Hopelessly Devoted to Holden Finn

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘Do you mind if we don’t? I’m really tired and I think Paige has important social networking to do.’

  Jeanie frowned. ‘If you’re sure you won’t?’

  Bonnie nodded.

  ‘In that case, take the chops with you, even I can’t eat as many as I have in and I need to keep my backside tiny if I’m going to fit into these trousers come The Blood Festival next spring.’

  ‘The Blood Festival? Sounds charming. I don’t think I want to know.’ Bonnie took another sip of her tea and threw a questioning look at her mum over the rim of her mug.

  Jeanie laughed. ‘It’s only a rock festival. I haven’t gone all voodoo on you!’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ Bonnie replied. Although, she wondered if a little voodoo in her life wouldn’t necessarily be a bad idea. It might fix a few things, and it couldn’t make things any worse than she was doing on her own.

  ***

  Bonnie lay in the bath, staring up at the ceiling. It needed painting, she thought vaguely, as she gazed at the bubbled plaster and clouds of mould that had gathered in the corner by the window. The walls weren’t much better. If she was completely honest, the whole room needed to be ripped out and started again, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon on her budget. She had dropped massive hints to her mum that she needed a visit from the DIY SOS team, but Jeanie had stubbornly refused to notice. Paint was going to have to do, but even that would have to wait. With a school trip to Belgium to pay for and a list of bills that never seemed to be under control, it was just another promise to herself that would not be delivered.

  True to her forecast, Paige had taken herself into her bedroom as soon as they walked back into the flat and had been in there for the two hours they had been home. Bonnie could hear the odd stifled giggle, and the low hum of conversation, but what was being discussed she could only guess at and, despite the fact that Paige would probably be unaware of it, eavesdropping didn’t seem right. With that in mind, she wasn’t rushing to get out of the bath only to sit in front of the TV alone and watch the endless stream of pointless drivel that counted for entertainment. It seemed like a long time ago since Paige had wanted to sit with her and chat in an evening.

  Dear Holden,

  Please rescue me.

  Love, Bonnie.

  Bonnie’s thoughts were interrupted by a hammering at the door.

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The internet’s gone down again!’

  Bonnie frowned. ‘What do you want me to do about it? I’m in the bath!’

  ‘I was in the middle of an important conversation with Annabel.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, now I don’t know what she wanted to say.’

  ‘Have you turned off the router and started it up again?’

  ‘Yeah, that didn’t work.’

  ‘I don’t know what it is then. I’ll have to phone the cable company or something later.’

  ‘What about Annabel?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I need to speak to her.’

  ‘Phone...’

  Bonnie heard a loud, theatrical sigh and then Paige’s footsteps as she stomped away.

  Wine was in order, lots and lots of wine. Tomorrow was Sunday and there wouldn’t be anything better for Bonnie to do than nurse a well-earned hangover.

  Reaching for the towel, Bonnie hauled herself out of the bath. She ought to go and look at that router before Paige exploded with rage. Knowing her daughter’s volatile temper these days, it wasn’t completely unimaginable...

  That was when she heard the high-pitched squeal.

  Wrapping the towel around her dripping body, Bonnie rushed into Paige’s bedroom.

  ‘Mum!’ Paige shouted as Bonnie burst in the door. ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’

  ‘I could ask you the same thing!’ Bonnie thundered as she saw that Paige was lounging on her bed with the phone, just ending a call and clearly not injured or in any sort of peril at all.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’

  ‘I said I would ring the cable company, but you could at least let me get out of the bath.’

  ‘Who cares about the stupid internet? Annabel phoned me when she couldn’t get through.’

  ‘What’s with the screaming then?’

  Paige sat up, her face now glowing and her eyes suddenly alive with excitement.

  ‘Annabel’s just told me about an amazing competition.’

  ‘Competition?’ Bonnie asked with some exasperation, now aware that she was making quite a wet mess on the carpet.

  ‘Yeah! To meet Holden!’

  Bonnie’s mouth fell open. Her gaze travelled to the poster above her daughter’s bed. She didn’t need to ask which Holden. Suddenly, her pulse seemed to run that little bit quicker. ‘Holden?’ she repeated.

