Playlist for a Broken Heart

by Cathy Hopkins

  – Act 1, Scene 1.

  Wednesday night. I go to the park on the way home from school with the CD. I know the time she comes through with her dog now. His name is Geoffrey. I’ve learnt that much because I’ve heard her call his name. How can I get the CD to her? I can’t just walk up and hand it to her. I want her to listen to it. I want it to speak to her heart the way she has spoken to mine. I want her to think, Oh, I’d like to know who put this together. I could follow her home, find out her address and post it. But that would seem like I was stalking her and I’m not a creep, and I don’t want her to think of me as one. How could I make it romantic? Hire a flock of birds to carry it to her? No chance. The only birds in the park are pigeons and I wouldn’t want them pooping on her head.

  I stood under a tree for almost an hour. No sign of her – and then the heavens opened. I got soaked to the skin.

  Thursday: back to the park. I see Geoffrey. She can’t be far behind him. My heart begins to pound as I anticipate giving her the CD. I could stroll past her, say, ‘I think you dropped this.’ But then she’d see me. What to do? She’s getting closer. My heart beats faster. Noooo. She’s with three of her mates. I turn away.

  Friday: back in the park. I see a bunch of kids playing, their parents some distance off. I call one of them over, give him a quid and tell him to give the envelope to the lady who’ll come by in a minute with a dog. He agrees and goes off. I stand behind my tree, watch and wait. The boy’s father is talking to him. He looks at the envelope. Looks over to my tree. I retreat behind it before he sees me. The father looks annoyed and puts the CD in the litter bin. The boy gets a telling off. His father takes him by the hand and marches him out of the park. My girl comes, Geoffrey pulling her ahead as always.

  I wait until she’s gone, go to the bin and retrieve my love songs.

  Bummer. Getting it to her will have to wait until another day.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘We have some news,’ said Dad at the breakfast table on Friday morning. It was the tenth of May and we’d been in Bath five weeks. ‘I think we’ve found a flat.’ I knew that this might be a possibility but hadn’t wanted to get my hopes up too much. I knew that Dad had been looking at properties for rent in the area since the moment we’d got to Bath, but he’d had no luck because all the rental agencies wanted details of bank accounts and income, neither of which he could provide any more.

  Mum said he’d been getting depressed about it until he met an old friend of Uncle Mike’s who’d come up with a solution. He had a flat on the south side of Bath that he rented out and his tenants were about to leave. Uncle Mike had filled his friend in on the bare bones of our story, assured him that we would keep up payments and that Uncle Mike would stand as our guarantor. His friend had agreed to give it three months with an option to continue after that if there were no problems.

  Dad turned to me. ‘So you want to come and take a look tomorrow morning? I can get the keys today.’

  I glanced over at Tasmin who gave her head a small shake as if to say, ‘No’. She couldn’t speak because she had her mouth full of Coco Pops. We had our plan to meet up with Clover and then go to the music festival on Walcot Street. I was really looking forward to it but I didn’t want to let Dad down either. He appeared so much better than in recent weeks and seemed to have got some of his old sparkle back.

  ‘Yes, course I do,’ I replied, avoiding Tasmin’s glare at my answer. I wanted to go to the festival but I also wanted to see where we might be living. ‘Then I’m going into town if that’s OK.’

  ‘Of course it is. We won’t be long. We just wanted to show you the place,’ said Mum. ‘We’ve already seen it and . . . well, it isn’t our old home in Richmond, but it will be our own space again.’

  Everyone will be glad of that, I thought as I looked around the kitchen, which was cluttered with the debris from nine people having breakfast.

  ‘Amen to that,’ said Tasmin as if reading my thoughts. ‘No offence meant.’

  ‘None taken,’ I said as I helped myself to some raspberry yoghurt.

  On Saturday morning, Dad showed me around our new home. It was the first-floor flat in a four-storey Georgian terraced house in a small square on the other side of Bath to Aunt Karen’s – two bedrooms, kitchen-diner, bathroom and large elegant sitting room with tall windows that overlooked the square below. It was unfurnished and the décor was nothing special, painted in stone neutrals. It had wooden floors but the ceilings were high and the windows flooded the place with light.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Mum as we walked though.

