by Mel Sparke
Sugar
SECRETS…
…& Conflict
Mel Sparke
Contents
Cover
Title Page
CHAPTER 1 STOLEN KISSES
CHAPTER 2 FORGIVE AND FORGET…?
CHAPTER 3 NO BIG DEAL…
CHAPTER 4 BEING DISTRACTED
CHAPTER 5 ALL WORK AND NO PLAY
CHAPTER 6 TAKING ORDERS
CHAPTER 7 EVERYTHING ALL AT ONCE
CHAPTER 8 ALL PLAY AND NO WORK
CHAPTER 9 OLLIE DOES IT AGAIN
CHAPTER 10 TAKING SIDES
CHAPTER 11 A PRICKLY SUBJECT
CHAPTER 12 ANNA BLOWS A FUSE
CHAPTER 13 CAT TO THE RESCUE?
CHAPTER 14 MAKING THINGS WORSE
CHAPTER 15 ANNA’S SMASHING TIME
CHAPTER 16 MAYA’S MIND WORKS OVERTIME
CHAPTER 17 HEALING HANDS
CHAPTER 18 BATTLEZONE
CHAPTER 19 TESTING TIMES
CHAPTER 20 WHAT A PERFORMANCE!
CHAPTER 21 APOLOGIES AND THANK YOUS
CHAPTER 22 MAKING THINGS RIGHT
SOME SECRETS ARE JUST TOO GOOD TO KEEP TO YOURSELF!
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER 1
STOLEN KISSES
Kerry Bellamy peeked in the window of the End-of-the-Line café as she hurried along the rain-speckled pavement.
As far as she could make out, there were only two people inside the comfortingly steamy café on this dull Friday morning. One was a youngish, scruffyish guy, whose eyes were glued to the tabloid propped up in front of his plate. Over by the counter, oblivious to everything except the music he was listening to, Ollie Stanton hammered out a beat on an imaginary drum kit. Grinning to herself, Kerry hurried towards the door, hoping to catch him in mid-drumroll.
“Kez!” grinned Ollie in surprise as he gave a final, noisy, metallic clang to the coffee machine with a wooden spoon, in accompaniment to the end of the Fatboy Slim track playing on the small radio by the till.
The lone customer, who’d already jumped at the sudden tinkle of the bell above the door as Kerry came in, now leapt at Ollie’s loud exclamation and at his amateur attempts at percussion.
“Careful you don’t put a dent in that, Ol!” Kerry grinned at him, pointing to the large, rumbling coffee machine. “Or Nick’ll put a dent in you!”
“True - but only if he catches me!” Ollie grinned back. “He’s skiving off next door just now. Said he had to catch up on something at home while the café was quiet.”
“So you’re all on your ownsome?” Kerry commented, pulling a clown-sad face.
“Nearly. One breakfast-with-everything—” Ollie nodded over to the scruffy bloke, who was flicking through the sports pages while he shovelled a loaded forkful of beans into his mouth, ”—and that’s been it for the last hour. Business has been as quiet as… a very quiet thing.”
Kerry settled herself on one of the stools along the counter and leant her chin on her hand.
“So is Nick still talking about taking a few days off next week?”
“Mmm,” nodded Ollie, leaning both arms down on the opposite side of the counter from his girlfriend. “He might as well – there’s not enough work for all of us at the moment. And anyway, me and Anna always seem to have a right laugh whenever he leaves us to run the place by ourselves.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Kerry pointed out mischievously.
“What’s that then?” asked Ollie, blinking at her through his floppy, brown fringe.
“You two could never run the place without Dorothy and Irene!”
Ollie crinkled up his nose and smiled fondly at the mention of the two ex-dinner ladies who made up the rest of the End-of-the-Line cafe’s hard-working staff. Both the old dears were totally besotted with Ollie’s charm – he always managed to get them giggling when they shared shifts.
“Ah, my girls…” he sighed, holding both hands to his heart. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask them both a favour.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Kerry, her eyes wide and disbelieving behind her specs. She could sense a joke coming.
