up in flames in front of me. Not now. Not again.

  I thought of Aunt Cassie, and how quickly she’d reacted all those Halloweens ago when Ariel’s cape had brushed the top of a burning candle. For an instant, I pictured Mum howling Cassie’s name, but I pushed the image away. What now mattered was to make sure Ariel was safe.

  I reached forward, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the way. With lightning speed, the lurking bodyguards did the same for the boys, taking two each and bundling them through the crowd to the nearest exit. Around us, the meet-and-greet descended into chaos. Alarms went off. Girls screamed. People started running in a stampede for the doors. I was about to follow them when behind us, somebody shouted.

  ‘HELP ME! SOMEBODY, HELP ME!’

  I looked back. Sigrid was still rooted to the spot, paralysed with shock. The banner had almost burnt itself out but she was staring down at the trailing sleeves of her white dress, where little flames were licking upwards, burning their way through the cotton like advancing armies of light.

  ‘WATER!’ she screamed. ‘I NEED WATER!’

  As I glanced around for something to put out the fire, I noticed that at the back of the stampede, several people had paused to get their phones out and video t
he scene. Way to go. Don’t help – just put it on the internet, why don’t you? Meanwhile, Sigrid whirled her arms in terror, and the flames rose higher, like burning wings.

  There was a table nearby, covered with a big dark cloth and set with bottles of mineral water. The girl who’d taken the Instagram picture grabbed one of them and sprayed it in Sigrid’s direction. Only a few drops reached her and they did no good. The girl reached for a second bottle, but before she could get hold of it, I’d grabbed the cloth underneath and sent the lot flying.

  ‘WHA—?’ Sigrid gasped, horrified to see the precious bottles falling.

  I rushed over to her with the tablecloth held out in front of me, and wrapped her in it, wrestling her to the floor as I went. I rolled her over inside the cloth and threw myself on top of her for good measure.

  ‘OW! GET OFF ME!’ she shouted. ‘HEY! What are you doing?’

  ‘I need … to stop … the air …’ I panted, straddling her with my body. After Ariel’s Halloween terror, I knew more than I wanted to about how to put out a person on fire. The best way was to wrap them in something thick and heavy, fast, and keep it there until all the flames were out.

  The ground shuddered under the weight of heavy footsteps.

  ‘Oi! You!’ a gruff voice shouted. ‘Get away from her.’

  Sigrid’s frightened eyes flicked to something in the distance behind me. I glanced back through falling flecks of ash to see a bodyguard the size of a small hatchback bearing down on us both. Beyond him, Jamie hovered anxiously, helpless and terrified.

  ‘You! Move!’ the guard repeated.

  ‘I can’t!’

  But before I could explain what I was doing, his strong hand had hauled me off Sigrid and dumped me face down on the ground beside her. My shoulder hit the floor with a crack. A big, heavy knee dug firmly into the small of my back.

  It hurt. A lot.

  ‘Get off my sister!’ Ariel yelled desperately, trying to pull him away.

  He ignored her, and kept the knee where it was. ‘You all right, miss?’ he asked.

  Well, obviously not. But he wasn’t talking to me, he was talking to Sigrid.

  ‘I … no. OW. My hand ...’ she moaned.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s under control now,’ he said, pressing down on me even harder.

  With my head squished against the carpet, my vision went blurry. All I could really see was flashes of coloured light bouncing off the Malteser diamond as Sigrid flexed her fingers to check her left hand was OK, while Jamie crouched consolingly beside her now the big, bad teenager was out of the way.

  At least I hadn’t paid four hundred dollars for the privilege of being here today. I made a mental note never again to try and save the life of a celebrity.

  It sucked.

  As anyone who watches Backstage with Sigrid knows, Sigrid Santorini lives in a house in the Hollywood Hills, with views over the twinkling town and a new swimming pool recently built in the shape of Jamie Maldon’s favourite guitar. Ariel and I went home, eventually, to Croydon. Famous for Kate Moss and car parks. Home to South London’s branch of Ikea. Things are a little different in the real world. Just saying.

  Our house was a little white box with a shed in the back garden and a garage beside it, and as long as he had a shed and a garage, my dad was happy. He was on the front drive working on the Mini when we arrived. It was an original Mini – one of the really tiny ones that look like they’re probably run by pedal power. Dad looked quite ridiculous underneath it, with his long legs encased in overalls sticking halfway down the drive.

  He slid himself out and glanced up at us, wiping his hair out of his eyes with an oily hand.

  ‘You’re back late. Was there a problem?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I sighed. ‘Jamie Maldon’s girlfriend caught fire.’ I rolled my aching shoulder.

  Dad looked at it in alarm. ‘You weren’t caught up in it, were you?’

  I was about to say ‘no’, because it was a long story and I really needed a shower, but Ariel butted in.

  ‘She was brilliant. Nina was the one who put it out. You know? Like Auntie Cassie did with her coat? A guard jumped on Nina first, but they realized what she’d done and they were really grateful. Sigrid just had this teeny weeny burn the size of a 5p and Nina made her put it under cold water like Aunt Cassie told us and while she sat there she talked to me for ages about our family and all sorts of stuff and she was really nice, and they offered us tickets for any of their shows at the O2 and you’ve got to take me, Dad, seriously, because …’

  I’d forgotten Ariel’s ability to remember things the best way possible. Dad calls it ‘retrospective optimism’. She only talks about the best times with Aunt Cassie. Sometimes it feels like being related to a helium balloon.