  I gave her a hug by way of reply. We’d stayed in some of the finest hotels in the world, had our spacious lovely home in Richmond, but this small flat, with its box bedroom for me, felt like the height of luxury. I loved it.

  ‘And do you think we could maybe get our bed linen out of storage?’ I asked.

  ‘Most definitely,’ said Dad. ‘I don’t think I could sleep another night on those lumpy pillows.’

  Mum laughed. ‘I think we could bring a few things here, don’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘Definitely,’ he replied. He went over to the windows in the sitting room and looked out. ‘And this won’t be forever . . . but it will do for now. It will definitely do.’

  I went and stood by him and put my arm around his waist.

  ‘And your dad has a business idea, don’t you, Patrick?’ said Mum.

  Dad nodded. ‘Don’t want to say too much about it yet, Louise. Don’t want to jinx it. Early days. Early days.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be brilliant whatever it is,’ I said.

  Dad grinned. ‘Actually I think it is. Watch this space, kiddo. Mr Lord has arrived in town.’

  I hadn’t seen either of them so happy in ages.

  After our viewing, I set off for town to meet the girls. The sunshine had brought out the tourists and the streets were full of people enjoying the weather. Even though I’d only been in Bath a short while, I was getting familiar with the city and easily found my way up to our meeting point.

  Tasmin and Clover were already there, standing outside the deli with a group of boys, some of whom I recognised from school. Aiden, Ed, Chas (Clover’s boyfriend) and Stu (Tasmin’s ex). They were all friendly, said hi, and I noticed Luke checking me out but he wasn’t my type, nor were any of the rest of them. There was only one boy for me and he was Alex Taylor. Since Allegra had told me that he was coming to Bath, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  As we stood chatting for a while, I could hear music coming from the car park, which was halfway down a slope opposite where there were a crowd of people standing in front of a stage to the left. Others were at various stalls lining the pavement in front of the slope and the smell of frying onions, bacon and burgers filled the air.

  We set off to join the crowds in the car park and I filled Tasmin and Clover in on the new flat.

  ‘We’re moving in a couple of weeks,’ I said.

  ‘Yay,’ said Tasmin. ‘I’ll get my room back.’

  ‘Don’t mind her,’ said Clover and she squeezed my arm.

  ‘I don’t. It means I get my own space again too. So double yay.’

  ‘Invite us over,’ said Clover.

  ‘We’ll have a sleepover. Housewarming sort of thing,’ Tasmin added.

  I laughed. We were just about to get our space back and she wanted to come and share again but I took it as a compliment. She wanted to stay friends.

  As soon as we had our place by a wall towards the back, Tasmin started surveying the crowd. Over to the left, halfway into the crowd, I noticed Niall. He was surrounded by girls and had his arm around one of them. He glanced over at our group and when he saw me, he waved and then put his index finger up for a moment as though asking me to wait a second. He leant over to get something out of the carrier bag at his feet. It looked like it was full of groceries. He pulled something out, held it and pointed at it and then at himself. He was holding up a jar of Marmite. First h
e looked at the jar with a big smile and then changed his expression to one of disgust, like bleurgh. I got it. Marmite, you either love it or hate it.

  I laughed, then I pulled the bleurgh face back at him and he nodded and laughed too. What a cheek, I thought, flirting with me when he was with someone else. The girl he was with looked at him quizzically and he put the jar back in the carrier bag then appeared to be explaining the joke to her. The girl glanced over at me then turned her back. I turned away too and scanned the rest of the crowd.

  ‘Looking for someone?’ asked Stu.

  ‘Sort of,’ I replied.

  ‘A mystery boy,’ said Tasmin. ‘He made a CD and Paige wants to know who he is.’

  ‘CD? How very quaint. Have you got it with you?’ Stu asked.

  I shook my head. ‘It’s at home but whoever made it has to be local because all of the tracks are local bands.’

  ‘And we know that one of the bands is playing today. Black Pearl,’ added Clover. ‘They’re on in an hour.’

  I made a mental note to always carry the CD with me as we listened to the band on stage and I continued scanning the audience. After about ten minutes, the band playing left and a boy of about nineteen got up to play his guitar. As soon as he started singing, I recognised his voice. He was the singer of the ballad that was track one on the CD.

  ‘Do you know who he is?’ I whispered to Stu.