“yeah,” Ollie nodded seriously. “I was thinking of asking them if they fancy doing a bit of go-go dancing at our next gig. You know, get them in white bikinis and white leather boots on either side of the stage. It could be a great gimmick, couldn’t— ooof!”
Kerry had pulled off the damp tea towel he had draped over his shoulder and wrapped it round Ollie’s face.
“OK! OK! They don’t have to wear bikinis!” he protested, holding his hands up in surrender. “They could just wear shorts and boob tubes!”
“Oh, you!” giggled Kerry, wincing at the incongruous notion of the two grey-permed, sixty-something women swapping their aprons and M&S blouses for something so tacky.
Ollie ducked another swipe of the tea towel and then lunged forward to sneak a surprise kiss on Kerry’s lips.
Immediately, she paused, her hand still floating in mid-air, cloth dangling, while her heart pitter-pattered at his touch. But as quickly as she melted into his kiss, Kerry broke away again.
“Ollie!” she said reproachfully, glancing over at the café’s one customer.
“He hasn’t noticed!” whispered Ollie. “Too busy catching up on the footie and stuffing his face!”
Still, Kerry felt a little awkward kissing in public like that, even if the only public that was around wasn’t taking a blind bit of notice.
“So, the cafe’s still feeling the squeeze with the exams being on?” she asked, trying to smooth back her rebellious hair. One kiss from Ollie and her curls seemed to have sprung out of the hairclips that tried to restrain them.
“Yeah, everyone’s too busy swotting and stressing to hang out here. Speaking of which – shouldn’t you be at home playing around with highlighter pens and memorising facts you’ll never need?”
Ollie had never been much into school and had been more than happy to leave as soon as he’d sat his GCSEs two summers ago. He knew he wanted to do something special with his life, even back then, but until he could figure out just what it might be, he’d agreed to help Nick out temporarily at the café, as well as at the secondhand record shop his uncle owned next door.
At the time, it had seemed to Ollie to be a better idea than staying on at school. Only trouble was, two years down the line, Ollie still hadn’t sussed out what that something special could be and his job with Nick was looking a whole lot less temporary…
“Hmm, well, I guess I got a little stir-crazy, holed up in my cell. Sorry – my room,” joked Kerry, nonetheless looking guilty for sneaking away from her studies. “And having those double-glazing workmen arrive today was bad news. They’ve been hammering about the place since 8 o’clock, yanking out the old windows!”
“Talk about bad timing,” said Ollie sympathetically. “Couldn’t your folks have put them off till later?”
“They tried to. It was all meant to be finished by now, if they hadn’t overrun at their last job. And if they didn’t come now, they wouldn’t have been able to fit us in for months.”
“Just keep telling yourself that when you get through all this, we’ve got our holiday to look forward to!” Ollie said encouragingly. “Yep, a few weeks’ time and it’s ‘Hello Ibiza!’”
Kerry felt a rush of excitement. It still hadn’t quite sunk in that Ollie was whisking her away on a week’s holiday – all on their own – with the money he’d got from his gran for his eighteenth birthday.
“Speaking of which,” Ollie rolled his eyes, “is your mum talking to you yet?”
Kerry’s frisson of excitement faded away at the mention of her mother w
ho had been less than pleased at Ollie’s grand gesture. Well-worn phrases like “you’re too young” and “you’re getting too serious” were trotted out, even though Graeme Bellamy (and Kerry would be forever grateful to her dad for saying something in her defence) did point out that Kerry was nearly eighteen and that she and Ollie had been going out together for a whole year now.
“She’s better than she was,” Kerry admitted with a sigh. “I guess she realises that with the exams and stress and stuff, she’s got to go a bit easier on me. But I’m betting that the minute this stuff’s out of the way, she’s going to be right back on my case.”
“Poor babes,” said Ollie, cocking his head to one side and gazing sympathetically at her. “Is it really doing your head in?”
Kerry pulled a face and nodded.
“Definitely. It was like, this morning, I couldn’t concentrate on anything for the sound of drilling going on in the living room. Then when it stopped for a while, I found myself staring at this page of notes – and I suddenly realised I’d read it about five times and still hadn’t taken any of it in!”
