Love Song

by Sophia Bennett

  While they worked, so did I – helping with the equipment, taking pictures, sketching them or painting my mural of them on the Silk Room wall. I walked Twiggy, tended to the tomato plants that Sam had got for me to grow in the walled garden, and got Ed to help me fix the ride-on mower I’d discovered in one of the outhouses. There were always new jobs to do at the Hall, and I couldn’t get enough of them.

  Sometimes, the boys took a break from music. If it was dry, we played football on the freshly-mown pitch in front of the house, or tennis (which only Connor and Declan could actually play) on the rough, netless tennis court. If it was wet, we watched kids’ TV on the set that hardly worked, or raced each other round the house on skateboards and BMXs, in a dangerous game that Angus always won.

  Sometimes … often … this would involve crashing into Jamie and collapsing in a heap. The electricity was just as powerful every time we touched, but I hoped it would subside eventually.

  At four o’clock, we stopped for tea. Orli brought a tray into the sitting room, laden with tea and sandwiches. I didn’t know that it was possible to be rock-star about sandwiches, but it is if you try. Angus announced one day that he wanted his cut diagonally, to make triangles. Jamie instantly ordered parallelograms, with a snarky glance at his friend. Connor insisted on pyramids and Declan panicked for a moment, until Orli raised one eyebrow and suggested, ‘Circles?’ I thought she’d be snippy with them for being so difficult, but she disappeared without a word.

  When she returned, each plate of sandwiches was shaped as required. Even the pyramids. There was quiet triumph in her eyes. I’d underestimated how much she loved their silliness. It was a challenge for her – an easy one to meet – and she never forgot or got it wrong.

  We all had our favourite mugs for tea and coffee, chosen from a large assortment on the big kitchen dresser next to the Aga. Every single one was chipped or cracked, but that didn’t matter. Gradually we came to have our favourite chip, our special crack. Angus’s mug was Mr Happy, and nobody appreciated the irony more than he did. Declan’s had a picture of Alnwick Castle. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that the castle used as Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films was only a few miles down the coast and was already making plans to visit as soon as our isolation here was over.

  Afterwards, there were freshly made local griddle cakes called singin’ hinnies, laced with currants and topped with melted butter. Once, as I was handing them round, watching Jamie look at me, and smile, and graze my fingertips with his, I realized that I would never be this happy, or this unhappy, again.

  During the times when Angus and Jamie were busy working on new songs, Connor and I developed his next hairstyle. We decided the world was ready again for a Mohican. Declan alternated between shooting hoops on a luxury basketball system he got Sam to install, and taking cooking lessons from Orli, so he could impress his mum when he got home.

  Declan was perfect. He was charming, sweet and gentlemanly, single, and now he knew how to roast a chicken. He wasn’t super-famous and had the most beautiful set of muscles I’d ever seen on a human. I wished it was him I fancied, not the romantically complicated, skinny-chested poet who burnt toast on the rare occasions he tried to make it, and who made my heart turn over every single time he looked at me.

  But love is chemistry, and my chemicals had chosen Jamie’s chemicals. I was every cliché in the world, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  I was on my way up to the Charity and Chuck room to find some fresh shirts to wear one day, when I heard a noise above me in the tower.

  Thud.

  By now, I knew all the sounds in the house. Every creak and groan of the old pipes and the wooden floors, but not that one. What was it? I paused on the spiral stairs.

  Thud thud thud.

  Footsteps. They were definitely footsteps. The door at the top of the staircase was open. I was certain I’d closed it the last time I came up here.

  Thud thud thud thud.

  Now my heart was joining in.

  Fans. Paparazzi. Oh God, we’d been discovered. My first thought was dismay that it was all suddenly over. Then my fear intensified. What if it was a stalker? I should call for Sam. Except he’d gone into town this afternoon.

  It was too late anyway. A tall, shadowy figure stood at the top of the spiral stairs, looking down on me. My heart beat so fast I thought it might explode.

  ‘Hello? Can I help you?’ a girl’s voice called out. My pulse subsided slightly. ‘Who are you? I say, are you a member of the crew?’ She sounded confused, not homicidal.

