Whatever Love Is (13 page)

She glanced at Ned for support but he was too busy helping Alice adjust the strap on her top.

‘I’m sorry,’ James said at once. ‘I’m just stressed out and nervous.’

‘Relax, man,’ Jon said, slapping him on the back. ‘You’ll be fine. Pretend it’s just like any other gig.’

‘Sure.’ James smiled. ‘No sweat. So you’ll do the photos, Frankie, yeah?’

‘OK,’ she agreed. At least Lulu would be happy; she might even manage to get her into a shot with James. ‘I’ll do what I can.’

As she walked back out into the rain, she couldn’t help wondering just what it really was that was stressing James out. Because she was pretty certain that it wasn’t anything to do
with the band.

‘Hey!’ James shouted after her, as she walked away. ‘You’re supposed to be taking pictures of us.’

‘You want random reportage,’ Frankie retorted. ‘That’s what you’re getting. I’ll take you when you’re not expecting it.’

‘She has a point,’ Jon said. ‘OK, everyone, final tuning! We’ve only got twenty minutes to go.’

‘Hey, look at that one – isn’t he just to die for?’

Lulu peered over Frankie’s shoulder as she scrolled through the twenty photos she had taken so far through a gap in the back of the tent as the band got ready – Jon play-punching
Nick and yelling at him to stay deadpan; Ned frowning in concentration as he tuned his guitar; Henry yawning and looking bored, a bottle of water in one hand; Alice adjusting her false eyelashes
(Frankie hadn’t been able to resist catching her when she was pulling a very unflattering face in the mirror) and – the shot that had reduced Lulu to a weak-kneed wreck – James
gelling his hair and flexing his shoulders while smiling that slow, languid smile that even Frankie had to admit had a film-star quality about it.

‘And you’re sure there’s no one on the scene,’ Lulu asked, raising her voice above the applause for the act leaving the stage.

Frankie shrugged. ‘No one that he’s letting on about anyway,’ she replied, suddenly wondering if he was acting so uncharacteristically because of girlfriend trouble.
‘Hey, look, they’re going on stage now. I guess I’d better get closer and start snapping.’

The rain had lessened to a slow drizzle and a glimmer of sunlight was peeking through the mounds of grey clouds, casting light on wet umbrellas. Encouraged by the improvement in the weather,
more people were drifting towards the stage as, to a ripple of applause, the band struck up the first number.

Jon was good, Frankie couldn’t deny that. His rapping was a sort of gangsta rap but with a political theme – the lyrics were about justice and the underdog, prejudice and tyranny and
exploitation, but it was his street dancing that had the crowd on their feet, clapping and cheering at his locking, krumping and popping, the way his body flowed from one move to another without
pause. It was clear that he was the star: James was a cool and highly professional drummer and Henry’s keyboard playing was great – he really did manage to surprise her – but the
girls were merely eye candy and Ned, well, Frankie felt embarrassed for him, he seemed so out of place. As the act progressed, Frankie noticed a camera crew from
East Today
had paused and
were training their lens on the stage.

‘The black guy – he’s good,’ she heard one of the men remark. ‘Stick with this one for a bit, Carl.’

When Jon started his comedy routine, Frankie focused her lens on Nick. Her heart went out to him – he was trying so hard to respond to Jon’s set-up lines, but his eyes kept going to
Mia who at that point was leaning provocatively against the keyboard, giving Henry sidelong glances and letting her fingers run across his back. It was, of course, all part of the act but somehow
it seemed to Frankie that Mia enjoyed Nick’s obvious discomfort and jealousy.

As the band launched into their final number, the heavens opened again. Rain poured down and a flash of lightning lit up the surrounding area. Frankie followed the TV crew’s example and
edged closer to the stage where the overhang from the roof offered at least a little protection for her lens. She switched the setting so that she could take a succession of shots one after the
other and capture the action.

It was a good thing she had, she thought two minutes later; she was so stunned by what she saw that she was sure she would have been unable to press the shutter button. At the end of the song,
Mia and Alice turned round, their backs to the audience, whipped off their bra tops, did a quick twirl, blew kisses to the crowd and ran from the stage, as Jon belted out the last line of his song,
‘
Strip them bare and make them pay!
’ The crowd erupted, lewd remarks and wolf whistles filling the air.

‘More! More!’ someone shouted but a festival organiser stepped speedily onto the stage.

