Playlist for a Broken Heart

by Cathy Hopkins

  After breakfast of toast and apricot jam, I went to look for one of the boys to give me the Wi-Fi password, but the house was deserted apart from Snowy who had come in and taken up her place on the sofa in the sitting room. I texted Allegra that I’d call her later, then decided to go and find Mum and Aunt Karen and check out my route to school. Might as well, as there’s nothing else to do, I thought as I got ready, then followed the directions Aunt Karen had given me.

  The sun was still shining when I set off along the suburban street where the semi-detached houses looked the same. All had small gardens at the front, most with off-street parking for two cars. Positive, positive, must be positive, I told myself. At the end of the road, I turned left, crossed over, turned right and soon found the row of shops Aunt Karen had told me about. Just ordinary shops, an estate agent (which I had a look in), a charity shop (which I didn’t – we might be poor but we’re not that desperate), a baker, a deli, then a café where I spotted Mum and Aunt Karen at the counter.

  I opened the door and went in to join them. A group of boys at a table by the window checked me out – musicians by the look of the guitars by their table, maybe a couple of years older than me, and two of them were quite attractive in an indie kind of way. Allegra would have been pleased but it was hardly the place to get out my phone, point it at them and say. Smile for the photo, boys’. Aunt Karen was paying the bill so Mum and I went back out to the street.

  ‘It doesn’t look so bad here,’ she said. She gestured at the street as we walked back up to the estate agent, where we both had a look at the houses for sale. ‘Pick any house.’

  I spotted a lovely old detached manor house in its own grounds that had a look of our home back in Richmond. Two point five million. ‘That one,’ I said.

  Mum laughed and pulled me away. ‘Moving on. You are your mother’s daughter. Expensive taste. I think we might have to lower our standards for a while.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ I said. ‘But seriously, how long are we going to be staying with Aunt Karen?’

  ‘Hard to say, Paige.’

  ‘We will buy another house, won’t we?’

  Mum shook her head. ‘Buying a house means getting a mortgage and the banks won’t even consider your father now he’s been declared bankrupt. They ask to see bank statements too and they don’t look good at the moment. Renting might be an option if we can both get work. Then we’ll just have to save – but I can tell you one thing, if and when we are ever ready to buy a house of our own again, it won’t be in the million-pound range.’

  ‘Aunt Karen said Dad was going to check out letting agencies.’

  ‘He is but they might want to see proof of income and bank statements as well.’

  ‘So we’re stuck where we are,’ I said

  ‘Not for long if I can help it,’ said Mum as Aunt Karen came to join us.

  ‘Oh, you have to have a look in here,’ she said and pulled Mum towards the charity shop. ‘You can get some great bargains.’

  Mum pulled a face at me over Aunt Karen’s shoulder but she didn’t pull away. I doubted she’d ever bought anything in a charity shop in her life. Nor had I and I certainly hadn’t thought that lowering our standards, as Mum had just said, would mean having to buy other people’s cast-offs.

  ‘Maybe we can find something for you, Paige,’ said Aunt Karen. ‘They have brilliant stuff in here. Some of it new. The rich Bath ladies bring things here that they’ve never worn.’

  Mum took a deep breath. I really felt for her. Not so long ago, she’d been one of those ladies. ‘I’m game,’ she said. ‘Come on, Paige. Let’s see what we can find.’

  ‘I don’t need anything,’ I said. ‘Really. I’ll wait out here.’

  ‘If you find anything you like, I’ll treat you,’ said Aunt Karen.

  Mum gave me a look that said, ‘Don’t be ungrateful,’ though she didn’t need to. I knew it would be churlish to refuse and that I’d come across as stuck-up. The last thing I wanted to do was to upset Aunt Karen, or Mum for that matter, but to be given a mouldy item worn by an unknown stranger, then cast off, was so not what I considered a treat.

  Inwardly I groaned as I noticed the boys from the café walking up the street towards us. I didn’t want them to see me going into a charity shop like some sad loser but Mum gestured for me to join her so I pulled my hair over my face, put my head down and followed them in.

