‘I’d love to. Thanks. Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m not like our dad. I mean it. I’d really like to spend some time getting to know you better. Like I said, I’ve always wanted a sister. There was only me and Mum. Hey, maybe you could bring your other sisters too.’
‘Oh,’ I say, and my expression must give my thoughts away.
‘Oh dear. They don’t know you’re here, do they?’
I look down, sheepish. ‘No. I haven’t told anyone in my family that I’ve met Dad. Only my best friends, Vix and Rosie know. My sisters, Ocean and Grass – I know, we’ve all got bad names – aren’t exactly Dad’s biggest fans. My mum doesn’t even like talking about him.’
‘Hmm. Well, maybe you could bring your friends instead some time.’
‘Cool. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.’
‘But Sky, you really should talk to your mum about this. You need to tell her you’ve met your dad – and me. Really. It’s not good to have such a big secret. It will eat away at you.’
I nod. ‘I know.’
‘If you want to talk about it, or just need a friendly ear, you can call me, anytime. OK?’
‘OK. Thank you.’
‘No problem.’ She gets up from the table. ‘Right, I’d better get you back or your mum will be sending out a search party. Get your coat and say goodbye to Dad. I’ll walk you home.’
osie and Vix couldn’t believe it when I told them how I went to the gig to see my dad and came home a few hours later with a sister I didn’t know I had. It does sound crazy when you put it like that. And that’s not all. When Katie walked me home that night, she seemed surprised and said she recognised my street. It turns out she knows some of the people who live in the art collective – the one that Rosie sneaked into with Rufus Justice once. Katie’s even been to a party there and stayed the night. Just think, I was tucked up in bed that night, totally unaware that my own sister was sleeping just a few doors away. It blows my mind.
My friends both said they were really keen to meet Katie as soon as they can, especially when they found out she DJs. I think they might even be a little jealous. Katie has been true to her word, keeping in touch, making me her Facebook friend and sending me silly texts. I went round to her flat yesterday for lunch and met her flatmates. Her artwork is amazing: huge canvasses with incredible colours and thick paint spattered everywhere. Next week, she’s going to give me a DJing lesson on her decks. I can’t wait.
But there’s something I have to do first. Something horrible and scary, but equally unavoidable. I have to tell Mum the truth. I’ve been putting it off for too long, scared of what will happen, of how she’ll react. Most of all, I don’t want to hurt her. But, just as Katie warned, it’s beginning to eat away at me, making me feel less and less close to my family, making it impossible for me to be myself around any of them. I’m short with them and snappy, and they think it’s because I’m still upset about Rich. It’s not: it’s because I feel guilty. So, whatever happens, even if Mum never speaks to me again, or throws me out on the street, or confiscates my iPod, at least I’ll have got it off my chest.
I’ve asked if I can speak to her alone tonight, after dinner. We’re in her bedroom, sitting on her bed. I’ve always liked this room, with its bright green Indian throw and gold scatter cushions, and incense burning on the dresser. I feel comfortable in here, calm, relaxed.
‘I’ve been so worried about you lately, Sky,’ Mum says. ‘I’m so pleased you’ve finally decided to talk to me.’
Her sweetness makes me feel even more guilty about what I’m planning to tell her. I look down at my hands, weave my fingers in and out of each other. ‘I don’t know how to say this. I don’t know where to begin.’
‘What is it, love? Whatever it is, I’m sure I can help.’
‘It isn’t . . . You won’t . . . I did something that I know you didn’t want me to do . . . I found Dad.’
She flinches, as if someone has slapped her. ‘How? When?’
‘Through the internet. A few weeks ago.’
She can’t look at me. ‘When you say found, do you mean tracked down, or actually met?’
‘Um . . .’ I suppose I need to tell her everything now. No point leaving out any details to soften it – apart from the bit about Reg, which will only worry her. ‘Both.’
‘Right,’ she says. ‘Right. When?’
‘About a month ago.’
‘I see. And how did you find him?’
‘With a bit of detective work, on the internet, mainly.’
In spite of herself, she seems amused. ‘No, I meant, how did he seem to you? Is he well?’
‘Um . . .’ I’m torn between not wanting to hurt Mum and not wanting to be disloyal to Dad. ‘He’s OK. Actually, he looks old and grey and fat, like he doesn’t look after himself properly, if that makes you feel any better.’
‘I don’t wish him any ill, whatever you think. So what has he been doing?’