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The film crew. I assume they’re filming, aren’t they? Auntie Ven didn’t tell me, but I saw all the wires and everything. I suppose they need the money. Is it some kind of period piece?’

  ‘Er, no. It’s ...’ I squinted up at her. ‘Who are you? How did you get here?’

  By now, my eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the stairwell. She was nearly six foot tall, and maybe a couple of years older than me.

  ‘I drove up yesterday,’ she said. ‘Stayed with some friends outside Newcastle. Except everyone had gone off to some festival or other, so it was just the oldies. Such a bore.’

  Gracefully, she descended the stairs. In the light of the room, I took in her fine features, very pale blue eyes and fair hair caught up in a rough bun behind her head with chopsticks. She stood like a dancer, wearing cut-off dungarees over a dirty pink leotard. Her arms were adorned from wrist to elbow with bangles, bracelets, watches and festival tags of every kind.

  ‘I mean, how did you get through the gates?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, Auntie Ven hasn’t changed the code in years. Didn’t she say I was coming? I need an outfit and Auntie Ven has all the best clothes – if they haven’t been eaten by rats or moths. Honestly, this place is a wreck. I don’t know how you bear it.’

  ‘We love it,’ I said simply. ‘It’s the most beautiful place I know.’

  She put a hand on my arm delightedly. ‘I know what you mean, really. I came here every summer until I was eleven. Christmases too. Then Mummy fell out with Auntie Ven over the whole fiasco of selling this place. They don’t talk now. It’s a nightmare. If the house was just looked after a little, it could be … incantevole.’

  I sensed a proper Italian accent in the way she said the last word and it reminded me of something Windy had said.

  ‘Are you … Percival’s daughter?’

  ‘Granddaughter, darling. Isabella Otterbury.’ She held out her hand with mock formality. ‘Call me Issy. Auntie Ven’s my great-aunt, really, but if I called her Great-Auntie Ven she’d have a fit. And you?’

  ‘Nina Baxter. I’m here with the band.’

  ‘Oh, it’s a band! Fantastic! You must introduce me. We can do clothes later. Come on!’

  Why did I say that? I was too caught up marvelling at this tall, thin, exotic person standing in front of me. She must not, must absolutely not, see the boys and give away their location. That’s what I was thinking as she took my hand and rushed me down three flights of stairs, but she didn’t give me much choice. Following the sound of the music, she dragged me into the Silk Room – the chosen recording room for the day – where all four boys sat listening to the playback on Ed’s monitors, oblivious to the world.

  She paused in the doorway, watching.

  ‘Holy Moly! They’re hot!’

  Well, yes … yes, they were. I’d kind of forgotten. I mean, obviously I felt way too strongly about one of them, and the others were all amazing eye-candy, but I thought of them as friends now. Friends with bad morning breath, a shared Led Zep obsession, and a surprising fear of bats. They were, however, officially for the record, just as much as ever, eyes-moulderingly, ab-crunchingly hot.

  ‘Mmm,’ I mumbled. It was getting slightly weird to think of them all that way.

  ‘Which one’s yours?’

  I was about to explain very clearly that I didn’t ‘have’ one, I just worked here … but at that momen
t Jamie looked up, caught sight of me, and gave me the full-on smile. Before I could say anything, she nudged me and nodded.

  ‘Lucky you. They’re terribly familiar. Do I know them?’

  ‘Um, seriously?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure I’ve seen them somewhere.’

  ‘They’re The Point,’ I said, assuming she was making a joke I didn’t quite get.

  ‘Oh! I’ve heard of them! Didn’t they do “Amethyst”? Hey, cool! Isn’t your one Jamie? I like the black-haired one, though.’

  I turn to stare at her. She’d heard of them? Didn’t they do ‘Amethyst’? She wasn’t joking. I had just discovered The Girl Who Wasn’t That Interested In The Point.

  When they finished the song, I introduced her to three of the most famous faces on the planet, and another that was about to join them as a global superstar. Issy kissed them on both cheeks, like she was being introduced at a posh party, and told them she was ‘more into reggae, really’, but ‘you guys sound great for a guitar band’.

