Sasha's Secret

by Cathy Cassidy

‘Look at the camera,’ Marley instructs. ‘Big grins! C’mon, people!’

  We cluster together, pushing and shoving and laughing, a motley crew of misfit kids who’ve somehow found themselves in music industry heaven.

  ‘You’re here!’

  Ked Wilder is standing in the grand entrance to Fox Hollow Hall, casual in black jeans, T-shirt and Converse, his arms stretched out in welcome. ‘Come in, come in. Camille has organized tea and cake for everyone. We’ll feed you up, then give you the guided tour!’

  Lexie and Bex’s foster parents, Mandy and Jon, bound up the steps to shake Ked’s hand and explain that Jake and his stepdad, Sheddie, will be arriving under their own steam shortly. Ked nods and ushers us all inside.

  The dining kitchen is industrial-chic, with a giant zinc-topped table and half a dozen small, scrubbed-pine cafe tables scattered around the room with pine and metal chairs arranged informally round them. Oversized bare light bulbs hang from ceiling hooks and the cupboards seem to be made from old factory fittings.

  A feast of tea, coffee, juice and home-baked cakes awaits us, and Matt raises an eyebrow at the spread. ‘Not very rock ’n’ roll, is it?’ he whispers. ‘More Famous Five. I was expecting beer bottles and TVs being thrown off balconies – a bit of scandal!’

  ‘Shhh!’ I grin. ‘He’ll hear you!’

  Ked is introducing Camille, a statuesque woman dressed in pink skinny jeans and a floaty pink silk tunic dress, a mass of dark braids escaping from a pink print headwrap to cascade down to her waist.

  ‘Camille and Mike live in the basement flat,’ he explains. ‘Mike keeps the studio running smoothly and Camille sorts just about everything else. She’ll be your go-to person if you have any questions.’

  ‘Housekeeper?’ Matt whispers. Camille is about as far as it’s possible to be from any Enid Blyton fantasies of a housekeeper I might have had, but her smile is as warm as the shiny scarlet Aga in the corner.

  ‘I’m sure I know her face,’ Happi says, but I think Camille has that striking, timeless look that makes you think you’ve known someone forever. She is probably a decade older than my mum, but she radiates energy and kindness.

  We fall into a kind of happy trance, demolishing chocolate brownies and sipping home-made smoothies while the adults drink mugs of proper coffee from the kind of fancy hissy Italian machine they have in the Leaping Llama. By the time we’re ready to explore, Sheddie and Jake have arrived too, parking their ramshackle van round the back.

  I was worried that I might feel awkward seeing Jake again after what Romy had said about him liking me, but his grin is as warm and easy as ever. If there’s any mushy stuff going on, I honestly can’t see it. I let myself relax. He’s just my friend, and that’s exactly what I want him to be.

  ‘I have some calls to make,’ Ked is saying. ‘Camille will show you around and we’ll meet back here at six. I want to talk you through the schedule.’

  ‘Can you pinch me?’ Jake says into my ear as Camille leads us up the widest staircase I’ve ever seen, the crimson carpet so thick that every footstep leaves a little imprint. ‘Is this real?’

  ‘If not, then I think it’s some kind of mass hallucination,’ I say. ‘Look at Marley – his tongue is practically hanging out! This has probably ramped up his ambitions about a million per cent, and let’s face it, he was already pretty full-on …’

  Marley’s eyes are out on stalks, taking in the display of framed gold, silver and platinum discs that are ranged along the walls. I can tell he’s imagining having his own collection one day, and Matt is busy capturing his reactions on camera.

  On the first landing Camille takes us to the right. The west wing, she tells us, is reserved for guests – us, in other words. The east wing – Ked’s private quarters – is out of bounds.

  I think I must vanish briefly, because when I come back to myself Jake is holding my arm, quietly asking if I can hear him, and the others have gone on ahead.

  ‘I’m OK,’ I whisper. ‘Don’t say anything!’

  He hands me a wrapped chocolate lime for sustenance.

  ‘Doctor’s when we get back,’ he whispers, steering me forward to catch up with the others. The fizz of hope and excitement from earlier evaporates, replaced by shame at my zone-out and fear that I won’t be able to hide what’s happening, that I’ll let everyone down.

  I unwrap the sweet and pretend I’m fine, and hope that nobody will notice.

