Abruptly, a text message from Romy pops up.
‘Message?’ Jake asks. ‘What’s it say?’
‘Romy wanting to know where we are. I’m not going to answer.’
He sighs. ‘Sash, this isn’t something you can keep secret. Once they suss we’re missing, it’ll be chaos back there. They’ll ring your parents. Sheddie’ll ring my mum. They’ll probably get the police …’
‘The police?’ I say, alarmed.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Jake asks. ‘Two teens go missing from home of much-loved pop legend … we’ll be front-page news if Matt has his way. He wanted a scoop, didn’t he?’
I’m horrified. ‘That can’t happen,’ I whisper. ‘Can it?’
‘Not if you tell people you’re safe,’ Jake says with a shrug. ‘Best to do it now, before the film people turn up. And while you’ve still got a signal!’
‘Can’t you?’
‘My phone’s almost out of battery and I left in a hurry, so I don’t have a charger,’ Jake says. ‘I’ll text Sheddie and he can explain to everyone at Fox Hollow Hall … and tell my mum. You call home, let your family know you’re safe. OK?’
‘But I’ll be home in a few hours anyway!’ I protest.
‘You might not be,’ Jake reasons. ‘We won’t get to Barnstaple for a while … we can find the station and work out how to get to Millford from there. Have you got money?’
‘Yeah, sure … about twenty-three pounds and some small change. How about you?’
‘Not even a tenner after buying the bus tickets,’ Jake says. ‘Do me a favour … look up train times from Barnstaple to Millford, yeah?’
I do as he says and my heart sinks like a stone. A single ticket to Millford starts at £76, involves four changes and won’t get me home until morning. I really, really haven’t thought this through.
‘What’ll we do?’ I wail. ‘Where will we sleep? There’s a six-hour wait for that last train, and I don’t have anything like enough money for a ticket …’
‘I’ll think of something,’ Jake says. ‘Right now you need to call your family, tell them something’s come up and you’ll be home tomorrow. Or text at least. I’ll text Sheddie. The time for keeping secrets is past, Sasha – you know that.’
I bite my lip. Jake’s right … Trying to keep my troubles secret has backfired badly, and it won’t be just me who pays the price.
There’s silence for a moment while the two of us let the world know we’re safe. I opt to text because it’s easier to fake an upbeat tone, to make my early return seem normal and natural, a last-minute change of plans rather than a tearful escape with terrible consequences for the rest of the band.
A message from Mum pings back, telling me she’s sorry things have been cut short but that she’s missed me and will organize something special for tea. The fear that something is going wrong between my parents surfaces again, but, whatever’s happening, I need my dad’s quiet strength and my mum’s hugs. I wonder how I will tell them the truth about how I’m feeling, what I’ve done. I know I’ll have to find a way.
‘Sheddie’s going to tell Ked and Camille,’ Jake reports. ‘The OK Film team have arrived and everyone’s a bit worried that we’re missing, but Lexie and Marley are doing their best to present our ideas. Sheddie’ll sort it out, explain – he’s good in a crisis, stays calm.’
‘Is he going to tell them I’ve left the band?’
‘He’ll do his best …’
Another tear slides down my cheek, cold and salty. You’d think there’d be no more left by now, but my traitorous body clearly has a few in reserve. I think about Sheddie trying to explain that I’ve gone home, that I don’t want to be in the Lost & Found any more.
I’m a coward, I know. A braver person would have knocked on the kitchen door, gone in and faced Ked and Camille. Instead, Jake’s stepdad is left to clean up the mess for me.
Will Ked and Camille realize I overheard their conversation? Or will they think that my disappearance has saved them the job of firing me? I have no idea. I know my friends will be upset, but that will turn to anger when they understand that I’ve left them without a lead singer just when they were on the brink of being discovered.
All Ked’s hard work to bring us down here, mentoring and recording us, inviting a top industry video crew to film us and a famous TV and radio personality to meet us … all of it was for nothing. The recording is nowhere near finished, and I don’t see anyone making a video for a band with no lead singer.
