
**Never Grow Up**

A novella

By Ava Bloomfield
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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

About the author
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**©Ava Bloomfield 2015. All rights reserved.**

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**www.AvaBloomfield.wordpress.com**
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Chapter One

The devastating news

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_Ayers Rock, Aus._

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_Dear Jude,_

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_Today we went to this huge desert mountain out in the bush, and I swear it was just like being on Mars. It wasn't the heat because it's actually winter over here, even though it's July. No, it was actually like Mars because it was so...red. Just red, everywhere. A bit like looking through the red bit on those cardboard glasses we used to wear as kids that were supposed to make you see in 3D. Did those ever work? You wouldn't need them here because the real thing is just beyond belief._

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_Anyway, the shoot went really well. Me and the girls were all dressed up in camouflage tankinis and these chunky army boots. We were supposed to look like outback gangster women or something. One of the girls fainted and we had to wait around for hours for the medic to come while she sipped a bottle of water. It was outrageous. I mean it was a long day, absolutely, but there's always one who as to make a show of it isn't there?_

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_You'd love it here, Jude. I could imagine you zipping up and down that big red lump of rock on your bicycle, leaving big clouds of dust in your wake. How's dad and Pippa? Dad doesn't go in for all this letter–writing lark but I know Pip loves it. You can't beat a proper letter. Besides, it costs a fortune to call and dad's never on the computer. Get him PC literate and we can be like a NORMAL family!_

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_Love and smooches,_

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_Melody_

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'Us? Normal? Never,' I muttered, folding the wrinkled pages of Melody's letter and stuffing them in my back pocket.

My older sister was about the least normal of everyone on our estate. She'd got out of here, for a start. Most girls could only dream of going abroad to be a model in fashion shoots and catwalk shows, but not our Mel. She was dead set on it from the moment she could strike a pose in the mirror and it had only been a matter of time before she was jetting off.

Now it was just me, dad and Pippa, who turned eleven this year and started getting a bit sullen and trappy. She was going to high school after the summer holidays, just as I'd be leaving sixth form for good. Then it'd be her turn to have dreams and see where they took her, though I knew we'd be just as happy if it took her straight out the window, with her gob.

Yawning, I flipped the hair out of my eyes and skipped into the kitchen, whistling as I went. Pippa was absent–mindedly scoffing Sugar Pops and dad didn't even turn round from his sizzling pan of bacon to smile at me. Instantly I knew something was up. There was a distinctive air of _don't meet eyes with Jude_ and I was too chirpy to deserve the cold shoulder. Something else had to be wrong.

'What's happened?' I said, making dad flinch. He swore under his breath as a spark of hot oil burst from beneath the bacon and caught him on the arm. He batted it away, flicking yet more oil up the wall. 'Is it nan? Is nan dead?'

'No!' said dad, turning and frowning at me behind the spatula. 'Don't say things like that. There's nothing wrong.'

'There is,' said Pippa smugly behind a mouthful of cereal. Dad groaned.

'Well what is it? Dad?' I could feel Melody's letter creasing up in my back pocket, but it could wait. Usually I shared her letters over breakfast while dad mumbled about whatever he was reading in the newspaper and Pippa listened with her mouth open. I learned over the table and rested my hands on its sticky Formica surface. Crumbs of old bread wormed their way under my fingernails. 'Just spit it out.'

Dad sighed that heavy sigh of his. It was the same one he used five years ago when he told us mum had left. It meant he was feeling completely bereft about something. But what?

'Jude,' he began, still not meeting my eyes. His face creased up. The bacon popped away in the pan, and the smell of toasting bread swirled about our heads. Now I was really terrified. Suddenly I needed the comfort of Melody's letter; something to cling to. I slipped it out my back pocket and held it.

'It's the house, love,' said dad in one quick burst. Even that one sentence seemed to knock all the energy out of him. I braced myself. Now I knew we were being evicted. It couldn't get much worse than that, could it?