‘This and that,’ I say, echoing his own words. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve learned so little. ‘Drifting around, I think.’
‘I see. And have you seen him just the once? Or have you kept in touch?’
‘Sort of. I’ve seen him a couple of times, at gigs. But he doesn’t really seem to want to spend much time with me.’ It’s hard to admit that she was right, hard to admit to myself that Dad isn’t that interested in getting to know me again. It hurts.
Mum moves up closer to me and gives me a hug. She strokes my hair and, hard as it must be for her, smiles at me, a brave little smile. I was expecting her to be angrier – it might be easier if she were – but she just seems sad. And it strikes me now that, if I strip away my excitement at the adventures I’ve had, underneath I feel sad too.
I pull away. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘Not sorry I found Dad, but sorry if I’ve upset you.’
‘You don’t have to be sorry. I think I knew you would, eventually. I was hoping you would wait until you were older. I was only trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I guess you’re growing up faster than I’d like.’
I can’t stop now. ‘There’s something else.’ I try to meet her eyes, but she’s staring across the room, focusing on the paintwork. ‘I’ve met my sister Katie too.’
‘Oh?’ She sounds far more surprised about this than about Dad. Or maybe it’s her turn to feel guilty; she knows she’s never told me about Katie.
‘She was at Dad’s gig. He introduced me to her. She only lives up the road, in Holloway. She’s a student here. Coincidence, huh?’
‘Yes, I suppose it is.’
‘Katie’s really nice. We get on really well. You’d like her, honest.’
‘I’m sure she is. No reason why she shouldn’t be. I have no truck with her.’
‘Why didn’t you ever mention her, then?’
‘I’m sorry. Maybe I should have. But there didn’t seem any point, not when your dad wasn’t in contact with any of us. I haven’t heard about her since she was a baby.’
‘That makes sense, I guess.’ I hesitate, not sure how to end my confession. ‘So, Mum, that’s all of it. Are you going to punish me? Ground me? Because you can’t stop me seeing Dad or Katie. I’ll run away if you do.’
She shakes her head. ‘Punish you? Now what would be the point of that? Of course I’m not happy with the way you’ve gone about things, but I understand why you needed to do it. And I can’t deny you a relationship with your father, or your half-sister, if you want one. But no more sneaking around or lying. No more going behind my back. No more secrets. From now on, you have to be honest with me.’
‘Really?’ I’m going to get off scot-free? She’s not even going to try to stop me meeting them? ‘I promise, Mum.’ Now it’s my turn to hug her. Despite her hippy-dippy ways and her horrible vegetarian concoctions and her weird taste in music, she really is all right, my mum. I’m lucky, I guess.
‘Just understand this, Sky,’ she says, her voice muffled by my hair. ‘
I do not want to see your dad. He’s not to come round here. OK?’
I can’t imagine a situation when that could ever happen. ‘Yes, of course. What about Ocean and Grass? Should I tell them?’
‘I don’t know. Let’s think about it. Play it by ear. Deal?’
‘Deal.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ I say, as I climb off her bed. ‘I wish I’d told you weeks ago.’
verybody put your hands in the air!’
Rosie takes one of my arms, and Vix the other, and we wave them about in time to the music, laughing at each other, having a fantastic time. It’s Saturday night and we’re on the dancefloor at the Electric Ballroom, just by Camden Town tube – an indoor market during the day, and a music venue at night. I’m wearing my newish sparkly blue top, a short black skirt and my highest platforms, and everyone has told me I look really good. For once, I haven’t contradicted them. I’ve even put my nose stud back in for the night. Just to see how I like it.
We’re here for an under-eighteens club night and Lady Luscious (aka my sister Katie) is DJing. Practically everybody I know is in the room: my friends, Ocean, people from school, even Rich. He just looked over and smiled at me. I pretended I hadn’t noticed. It’s cruel, I know, but satisfying. And no worse than the way he’s treated me. He only wants anything to do with me again because he’s heard I know the DJ, so suddenly I’m worth knowing. That, and (ha ha) things didn’t last with Donna.
Now that I’ve had six weeks to think about it, I can see that our break-up wasn’t entirely his fault: I know I must have been a pain to be around when I was absolutely fixating on my nose, but maybe if he’d been just a tiny bit more understanding and sensitive, it would have helped. Mum has this theory that my feelings for Rich were really about filling the gap left by Dad. I told her that sounds very airy fairy, and weird, but between you and me, maybe she’s right.