‘Fifteen minutes and no encores!’ he reminded the crowd and began to introduce the next act.

‘I think,’ Frankie heard the TV cameraman say, ‘that we have that one in the can. The boss said he wanted some local colour and, boy, that’s what he’s
got!’

Later Frankie wished she had thought more about what he was saying, but at the time she had more pressing things to think about.

‘Come on, back to the tent,’ Lulu ordered. ‘This is where you do your best friend bit. Introduce me to James and I’ll do the rest.’

She pulled a bottle from her shoulder bag and waved it in Frankie’s face. ‘Party time!’ She giggled. ‘And between you and me, it’s not water in here! Full strength
voddie – and a bit more.’

‘LULU! You’re not supposed to bring alcohol onto the site.’

Lulu grinned, stuffing the bottle back in her bag. ‘I’ll just have to make sure me and James get off the site quickly, won’t I? Come on, what are we waiting for?

Back in the warm-up tent, Frankie, despite all her efforts, felt totally out of place. Alice and Lulu, high on whatever cocktail Lulu had produced, were flirting outrageously
– Alice with Ned and Lulu with James. Mia held hands with Nick and occasionally gave him a kiss, but her eyes constantly followed Henry and it was clear to anyone with half a brain that they
were communicating with each other, if not verbally, then through body language and intimate gestures.

When Jemma had turned up ten minutes after the act ended, Frankie had hoped she might slink off with her and watch Apparition, the headline act for the evening, but even Jemma had her own
agenda.

‘Is that what I think it is?’ Jon had cried, as Jemma prised the lid off a huge Cath Kidston cake tin and wafted it under his nose.

‘Pineapple cherry cake,’ Jemma declared proudly. ‘You said you grew up in St Kitts and . . .’

‘Oh man!’ Jon gasped as Jemma cut the cake into slices. ‘I haven’t had this since I went to see my gran five years ago. You’re amazing!’

Jemma flushed and looked at him coyly. ‘Well, hang around and I’ll cook you rikkita beef,’ she laughed.

‘You know how to do that?’ Jon spluttered his mouth full of cake. ‘How come?’

Jemma shrugged. ‘I may be a lousy singer and a pretty useless dancer, but I can pretty much cook anything. Try me!’

Jon grinned. ‘Is that an invitation?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Great!’ he said, dropping his voice. ‘Bring it on!’

Witnessing this hot-bed of flirtation and fun made Frankie wish, not for the first time, that she was less inhibited, that she had come on to Ned a bit more before Alice got her clutches on
him.

But she knew it would never happen.

‘What do you make of Henry?’ Nick whispered to her as they queued for burgers later on. ‘I can’t stand him but Mia seems to . . .’ He hesitated.
‘But then, she gets on with everyone, doesn’t she? It doesn’t mean anything.’ He looked at her, desperate for confirmation.

‘She adores you,’ Frankie cut in quickly. ‘She’s just having fun, I guess – and you know Lulu has been handing out vodka and God knows what else. Have you had
some?’

Nick looked embarrassed. ‘A bit,’ he acknowledged, ‘but I’m not good with drink and so I chucked most of it away. You know something? I drank sparkling elderflower
instead of champagne at my own party.’ He pulled a face. ‘Don’t say anything – people will think I’m a party pooper – but drink just makes me feel
sick.’

‘My lips are sealed,’ Frankie said, smiling. ‘Just go and make a fuss of Mia and tell Henry to get his fun elsewhere.’

For the rest of the evening, the band were on a high. People kept stopping to congratulate them and a couple of guys from the local radio station did an impromptu interview
with Jon. After that, Jon and Jemma hung out together and although Frankie tagged along for a while, she soon got fed up of being a spare part and wandered off on her own. Around ten o’clock,
she bumped into Poppy and Charlie Maddox.

‘Wanna come to the Cowshed?’ Poppy asked. ‘There’s a rave going on.’

Frankie shook her head. ‘I’m just off to meet someone,’ she lied.

‘Hey! Who?’

Frankie gave her what she hoped was an enigmatic smile and pushed her way through the crowds. She’d had enough. The place was swarming with couples, arms linked, laughing and joking, or
with groups of people, swigging lager and dancing without a care in the world.

She just didn’t fit in. She was going to go home.