  ‘Whoa!’ Dad flicked his gaze from her to me. ‘You put out a girl on fire?’

  I shrugged. ‘It was either that or take a video of it.’

  ‘Well, I’m proud of you, Nina, love.’

  ‘And now we’ve got to decide which day you’re taking me to the O2,’ Ariel chattered on. ‘Because Nina doesn’t want to go and—’

  ‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Dad smiled. ‘Slow down, love. We can talk about that later. Nina, now you’re back, can you look after the twins until Mum gets in? Michael’s making their tea, so God knows what state they’re in. Josh has had an interesting day. I’d come and help but I just need to work out where this oil leak’s coming from ...’

  He smiled at me hopefully.

  ‘Sure.’

  I was used to helping out. As the eldest of four, with two extra toddlers in the house and Mum and Dad both working, I could either live in total chaos most of time or fix some of it myself.

  Ariel rushed inside to text her friends about our day. In the kitchen my fifteen-year-old brother Michael was stirring something on the stove, but his attention was mostly focused on a girl with tumbling red ringlets sitting on the kitchen table, her legs elegantly crossed for maximum display. She was idly feeding chocolate biscuits to my twin cousins, Aunt Cassie’s boy and girl, who were strapped into booster seats at the table. There was a strange, sickly-sweet smell in the air.

  ‘Neenie Neenie Neenie!’ the twins called out, reaching for me with crumby fingers and chocolate-smeared faces.

  I went over and bent forward for a kiss and a hug, while each of them in turn squeezed their chubby arms around me, getting chocolate on my lips and crumbs in my hair.

  ‘Pip! Lara! Did you miss me?’

  ‘We always miss you, Neenie,’ Lara said reprovingly.

  ‘It’s been extremely tedious without you,’ Pip joined in. He’d learnt ‘extremely tedious’ from a TV show and came out with it in the bath two days ago. Mum practically levitated with pride. Now he said it all the time.

  While I disentangled myself from them, I gazed in surprise at the red-headed girl, who grinned at me.

  ‘It has indeed been extremely tedious without you, babe. I’ve been waiting for half an hour. Luckily, your brother kept me entertained me with his brilliant impersonation of Jamie Oliver.’

  This was my best friend Tammy. We’ve known each other for ever and I’m not sure I’d be alive without her. She nursed me through all my Jez fiascos and I’ve helped her through some better-managed heartbreaks of her own. I gave her a squeeze and went over to the stove to check what was happening in Michael’s pan. It wasn’t a pretty sight. They might have been baked beans once, but you would never know. Now they looked like the kind of thing a special-effects team would use to portray the aftermath of a deadly disease. That explained the smell.

  ‘I’ll take over,’ I suggested. It was good to be in control again.

  Michael nodded gratefully. He, girls and cookery don’t mix. We learnt this long ago. He can just about manage to focus on one or the other, but never both at the same time. Especially if the girl is someone like Tammy, who demands a man’s full attention at all times.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, rushing out of the room at full speed, w
ith one last backward glance in Tammy’s direction.

  ‘I think he’s just a little bit afraid of me,’ she observed, twirling a ringlet around her fingers.

  ‘I should think he’s practically terrified,’ I agreed. Michael is a sensitive computer geek with a love of classical music and a fondness for playing the trumpet. Whereas Tammy is a force of nature.

  ‘So listen,’ she said. ‘I came straight over. Everyone’s saying there was some kind of fan invasion at this Point thing you went to. You weren’t involved, right?’

  ‘Everyone who?’

  She pointed at the phone beside her on the table. ‘The internet. Everyone. Some crazy person apparently threw herself on Sigrid Santorini. There was a girl-fight. It was intense.’

  ‘That girl-fight would be me,’ I admitted. ‘And it was not “intense” – I was just trying to stop her dress from burning her to a crisp. Anyway, she wasn’t happy about it. Then this gorilla landed on me.’ I rolled my aching shoulders again and stretched my neck.

  ‘There was a fire? Where were the boys?’

  ‘Right next to us, to start with. Until the bodyguards caught hold of them and they ran away. I hate to break it to you, but they’re not exactly action heroes.’

  But Tammy was less concerned about the running-away part, and more interested in the fact that The Point had been there in the first place.

  ‘So what does Jamie Maldon actually smell like, close to?’

  I had to admit that I hadn’t noticed. I was concentrating more on the smell of his girlfriend’s burning clothes, and then on trying to get home, once I’d got out from under the bodyguard.

  Tammy pouted over the bread knife. ‘You might have hung around a bit longer, Neens. You never know – maybe Jamie could have offered to help you with your poorly shoulder …’

  ‘Don’t even go there! The boy wouldn’t have noticed my poorly shoulder. He hardly noticed Ariel’s whole body when she’d dyed her hair both his favourite colours and was standing right in front of him. He’s going out with a movie star, remember?’