  ‘Callum Casey,’ said Stu. ‘Used to go to our school.’

  I went back to listening and moved forward in order to hear better. He wasn’t singing the same song as the CD but another song that was similar. I liked the look of him too. He wasn’t exactly stand-out good-looking, but he had something. He was tall with shoulder-length hair and the indie look that most of the musicians in Bath had. I pushed further into the crowd. For a split second, Callum looked straight at me. I felt a bolt of electricity. Maybe Callum is Mystery Boy, I thought as his glance moved away from me and across the rest of the audience. Maybe Mystery Boy’s a musician? That would make sense and be why his track was number one and why he chose local bands for his CD. They could all be his mates.

  Callum did a couple of numbers then got up to leave. I watched him go backstage, down some steps to the right then disappear. Another band came on and the lead singer went straight to the main microphone.

  ‘We need a drummer,’ he said. ‘Anyone out there who can drum? Our guy’s just been dragged off by his parents. He wasn’t supposed to be here.’ The crowd laughed but no one got up to drum. The band did a set but I didn’t like their music so I went back to join the others at the back. Not long after, Painted Asparagus came on. They were from the CD too. I recognised their name and their sound. They were good, really good, with great vocals. To the right of the stage, I noticed that Callum Casey had reappeared and was watching the band playing from the side of the car park.

  ‘Do you think he’s here then?’ asked Tasmin.

  ‘Mystery Boy?’ I replied. ‘I bet he is.’ I looked over at Callum again. ‘But how would we know for sure without going up to loads of boys and asking them . . .’ An idea suddenly struck me. ‘Unless we ask someone to put out an announcement from the stage. What do you think?’

  Tasmin shrugged. ‘What would we say?’

  ‘Er . . . something like, ‘‘Can the boy who made a home-made CD recently please come to the stage?’’ No, it’s a mad idea.’

  ‘No it’s not,’ said Tasmin. ‘I’m going to go and ask them to do it.’ She jumped down from the wall and raced forward before I could stop her. Moments later, I saw her talking to a man to the right of the stage. When Painted Asparagus had finished their set, the man got up and went centre stage. ‘A big hand for Painted Asparagus. Thanks guys. Next to play will be White Light. And a short announcement, or request. Can a boy who recently made a home-made CD come to the right of the stage? Someone is looking for you.’

  She should have mentioned the title of the CD, I thought as Clover quickly extracted herself from Chas’s arms. ‘Ohmygod,’ she said and she grabbed my hand and pulled me in the direction of the stage. As we passed the area where Niall had been, I noticed that he’d moved and gone back up towards the road and was standing in the queue at a hot-dog stall chatting to yet another girl.

  The man who’d made the announcement was waiting with Tasmin. We weren’t the only ones heading their way. About ten boys were gathering around him.

  ‘What’s this about?’ asked a chubby dark-haired boy with a sweet face. ‘Are you collecting demos? Our band has a demo.’

  The man winked at Tasmin. ‘Over to you kiddo,’ he said.

  The boys turned en masse to look at her. I quickly scanned the group, who were all looking eagerly at Tasmin.

  ‘We’re not collecting demos,’ she explained. ‘We’re looking for a boy who recently made a homemade CD.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked the chubby boy.

  ‘CD. Home-made. You know, a compilation of favourite tracks sort of thing,’ Tasmin explained.

  ‘Well we all probably did at some point,’ said a tall blond boy. ‘We’re all musicians. What’s this about?’

  ‘So you’re not a talent scout?’ another blond boy asked.

  ‘No,’ said Tasmin and there was a groan of disappointment.

  ‘We’re looking for the boy who made a CD of local bands called Songs for Sarah.’ I added.

  ‘Why?’ the chubby boy asked Tasmin.

  ‘My friend’s looking for him,’ she replied. She looked my way and the group turned to me. Of course, I went bright red.

  ‘What’s this CD got on it? You need to be more specific,’ said chubby boy.

  ‘It starts with Callum Casey,’ I said. ‘It’s got Painted Asparagus on it and Black Pearl.’

  ‘Not me,’ said one of the boys and turned away, as did a few others.

  ‘Did you say Songs for Sarah?’ asked the chubby boy. ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘In a charity shop,’ I replied.

  ‘Charity shop? So why do you want to know who made it?’ he asked.