  Once inside, we were greeted by a musty smell and rows and rows of shabby-looking clothes, racks of worn shoes, a display of mismatched crockery and glasses. Two old ladies were behind the counter having a cup of tea and a gossip about a mutual friend who’d just got out of hospital. Mum made a beeline for a shelf of books at the back whilst Aunt Karen browsed the clothes racks. I joined Mum and looked at the books and CDs. If I could find something to read, that would keep her and Aunt Karen happy. I certainly didn’t want to buy anyone’s old clothes.

  I looked through the books for a while, then something on the floor tucked under the bottom shelf caught my eye – an open shoebox full of CDs. I mainly used my iPod these days but I had a flick through anyway. Most were artists I’d never heard of. Melanie. Neil Diamond. The Eagles. Halfway through, I came across one that said Songs for Sarah on the spine. I liked the title so I pulled it out. It was clearly a homemade compilation that had a DIY cover design with a montage of colourful images on the front – a girl’s face and body broken up.

  Just how I feel, I thought as I turned the case over. On the back was a black-and-white photograph. A boy in silhouette was looking out of a window. You couldn’t see his face because he was in shadow. On the inside of the CD was a list of tracks. I glanced down it to see if I recognised any of the bands: Magus, Overheated, Citrus World, Random Strangers, Sainted, Black Pearl . . . No, none of them sounded familiar. I read the song titles next and, like the front cover, they seemed to echo how I was feeling. ‘Stone in My Heart’, ‘The River Flows On’, ‘Forever Yours’, ‘Dreams of Yesterday’, ‘Masks of Tears and Smiles’, ‘Far-Away Friend’, ‘Dark and Distant’ . . .

  ‘Found something you want?’ asked Aunt Karen coming up behind me.

  I was about to put the CD back in the shoebox but then thought I might not find anything else I wanted and would actually like to hear how the tracks sounded.

  ‘Er yes,’ I said. ‘This looks interesting but I haven’t got a CD player.’

  ‘It’s yours,’ she said with a grin. ‘We have a few old CD players around the place – in fact there’s one up in Tasmin’s room. You could listen on that.’

  I handed her the CD and she checked the price. ‘Fifty pence. A bargain.’

  She took it to the till, paid, then handed it back to me.

  ‘There,’ she said. ‘A welcome to Bath CD.’

  She looked so pleased to have got me something that I felt mean thinking the shop was for losers.

  Outside the shop, the group of boys who had been in the café, were looking in the window. They came in a moment later and went to the window to look at a suitcase. It seemed in good condition. And so did the boys. One of them with blond surfer hair turned round, looked at me and winked. He was cute with big blue eyes and an open friendly face. Maybe charity shops weren’t for losers after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Mystery Boy

  ‘If music be the food of love, play on.’

  Shakespeare: Twelfth Night – Act 1, Scene 1.

  Exactly, Will, my old pal. Music. I shall make a CD for my girl in the park, a compilation, and give it to her. A CD is timeless. Something she can keep forever. I’ll choose music that will speak to her heart. Music that will let her know that she is special. That I’ve seen that she stands out from the crowd. I can’t find the words to speak to her. To approach her and just blab out some chat-up line would be boring anyway. She deserves better. The songs on the CD will say what my heart feels.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Sorry I was such a prat yesterday,’ said Tasmin when I opened the bedroom d
oor later that afternoon.

  After I’d been to the shops, I’d dumped my stuff then gone out again to have a further look around the area, but I hadn’t got far because it had started pouring with rain.

  Tasmin was sprawled on her bed listening to music with a friend, who was lying on mine like she owned it. I hoped she wasn’t going to be as difficult as Tasmin had been. She was a stunning-looking black girl, tall with a mane of wild curly hair down past her shoulders, and everything about her said style. She had a red scarf with a bow at the front tied around her head and was wearing a yellow dress that nipped in at the waist with a wide red belt. The vintage look really suited her and in my usual jeans and white shirt I felt dull and boring compared to her

  ‘Prat is Tasmin’s middle name,’ she said. She got up from my bed. ‘Sorry, this is yours isn’t it? Hi. I’m Clover. Welcome to Bath, though we call it Soggy Bottom. It rains a lot here.’

  I liked her immediately.