“So you thought you’d have a stroll in the fresh air to clear your mind,” said Ollie, waving his hands around either side of his head theatrically. “And your feet just happened to turn in the direction of the End, where you knew you could get some tea and sympathy from your understanding boyfriend…”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Kerry laughed; “but a Kit-Kat and a hot chocolate might help!”
“Nah,” replied Ollie, a sexy grin breaking out on his face and a wicked twinkle glinting in his almond eyes. “C’mere, my little swot-queen and I’ll take your mind off all your worries…”
“Ol – no! I mean, there’s that customer! You can’t – we shouldn’t!”
Between whispered protests and giggles, Kerry found herself being dragged off the stool, behind the counter and through the alcove door into the kitchen, empty and silent save for the gentle bubbling of some large covered pots on the cooker.
“Is this private enough for you?” smiled Ollie as he pressed her up against the wall and rubbed her nose with his.
Kerry looked shyly into her boyfriend’s soft hazel eyes and nodded, aware of the warmth of his hands around her waist.
“No prying eyes here,” he mumbled as his lips touched hers again.
Letting her hands slip around his skinny, taut body, Kerry let all thoughts of exams and grades and parents’ expectations and double-glazing fitters slip right out of her mind…
The sudden clatter of footsteps sounded as if it was in stereo.
As soon as Ollie and Kerry broke away from each other, Kerry could see why: Anna Michaels had just barged in the back door of the kitchen, ready to start her shift. Coming through from the front of the café, Nick – fresh from his errands – now stood framed in the kitchen doorway.
Kerry felt her face blush pillar-box red. She knew Nick Stanton would be irked to find his trusted nephew not only slacking on the job, but snogging his girlfriend into the bargain, but she was surprised to see just how mad Nick looked. A quick glance over Ollie’s shoulder showed that Anna was surprised too; she was hanging back, silently waiting to see if Nick, from his bulging-eyed expression, was about to explode.
“Uh-oh – that’s us well and truly nabbed then!” joked Ollie, though Kerry could see from her boyfriend’s face that he knew it would take more than a lame joke to wriggle out of this situation.
“That bloke out there,” said Nick, nodding back towards the front of the café. “Pay for his meal, did he?”
“Er, no – not yet,” muttered Ollie, missing the fact that Nick was speaking in the past tense.
“Well,” said Nick, his hands on his hips and his faded Harley Davidson T-shirt stretched tightly across his ample chest, “I don’t suppose he will now, since I just saw him hotfooting it out of here when I was coming out of the flat.”
“He did a runner!” gasped Ollie as the news sank in. “Listen, don’t you worry, Nick – I’ll go after him and get the money off him right—”
“There’s no point,” said Nick. “He’s long gone – and having a good laugh at my expense!”
“Oh, Nick, I’m sorry! I’ll make it up – I’ll pay—”
“Hey – listen!” Nick interrupted his nephew, cupping one hand to his ear.
Ollie stopped mid-apology and looked quizzically at his uncle, straining to hear whatever the older man could.
Her heart beating madly, Kerry shot a questioning glance at Anna, who only shrugged her shoulders in response.
“Hear anything, Ollie?” asked Nick, his eyes darting from side to side, his hand still raised to his ear.
“Uh, no,” Ollie replied dubiously.
“Neither can I. That, Ollie lad,” said Nick, lowering his hand and thumping a finger into his nephew’s chest, “is because while you were through here snogging your little girlfriend, that geezer helped himself to my radio!”
Ollie let out a deep groan and knew he’d blown it big time.
CHAPTER 2
FORGIVE AND FORGET…?
“For goodness’ sake, Ollie – how old are you? Are you a fourteen-year-old who can’t keep his hormones to himself? Don’t you and Kerry see enough of each other or something, that you have to sneak through to my kitchen to get up to goodness knows what, while my business goes down the drain?”
From the relative safety of the front café – still empty of customers – Anna and Kerry exchanged cringing glances as Ollie faced the wrath of his uncle in the kitchen.
Totally mortified by what had just happened, Kerry’s first thought when Nick had asked for a moment alone with Ollie was to leg it back home as fast as she could. All of a sudden, studying and noisy workmen were infinitely preferable to hearing her boyfriend get hauled over the coals.