I feel sick with shame. I’ve behaved like a spoiled toddler, smashing up the whole game just because it wasn’t working out for me. But what else could I have done?
We’re in a town now and finally bright lights shine outside the darkened windows as the bus lurches to a standstill. ‘Barnstaple,’ the driver calls. ‘Everybody off!’
We stumble out into the rainy night.
We find the station easily enough, but we’ve missed the train to Exeter and we don’t have a ticket anyway, so we huddle in a little cafe, sipping hot chocolate.
‘There are options,’ Jake tells me. ‘We can travel without a ticket … it’s a small station and there aren’t any barriers. We can pretend the ticket machine was out of order.’
‘But if we get caught, we’ll still have to pay,’ I argue.
‘We could hide in the toilets if there’s a ticket check,’ Jake suggests. ‘Or pretend to be asleep.’
‘Or just pay as far as Exeter,’ I say, because I am not a risk-taker or a lawbreaker. ‘We might be able to afford that. But we’d still be miles and miles from Millford!’
‘We could hitch a lift from there,’ Jake offers.
‘What! With a stranger?’ I panic. ‘No way! We’d end up murdered in a ditch! Are you mad?’
Jake shrugs. ‘We could just stay here, try to sleep on the station platform, or at the bus station …’
‘We’d freeze to death!’
‘Picky, aren’t you?’ Jake teases. ‘OK, so I’ll make a few calls, sort a private jet to come and pick us up …’
The world shifts a little and I jump back to reality with the sting of something hot burning through my sleeve. The mug I was cradling a moment ago lies on its side on the table top in a pool of hot chocolate, and Jake is mopping up the spill with a wad of serviettes.
‘You OK?’ he asks me. ‘It wasn’t too hot, was it?’
I pull the wet fabric away from my arm, but I know I’m not hurt, just embarrassed. Again.
‘I look a mess,’ I whisper. ‘I am a mess … oh, Jake, what am I going to do?’
‘You look fine,’ he counters. ‘You could be wearing an old potato sack with mud and ashes on your face, Sasha, and you’d still look beautiful to me … this will all work out, you’ll see!’
I start to laugh, and Jake joins in. ‘I have a plan,’ he says. ‘But you have to trust me, OK? We can’t get you home tonight, but I know a place we can stay, some friends who’ll help us. They’re in Somerset and that’s not far from here. My phone’s died and I can’t remember the number, but if you lend me your mobile I’ll Google it …’
Jake scrolls through the internet. He must find what he’s looking for, because he jabs in a number and then stands up and drifts to the back of the cafe to talk. I watch his face as the concerned frown melts away to be replaced by a huge grin, and I am so glad to have him here with me that I feel myself filling up with a ridiculous, fizzing surge of happiness. My life is a mess – I’ve quit the band, possibly a split second before being fired; I’ve let down my friends and cost Britain’s favourite pop legend a fortune in wasted time and money. I can’t even manage to run away properly, but maybe none of this is the end of the world as long as I have Jake with me.
I watch him talking, noticing the way his sandy-blond hair sticks up in random directions, like a small tornado just passed through. I notice how his eyes, a dark blue-grey, spark and shine as he winks at me across the half-empty cafe. Jake is cute and kind and clever, and I would trust him with p
retty much anything.
He’s back, handing me the phone and grabbing his jacket.
‘OK … we have to head back to the bus station,’ he tells me. ‘There’s a bus to a place called Lynton leaving in ten minutes, and we need to be on it … or we really are stuck here for the night! Ready?’
We run through the streets, hand in hand, splashing through puddles. We make the bus with a minute to spare, and moments later we’re rattling through the darkened lanes heading to who-knows-where.
‘Why are you helping me, Jake?’ I ask as we huddle together, catching our breath. ‘You’ve given up your chance to be involved in the video, even though a lot of it was your idea. You didn’t have to follow me … why did you?’
‘I wanted to,’ he said simply. ‘It wouldn’t have been any fun without you around. Besides … you weren’t thinking straight, you hadn’t planned this. I figured you could use some help.’
‘And you’re an expert in running away,’ I state. ‘When you did it – what made you run? I can’t imagine anything rattling you enough to do something like that.’