  At first they just stared at her, Angus most of all. They were completely not used to this. I could see them wondering if she was real. But Issy didn’t seem to notice. She was more curious to know how they liked the Hall.

  ‘It’s a nightmare at first, I know, but it grows on you, doesn’t it? I’ve always been fond of the old place. Nina says she loves it, don’t you, darling? Do tell me you’ve all fallen for it too.’

  ‘I find it absolutely enchanting,’ Angus announced, imitating her voice with the wicked glint firmly back in his eye.

  ‘I’m so glad! That’s exactly what I said to Nina. Incantevole, no?’

  Angus looked slightly stunned. The wicked glint flickered uncertainly. He wasn’t sure if she was making fun of him. I was impressed. Not many girls could throw Angus McLean off his stride.

  Ed appeared in the doorway, looking worried.

  ‘I just saw a new car outside. Does anyone know—?’ He saw us chatting to the new girl, and froze in shock.

  ‘This is Issy,’ Angus said, recovering and giving a mock bow as he introduced her. ‘She grew up here.’

  ‘But … but … no one’s supposed to know …’ Ed ran a panicked hand distractedly through what was left of his hair.

  Issy grinned. ‘Ooh! Is it a secret? How exciting! Don’t worry about me, darling. One of my great uncles was a spy in the war. The Otterburys are terribly good at keeping secrets.’ She smiled at all of us. ‘I promise I won’t tell a soul.’

  ‘How long are you staying?’ Angus asked her.

  ‘Oh, no time at all. This place is creepy in the darkness. Anyway, I’m off to Edinburgh for a party. I was just going to grab a couple of things to wear on the way.’

  ‘I promise it won’t be creepy,’ Angus said. ‘Please stay.’

  She smiled and they locked eyes. ‘I can’t, darling. It’s going to be a gorgeous party. But I suppose I could come back this way …’

  Ed groaned. But it was too late. She knew the secret now. And none of the boys seemed to care. The more she treated them like regular, hot guys, the more they seemed to like her.

  I did, too. Her buzzing friendliness made it hard not to. She could see us all for what we were – a strange, secret gang.

  Isn’t your one Jamie?

  She saw what I didn’t dare even think about. Having her here made it somehow seem more real.

  ‘Promise you’ll come back?’ Angus asked. He was trying to sound cool and casual, but he was practically begging.

  She toyed with him for a while, enjoying herself, but eventually agreed to visit the Hall on her way back down from Scotland in a few days’ time.

  I’d never seen him look that way about anyone before. Perhaps, in a few days, bracelets and dungarees and ‘incantevole’ would make it into a love song too.

  We had been in the house for a month. August was about to give way to September. Outside, gathering swallows circled in the sky. Tucked under a hedge near the drive, Ed’s generator chugged away like a tractor. Inside, the ground floor was a mass of cables and wires, snaking in and out of doorways and windows, depending on where the boys wanted to play that day.

  My letters from home were full of news about the twins and questions from Mum about whether I’d make it back for the start of school. I replied to the bits about Pip and Lara, but ignored the school part, for now at least. What was happening here felt like all that mattered. The holidays weren’t quite over yet. It was difficult to look out at the purple heather on the moors and worry about term dates. Or to sit with Twiggy by the fire, listening to the band, and want to be anywhere else.

  A couple of mornings after Issy’s visit, the paper was lying on the kitchen table when Angus came down for his usual late-lunch English breakfast. Sam always brought one back from his village trips. With no internet, he and Orli relied on its crossword for something to do.

  Today, a particular piece caught Angus’s eye. I was in the kitchen, rubbing Twiggy down after a walk, and saw his face flicker with mixed emotions as he read it.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said, looking thoughtful.

  As he drank his coffee, his expression gradually lightened until he looked positively cheerful – by Angus standards. He folded the paper so one particular corner was on top.

  ‘Leave that here like this, would you?’ he asked, as he went off to tune his guitar.

  I looked at the article at the top of the folded page. One particular name caught my eye.