But part of her felt too guilty to leave: she had been kissing Ollie back, after all. And it wasn’t as if she’d tried very hard to dissuade him from abandoning his waiterly duties…
“While his business goes down the drain?” she whispered to Anna. “It’s not that bad, is it? I mean, I know it shouldn’t have happened, but it’s just the price of one breakfast and the radio was pretty old and battered, wasn’t it?”
With her finely tuned sense of fair play, Kerry had already worked out in her head the cost of the fry-up that hadn’t been paid for. And, as soon as she got home, she was going to look in the Argos catalogue for a similar radio and go and buy it next week, after her first exam was out of the way. But now, from the way he was talking, Nick was scaring her.
“Don’t worry – that radio was on its last legs. I think Nick’s just exaggerating for dramatic effect,” Anna reassured her, pouring tea from the big stainless-steel pot into four mugs. “And you know how fond he is of Ollie – he’s probably just a bit disappointed in him and it’s coming out worse than he means it to be.”
Kerry nodded, her freckled skin pale with strain.
“Look, here’s some money – go and put all Nick’s favourite records on to cheer him up,” Anna suggested, handing Kerry a bundle of ten pences from the small dish under the counter where they kept odds and ends of spare change. “And I’ll see if I can get the guys to come out here and have a civilised cup of tea with us. We might as well take advantage of the fact that we’ve got zero customers.”
Eyes scanning the names of the records in the ancient, wonky Wurlitzer jukebox, Kerry tried to remember which hoary old rock songs Ollie’s uncle liked best, but her mind had gone blank. Quickly, hearing footsteps and voices coming out of the kitchen, she hammered in the codes for a Paul Weller track, a Rolling Stones classic and John Lennon’s Imagine – which seemed a good bet for sending out a message of forgiveness – and hurried over to join Anna, Ollie and his uncle in the booth by the window.
“It’s my fault too, Nick,” she found herself saying in a tiny voice.
“Aw, forget it, Kerry,” Nick shrugged, waving his hand dismissively in the air.
> Kerry glanced across at Ollie, whose shoulders seemed to visibly sink with relief at Nick’s words. The crisis was over – which was good, considering the temperamental jukebox was up to its usual tricks and had begun to play Imagine at twice its normal speed, as if it was being sung by a hyperactive pixie rather than a rock icon.
“Anyhow, anyhow,” said Nick wearily, as if the whole confrontation with his nephew had exhausted him, “I’ve got some news. I was finalising it just now on the phone…”
“What news?” asked Anna, looking slightly concerned.
“Well…” said Nick slowly, dragging the moment of anticipation out, “I’m going to America on Monday.”
“What?” exclaimed OIlie in surprise. The last thing he’d heard was that Nick was going to take a few days off and maybe visit some old mates in Manchester or just hang out and chill in his flat.
“Yep – I’m going on a ‘Home of the Blues’ Music Tour. Two weeks, taking in Memphis, Nashville, even Elvis’s Graceland…” Nick sighed happily.
“But I thought you saw plenty of America when you used to be a roadie for all those bands years ago?” OIlie quizzed him.
OIlie had grown up hearing all his uncle’s tales of endless touring. Plenty of it was true, he had no doubt – it was some of the so-called ‘close friendships’ with the stars his uncle boasted about that made OIlie have doubts. After all, how many times did wrinkly rockers like Jon Bon Jovi and Tina Turner drop by for a cup of tea in the End?
“Ah, but all you see, being on the road, is the inside of tour buses and the back stages of venues,” Nick explained, a faraway look in his eyes as he reminisced. “You never get a feel for where you are. Nope, this time I’m going to see America for real!”
“But, Monday…!” blinked Anna, her mind buzzing with the implications for the rest of the staff. “How could you decide that fast?”
“I’ve had the brochure for months – even got round to phoning and checking the availability a couple of times,” shrugged Nick, scratching at the dark stubble on his chin. “It wasn’t till the last few days, when I saw how quiet it was here, that I finally thought – go for it, Nick, my son!”
