Hopelessly Devoted to Holden Finn (11 page)

The girls nodded enthusiastically while the band looked on, every inch professional courtesy and indulgent smiles. They’d done this a million times before and it showed.

Bonnie suddenly wondered how they’d react to the question burning to escape her lips, the one that would be directed to a particular band member, and would, considering the circumstances, be highly inappropriate.

***

The interview had gone very well, with Paige and Annabel asking the same sorts of questions expected from the majority of Every Which Way fans: how did you get together (Nick had stumbled into the wrong audition) what’s your favourite food (a mental note to make sure that one jar of peanut butter a week was sent to Holden’s agent to pass on), who snores the loudest (Brad, by a mile). The answers had been given with a great deal of humorous banter, and the Q&A was then followed by another set of songs performed live by them. Bonnie was struck by how good they sounded together. She had always assumed that the snobbish belief held by Henri and countless others about ‘manufactured’ bands not being able to sing at all, and their wailing only made palatable by studio tinkering was true. But Every Which Way could
really
sing. And their harmonies were so achingly beautiful that they made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Once the set was over and the DJ put on his last record, there was a goodbye piece from the DJ to wrap up.

‘So, girls… you’ve enjoyed your day?’

‘Oh yes!’ Paige and Annabel squeaked almost in unison.

‘There’s one more surprise for you,’ Brad cut in with a broad smile crinkling his ice-blue eyes. ‘We thought you might like VIP tickets to the first date on our sell-out arena tour next week.’

Raveena handed him a pile of what looked like slips of card and laminated passes and he gave one of each to the girls.

Bonnie thought that Paige might pass out, as she seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, and Annabel looked up at Brad with such love in her eyes there was a serious danger she was going to propose to him on-air.

‘Those mean that you can come backstage afterwards, wherever you like. And make sure you come and say hi to us,’ Holden said.

‘Oh. My. God!’ Annabel squealed. ‘Thank you so much!’

Holden’s gaze drifted over to Bonnie, who was sitting in the corner of the tiny studio, almost as breathless as Paige and Annabel. He turned to Raveena.

‘Can we fix up another pass for Paige’s lovely mum?’ he asked with a winning smile.

Raveena had been the very epitome of professional charm and composure all afternoon, but at this request looked distinctly flustered. ‘I’m sure we can,’ she replied, looking about as unsure of whether they could as it was possible to look.

‘There’s really no need to worry about me,’ Bonnie said quietly, her heart banging against her ribs.

‘I insist,’ Holden said. ‘We’d love you to come with the girls. Besides,’ he added with a chuckle, ‘they do need someone to drive them there.’

Bonnie felt herself blush deeply. Perhaps it was something in the warmth of the gaze he held her in, or the fact that he had insisted she come, as if it mattered to him.

‘Thank you,’ she said, not knowing what else to say.

The DJ cut across their exchange. ‘What a fantastic show we’ve had today. I’d like to thank all our guests: Brad, Holden, Jay and Nick, otherwise known as Every Which Way, and our competition winners Paige and Amelia…’

‘Annabel!’ Paige called over, but the DJ appeared not to hear as the band members shared a grin at the mistake.

Bonnie didn’t hear the rest of his spiel. She was too busy being shell-shocked at the strange turn of events the day had thrown at her.

***

Feeling vaguely though she was living some sort of surreal dream, Bonnie flagged a cab and watched the girls climb in before clambering after them and giving instructions for the train station. She had just been in the presence of Holden Finn. In her mind, even now, the memory of his image was being embellished; somehow his skin was more perfect, his hair more glossy, his eyes brighter and more playfully sexy. She found herself wondering whether it was possible to airbrush people in real life, because if it was, he must have had it done. He had touched her hand. He gave her VIP tickets and told her that he would
very much
like to see her backstage. Things like this didn’t happen to Bonnie Cartwright. She opened her bag and stared at the slips of card, their foil embossing glinting as they caught the daylight.

The car roared into life, pulled cautiously from the kerb and began its stop-start journey through the London congestion back to Euston for their train.

Annabel giggled as she nudged Paige. ‘Holden so totally fancied your mum,’ she whispered.

Paige looked horrified. ‘He did not!’

‘He did,’ she goaded. ‘That’s why he got an extra ticket for her and everything.’