  She glanced over at my bed. ‘Bummer of a story,’ she said. ‘Tas filled me in a bit, said you were mega loaded before.’

  I shrugged. ‘I guess.’

  ‘And I am sorry Tas was a Class A bitch when you arrived – she filled me in on that too so I apologise for her.’

  Tasmin got up and switched off the CD player. ‘Excuse me, I am in the room,’ she said. ‘I can apologise for myself and, in fact, just did if you’d been listening, and . . . well you can see there’s not much room here and you coming is like my whole world’s been turned upside down.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ I agreed.

  Tasmin took the CD out of the player, put it back in its case and handed it to me. ‘Er . . . this is yours. I saw it at the end of your bed. I hope you don’t mind.’

  It was the CD from the charity shop. ‘No. It . . .’ I bit the words back. I’d been about to say it wasn’t even a CD I wanted, I’d only got it to please Aunt Karen, but then realised how rude that would have sounded. ‘No, no, course it’s fine. I haven’t listened to it yet.’

  ‘There are some nice tracks on it,’ said Clover. ‘You should give it a listen.’

  Tasmin was staring at me and it was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. ‘It must have been tough for you,’ she finally said. ‘I’m . . . not usually so insensitive . . . like I was yesterday.’ Clover rolled her eyes when she said this and Tasmin laughed. ‘OK, er . . . maybe I am. Clover says it’s because I’m an Aries – speak before I think, leap before I look and all that. Clover’s Libran, ever the diplomat. I remember your house in London. It was amazing.’

  ‘It was.’

  ‘Like what?’ asked Clover.

  ‘A mansion, huge rooms, loads of bathrooms,’ said Tasmin.

  ‘It was . . . by the river. It was nice,’ I added.

  ‘Nice?’ said Tasmin. ‘Paige, you’re so reserved. Your house was awesome. When I was little, I used to dream of running away to come and live with you.’

  ‘Did you?’ I asked. This was news to me.

  ‘So what the hell happened?’ asked Tasmin as Clover joined her on her bed.

  I shrugged. ‘Not sure. Bad investment or . . . not bad, Dad wouldn’t do that. Something unexpected happened on the stock market. Some shares plummeted, and not just Dad’s. He advised people as well and they lost money too. I can’t say I really understand it all.’

  ‘Yeah, Mum said it was something to do with stocks and shares,’ said Tasmin. ‘Apparently it’s like gambling. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Your dad lost. So, I guess we’re stuck with each other for the time being and have to make the best of it, right?’

  ‘I’d like that,’ I said.

  Tasmin cracked up. ‘You are so posh and polite.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Clover, ‘you could learn from her.’

  Tasmin biffed Clover on the arm. ‘Whose friend are you, matey?’

  Clover laughed. ‘Yours, but I’ll be Paige’s too.’

  ‘She’s teacher’s pet as well,’ said Tasmin. ‘Always sucking up to people.’

  ‘I am so not,’ said Clover.

  ‘You are too,’ said Tasmin. ‘Mum said you’ll be going to Queensmead, Paige. We go there. We won’t be in the same class but we’ll be in the same year. I can show you around a bit.’

  Clover nodded. ‘I will too. Tell you who to avoid, who’s fit etc. There’s some decent boy talent in the sixth form, but not many. We prefer college students. They’re not so juvenile.’

  ‘Though most boys are,’ said Tasmin. ‘Whatever age they are.’

  ‘What’s the school like?’

  Tasmin shrugged. ‘Big old boring building.’

  ‘She means what’s it like to go there,’ said Clover.

  ‘Oh. Usual stuff. Some good teachers, some old farts. Usual mix of people.’

  I laughed, then she looked pointedly at what I had on. ‘Do you always dress like that?’ I felt like saying to her, do you always dress like that? Today she was wearing a skimpy tight dress that was way too short.

  ‘I like clothes that are practical I guess—’ I started.

  ‘Bo-oring,’ said Tasmin. ‘You could look really good if you made an effort.’

  ‘And there she goes with her big mouth again,’ said Clover. ‘Take no notice. Everyone has their own style.’

  Tasmin nodded. ‘You just haven’t found yours yet, have you?’