  ‘Yeah, Holden Finn… from Every Which Way.’

  ‘I know who you’re talking about,’ Bonnie said in a dazed voice.

  ‘I’m going to enter; it’s dead easy; all you have to do is text his middle name.’

  ‘Gabriel!’ Bonnie squeaked. As soon as she had, she felt the colour rush to her cheeks.

  ‘OOOH, get the oldie in the know.’

  ‘I’m not that old,’ Bonnie laughed awkwardly, relieved that her moment of embarrassment had gone unnoticed. But inside she was a whirlwind of emotions. She might be as close as a text message away from meeting Holden Finn. But then she saw something of her own excitement reflected in her daughter’s face and realisation came crashing in on her. Even in the incredibly unlikely event of her winning if she entered this competition, how could she not give her place to Paige? Paige, who would want her best friend, Annabel, to go with her, not her embarrassing, almost grey-haired mum.

  ‘Anyway, it costs, like, about two quid to text, that’s alright though, yeah?’ Paige rattled off, already tapping away on her phone without waiting for her mum’s reply.

  ‘I suppose,’ Bonnie said. ‘Maybe I should text too, from my number, double your chances and all that?’

  Paige looked up in surprise. ‘Would you, Mum? That’d be epic.’

  ‘Hmmm, epic… I suppose it would be,’ Bonnie murmured to herself as she went to get dry.

  Two

  Bonnie tossed and turned but sleep wouldn’t come. It was ridiculous to get this worked up over a situation that was statistically unlikely to happen and even if it did, what kind of mother would consider stealing such a wonderful opportunity from her daughter? It was the worst kind of stupidity and Bonnie hated herself for even thinking about it. But one small part of her couldn’t let it go. She had sent her competition text, just as she’d promised, and now she almost dreaded a call to say she had won. At least if it didn’t come, she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about her reluctance to stand by and watch Paige and Annabel take her chance to meet the man of her dreams. Not that she’d register on his potential partner radar, even if she did get to go. A thirty-five-year-old mother of one teenage nemesis getting together with one of the country’s most sought after young bachelors? It was about as likely as finding a real pea in a Pot Noodle.

  If Henri hadn’t left her and Paige in the lurch, Bonnie wouldn’t be thinking about such a ridiculous scenario. They had been happy; at least, Bonnie had thought they were happy. Henri might not have been the most reliable or caring man in the world, but at least he was always there. Until one day he decided he wasn’t going to be, of course. And Bonnie still had no idea what she’d done wrong; he’d just gone off in that enigmatic Gallic way of his.

  She picked up the phone from her bedside table and looked at the display again. Three o’clock. Surely more than ten minutes had passed since she’d last looked at it? There was wine still left in the bottle downstairs. Middle of the night or not, this seemed like as good a time as any to go and finish it.

  ***

  ‘Did you send that text, Mum?’ Paige said as she sat down at the kitchen table where Bonnie was already nur
sing her second cup of coffee of the morning.

  ‘Good morning to you too, Paige.’

  ‘Yeah, I meant that, but did you send it?’

  ‘Yes, I sent it. It’ll go in the pot with the million other texts that will never be chosen but I sent it anyway.’

  ‘Last night you said that we had as good a chance as anyone else.’

  ‘Last night I wasn’t feeling quite as rough as I do now.’

  ‘Too much booze?’

  ‘Cheek!’

  ‘Just asking.’

  ‘If you must know, I didn’t get to sleep till the early hours, which is why I’m up this late but still knackered.’

  ‘Right. But you still had a drink last night, I saw the bottle in the recycling.’ Paige reached for some toast from Bonnie’s plate.

  ‘Oi, make your own!’

  ‘That’s what you’re for,’ Paige grinned before biting into the stolen slice.

  Bonnie sighed. ‘Here,’ she shoved her plate over, ‘I’m not that hungry anyway.’

  ‘That’s because you have a hangover.’

  ‘I do not have a hangover. I’m tired, that’s all.’