I stared at dad's quivering mouth, waiting for him to break the news that we were homeless.

Pippa launched herself from her chair and snatched the letter from my grasp, tearing it. 'Give me _that_ ,' she said, drawing it so close to her face she couldn't even see Melody's scrawl in purple ink.

Before I could snatch it back, dad's eyes finally met mine. They were watery and full of regret.

'The council are re–housing us, love. It's a one bedroom flat with a box room across town, near Peckham. It's enough for Pippa, just about, but...they said now that you're eighteen, they're not obliged to give you a room. They said another family needs the house more. I'm so sorry, love. I've been fighting them but it's no use. They said it's final.' He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.

Two steaming slices of bread burst from the toaster at that moment, like a gun firing. We all winced. Dad didn't make a move to fetch them. He just watched me with his sad, deflated expression.

My legs started quivering so I sat down. I could feel my eyes glossing over as it all sank in. 'But it's not fair,' I said. 'They can't just turf me out!'

'I'm sorry sweetheart,' said dad, his voice thick with emotion. I could tell he felt like he'd failed me, and that was the worst part of all. Like my dad could ever do that. He'd raised three daughters pretty much all alone on a labourer's wage. Dads like him were few and far between.

'But where do they expect me to go?' I said, in a daze. 'How long have I got?'

That seemed to soften dad's expression, but just a little. 'You've got until September, so that gives us the whole summer to figure it all out. One way or another, we'll find you somewhere.'

So that was it, just like that. _We_ weren't homeless. I was!

I knew dad wouldn't have time to faff about trying to find me a place; not if he was busy trying to sort things out for him and Pippa. Dad's job was tough enough, and with Melody literally on the other side of the world, there was nobody left to help me. Nobody to make it all magically just happen, the way parents do.

'But I'm not ready for this,' I said. 'I don't want to leave home.'

Dad's face creased up again. I rushed to him and we embraced while the bacon gurgled on the stove and Pippa made puking noises, her nose deep in Melody's letter. It wasn't fair to burden dad with any of this, I realised, no matter how daunting it all was. I was eighteen, after all. Shouldn't I be more than ready for responsibility?

Melody always was. She was setting off for modelling jobs abroad the second she was old enough. But I wasn't Melody. I was just Jude, who still had teddies on her bed and liked to snuggle up with bowls of chocolate ice cream to watch _The Wizard of Oz._

'Dad, don't even worry about it,' I said, sucking in a deep breath. 'I am ready for this. _More_ than ready. We don't need this stupid house and anyway, it reminds us too much of mum, doesn't it? Haven't we always said that?'

A brief look of shock flitted over dad's face as he wiped his eyes with the back of his big, hairy hand. 'I suppose so, but you're just a little girl. You're my little girl. This is your home.'

I stuck out my chin. 'I've got all summer. That's bags of time,' I lied, willing myself not to recognise that six weeks was no time at all. If I did, I'd start crying and then dad would feel really doomed.

A thought struck me. 'Hey, can't I just get my own council flat? We could convince them to get me one right next to yours. It'd be the same as always, but I'd have loads more space.'

Now that was an idea I liked. I could have my band mates over for practice, which was timely, seeing as we couldn't use the school's music room over the holidays. I'd even have room for my own drum kit.

But dad sighed, and all over again I realised it wasn't going to be so simple. Nothing ever was.

'They'd never get you in next to us, love. If you can't find a place privately then you'll have to go through the system like everyone else. They'll put you in shared accommodation with all the drug addicts before they ever get you in a flat.'

'Housing benefit then,' I said. 'I'll find somewhere and go on housing benefit.'

'You'd need a job first,' said dad, ruffling my hair. 'But you're resourceful. I know you'll find something.'

I bit my lip. I'd never had a job before, except helping dad with the odd bootsale when we needed extra cash. I was always too busy with my band, The Manic Flamingos, to have time for a job. Besides, working wasn't fun. That's what adults did, not kids.