‘He was just being nice,’ Paige pouted. ‘Coz he is really nice. He’s, like, the nicest one in the band.’

‘He kept looking at her and smiling like crazy when she said anything,’ Annabel insisted. ‘He definitely liked her.’

‘Yeah, he liked her like he thought she was a nice woman.’

‘No, he
really liked
her.’

Paige grimaced. ‘That’s so gross. She’s, like, loads older than him.’

‘She doesn’t look old, though,’ Annabel reasoned.

Paige seemed to ponder this for a moment. ‘I don’t suppose,’ she conceded.

‘Ha ha,’ Annabel giggled, ‘can you imagine if Holden Finn was your new dad!’

‘Oh my frickin’ God, that’s so disgusting!’

Annabel snorted and Bonnie looked at them with a vague smile.

‘What on earth are you two laughing about?’ she asked.

‘Nothing, Mum,’ Paige scowled. ‘Annabel is being an idiot.’

Six

‘Where’s Max this morning?’ Bonnie asked the gangly, spotty youth who knocked at the back door of the shop wearing overalls bearing the badge
Delaney’s Fresh Produce
.

The youth gave a surly shrug. ‘He’s having a day off. Said I could open up the warehouse and go on delivery for a change.’

‘But Max never has days off,’ Bonnie said, forgetting, momentarily, to step back and let the boy into the stockroom.

The boy shrugged again. ‘Everyone has days off.’

‘Not Max, at least, hardly ever and he usually tells us beforehand.’

‘Look, shall I go and get the stock in or what?’

Bonnie nodded uncertainly. ‘So where is he?’ she called after the youth, who was making his way to a blue transit van parked on double yellows in the entryway behind the shop.

‘Off somewhere with his new woman,’ he called back.

Bonnie left the door open and went back into the main stockroom. Linda was dragging a tray of kiwi fruit from a fridge.

‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘Not still mooning over that concert you’ve been invited to at the weekend?’

‘Max is having a day off,’ Bonnie said.

Linda smiled with relief. Bonnie had talked of little except the concert since she had arrived in that Monday morning and Linda was dangerously close to locking her in a fridge until she shut up. ‘Everyone has days off, even Max.’

‘Hardly ever.’

‘Don’t be daft. Anyway, what’s the big deal? He’ll be back in tomorrow, won’t he?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bonnie’s attention was caught by the boy dropping a sack of carrots onto the floor in the middle of the stockroom, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. It seemed strange, this new and uncommunicative creature bringing their supplies in instead of Max’s usual jovial presence. It wasn’t right, somehow.

Linda whistled to the lad as he was leaving to get more bags, ‘Oi, Slim Jim… is Max back tomorrow?’

‘How should I know?’ he asked sullenly. ‘He’s the boss, isn’t he?’ He broke into a sly grin. ‘And if I was having it off with his missus, I’d be taking days off as well.’

Before either of them had a chance to reply, he was back through the door again. Bonnie looked at Linda with a grimace. ‘Ugh, he’s vile. I can’t believe Max would let him go out to customers.’

‘They do say love makes you do strange things,’ Linda replied nonchalantly as she disappeared into the shop with the kiwis.

He’s in love?
The idea, as logical as it was, had never occurred to Bonnie. It made her feel strangely empty. Ridiculous, of course, she told herself, to even care. Max had been a single man and she had gone out of her way to make it clear that they could never be more than friends and that was what she firmly believed. Why should she begrudge his relationship with Sarah taking a more serious turn if she made him happy? Wasn’t that what friends wanted for each other – happiness?

‘They’ll be getting engaged soon, you mark my words.’ Linda’s voice came from behind her, the note of glee in it just a little too grating for Bonnie’s nerves. It seemed to say:
I told you so
.

‘It’s a bit soon for that sort of thing,’ Bonnie replied irritably.

‘He’s at the settling down age,’ Linda said carelessly as she went back into the fridge. She emerged a moment later with a box of deep purple plums. ‘And she looks like a good breeding age to me too. They’ll be thinking about it, no doubt.’

‘You’re disgusting,’ Bonnie tried to laugh; ‘you bring everything back to breeding.’

‘Isn’t that what it’s all about, though?’ Linda fired back as she took the plums into the main shop.