  As she munched her toast, Paige’s face had that faraway look that used to make Bonnie’s heart leap when she saw it on Henri. Seeing it now on her daughter made Bonnie feel very alone.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

  ‘Imagine,’ Paige said showing a barely contained excitement that Bonnie knew only too well, ‘that we did win that competition and we met the band and Holden actually fancied me!’

  ‘You’re a little too young for him, aren’t you?’

  ‘He might wait,’ Paige replied defensively.

  ‘Ok, he might,’ Bonnie soothed.

  ‘You think I’m being stupid.’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘But you think it.’

  ‘No, but –’

  Paige leapt up from the table. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

  She slammed the door as she left the room.

  Bonnie sighed. That was another of Henri’s traits that Paige had inherited, one that she wasn’t quite so fond of. She wondered if, just once, she could have a pleasant conversation with her daughter that didn’t end up with her flouncing off in a temper. Jeanie would say that it was Paige’s age, but Bonnie was pretty sure that wasn’t the only reason. She felt that on some level, Paige was still blaming her for Henri’s departure. And Bonnie could see why: sometimes, she blamed herself too.

  ***

  Bonnie had just flicked the kettle on when Linda came in shaking rain from her umbrella.

  ‘Cats and dogs out there,’ she grumbled. ‘Good weekend, Bon?’

  ‘Weekend? You mean that one day I had yesterday cooped up with Paige and her prickly temper?’

  Linda raised an eyebrow. ‘That good, eh?’

  ‘Yep. Want a brew?’ Bonnie asked, fetching another cup from the cupboard without waiting for a reply.

  ‘Does a bear poo in the woods?’ Linda hung her coat and nodded her head in the direction of a deathly quiet shop floor. ‘Where’s Drop Dead Fred this morning?’

  Bonnie shrugged. ‘Just phoned me early and said he would be late in today so I needed to open up with my keys.’

  ‘Cheeky bugger. I’d have told him where to go. I bet he doesn’t pay you any overtime for being in early.’

  ‘Probably not. Which is exactly why he daren’t ask you to do it.’

  ‘Too right. I’d squish his little head like those cockroaches he had me chasing around the other day.’

  Bonnie laughed and handed Linda a steaming mug. ‘That’s one match I’d pay to see.’

  There was a tap at the back door.

  ‘That’ll be Max,’ Linda said. ‘Want to make yourself scarce so he can’t ask you out again?’

  ‘He hasn’t asked me out, he just mentioned a friendly drink, that’s all,’ Bonnie frowned, dragging the bolts back on the door. She opened it and Max grinned on the step. His wet hair had curled at all sorts of odd angles and his cheeks were wind-blushed, so that he looked more like a naughty schoolboy than ever.

  ‘Morning ladies! Who wants to finger my fine plums today?’

  Linda sniggered. ‘Bonnie doesn’t want your plums, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Linda!’ Bonnie almost choked on her tea.

  Linda winked at Bonnie. ‘That’s what you told me the other day… if Max offers me his plums once more, I’ll stick my foot in them.’

  Max chuckled. ‘Now, now. Perhaps I’ll just take my plums elsewhere until you’re feeling less aggressive.’

  ‘Ignore her,’ Bonnie said, frowning at Linda. ‘How about a cuppa?’

  Max stepped into the tiny kitchen. ‘Sounds lovely.’ He looked through to the empty shop. ‘It’s quiet in there this morning. Fred’s normally shouting and unfurling the swastika flag around now.’

  Bonnie giggled. ‘I know, he just phoned me to say he’d be late in today.’

  ‘That’s not like him; he usually likes to check everything in.’

  ‘Yes,’ Linda agreed, ‘it’s not like Fred to miss an opportunity to complain he’s a potato short in his delivery.’

  ‘I’m glad you said that and not me,’ Max laughed taking a mug from Bonnie with a nod.

  ‘So what did you get up to this weekend, Max?’ Linda asked.

  ‘Hmmm, I went skydiving for an hour Saturday morning, that was just after I’d woken at 4.30am and run a two hour marathon, beating the Ethiopian Olympic team. Then I got back home and knocked up a loft conversion just after dinner. Sunday I was out all day hanging around Buckingham palace gardens while Liz and Phil threw some burgers on the barbie.’

  ‘Pretty quiet then?’ Linda grinned.