And I was still dad's kid even though I was eighteen, wasn't I?

'I'll kip on the sofa,' I suggested, backtracking. Suddenly the idea of my own place didn't sound so great. I wasn't ready for this at all. I couldn't live alone and hold down a job. I was only eighteen. That's only two years older than sixteen! Would they kick a sixteen year old out on the street?

Dad squeezed my shoulders. 'I thought you said you could handle it? Jude, there's not going to be a lot of space –'

I blinked rapidly. 'Wait a minute, I thought you were upset. Don't you _want_ me living with you?'

'Of course I do. I am upset! I'm just saying that if we plan things properly then maybe we can make you more comfortable. I fought as hard as I could, Jude. It's up to us now.'

'It's not up to us,' I said, viciously snatching my letter back from Pippa, who screeched in protest. 'It's up to _me_. I told you I'd sort it out myself and I will. Don't even worry about it a second longer. I'm practically gone already.'

I stormed from the kitchen, blinking away tears.

'Jude,' dad groaned. 'Come and have some breakfast. Please?'

'I'm not hungry!' I cried, rushing upstairs to my room. Halfway up I realised that of all the ways to storm off, I'd picked the most childish. It was too late now, and the momentum had built up too much. I had to give them the grand storm–out finale.

I slammed my bedroom door so hard the pictures in the hallway rattled off their hooks. 
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Chapter Two

The breakup

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Now that school was out for the summer, we were holding our band practices at Saph's house, which was always good because she had a whole garage that her parents let us use. Saph was our singer and my best friend. She wasn't that pretty in the conventional sense, but she had loads of tattoos and blue hair, and she could belt out any song like Janis Joplin. I just played the drums.

I was curled up on my bed, surrounded by teddies, letting my tears drop onto the pages of Melody's letter. Soon it would be time to leave for practice, but the hours in between were killing me. Already my bedroom didn't even feel like mine anymore. I gazed around at the posters taped en–masse, one on top of the other, all scrawled with song lyrics in lipsticks and white marker. I hadn't seen the wallpaper in years.

My phone buzzed. It was my boyfriend and bassist for The Manic Flamingos, Chris, asking me if I wanted to go to our favourite milkshake bar, Sammy's, after band practice. I smiled, rolling onto my belly to message back, crumpling Melody's letter. We'd only been going strong for a couple of months but we were totally solid. I thought about him all day long. Well, in between dreams for our band and playing massive sell–out concerts one day, as far as Japan, maybe. They'd love us over there.

Chris and I hadn't actually used the word 'love' yet, but we both knew it was true. At least, I thought we did. You don't have to actually say something explicitly for it to be true, do you? Besides, the thought of it made me cringe. Just the word 'love' said aloud made me go red from the neck up, and that's why I got Saph to agree that we were a strictly no–love–songs band. None of that embarrassing boy band muck. We were a serious punk rock band, and if we sang about love, it was to talk about how vomit worthy it was.

But really, I knew I loved Chris, because thinking of him gave me this sickly fluttery feeling in my tummy, the very same feeling I got when I thought about our band getting famous. So it had to be love, because I was mad about our music.

I clicked 'send' just as dad knocked on my bedroom door and swung it open seconds later. As great as dad was, he was like any other parent in some ways. Mostly in the way all parents struggle to understand that when knocking, one should first wait for a response before barging in. He smiled sheepishly and let me scooch over before he sank himself down on the bed, the ancient springs creaking. It was a good thing me and Chris hadn't gone _that_ far yet, because we'd never get away with it quietly.

Maybe we would after summer. In my new place.

Dad plucked the drum sticks from my night stand and gently tapped a rhythm out on my head. I laughed, furiously wiping away the last tear that trickled deceitfully from my eye.

'Going for a jam, are you?' said dad, making me groan and roll my eyes.