Jake laughs. ‘Ha – last summer I was a walking disaster,’ he tells me. ‘I was upset because Mum wanted to move us to Millford to live with this bloke she’d just met – Sheddie. I didn’t like the idea of it, and then I made an epically stupid mistake and just about wrecked the flat we were living in. I thought I’d lost Mum her job too, and I couldn’t see any way out …’
‘So you ran?’
‘I ran,’ he confirms. ‘I’d just found out I had four half-sisters who lived in Somerset … I’d never met my dad, but they were his kids, and one of them had been writing to me. I thought I’d go and find them, find out more about my dad …’
‘And?’ I press.
‘And it turned out he was living in Australia,’ Jake explains. ‘When I finally got to talk to him, he was just as big a loser as my mum had said he was. Which was kind of a let-down. But my half-sisters – they were cool. Honey’s the eldest, and then there’s the twins – Skye’s vintage mad and Summer’s a dancer. Coco’s my age – she’s a bit of an eco warrior. Their mum married again, a bloke called Paddy, so there’s a stepsister too, Cherry. Anyway, that’s where we’re going now!’
I blink. ‘To see your sisters?’
Jake shrugs. ‘It’s where I always go when I run away,’ he quips. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll like them!’
Sasha, where are you? The film crew are here and Ked and Camille are asking where you and Jake are – we’re trying to stall for time, but it’s not easy. Hurry up! Romy x
Please tell me where you are. Ked sent the film crew home and he’s been in a huddle with the other adults for ages now. Something’s up. Please answer! Romy x
Whatever’s happened, Sash, please come back. We’re all so worried! Lexie x
Please let us know you’re OK! Happi x
You’ve really blown it now. Ked’s raging, and Marley will never forgive you. But hey, I got some great photos of your meltdown. M
25
Tanglewood
I must have slept, because I wake as the bus rumbles to a halt, with Jake’s arm round me, my head on his shoulder.
‘I can see the van,’ Jake says as he swings my case down the steps and on to the pavement, and I follow his gaze through the darkness towards a strangely shaped maroon-and-cream-painted van that seems to be advertising some kind of chocolate. The doors slide open and a man and a girl jump out. Jake hugs each of them in turn.
‘This is Sasha,’ he tells them. ‘My friend from the band. Sasha, this is Paddy and my half-sister Coco!’
Coco looks about the same age as Jake and me, with fair hair in a pixie cut, a Greenpeace T-shirt and the biggest grin I’ve ever seen.
‘Hello,’ I say shyly. ‘Thank you for rescuing us!’
‘No worries,’ Paddy says. ‘Any friend of Cookie’s and all that! You’re soaked … let’s see if we can warm you up a bit.’
We all squash into the van while Paddy starts the engine and turns the heater up, and everyone is talking, catching up on news as I try to gather my thoughts and tune in.
‘The van’s been brilliant,’ Paddy is saying. ‘It’s French, a vintage Citroën – the side opens so we can use it for pop-up chocolate events and festivals as well as deliveries. Always draws a crowd! It’s not fast, but it should have us home in half an hour, even in this downpour, and Charlotte’s making soup …’
‘Is everyone home?’ Jake asks.
‘No,’ Coco says. ‘Honey, Cherry and Shay have gone up to London, so just me and the twins. It’s half-term, so at least Summer’s home! You should have warned us – we could have gathered the clans … we thought you were at that pop star’s place being groomed for stardom!’
‘Change of plan,’ Jake says. ‘And besides, I was just the tech guy!’
‘Our favourite tech guy,’ Paddy says easily. ‘And now we get to see you and meet Sasha, so it’s win–win, right? Apart from getting yourselves stranded, of course. You did the right thing calling us – two kids wandering around the countryside at night with no money … bad idea.’
‘We know,’ Jake says. ‘I’m sorry!’
The chat goes on around me as I dream and gaze out into the darkness, and then at last the van turns off the road and bumps along past trees strung with fairy lights and lanterns. It feels like we’ve stepped out of the real world for a moment into somewhere different, somewhere magical.