  ‘There are three bedrooms here,’ Camille is explaining. ‘Two en-suite family rooms with an interconnecting door, and a third – a double – just next door. Mandy and Jon, if you want to take that one, the girls can share the other two. I’ve put the boys up on the top floor, with Mr Shedden to supervise.’

  The family rooms are gorgeous, all stripped pine floorboards and oversized beds draped in fluffy duvets. Bex, Happi and Lexie take the room with three queen-sized beds and Romy and I take the smaller one, with two. We dump our luggage and instruments, help Lexie to set up a heat lamp, food and water for Mary Shelley and set the little tortoise down to explore.

  Camille takes the boys up another flight to claim their space, and back downstairs she shows us the lounge, the library, the music room and the formal dining room, then the swimming pool with its plush recliners and jungle of tall, exotic plants.

  Matt is drinking it all in, eyes bright, planning photo shoots and scoping out backgrounds. He confessed on the trip down that his dream is to sell some of the pictures from this week to a national newspaper or magazine. I tried to be encouraging, but I’m not sure the tabloids will be all that interested in a bunch of kids who haven’t exactly hit the big time yet.

  Still, Matt is super ambitious. He really comes to life when he’s talking about the future, about how he wants to be an investigative reporter on one of the national newspapers or see his photographs on the covers of the top glossy magazines.

  ‘I love that you understand, Sasha,’ he’d told me earlier, as the minibus trundled through the windy Devon lanes. ‘Hardly anyone I know gets it. My mates think I’m mad, wasting time on a school magazine that even half the pupils have never heard of, and my parents think I should be something sensible like a doctor or a lawyer. I mean, can you imagine?’

  He’d made a kind of tortured face, as if his parents had suggested a career in sewage maintenance or gravedigging, and I did my best to look sympathetic.

  ‘I just don’t want to settle for an ordinary life, you know?’ he’d said earnestly. ‘I’m destined for bigger things. I want to be the kind of journalist who exposes wrongdoing and digs for the truth no matter what. I want to take photographs that change the world, challenge the status quo – there’s a fire inside me, driving me on. You understand me, Sasha. You’ve got that same passion and ambition yourself, after all, for music!’

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wrong, that an ordinary life was exactly what I wanted, or at least one without the fear of letting people down constantly gnawing at my belly. Shamefully, I’d even zoned out a couple of times while Matt was talking, but luckily he’d been too wrapped up in sharing his hopes and dreams to notice. I didn’t mind – I admire enthusiasm in a person, and yes, OK, I admit that I admire Matt in other ways too. Just sitting watching him talk was quite cool.

  Right now, he’s loping on ahead as we trek across the huge, dipping lawn, Camille explaining that the hollow is carpeted in snowdrops in February and bluebells in May, then poppies and cornflowers in high summer.

  ‘You can spot foxes pretty much all year round,’ she explains. ‘But they’re shy, of course, so perhaps they’ll stay out of your way. Now this is the famous Fox Hollow Studios, where you’ll be spending a lot of time these next few days. Take a look.’

  The studio annexe is a specially designed set of buildings equipped with the best modern recording technology. Dylan can’t resist trying out the shiny new drum kit – Ked had told him it would be crazy to attempt to transport his own battered kit here, and it’s not hard to see that
this kit is top of the range. Marley is in his element, checking everything out, but it scares me a little to see the mics and amps and the high-tech mixing desk.

  ‘Ked has a great sound crew,’ Camille tells us. ‘The best in the business – but you’ll find that out yourselves soon enough! I think I’ve shown you everything, but if you need me I’ll either be in the kitchen or in the basement flat. Come and find me – I’ll be happy to help. Now, I’ll leave you to get back and freshen up or relax after the long drive. We have a buffet supper all ready to go in the kitchen-diner shortly, and I know Ked wants to welcome you all properly. See you at six!’

  ‘Perfect,’ Matt says, polite as ever.

  Mandy, Jon, Sheddie and the Lost & Found chime in with their assent, but the wink Matt gives me is mine alone.

