Also by Cathy Hopkins
Million Dollar Mates series
Million Dollar Mates
Paparazzi Princess
Catwalk Queen
Golden Girl
And, coming soon . . .
Super Star
Other series by Cathy Hopkins
Mates, Dates
Truth, Dare, Kiss or Promise
Cinnamon Girl
Zodiac Girls
First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Simon and Schuster UK Ltd
A CBS COMPANY
Copyright © 2012 Cathy Hopkins
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
The right of Cathy Hopkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
1st Floor
222 Gray’s Inn Road
London WC1X 8HB
Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney
Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
PB ISBN: 978-0-85707-550-5
eBook ISBN: 978-0-85707-551-2
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Typeset by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
www.simonandschuster.co.uk
www.simonandschuster.com.au
www.cathyhopkins.com
In the beginning, one soul split into two creating soul mates. And ever the two shall wander seeking each other.
Unknown
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter One
It all started on May bank holiday weekend.
It was Friday afternoon and I trooped out of school with my best mates, Effy and Tash. Despite the grey skies and threatening rain, they were in a sunny mood, unlike me.
‘Three whole days off to hang out with Dave,’ said Tash.
‘Three whole days to hang out with Mark,’ said Effy.
Three whole days for me to be Miss Tag Along, I thought as they talked over plans on the way to the bus stop. It was the first bank holiday of the month and once again, I’d be the odd one out. All by myself, as Bridget Jones sings in the movie.
‘Oh, and to hang out with you too, Jo,’ Effy added. ‘We wouldn’t leave you out.’
I tried to look enthusiastic. I knew I’d be included in any plans. They’re good friends and we all know the rules when dating boys: mates come first. Even so, it isn’t a ton of fun going to the movies, all five of us, with me wedged in between two couples, not knowing where to look when they snog each other’s faces off. Then going for pizza and watching them feed pepperoni to each other across the table while I sip my Diet Coke and try not to look like a sad loser. Or evenings spent at each other’s houses listening to music, while Mark and Effy or Dave and Tash send slow smiles between them across the room as if to say, ‘Don’t we have something special here?’ while I, feeling left out, wonder what I’m doing to put boys off and whether there’s something wrong with me because my relationships don’t last.
So, no. Another weekend of being reminded that I’m single is not my ideal, that’s for sure. Not that I haven’t had boyfriends. I have. I even made a list of them in my diary one night when I was home alone to remind myself that I’m not a total reject.
My love life so far
by Jo Harris
Jamie
He was back in Year Eleven. I liked him a lot until a small problem came up. He was also dating Cheryl Wilson from Year Ten.
Doug
Also in Year Eleven. He was good company but as time went on, I realised that I paid for everything. Basically he was a cheapskate. I don’t get that much pocket money and I thought it would be nice if he bought the cinema tickets once in a while, because it wasn’t as if he didn’t have any money, he just chose to spend it on CDs or computer games.
Lawrence
He was at the beginning of the Lower Sixth. He could be interesting and funny but was a bit of a dopehead. We didn’t last long because I got bored of watching his eyes glaze over and listening to the rubbish he spouted when he was stoned.
Finn O’Brady
I should really cross him off. He belongs more on a wish list than as part of my love life so far. I know he’s a total waste of time because loads of people fancy him and I doubt he even knows that I exist. He’s the lead singer in a band called Minted. They’re a group from the Sixth Form at St John’s School for Boys who have become really popular after a promoter turned up at one of their gigs last summer. Now their music is being played on the radio and I even saw them in a teen magazine last month. Finn is cute as hell, with girls lining up for him. I met him when Effy and I signed up to be part of a team putting together a magazine called Chillaxin. There are six schools involved, all from around the north London region. Finn’s the editor. Not that I knew that at the time. I almost passed out when Effy and I turned up for the first meeting and saw him there. So far, I don’t think he’s even registered me.
And that was the list apart from Owen so, all in all, my love life so far has left me with a feeling that boys just do your head in.
Owen is the exception. He’s Effy’s older brother and is away at Nottingham university at the moment. We were a couple for a while, for a few months last summer in fact, but he always felt more like my brother than my boyfriend. He’s a nice guy, very grown up for a nineteen year old and protective. ‘You’re perfect for each other,’ everyone said when we were dating. ‘So many shared interests. So alike.’ And they were right. We could talk for hours about books and music, the world and how we were going to change it. We did have a lot in common, but someone who’s the same as me isn’t really what I want. Kissing him was like eating plain yoghurt. Good for you but bland. And he used to have a shiny spot on the end of his nose which, though I know it was shallow of me, I couldn’t help but focus on whenever he puckered up and moved in. I just thought, ew, pass me the Clearasil. Not exactly how I imagined true love’s kiss to be.