All I know is that I haven’t missed him half as much as I thought I would. I realise that it was more the idea of him that I was in love with, the person I wanted him to be, rather than the immature guy he is. I don’t need a boyfriend, not one who doesn’t make me happy. Anyway, Vix and Rosie are having French exchange students to stay for a month soon. They don’t know who they’re getting yet, but they’ve told me that some of them will be boys, and we all know that French boys are hot. Much hotter than Rich. So you never know . . .
I haven’t seen Dad since the gig at the Blues Kitchen, but that’s OK. He actually picked up the phone when I rang him the other day, and we had a little chat. He’s promised that we’ll have a coffee some time and he even gave me an address in Clapham (I’m not sure if it’s where he lives, or just a friend’s) so I could send him a more up-to-date picture of me. I decided to give him the one Vix took of me on the day of the intervention. (I did toy with the idea of sending one of the ‘after my operation’ pics, just as a joke, but nobody else thought it was funny.) I’ve been keeping track of The River Runners online, so I know he’s playing in Camden again soon, and that I’ll definitely see him then.
Not having a real father-daughter relationship, like the one I imagined, would hurt more if it weren’t for Katie. We’ve seen quite a bit of each other the past few weeks, and we’re really close now. I’ve had a couple of DJing lessons and she’s said that she might even let me have a go on her decks later tonight – if I’m feeling brave enough and promise not to break them. She’s also been helping me with my coursework and teaching me about art. Her favourite artist is this Mexican woman called Frieda Kahlo, who (mainly) painted portraits of herself in the nineteen-twenties and thirties. She was incredibly striking, with mad bushy eyebrows that met in the middle (and a bit of a moustache, but maybe they didn’t have bleach in those days). Katie thinks she’s beautiful, in her own way, much more beautiful than girls like Donna, and I’m beginning to see what she means.
Mum and I talked things over, again, and decided it was only fair to tell Ocean and Grass about Katie. She came round for tea last weekend. She brought chocolate cake. Everyone likes her, although I think Ocean is finding it difficult to adjust to not being my only big sister any more.
‘Everybody in the house, this is a shout out to someone special. Sky – this one’s for you!’
Oh my God! Katie has just dedicated a song to me: she’s playing the latest Bizzie Trip track. She waves at me from the DJ booth and I wave back, with the biggest grin on my face. I haven’t stopped smiling all night. My feet hurt and I’m sweaty, and God knows how shiny my face is, but I don’t mind. Honestly. I’m dancing with my two best friends, totally unselfconsciously, not caring what anyone else thinks. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of my nose, the little jewelled stud glinting in rhythm with the club lights. And do you know what? Tonight, at least, I think it’s OK. I can live with it.
hanks to Brenda Gardner, Anne Clark, Andrea Reece, Melissa Hyder, Natasha Barnden, and everyone at Piccadilly Press for publishing this book.
Many thanks to Stephanie Thwaites and Catherine Saunders at Curtis Brown, and thank you and hello to my new agent, Catherine Pellegrino.
A huge thank you to the real life Dot Fraser of Dot’s Music Shop for allowing me to feature a fictionalised version of her in the book.
Thanks to all my Facebook friends for help with band and character names (and for allowing me to vent), notably Matthew McCarthy who came up with the winner, The River Runners.
Love and hugs to all my family and friends for your support, especially my parents, Steve Somerset, Claire Fry, Judy Corre, Rachel Baird, Jax Donnellan, Diane Messidoro, Janet Smith and Luisa Plaja of Chicklish.
Thanks to Laura D at Waterstone’s.
Merci to everyone at the Citea Nice Magnan, where much of this book was written (in room 616) – particularly to Marlene, Julie and Mickael. Still working on that French translation for you!
Finally, thanks to the rioters of Camden Town for not destroying any landmarks featured in this series.
And RIP Amy Winehouse.
Rosie has lived in Paradise Avenue, Camden Town all her life. As well as the market to hang out at and gigs to go to, there are celebrities to spot, and TV studios where she and her best friends Sky and Vix might get noticed.
When Rosie finds out that the drummer from a chart-topping group is moving into the house next door, she makes it her mission to befriend him. But things don’t turn out quite the way she expects . . .
Look out for the third fabulous book in the Camden Town Tales series!
Life becomes more Ooh la la when French exchange students come to stay with Vix and Rosie. Will they love Camden as much as the girls? Or will there be more than just cultures clashing?
Hilary Freeman, Stuck on Me
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