  Friday: Arrive, welcome, settle in, dinner

  Saturday: 7 a.m. breakfast/free time

  10 a.m. Sasha vocal coaching with Camille (music room, main house), everyone else studio practice

  11 a.m. Marley, Lexie, Romy vocal coaching with Camille (backing vocals and harmonies)

  1 p.m. lunch

  2 p.m. songwriting workshop with Ked (music room, main house)

  4.30 p.m. free time

  6 p.m. dinner

  7 p.m. X Factor evening

  Sunday: 7 a.m. breakfast/free time

  9 a.m. minibus to Starshine Festival, Arena Village, Bristol

  11 a.m. arrive, free time

  1–4 p.m. lunch and meetings

  4–midnight free time

  Midnight minibus to Fox Hollow Hall

  Monday: 7 a.m. breakfast/free time

  9 a.m. Sasha vocal coaching with Camille

  10 a.m. whole band developing new songs with Ked and Camille (studio)

  1 p.m. lunch

  2 p.m. practising/developing new songs (studio)

  4.30 p.m. Sasha, Romy, Lexie, Marley, Sasha developing harmonies with Camille (music room)

  6 p.m. dinner

  7 p.m. planning video/publicity

  Tuesday: 7 a.m. breakfast/free time

  9 a.m. Sasha vocal coaching with Camille

  10 a.m. make-up and styling with Ria and Fitz

  12.30 p.m. photo shoot with Matt

  1.15 p.m. lunch

  2 p.m. band practice/recording

  4.30 p.m. free time

  6 p.m. dinner

  7 p.m. meeting with OK Film team to finalize ideas

  Wednesday: 7 a.m. breakfast/free time

  9 a.m. Sasha vocal coaching with Camille

  10 a.m. recording

  1 p.m. lunch

  2 p.m. recording

  4.30 p.m. free time

  6 p.m. dinner with Lola Rockett

  7 p.m. live set

  8 p.m. free time

  Thursday: 7 a.m. breakfast/free time

  9 a.m. Sasha vocal coaching with Camille

  10 a.m. Ria and Fitz, styling

  1 p.m. light lunch

  2 p.m. shoot video with OK Film

  4.30 p.m. free time

  6 p.m. dinner

  7 p.m. last-chance recording, mentoring, packing

  Friday: 7 a.m. breakfast/packing

  10 a.m. minibus departs

  Jake: shadow tech team where possible, Mike to direct

  Matt: fit photos and interviews around this schedule; check all images/copy that include mentions/shots of Ked Wilder with Ked, Camille or Mike before use

  One-to-one mentoring: all band members will be offered a one-to-one mentoring slot with Ked and/or Camille, at a time to suit

  Mandy, Jon, Sheddie: you’re here to keep an eye on the kids, so feel free to slot in and out of sessions as you see best – and make good use of the facilities, of course!

  Ked Wilder

  11

  The Plan

  The zinc-topped table holds a feast, and we fall on it as if we haven’t eaten in days. It looks like all our meals will follow this informal buffet-style pattern, and Matt sticks to my side, chatting easily, loading my plate with things he thinks I will like. I’d rather pick my own food, but I know he’s only trying to be nice.

  ‘Hey, you could be a professional chef, Camille,’ Marley calls out, holding up a forkful of quiche. ‘I mean, you’re not just a pretty face – you’re a kitchen goddess! This is amazing!’

  ‘I’m not the cook,’ Camille says, frowning slightly. ‘Mrs B lives in the village. She made this, but she had to leave early today because her husband has the flu. You’ll meet her tomorrow.’

  I get the impression that Marley’s famous charm is not quite working on Camille … not yet, anyway.

  Once we’ve eaten, Ked ushers us through to the big living room, and Matt steers me towards a club chair upholstered in what looks like old hessian sacks, some printed with vintage logos and lettering. It’s big enough for two, but still, I’m torn between the thrill of this and an irrational wish to be across the room, where Romy, Jake, Lexie, Sami, Happi and Bex are jostling and laughing on a sofa made from squashy cushions piled up on rough wooden pallets threaded through with fairy lights. I’m starting to believe that Matt really does like me and the idea panics me just a little.

  The others grab the remaining chairs or loll on thick sheepskins in front of a roaring wood burner that makes everything feel toasty, and then Mike and Camille join us, Camille with a stack of papers in her hands.

  ‘So – welcome to Fox Hollow Hall, people!’ Ked says. ‘I’m excited to be working with you this week, and happy that every single one of the Lost & Found has made the effort to be here. It shows how keen and determined you all are, and that’s half the battle! I’m grateful too, to the adults who’ve come along to keep an eye on you – Mandy, Jon, Sheddie, make yourselves at home. The kids will be busy this week, but you guys can chill a little as long as you’re keeping an eye on them as well!’