  ‘She liked it,’ said Tasmin.

  ‘Is that all?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you mean is that all?’ said Clover. ‘I think that’s as good a reason as any.’

  I felt excruciatingly embarrassed. Everyone was looking at me.

  Suddenly a voice from the back of the crowd spoke up and everyone turned to look. It was Callum Casey. ‘I think it’s romantic.’ He smiled at me and I noticed that he had kind eyes. ‘So, can you tell us a bit more about it.’

  ‘Well . . .’ I started. ‘It’s got a face on the front. A girl’s face, torn up and placed over a photo.’

  ‘Not me,’ said another boy in the group and the rest of them began to disperse. I heard one of them grumbling something about Tasmin being a tease.

  ‘I thought it was someone from a recording company,’ said one as he walked off. ‘It’s just some kid on a wild goose chase.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I called after them.

  ‘No, it was a good idea,’ said Tasmin. I wasn’t so sure. I felt embarrassed by the whole scene.

  I noticed that Callum and the chubby boy hadn’t left with the others. ‘So you liked this CD?’ asked Callum.

  I nodded. ‘Yes. I . . . I just wondered who’d made it, that’s all.’

  ‘Was it you?’ asked Tasmin.

  Callum shook his head. ‘Nah. I’ve made CDs. Course I have. Who doesn’t put together their own collections? But I do it all on computer or straight onto my MP3 player.’

  ‘I liked your set,’ I said to him.

  He smiled again. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I’m going back to join Chaz,’ said Clover and headed off back into the crowd as the next band began to play.

  ‘Me too,’ said Tasmin. She glanced at me then Callum. ‘Coming, Paige?’

  ‘Unless you fancy a coffee,’ said the chubby boy.

  ‘Yeah, you go,’ said Tasmin, making up my mind for me. ‘Text me. Laters.’ And she was gone
after Clover.

  ‘I . . . Oh. OK,’ I said. Maybe he could tell me a bit more about the music scene and give me another clue. At the same time, I felt disappointed that it wasn’t Callum who hadn’t asked me for coffee. He was hanging about too. ‘Want to join us?’ I asked him.

  He shook his head. ‘Love to but I’ve got to meet a mate,’ he said and turned to leave. ‘See you around maybe.’

  ‘So you’re stuck with me,’ said the chubby boy. ‘I’m Sean but my friends called me FB.’

  ‘FB. For Facebook?’

  ‘No. FB for fat boy.’

  I was shocked. ‘You’re not fat,’ I said.

  He grinned. ‘I’m not thin either,’ he said. ‘A mate used to call me fat boy then it got shortened to FB and it stuck.’

  ‘I’m Paige,’ I said.

  ‘You’re new to Bath, aren’t you? I noticed you in town one day with Tasmin.’

  ‘Oh, did you?’ I asked, then hoped that he wasn’t hurt that I hadn’t noticed him. ‘I’m . . . er . . . still finding my way around, getting to know people.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Takes time.’

  ‘So you know Tasmin?’

  ‘By sight,’ he said. ‘Small town.’ He pointed at one of the stalls selling coffee and indicated we should head over there.

  We got coffees then sat on a wall, got chatting and he told me that he was in the upper sixth at a school on the other side of Bath and doing similar subjects to me.

  ‘How you getting on?’ he asked after I’d filled him in a little on why I had moved to Bath. ‘Must be hard having changed halfway through Year Ten. Bet you miss your mates.’

  ‘I’m getting used to it. I like my art teacher, Mr Jolliffe,’ I said. ‘He’s really enthusiastic and encouraging.’

  FB nodded. ‘Yeah, I know him. He’s cool. He’s a musician too.’

  I laughed. ‘Seems that half of Bath are either musicians or artists. My uncle’s a musician too. He works at my school. Mr Davidson.’

  ‘Oh, right. Yeah I know him too. He’s OK. And yeah, there are loads of musicians. Me too. There must something in the water here. Mr Jolliffe organises the festivals in the park by the Crescent every year. I’m going to help him with the next one. It’s called Zoom and is a battle of the bands sort of thing. All the local bands play. The next one is in early summer. We thought we’d have a theme. Make it more interesting, like the Venice carnival, so we were going to ask everyone to wear a mask.’