On the way she bumped into Nick, standing by the comedy arena entrance and looking bewildered.

‘Have you seen Mia?’ he asked. ‘She went to the ladies ages ago and told me to wait here.’

Frankie shook her head. ‘The queue is massive, though,’ she said. ‘She’ll be back any minute, I’m sure.’

‘You going to stay and watch?’ he asked, and she thought she detected a note of hope in his voice. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ He nodded towards the bar.

She shook her head. ‘Sorry, but I’m exhausted,’ she told him. ‘Enjoy!’

She was almost at the exit gate when she realised that she had left her camera in the changing tent. She’d given it to Jon to take out the memory card; and then in all the excitement,
she’d forgotten to pick it up. Now that the New Talent acts had finished, the flaps of the tent were closed and she was worried that her camera might have ended up in Lost Property, which was
way over the other side of the site. Worse still, it might have been stolen. She loosened the ties and pulled back the tent flap.

‘Oh!’

The cry escaped her lips before she could control herself. Standing in the far corner of the tent were Henry and Mia. Henry’s hands were inside the back of Mia’s shorts, Mia was
moaning softly and their lips were locked in a passionate kiss. At the sound of Frankie’s voice, they leapt apart and stared at her, Mia’s face blanching with shock, Henry looking angry
rather than ashamed.

For a moment, Frankie stood frozen to the spot.

‘I . . . We . . . It’s not how it looks,’ Mia stammered.

Frankie stared at her. ‘Nick’s standing out there in the rain waiting for you,’ she said curtly. ‘You are unbelievable!’ She turned and marched out of the tent.

‘Frankie, wait!’

For once, she didn’t do as she was told. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and those two as she possibly could.

She was almost at the back entrance to Park House, the rain getting heavier by the minute, when Henry caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

‘Let go of me!’ she snapped, trying to shake him off.

‘No, please, wait. You forgot this.’ He shoved her camera into her hand.

‘Thanks,’ she snapped, and shook his arm away.

‘Listen, you’ve got it all wrong – what you saw back there – it wasn’t what it seemed.’

‘I know what I saw.’

‘Please,’ Henry said. ‘At least hear me out!’ He pulled her under an overhanging tree that gave a bit of shelter from the downpour.

‘How could you do that to Nick?’ she demanded.

‘How could
I
do that?’ he countered. ‘Mia came on to
me
– and I mean big time.’

‘Well, it didn’t look like you were fighting her off,’ Frankie said.

Henry held his hands up. ‘I admit that for just a second or two, I did respond. I mean, what guy wouldn’t? Mia’s a gorgeous girl. But you have to believe me, it was only a
knee-jerk reaction. Why would I go after someone who’s already engaged, especially when I’m in love with someone else?’

‘I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.’
Poor her
, she thought.

‘I didn’t say I had,’ he corrected her. ‘I said I was in love with someone else. She’s standing beside me right now.’

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in and when they did, she stepped back in horror.

‘Are you saying . . . ? What are you talking about? You can’t —’

‘Oh yes I can.’ He took her hand and held it so tightly that she couldn’t snatch it away. ‘That day when I lost my books and you chased after me with them –
that’s when it started. Ask Alice. I never made a secret of it.’

Frankie’s mind flashed back to Alice’s words days before. ‘He likes you, he told me so. What’s more, I happen to know he told one of his mates that you were cute and have
got a lot of untapped potential.’

‘I don’t . . . I mean, I can’t . . . I’m not . . .’

‘Hey, it’s OK!’ Suddenly his hands were on her shoulders and he was pulling her towards him. ‘Loosen up – you don’t have to play hard to get any
more.’

‘You arrogant —’ she began, but he pressed his fingers to her lips, pulled her hard against him and began kissing her. Instinctively, she tried to pull away but as his lips met
hers, his grip on her tightened and suddenly, against everything that her head was telling her, she felt herself melting into the moment. He tasted of salt mixed with candy cane, a taste that took
her back at once to the end of Brighton Pier where as a child she saved up her pocket money for popcorn and sweets. His fingers threaded themselves through her sodden hair as he pushed her back
against the trunk of the tree. Still kissing her, he ran one hand down her cheek and cupped her right breast in his hand.

It was when his tongue prised her lips open that sanity returned and, using all her force, she wrenched her face away and shoved him as hard as she could.

‘Get off me!’ she shouted. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’