Chocolate Box Girls: Sweet Honey
Read Chocolate Box Girls: Sweet Honey Online
Authors: Cathy Cassidy
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #General
Hiya …
Of all the sisters in the Chocolate Box
Girls series, Honey is the one who fascinates me the most. Is she mean, manipulative and
out of control or is there a lost, broken little girl hidden away behind the tough-kid
mask? The more I wrote, the more certain I was that it was the latter.
Sent to stay with her dad in Australia,
Honey is trying hard to turn over a new leaf. Her new life in the sun isn’t quite
what she expected, but it has some bright points: new friends Bennie and Tara, surf boy
Riley and cool, kind cafe boy Ash. But can Honey really trust her new friends? When
things begin to unravel and she finds herself in the middle of a nightmare, who can she
turn to?
Sweet Honey is a story of new beginnings, of
friendship, trust and falling in love … but also a story of cyber-bullying,
stalking and falling apart.
Sometimes, you have to let go of the past to
move on, to fall to pieces before you can begin putting yourself back together. And,
sometimes, a family can hide a secret that changes everything.
Sweet Honey has all the drama you’d
expect from the most outrageous Tanberry sister, but expect the unexpected
too … and enjoy!
STORY
Thanks …
To Liam, Cal and Cait for being awesome, and
to Mum, Joan, Andy, Lori and all my brilliant family for putting up with me! Thanks to
Helen, Sheena, Fiona, Mary-Jane, Maggi, Lal, Mel, Jessie, Jan and all my lovely friends
for always being there with support, chocolate and hugs.
Thanks to Ruth, my PA; Martyn, who does the
sums; Annie for her help with the tours; and of course to Darley and his angels for
being amazing. Hugs to Amanda, my ever-patient editor, and to Sara for the gorgeous
artwork. Thanks also to Adele, Tanya, Emily, Julia, Carolyn, Jess, Samantha, Helen and
all at Puffin.
Thanks to Mo, Kate, Sara and any Aussie
readers who helped refresh my memory and answer my questions about
Sydney … and to YOU, my fab readers far and wide, for your enthusiasm, loyalty
and support. You’re the best … end of story.
Dear Honey,
If you’re reading this note you
are probably at the departure gate or maybe actually up in the clouds already, on
the way to Australia. It’s just to say some of the things I couldn’t say
out loud. I didn’t want to cry, and I didn’t want us to argue. So here
goes.A. You may be the most annoying big
sister in the world, but I am going to miss you.B. I know it’s not forever but I
think you are making a BIG mistake. It is bad enough having a dad on the other side
of the planet without losing your sister too.C. Things won’t be the same
without you. (They will probably be a lot quieter, but I don’t care, I still
wish you weren’t going.)Your favourite Sister,
Coco
xxx
I smile and fold the note neatly, putting
it back into the pocket of my shoulder bag. My little sister is crazy, and I will
miss her too, but she knows as well as I do that my days at Tanglewood are over.
I’ve messed up one time too many. What can I say? Getting a friend to hack
into the school computer system to fake my grades and school reports was not my best
move, and getting caught and expelled kind of sealed the deal.
I needed a one-way ticket out of there,
and Dad stepped up to the mark and provided me with one – a ticket to Australia, a
new start, a way out of the mess my life has been lately. Who wouldn’t have
said yes?
It takes twenty-three hours to fly from
London Heathrow to Sydney, and that is a very long time to be stuck in cattle-class
on a plane. I eat the weird, pre-packed dinner on a tray and ask for a glass of wine
to go with it, but the stewardess just rolls her eyes and hands me an orange juice.
Everything tastes of sawdust anyway, so I don’t much care. We stop off in
Singapore for the plane to refuel, but apart from a brief walk around the airport I
don’t get to actually see anything of the place. And then we’re back on
the plane and the other passengers yawn and tip their seats back and huddle down
under thin fleece blankets with funny little eye-masks on, and the lights go down on
life as I know it.
I am too excited to sleep. Australia –
land of sunshine, surf, opportunities! I take out a pocket sketchbook and doodle
pictures of myself flying through the stars, wearing a sundress and feathered wings
and my vintage high-heeled boots.
I put on my headphones and watch two
movies in a row; then I flick on my overhead light and read two magazines. Like I
said, it’s a long flight. I go to the bathroom and walk up and down the aisle
for exercise a few times like they tell you to do on long-haul flights, but the
eye-rolly stewardess gives me a very sour look, so I sit down again and try to be
patient.
Maybe I actually do fall asleep, for a
minute or two at least, because the next thing I know, the lights snap on again and
the sky outside is pink with the promise of dawn. It’s almost morning, Sydney
time. The stewardess hands me a sawdust-flavoured, shrink-wrapped breakfast but I am
so excited I can’t eat a thing, and then we are buckling up the seat belts
ready for landing. Finally.
When I walk out on to those aeroplane
steps and take my first ever look at a Sydney daybreak, I am so brimful of happiness
I think I might burst.
Dad is waiting for me at Arrivals,
tanned and smiling, effortlessly cool in a grey linen suit. He has to be forty,
easily, but he doesn’t look it. As always, he draws a few admiring glances
from women of a certain age, but Dad’s grin is all for me. I run towards him,
pulling my wheely suitcase behind me, and he scoops me up in a big bear hug,
laughing.
‘How’s my best girl?’
he asks, and I am so happy I could burst. I’ve waited a very long time to hear
those words.