OK, so maybe a relationship isn’t going to be like a Disney movie, with a heart formation of bluebirds tweeting away in the background, but surely it wasn’t too much to ask for someone colourful and exciting? And scorching hot. I wanted someone who’d burst into my life like a flame and challenge me. Make me think. turn my insides to liquid honey and make my toes cur
l. Though that sounds like a case of E. coli. What I mean is, I want to feel something. A pull. A longing. Desire. I want Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, wild and passionate. Or maybe not. . . He was a nutter with mad hair and obsessed with Cathy’s ghost. Someone like him would be way too high maintenance as a boyfriend. Who else sounds right. . . ? Edward from Twilight – the most dangerous and charismatic boy in the school? OK, maybe not him, either. Someone who drinks blood for kicks is probably not the most suitable guy and, anyway, vampires are so last decade. I can’t kid myself. I know exactly who I want and his name is Finn O’Brady.
No. No. I will not waste time on someone who has a line of girls after him. What would I be? Number sixteen? Seventeen? One hundred? Oh, I don’t know. No, I do know. I want to meet my soulmate. I want to meet a boy who makes me feel alive like I’ve never felt before and who feels the same way about me – but I’m not convinced that’s going to happen where I live in north London. Most of the local boys (apart from Finn) wear those falling-down jeans that show their bum cracks and Calvin Kleins. So not sexy, at least not in my book.
‘I think I might stay in and catch up with some study,’ I said as the girls discussed going to a movie.
‘No way,’ said Effy. ‘Why don’t you want to come with us?’
I shrugged.
‘Because you’re a singleton?’
‘Ish. Look, I’m cool with it. You guys go. Have a good time.’
‘You don’t need to be single, Jo. You could have boyfriends,’ said Tash. ‘Loads of boys fancy you.’ She pulled her red beret out of her rucksack, put it on and tucked her hair up into it. Her real name’s Anastasia, but we call her Tash. She has shoulder-length, Titianred hair that goes frizzy in the damp weather. ‘Bane of my life,’ she always says. She carries her beret everywhere in case of showers, which is a shame because I think her hair suits her curly. No-one’s ever happy, though. Effy has long, silky blonde hair and she curses about it being so fine. My hair’s dark, dead straight and halfway down my back, and I’d love to have Tash’s waves, whereas she’s jealous of me and Effy being able to just ‘wash and go’ without battling with the GHDs.
‘Yeah. You’re way too picky when it comes to boys,’ agreed Effy.
‘I just don’t want to compromise, that’s all.’
‘I don’t think you should, either,’ said Tash. ‘I think you should wait for The One.’
‘Oh, get real. I mean, we all want to meet The One,’ said Effy, ‘but until you do, you should get some experience. Practise your snogging!’
And so it went on as we waited for the bus. Same old Friday conversation. Same ole, same ole. It’s not that Effy and Tash aren’t romantic. They are. Way more so than me, in fact. Out of the three of us, I’m the one with my feet most firmly on the ground. I’m planning on studying journalism (the main reason I signed up for Chillaxin), which means thinking rationally, researching ideas, getting facts. Tash and Effy on the other hand are more keen on art and literature, so are encouraged to live in the realm of imagination and dreams. I’m right brain, they’re left. Effy is an Aries and, even though I’m not as into astrology as she is, I can see that she’s typical of the sign and rushes into things at full speed with great enthusiasm. Tash is a Pisces, the sensitive dreamer, and I’m Taurus. Stubborn, says Effy. I prefer to focus on the other qualities, like loyal, practical and sensual.
Whatever the explanation, we’re different, but our friendship seems to work despite that. Effy is also a giggler. It’s one of her most endearing qualities. It’s so easy to make her laugh. Ever since I met her back in junior school, Effy has cracked up at the most inopportune moments, in assembly for example, when Mrs Burton, our headmistress, says something about stealing in the cloakroom or we have a guest speaker talking about their passion for a cause and we’re all supposed to be focused and taking it seriously. Effy’s shoulders will start shaking with silent laugher. She tries to hold it in but usually fails. And that tends to set me and Tash off too so we all end up in detention for being giddy. Effy’s also endlessly curious. As well as astrology, she’s into clairvoyants, tarot cards, visualisations and anything alternative. Miss New Age Nutjob, I call her. My mum’s into all that stuff too. She and Effy get on like a house on fire. Most times, I just switch off from both of them when they start ranting on about life and all its mysteries.
Effy glanced at a poster on the wall by the bus stop. ‘Hey, look. The fair’s coming to the Heath this weekend. Tell you what, let’s go on Sunday afternoon. The boys are playing footie that day, then meeting up with mates afterwards, so it would just be us. We could go to the fair, have some girlie time, win a few teddy bears then head back to yours, Jo, for a sleepover. You in?’
I knew Mum was working late on Sunday night so it was either the fair and a sleepover or staying home alone. ‘Sounds like a plan. I’m in.’