  BACKSTAGE is back! Despite rumours that she was giving it all up to become a quiet married lady, a spokesman for Sigrid Santorini has confirmed that she’s signed up for a third series of Backstage with Sigrid. Fans of Pete the chihuahua will be relieved to know that they can keep up with his canine antics in full next season, while Sigrid puts in the final preparations for her wedding to Jamie Maldon. Will the ceremony itself be on the show? We’d like to think so. Sigrid hinted as much on the red carpet for the Hollywood Awards last week when she said that her fans wanted all the details of her big day, and they wouldn’t be disappointed. Will Pete be a ring-bearer, in his own cute little chihuahua costume? Guess we’ll have to wait for Series 3 to find out.

  My heart contracted. Since we’d been locked away here the thought of Sigrid had been gradually fading, like an old sepia photograph. Now there she was, in full colour next to the article, smiling into the camera as she nuzzled up to Pete. Her left hand was just visible in the shot, holding the little dog’s face in place next to hers. The Malteser ring still sparkled.

  Why had Angus looked so cheerful as he’d left the room? Normally any mention of Sigrid was enough to make him throw things.

  I needed air. All I could picture was Jamie with TV cameras stuck in his face. Jamie retreating into his own little world again. He really meant it when he said he wanted to escape from that life. Couldn’t he see how she’d lied to him?

  I walked quickly through the heavy morning drizzle, without much idea of where I was heading. By the time I got near the lake, the rain was falling harder. I took shelter in the folly, looking back at the Hall through the misted-up windows.

  Behind me, I heard the sound of running footsteps. Jamie appeared in the doorway. Rainwater ran in rivulets down his face.

  ‘Angus told me about the article …’ he said. ‘He saw you go off in this direction.’

  I made a new discovery. The only thing in this world hotter than Jamie Maldon playing guitar and smiling at me was Jamie Maldon soaked with rain and slightly out of breath, looking concerned about me. This was the last thing I needed to know.

  ‘You’re not upset, are you?’

  ‘No,’ I lied. ‘Why would I be?’

  ‘That stuff about Sigrid—’

  I knew I was going to regret this.

  ‘She’ll never change,’ I blurted out, talking quickly, because I wanted to get it over with. ‘She needs fame like a drug. She wouldn’t know the simple life if you served it on a plate. With eleven alm
onds.’

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  I thought he’d jump down my throat. Instead, he was smiling.

  ‘Oh. You know?’ I faltered. ‘Well, there’s another thing – Angus hates her, and you two … you’re more important than … She just …’

  I ground to a halt in my misery. His smile didn’t waver, though.

  ‘Yes, Nina, I know that too. And Angus was right – you haven’t got it.’

  ‘Got what?’

  ‘It’s over.’

  ‘What is?’

  He came closer.

  ‘I should have told you before,’ he said. ‘About Sisi. It was a mistake. I saw how she was. With you. With him. With everybody. What it did to the band. I’m not blind.’

  ‘B-but … the article … the wedding …’

  He came closer still. ‘It’s wrong. I was wrong. I wanted to escape and I thought she was the girl to do it with. She played that part for a while, but then she got bored. She morphed from the barefoot, boho chick I met into … well you saw. She literally made us take a bath in champagne once. It’s sticky and …’ He saw me picturing him in a bath of champagne and how it was frying my brain, and he paused and half-smiled. ‘Anyway, it took a while, but I woke up and smelt the coffee. I was going to end it after the tour, but we went on holiday. She’d planned it for ages and I didn’t have the guts to tell her ... I needed some space to work out how to do it. Then as soon as I got back, Windy brought me here. And there was you.’ His lips curled into that smile – not Mona-Lisa any more, but aimed right at me – and my heart missed several beats. ‘I haven’t told anyone yet. She deserves to know first. But Angus worked it out weeks ago. I thought you had, too.’

  He reached out a hand to brush my hair from my eyes. The skin on his fingertips was rough and hard, but I liked it. Musician’s hands. I’d been thinking about his fingertips for a long time. His head bent towards mine.