‘Breakfast?’ he suggests,
swinging up my heavy suitcase as if it weighs nothing. ‘Those flights are a
killer and plane food is the pits. Let’s get you something decent!’
Having eaten almost nothing on the
plane, I am suddenly starving. I follow Dad into the leafy enclosure of an upmarket
airport restaurant, and he orders for both of us, something fancy with poached eggs
and hollandaise sauce, freshly squeezed orange juice, croissants, jam.
‘So,’ he says, leaning back
as the waitress hurries off with our order. ‘Here we go. A new start in
Australia! What’s going on, Honey Tanberry?’
I raise my chin. I have messed up, I
know it. I have made so many mistakes it’s hard to know where to begin. It
started with me skipping school, telling lies, staying out all night with a
fairground boy called Kes and his unsuitable friends. Mum was majorly upset about
that, and I was glad. Yes, Kes was older than me; yes, he was trouble. So what? I
happen to like trouble.
I am good at it too. You could say I
have trouble down to a fine art. I lied, I cheated, I stopped studying. Then came
the bit I mentioned, about persuading a friend to hack the school computer system
and ‘adjust’ my grades. We got found out. I ended up with social
services on my case, with Mum crying and my sisters yelling and my stupid stepdad
Paddy raking a hand through his hair and looking at me sadly as if I was the one who
pulled our happy family to bits, and not him.
Yeah, well, we all know that isn’t
how it happened.
It doesn’t matter because in the
end I’ve got what I wanted – the fresh start to beat them all. A new life,
with Dad, in Australia.
I have done my research. I know that
Australia is beautiful, sunshiny, unspoilt. It’s the perfect place for new
beginnings. It’s also the place where Britain once shipped its convicts, long
ago.
I reckon I will fit right in.
‘I take it you were struggling,
living with your mum?’ Dad says, sipping a latte. ‘Not all happy
families, huh?’
‘We haven’t been a family
for ages,’ I tell him flatly. ‘Not since you left.’
Dad just laughs, but it’s true. He
knows I don’t blame him – it’s what happened afterwards that did the
damage.
When Dad left, that whole family thing
slipped through our fingers and shattered like glass. We tried to pick up the
pieces, put them together again, but we just couldn’t. The only one who could
have done it was Dad, and before he got the chance Paddy pitched up with his
hateful, boyfriend-stealing daughter Cherry and that was that. Dad took a transfer
out to Australia and my dream that he’d come back to us some day bit the dust
big style. One broken family, no longer any hope for repairs.
‘Life moves on,’ Dad says
lightly. ‘I know I couldn’t always be there for you. I can see
you’ve found it tough, these last few years.’
‘Just a bit.’
It’s not like I didn’t try
my best – I threw confetti at the wedding, smiled at Paddy across the breakfast
table, resisted the urge to slap Cherry’s lying, cheating face. I pretended it
was all OK, but it wasn’t, and sooner or later I knew the game of let’s
pretend would fall apart.
It all blew up, and things were looking
pretty bad – then Dad chucked me a lifeline and here I am, shipped out to Australia,
a modern-day convict girl. I will be attending a private school that sounds like a
cross between bad-girl boot camp and hippy-dippy wholemeal heaven, with counselling
and one-to-one support to help me pass a handful of exams after all.
‘Things will be better
here,’ Dad says. ‘A fresh start. You’re my girl, Honey – I know
you can make a go of it, turn things around. Right?’
‘Right!’ I agree.
Well, maybe.
I am just happy to be here, with a clean
slate and a last, last chance to get my life on track. I am determined to make it
work. Call me cynical, but sometimes it is easier to walk away from a messed-up life
than to stick around and patch things up. It doesn’t mean I don’t love
my mum and sisters – I do. I just can’t be a part of the new-look family
they’ve put together.
Fresh starts … Dad has always
been good at those, and I plan to be too.
‘You’re a lot like me, you
know, Honey,’ Dad tells me between mouthfuls of breakfast. ‘I was a bit
of a rebel in my time. I had a few ups and downs, a few changes of school before I
settled. We’re alike, you and I.’
I smile. I want to be like Dad – who
wouldn’t? He is dramatic, confident, charismatic. He has this magic about him
– when he looks at you, you feel like you’re the only person in the whole wide
world. You feel special, chosen, golden.
I felt this way all the time when I was
a kid – I was Dad’s favourite. Then he left, and everything turned to dust.
Without Dad, everything at Tanglewood was cold and empty and hollow.
It will be different here.
Dad is telling me about the house, the
pool, the nearby beach. He is explaining how Sydney is the most beautiful city he
knows, how he will help me explore it, how I will learn to love it too.
I almost miss it when Dad mentions, ever
so casually, that it won’t be just me and him in the fancy beachside bungalow
with the outdoor pool. It will be me, him and his girlfriend, Emma. My ears buzz and
for a moment everything seems foggy, cold. It could be jet lag, but I don’t
think so. Through the fog, Dad’s words worm themselves into my brain.
‘Emma’s lovely,’ he
says carelessly. ‘You’ll get along great!’
Emma. The name rings a bell, but I think
it’s just the situation that’s familiar. Disappointment curdles in my
belly, sharp and sour. I have spent years without my dad, and I really, really
don’t want to share him now.
It looks as if I have flown halfway
round the world to escape an annoying stepdad, only to have acquired some kind of
stepmum.
That was never part of the plan.