  Sheddie, sitting on the floor with his legs folded up like some kind of origami project, waves an arm in the air.

  ‘I thought I’d do my yoga routine every morning on the grass outside,’ he says, smiling. ‘It’s supposed to stay dry. Eightish? A few basic stretches and a Salute to the Sun sequence. Anyone who wants to join me is very welcome!’

  Ked grins. ‘Might take you up on that,’ he says. ‘Thanks! A special welcome to Jake and Matt – not members of the band, strictly speaking, but you guys already know that a band is much more than its members. I think Jake will get a lot out of shadowing my sound crew this week. Mike will be your line manager, OK? There’s a lot he can teach you, and he’ll certainly keep you busy.’

  ‘OK!’ Jake says, his cheeks pink with pleasure.

  ‘And, Matt,’ Ked continues. ‘A late addition to the party, but welcome, of course! Having a budding photojournalist on the team is great – dip in and out of what’s going on as you wish, and feel free to arrange formal photo shoots as long as they don’t overlap with anything already scheduled. It goes without saying that you’re here solely to cover what’s happening with the Lost & Found – please respect my privacy and that of my friends. If you’re not sure about something, I’d rather you checked your copy and photos with me. I don’t talk much to the press these days, and when I do it’s on my terms. Understood?’

  ‘Understood, Mr Wilder!’ Matt says, bright-eyed and earnest. ‘It’s an absolute privilege to be here. No way would I tread on anybody’s toes or report anything that isn’t strictly to do with the band. I totally understand the whole privacy thing. No problem! I mean, you really don’t need to worry about me, I’m just a kid with a camera who helps out on the school magazine …’

  I can’t help smiling. Matt’s falling over himself to say the right thing and overdoing it slightly, but I like that he’s trying so hard to please Ked Wilder.

  Matt turns to me and winks. ‘Bit full of himself, isn’t he?’ he whispers in my ear. ‘As if I’d be interested in taking photos of him anyway!’

  I blink, surprised at this. It seems Matt’s the kind of boy who doesn’t like being told wh
at to do; underneath the smooth patter he’s a little bit snarky. Not quite the perfect boy-next-door type I had him down as, then.

  ‘These privacy rules apply to everyone here, of course,’ Ked is saying. ‘I’m trusting you all not to let me down.’

  Matt gives a subtle eye-roll, but there’s a rush of promises from everybody else. Ked smiles and goes on.

  ‘Now – the rest of you! You know you’re here because I think you have something special. I can’t promise anything – the music business isn’t like that … it’s fickle and feckless and it can change in a heartbeat, so nothing is ever a sure thing. Still, I like the Lost & Found a lot, and I will do my best to help you. I’m trying to cram a lot of stuff into six short days, so I’ve made a plan.’

  Camille jumps up and starts handing out papers. Everyone gets a copy, even the adults. Ked wasn’t joking when he said there was lots to do. This schedule is kind of daunting, but – Sunday at Starshine Festival? A buzz of excitement spreads around the room.

  ‘Starshine Festival?’ Marley bursts out. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘Are we playing?’ Bex asks, alarmed. ‘I mean, that would be awesome, but … I … are we ready for that?’

  Ked laughs. ‘You’re not playing,’ he says. ‘Not because I don’t think you’re ready – but because it’ll be fun and because I want you to meet some friends who’ll be working with us next week. Starshine is one of the biggest music festivals of the year – but it’s not just a festival. It’s an expo, a showcase, a chance for breaking bands and top music biz and media people to get together. There’ll be live music, lectures, interviews, workshops, stylists, film-makers, agents, TV people – every kind of contact you could possibly want. It’s all inside, in one of the UK’s biggest indoor exhibition centres – an expo village, really. There’s nothing else quite like it. So that’s our Sunday. Lots of fun and some useful meetings too – OK?’

  Bex grins. ‘OK!’

  Glancing back at the schedule, I can’t help noticing that I have daily voice coaching with Camille. Does that mean they’re worried about me? Has Ked picked me out as the Lost & Found’s weak link, someone who needs extra support? Anxiety floods through me.