  ‘Yeah, I actually sat on my arse for most of it.’

  ‘I’d have thought you would have been out with whichever girl had taken your fancy this week.’

  ‘I’m not doing very well with girls who take my fancy. I might have to start settling for the bug-ugly ones soon if I’m gonna make little Maxes.’

  ‘Or Maxines,’ Bonnie put in as she rinsed her mug.

  ‘True. Though Maxines are no good for taking to footie matches.’

  ‘Sexist pig!’ Linda said.

  ‘That’s me. Do you think that’s where I’m going wrong? Maybe I’m not being sexist enough. What are the chances of me getting arrested for assault if I go down town on Saturday night and club some woman over the head, caveman style?’

  ‘Club me over the head caveman style and you’d never be able to use your plums again,’ Linda remarked as she took her mug over to the sink too.

  ‘So women don’t like that sort of thing?’ Max said innocently.

  ‘Bonnie threw a teacloth at him. ‘You’re mental, you are.’

  ‘I’m desperate, Bonnie,’ he said, pulling the cloth away from his face with a huge grin. ‘Come on, take pity on a desperate man and go out for one teensy drink with me. If you don’t have a good time, me and my plums will never bother you again.’

  ‘Oh, Max. I’m such a miserable cow these days you’d be begging for mercy within an hour.’

  ‘I’m a good listener,’ Max said.

  ‘I’m sure you are. And I’m sure there’s a pretty young thing out there who will think all her Christmases have come at once when you ask her out.’

  ‘In that case,’ Max said, putting his cup down on the draining board and cracking his knuckles theatrically, ‘I’d better get working on these pecs. Where do you want the spuds?’

  ***

  Just as the last sack of potatoes had been hauled in by Max, Fred let himself in at the front of the shop, throwing back the hood of a raincoat that was so old fashioned the only place it was likely to be seen these days was on a fishfinger advert. He gave himself an exaggerated shake, spraying water everywhere. ‘Bloody hell, it’s like monsoon season.’

  ‘Alright, Fred?’ Max asked, wiping his hands on his overalls.

  Fred looked
up. ‘Still here, are you?’

  ‘Nice greeting,’ Linda said with obvious sarcasm. ‘It’s that down-to-earth friendliness that has the customers eating out of his hand.’ She grinned at Max as Fred frowned at her.

  ‘I’m just off now,’ Max replied, biting back a grin of his own. He handed Bonnie a piece of paper. ‘The chitty.’ He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘Though if you look on the bottom of the page, it has my number on it.’ He did a telephone mime. ‘Call me…’

  Bonnie giggled. ‘That’s your business number; you give it to all your customers.’

  ‘Yeah, but I wouldn’t answer to all of them out-of-hours. And when pretty girls ring it flashes like the Bat-phone.’

  ‘Get out you nutter,’ Bonnie laughed. ‘You’ll be late for your harem at Cherry Ripe.’

  ‘I’ll come and lock up after you,’ Linda said, following him out.

  Fred gave Max a short nod goodbye before turning to Bonnie. ‘Stock all out, lass, or have you been hobnobbing with himself again?’

  ‘Yes, Fred, the stock is out, as you can see.’

  ‘I’ll open up then, no point in the door staying shut if folk can come and part with their money.’ Fred shuffled off to the front door.

  ‘You know he’s going to stop asking soon?’ Linda said to Bonnie in a low voice as she came back in.

  ‘Fred?’

  ‘Max, you silly cow.’

  ‘He’s not being serious. It’s just Max flirting.’

  ‘He is being serious. And he’s lovely. You’re mental to keep turning him down.’

  Bonnie turned and put her hands on her hips, fixing Linda with a serious expression. ‘What if it all turned to crap? How awkward would that be when he calls here every day?’

  ‘It wouldn’t turn to crap. Besides, Max is far too nice to get nasty over something like that. I’m sure you could stay friendly.’

  ‘No, Lind. I know what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it, but no me and Max, not now, not ever. That’s my final word.’

  Linda shrugged. Her gaze went over to Fred unlocking the front door and turning the sign over to OPEN. She narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you think Fred’s head looks funny today?’ she whispered.