Chapter Two
By Sunday, the rain had gone and it was a glorious sunny afternoon as we made our way over the Heath for the fair. The good weather had brought out the crowds and the atmosphere was buzzing. Effy spotted the clairvoyant’s tent almost immediately. She was like a bee to honey. She linked arms with me and pulled me over to read the small sign tacked outside: Betty – Past-life readings, Tarot cards and Palmistry. Ten pounds a session.
‘Ten quid to have your fortune told. Come on,’ said Effy. ‘Maybe she’ll tell you if there are any boys in your future.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I bet she tells everyone there’s a tall, dark stranger on the horizon. Honestly, Ef, you don’t really believe in all that rubbish, do you?’ I don’t know why I asked. Of course she did. She was always consulting the cards, the runes, the I Ching or the stars. Last month, she did my horoscope for me online. She wasn’t happy when I said that if I met a boy it would be because I’d made an effort to get out there, not because Venus was in conjunction with the moon or whatever.
‘Oh, don’t be a cynic,’ said Effy. ‘It’s only a bit of fun. Pleeease.’
‘Yeah, come on, Jo. Let’s give her a try,’ said Tash. ‘Our neighbour, Mrs Adeline, said there was a clairvoyant here last year who was brill.’
‘Waste of time,’ I said. ‘I can think of way better things to spend my money on.’
‘Then it’s on me,’ said Effy. ‘An early birthday present.’
My birthday is the 2nd of June, which was less than a month away. I’d much rather get some bath products or a CD but I didn’t want to appear ungrateful or hurt her feelings so I eventually gave in.
Effy went first and came out fifteen minutes later. ‘She’s good,’ she said. ‘You’re next and I’ve paid for you.’
I looked at Tash. ‘No, you go next,’ I said. ‘I insist.’
‘Chicken,’ said Tash, but she went in all the same.
‘So. What did she say to you?’ I asked Effy as we waited.
She shook her head. ‘I’ll tell you when Tash comes out. We’ll compare notes. I don’t want to put anything into your head.’
‘So it was rubbish, then?’
‘No. No. Um . . . nothing that specific, though. I’ll tell you later.’
She went and bought us two candyfloss sticks and refused to be budged any further. Ten minutes later, Tash came out with a big smile on her face.
‘Don’t say anything,’ said Effy. ‘Not till Jo’s been in. Off you go.’
I took a deep breath and entered the tent. It was dark inside and smelt of sandalwood from a joss stick that was bUming in the corner. A middle-aged lady was sitting at a small fold-up table which had a crystal ball and a deck of cards on it. She didn’t look like a clairvoyant. She looked ordinary, with short grey hair, a ruddy complexion and a boring outfit of blue shirt, floral skirt and sandals.
She glanced up at me. ‘Jo?’
I nodded.
‘Sit,’ she instructed and indicated I should take the seat opposite her.
‘Give me your watch,’ she commanded, so I took it off and gave it to her. She held it in her hand and clos
ed her eyes. After a few moments, she opened her eyes. ‘I feel sadness and also resistance. I feel scepticism, but this will change.’ She handed me a deck of cards. ‘Think about what you’d like to ask, then shuffle the cards.’
‘I . . . there’s nothing I want to know specifically.’
‘Just shuffle, then,’ said Betty. ‘The cards will reveal all.’
I did as I was told.
‘Now split the cards and put them into three piles from the right.’
Again I followed her instructions.
Betty took the top cards from the middle pile and laid them out in front of her. She studied them for a while, then glanced at me. ‘Give me your hands,’ she said. I put my hands out and she took them in hers, turned them palm up and studied them. She closed her eyes for a few moments. The atmosphere was intense and I felt slightly spooked. Betty let go of my hands and put hers over the crystal ball. Again she closed her eyes. I wonder what baloney she’s going to come out with, I thought as I glanced around the interior of the tent.
I caught my reflection in a mirror at the back. A tall, slim girl with brown eyes stared back at me. I was wearing my jeans with my favourite jacket: plum velvet with a nipped-in waist and tiny buttons right up to the high neck. I got it for Christmas last year from my favourite shop, Steam Punk, and have worn it constantly ever since. I love the clothes there, they’re kind of Victorian Gothic. I’ve asked for a pair of the ankle boots from there for my birthday from Mum. The Catherine Victorian boots. Black with a delicate heel, unlike the clompy ones that are in the shops at the moment. Effy says I look like Bellatrix Lestrange from the Harry Potter movies. The cheek. Effy and I just have different tastes in clothes that’s all. I like old-fashioned, while her style is more Topshop’s latest.
Betty’s voice brought me back from my fashion fantasy. ‘Jo,’ she said.
‘Yes.’
‘You haven’t found love in this lifetime, have you?’
Effy’s been filling her in, I thought as I shook my head. I’ll kill her when I get out of here.
Love at Second Sight Page 1