  Clover gave her a look. ‘I think you should shut up now, Tas, before you dig yourself in any deeper.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘My friend Allegra often said the same – that I hadn’t found my style yet – so I’m not offended.’

  Clover got up. ‘OK, Paige, so get your lippie on. Tasmin and I are going to take you into town and we can look in some shops and try on some different styles.’

  ‘And show you some of the boy talent in Bath,’ added Tasmin.

  I didn’t like to refuse, seeing as they were being so friendly, and I liked Clover from our short meeting. I obliged by smearing on a bit of lip gloss then set off with the girls to explore my new city.

  We caught the bus to the centre of town and, as I gazed out of the window, I began to remember that there was more to Bath than just what was around where Tasmin lived. The bus passed a park and children’s playground to our left where I could vaguely remember playing with Tasmin when we were small. We passed a row of terraced houses all with signs advertising B and B outside. Then rows of streets lined with tall, honey-coloured houses began to appear. They looked like something from a period costume drama and I could see more houses with the same stone nestling in woodland on hills to the right behind the town. Very pretty, I thought as we got off the bus opposite an Odeon cinema complex and walked through a square lined with shops and cafés.

  Tasmin pointed out a café to our right. ‘Good tea and cakes in there.’

  There were a number of eateries around the square, some with tables and chairs outside, all occupied with people enjoying the mild weather between the showers. The place had a buzz about it, with a market stall in the middle selling fruit and vegetables, and benches where students sat eating pizza or tortillas from the Mexican restaurant nearby.

  ‘Is this where you hang out?’ I asked.

  ‘Sometimes, but we cruise all over. We like to go to McDonald’s too,’ replied Tasmin. ‘Everyone does.’

  ‘We always see someone we know in there,’ Clover added. ‘And sometimes we hang out on the turf in the middle of the shopping centre. It’s paved so no cars go there and there’s this fake grass with deck chairs on it in the warm weather. We also like to go up to the Royal Crescent. There’s a huge park in front of it and people hang out there too. We’ll show you one day.’

  ‘Royal Crescent?’ I asked.

  Tasmin rolled her eyes. ‘Haven’t you heard of it? Big curved row of houses at the top of Bath? It’s famous. There are loads of other crescents too.’

  ‘Eight in all,’ said Clover, ‘not loads. She always exaggerates everything.’

  ‘People come from
all over the world to see the architecture here,’ said Tasmin. ‘That’s not an exaggeration.’

  ‘Let’s take her to the square next to the Abbey,’ said Clover as we came into a street lined with shops. ‘It’s a good place to hang out and listen to live music – someone’s always playing there. Take no notice of Tasmin, Paige. Why should you know about the Royal Crescent if you’ve never lived here?’

  ‘It’s not such a bad place to live,’ said Tasmin. ‘OK yeah, there’s all the history stuff but there’s a good music scene here, though Bristol is better. Mum and Dad don’t like me going there any more though, since I went to a gig with a bunch of mates and didn’t get back to Bath til past midnight. They had to pick me up from the train station. I was so in the doghouse that week.’

  As we turned into a pedestrianised street, to our right, a woman in her twenties was singing opera in a very wobbly voice. ‘God, she warbles,’ said Tasmin in a voice loud enough for the street performer to hear. ‘I’d like to shoot her.’

  Clover sighed. ‘Little Miss Subtle with her opinions,’ she said.

  ‘I’m beginning to realise,’ I replied, though I quite liked Tasmin being so outspoken. I didn’t have to worry about what she was thinking because it was out before she could stop herself, so I knew exactly what was going on in her head.

  ‘Take no notice of her. I quite often pretend I’m not with her,’ said Clover.

  Ahead of us, a bunch of boys and girls were sitting on benches by a hot sausage stall. One of them looked like the boy I’d seen yesterday outside the house. He had his arm around a girl with short chestnut-coloured hair. She wasn’t either of the girls I’d seen him with before. He saw me staring so I quickly turned away. He might be good-looking but he was clearly a love rat and I didn’t want him thinking I was a contender for his list of conquests. I caught up with Tasmin and Clover and we took a left through some pillars to find there was a huge Abbey in front of us, and an open square to our right.