The Celeb Next Door

Praise for Hilary Freeman

‘A great read.’

Simon Lederman, Presenter,
BBC Radio London

‘The perfect choice for teenage girls (and their mums). Warm and witty, compelling and insightful.’

Sunday Express

‘Completely riveting from start to finish. Thoroughly recommended!’

Chicklish

‘The characters are believable and the narrative is pacy ... a good read.’

School Librarian

‘A really good read ... funny, yet realistic.’

Teen Titles

Hilary Freeman

Piccadilly Press • London

To my parents,
Michael and Vivien Freeman

First published in Great Britain in 2011
by Piccadilly Press Ltd,
5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR
www.piccadillypress.co.uk

Text copyright © Hilary Freeman, 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

The right of Hilary Freeman to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978 1 84812 084 6 (paperback)
eBook ISBN: 978 1 84812 186 7

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque Ltd,
Croydon, CR1 4PD
Cover design by Simon Davis
Cover illustrations by Susan Hellard

Hi!

I grew up in boring suburbia so, by the time I was a teenager, I longed for excitement, noise and colour. I found it in Camden Town. On Sundays, my friends and I would travel to Camden Market to buy vintage jeans, get henna tattoos and exchange friendship bracelets. Later, we started going to gigs in Camden and to the Camden Palace nightclub (now KOKO).

As soon as I got my first job in London, I knew exactly where I wanted to live – it had to be Camden. I rented a flat on the high street and fell in love with the area all over again – and I’m still here. You can be whoever you want to be in Camden – trendy, quirky, straight, or even a bit mad – nobody minds.

Camden Town Tales
is about a group of friends who all live on the same fictional street in Camden. There’s celebrity-obsessed Rosie, who’s not quite as sophisticated as she thinks; Vix, her more thoughtful best friend; and Sky, whose mum is an embarrassing hippy. Together, they hang out at the market, go to gigs, spot celebrities, fall in love and sometimes fall out with each other.

I hope the books will make you love Camden as much as I do!

Love,

I
can’t believe I’m here. In the VIP tent. On the friends and family guest list!

Regent’s Park has been transformed for the festival. There are two huge stages at either end of the green space, and stalls everywhere selling food, clothes and band merchandise. There are thousands of people here and the atmosphere is amazing. It’s like a giant, outdoor, all-day party
.

Max and I are just walking out of the tent to have a wander when I spot a familiar face. It’s Lisa, a girl from my year, and two of her equally bitchy mates, and they’re hanging around by the entrance, waiting to see who comes out. Lisa is not, and never has been, my friend. Until now, it seems
.

‘Rosie!’ she screams in excitement. ‘Oh my God, it’s good to see you! What are you doing here?’ She rushes over to my side, leaving her friends to trot after her. ‘Hey, did I see you just come out of the VIP tent? How come?’

‘Hey, Lisa.’ I beam at her and let her kiss me on the cheek. ‘I’m here because I know the guys in the band.’ I fiddle with my red wristband and try not to look too smug.‘Rufus Justice is my next-door neighbour. And,’ I nod towards Max, who is right next to me, holding my hand, ‘this is my boyfriend Max – Rufus’s brother.’

Lisa gives me exactly the reaction I am hoping for. Her eyes grow round and huge and, even though she’s at least three inches taller than me, I could swear that she’s looking up at me in awe. It’s a shame it’s the summer holidays. Lisa has such a big mouth that if it were term-time, the news of my celebrity romance would have spread round the school within a day
.

‘Oh right, cool,’ she says, and I can tell she’s itching to ask if I can get her a VIP pass too, but she doesn’t have the guts to ask
.

As amazing as it feels, I have to check myself. How did I, Rosie Buttery, suddenly become someone worth knowing?

I guess it all began one Sunday afternoon, a few weeks before the summer holidays …

‘G
uess what, Vix!’ My voice must be louder than I think because the people walking past me turn around to stare. ‘I have just spotted
the
most amazing celebrity in Costa Coffee. I had to go in to make sure. I swear it was him!’

I wait for Vix to ask me who, but she doesn’t, so I tell her anyway. ‘It was Adam Grigson, the guy from the vampire film. He smiled at me too.’ OK, he was probably aiming it at the woman standing behind me, but that’s just a technicality: he did smile in my general direction.

‘Cool, well done, Rosie,’ replies Vix, not very enthusiastically.

Now I can’t help wishing I’d phoned Sky first instead.

‘You’ve got to admit that it’s a pretty amazing spot, Vix. A fifty-pointer. And it puts me way in the lead.’

‘Sure,’Vix agrees.‘By the way, I forgot to mention that I spotted someone too. Earlier.’

‘Yeah? So why didn’t you call? Tell me … Go on …’

‘Didn’t seem that important. And I can’t remember her name …’

Young? Old? Fat? I need a bit more to go on.’

‘Oh you know. thingy …’ Vix sounds frustrated. ‘From that soap you like. The one with the big hair.’

‘Oh,
thingy
. Yeah, right. You mean Cheryl-Anne Taylor. You can’t have full points if you don’t know her name. I’ll give you … seven.’

‘Fine,’ says Vix. She laughs. ‘Whatever. You take it so seriously, Rosie, anyone would think you were competing in the Olympics, or something.’

Maybe I do take the game a bit too seriously, but I want my friends to play it properly. It’s called the Celebometer and I made it up on my way back from Camden Market one Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago. There are always so many actors and musicians and TV presenters in Camden Town that it seems a shame not to turn spotting them into a sport.

The rules are simple: if you spot somebody you recognise, you have to call or text at least one of your friends to record it. Points are awarded according to the
spotee’s level of fame, how fanciable they are and whether you manage to make eye contact or talk to them. I haven’t decided what the prize is. I think I’ll just make it up as I go along. I’m good at that.

But if Vix doesn’t feel like joining in today, I’m not going to force her.