Bonnie waited for her to come back through before picking up the discussion again. ‘It’s about love, surely?’

‘Not when you’re pushing thirty and you don’t have a family it’s not.’

‘That’s so old fashioned.’

‘Max is old fashioned. In the nicest possible way, of course.’ Linda stood with her hands on her hips and held Bonnie in a steady gaze. ‘He wants to settle down, you can see it a mile off.’ She raised her eyebrows at Bonnie. ‘And I know you think I’m talking out of my arse, but I still say he wanted to settle down with you.’ She shuffled off to the fridge again. ‘It’s not my fault you wouldn’t have him and now it’s too late.’

‘Too late?’ Bonnie asked as Linda emerged from the fridge again, this time staggering under the weight of a tray of mangoes. Bonnie lowered her voice, suddenly reminded that they were not alone by the thud of another sack of root vegetables being dropped onto the floor. ‘What does that mean…
too late
?’

Linda halted for a moment and eyed her practically. ‘You want him now you can’t have him.’

Bonnie’s mouth dropped open. Linda made her way out to the shop floor. Bonnie was just about to shout an outraged reply when Fred appeared from the toilet at the back, paper under his arm and still zipping up his flies.

‘What are you staring at?’ he snapped at Bonnie. ‘You gone daft or something from all your gallivanting with pop stars? You may be rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous now, but we still have a shop to stock!’ With that, he dropped his newspaper onto a bench and marched out into the shop to count the float for the till.

‘You’d better take that stupid look off your face,’ Linda said as she came back through, adjusting her tabard, ‘or her royal Fredness in there will blow a fuse.’

Bonnie let her shoulders slump. She had come to work so full of life and excitement for good things to come, but now she felt like a deflated balloon. Linda stopped and touched her arm, her tone softer now.

‘Don’t be sad, Bon. You’re gorgeous and there are plenty of men out there that would be happy to have you even look in their direction.’

Bonnie sniffed and tried to smile. ‘How come you always know the right thing to say?’

‘It comes from twenty years of being married to John. You can always get another tenner from his wallet if you know the right things to say…’ she winked at Bonnie. ‘Or the right things to
do
…’

Bonnie couldn’t help but laugh as Linda went back to the fridges with a naughty grin. The thud of another sack of spuds hitting the ground made her spin round. She fired a hate-filled glare at the back of the delivery usurper and hoped that good old-fashioned, laugh-a-minute Max would be back tomorrow.

***

Dear Holden

It was amazing to finally meet you. Maybe I’m seriously deluded here, but I felt like there was something in your eyes when you looked at me, like some kind of chemistry between us. I know it sounds crazy and it would obviously never work, even if there was. But it was nice, you know, just to think that there might be. I can’t wait to see you at the concert this weekend. You’ll be busy, surrounded by tour people and fans and hangers-on, I know that, but I wonder, will that spark be there again when you look at me? I’m being daft, you won’t even remember who I am. See you there anyway.

Bonnie (In case you don’t remember, I’m the one who is not Scottish and not a Bonnie Tyler fan).

Bonnie gulped down the last of her lukewarm tea. She had just ripped up the page as Linda walked in for her break.

‘What are you up to?’ she asked, peering over at the now blank writing pad.

‘Nothing,’ Bonnie said quickly, shoving the pad in her handbag and taking the discarded page to the bin. ‘Just doing some sums to figure out if I can pay the mortgage this month.’

‘If you can afford to do that on posh paper, Fred must be paying you more than he pays me,’ Linda laughed.

Bonnie smiled as she took her cup to the sink. ‘Yeah, secretly I’m rolling in it. I only do this job for the company.’

‘Bloody hell! I’ll go and call the men in the loony van to come and collect you.’

Bonnie tipped her rinsed mug upside down on the draining board and gave Linda a grin.

‘Don’t let Fred hear you say that,’ Linda added, as Bonnie left the kitchen to go back to work, ‘he’ll think he can stop paying you.’

***

Max turned up the next morning, but Bonnie couldn’t help the absurd sense of irritation at the way his face lit up every time he mentioned Sarah’s name. And if she had to hear one more time how brilliant Sarah’s paintings were, or what a good cook she was, or how much fun they’d had at the cinema, she felt certain that she would
clobber Max around the head with the first prize winning marrow she could lay her hands on.