The van halts in front of a big Victorian house with an actual turret on one corner.
‘Welcome to Tanglewood,’ Paddy says as we get out, and the door bursts open, new people spilling out to greet us.
A woman with blonde hair bundled into a messy updo – Paddy’s wife, Charlotte – and the twins, Skye and Summer, welcome us with hugs and chatter, while a bouncy dog runs around at our feet. I’m almost sure I see a lone sheep peering at me from behind one of the outbuildings, but decide I must be hallucinating.
‘I made soup,’ Charlotte is saying. ‘Tomato … is that OK? And there’s freshly baked soda bread and cake leftover from teatime.’
‘Amazing,’ Jake says. ‘Thank you!’
‘What were you doing stranded in the Devonshire countryside at this time of night? In the rain too?’ asks the twin in leggings and an outsize pink fluffy jumper. Her blonde plaits are pinned up round her head, ballerina style – she must be the dancer, Summer.
‘You haven’t run away again, have you?’ the other twin asks. This one seems to be wearing a dress that looks like it’s made from a jumble-sale curtain printed with pots and pans, but nobody seems to think this is unusual. Skye, the twin obsessed with vintage and history. ‘I thought things were working out for you, Jake. Band on the way to fame and fortune, roadie to the stars and all that. What happened?’
‘My fault,’ I say. ‘I’m supposed to be the band’s lead singer, but I’ve been really unhappy the last few months. I have some weird kind of health issue. Things weren’t working out. I had to get away, and Jake came with me because … well, because I had no clue what I was doing on my own.’
‘Because I care about you,’ he says, his cheeks suddenly pink, and a little glow of happiness lights up inside me, in spite of all the chaos I’ve created. Jake cares.
‘Right,’ Charlotte says. ‘I take it you’ve let people know where you are? We won’t have the police landing on us?’
‘No, everyone knows we’re safe,’ Jake says.
Charlotte nods. ‘Well, let’s get you fed first … and then you can tell us all about it, and we’ll see what can be done.’
I manage half a bowl of soup – the lush, rich kind that definitely hasn’t come out of a tin.
‘So,’ Coco says. ‘Why has the lead singer of the Lost & Found band run away just when they’re on the edge of stardom? Jake told us you were in Devon – recording with Ked Wilder. That’s the chance of a lifetime for anyone interested in a music career, right? What went wrong?’
I sigh. How to mak
e them understand?
‘I overheard a conversation I shouldn’t have,’ I say softly. ‘Ked and Camille – she’s the voice coach – were talking about me, about how I wasn’t cut out to front a band. I heard every word and it was all true. I’m the weak link – the one who can’t quite deliver on star quality.’
Jake looks stricken. ‘That’s not true, Sasha,’ he says. ‘You’re amazing – you have a beautiful voice –’
‘I’m a liability,’ I interrupt. ‘I’ve been having these weird blanking-out episodes, blackouts … well, for ages now. They scare me, so I ignore them … pretend they’re not happening. Jake wants me to see a doctor, but I’m scared of what they might say. What if it’s something serious?’
‘What if it isn’t?’ Charlotte replies, eyes wide. ‘You can’t just ignore something like that! It could be easily fixable.’
I shake my head. ‘Not everything is,’ I say. ‘I’ve tried to hide it from the band, but I can’t, not any more. People have started to notice, and it’s getting worse. And it’s not just that … the truth is, I don’t want to be in the Lost & Found anyway. Fronting a band isn’t my dream – it feels more like a nightmare!’
‘But … why didn’t you tell them?’ Skye asks, baffled.
‘I didn’t realize what I was getting into at first. It was fun to start with, and then suddenly everything got serious. The festival, the radio, playing live – I was out of my depth, but I didn’t know how to say so. Nobody had a clue – not my friends, not even my parents. It took me a while to work it out – I thought it was just the usual butterflies before a performance, but it’s much more than that. I can’t do this, don’t want to do this. But how could I say so without ruining things for everyone? I’ve been lying awake at night worrying about it for weeks and weeks!’
‘Oh, Sasha!’ Skye says.
Sasha's Secret Page 15