He always said it like that, in that humiliating dad way. A jam. 'I think you should warp back to the 1970s where you belong, dad,' I said, throwing myself down on my pillow to hide my face. When I resurfaced, dad was trying to juggle the sticks and failing. When he made to stick one up his nose, I drew the line and grabbed them, missing his nose hairs by a whisker. Literally.

'Don't!' I cried.

Dad chuckled, making the whole bed vibrate. Then he let out a deep exhale and gazed about my bedroom, looking at all the posters and reading the lyrics I'd just been thinking about. His shoulders started sagging.

'Don't,' I said again, softly this time, like a whisper.

He sniffed. 'We've got to be brave about this, ain't we, Jude? That's the way of life. Things change.'

I couldn't even speak. There was an embarrassingly big lump in my throat and if I opened my mouth I knew I'd just start spluttering and never stop. Dad patted my knee and gave it a squeeze, his hand totally engulfing it.

'You've got loads of options open to you, kid. Way more than I had at your age,' he said. 'What about university? You haven't mentioned anything about that.'

I shrugged. 'Not my bag,' I said, knowing it was a half–truth. While we were being honest with each other, I sucked in a long breath and confessed. 'Look, dad, I didn't get the grades for uni. I failed everything.'

He blinked, hand still on my knee. 'Well not to worry, then. That's just one path. Education isn't everything. It's all about experience.'

'I haven't got time to get work experience.' I complained, slumping back against the headboard. 'I'll be working in a frozen food store all my life if I'm lucky.'

Dad erupted into one of his bed–vibrating chuckles again. 'You kids don't know you're born. You're young, Jude. You've got your whole life to figure out what to do. You should see this as an opportunity for adventure. You don't want to be stuck here with your old dad forever, do you?'

I shrugged. 'I want to do loads of stuff and nothing all at once. I've got plans, just...not right now.'

'What's Chris doing? He's an okay lad. Maybe you and him – '

My eyes bulged from their sockets, startling dad into another laugh. 'Seriously, don't go there. Yuck. Just yuck.'

'All right, all right. So what's his grand plan for September, then?'

I frowned, realising suddenly that it's not something we'd ever bothered talking about. Not once. We'd just lived in the now, floating in our little bubble for the past couple of months. The subject of the future just never came up.

'I have no idea.' I confessed.

Pumping my legs at speed, I gently applied the brakes as Saph's house came into view, all sparkling and white at the end of the little suburban paradise she lived in. Her road even had a posh name, _Crescent Hill_ , and even the grass and the cars and the windows gleamed as if to reflect the carefree lives of its residents. That was an assumption, though. I mean nobody would have looked at Saph's house and guessed that a blue–haired punk with a whole sleeve of tattoos lived behind its pearly door.

The bike slotted snugly down her side alley, where I chained it up to their eerily clean–looking gutter pipe. I could hear voices from the garage. The sun beat down on my mop of hair and my shoulders, making my skin pulse. When I got back around the front I saw the garage door was wide open, with all my band mates at the back of it, sheltering from the heat.

'Jude! Hi,' said Saph in that peculiar, stunted way of hers. Saph only ever said things in short bursts, or at least she did lately. I was still trying to figure out if she was putting it on.

'Saph! Yo,' I said, grinning.

Chris put his bass down and hung about awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. I always had to make the first move with Chris because he was just nervous like that. We hadn't crossed whatever threshold lay between his nerves and our budding relationship. I didn't mind that, though. It was sweet. Holding my arms out, he smiled weakly and picked me up beneath my thighs, spinning me.

By the time he planted me back down, he was blushing and Saph was rolling her eyes. 'Wasn't it you who said we should keep all vomit worthy lovey–dovey stuff strictly out of the band?'

'Leave it out, Saph,' muttered Chris, making us both do a double–take. It was oddly un–Chris–like to talk back to her.

Saph made a girly 'Ooo!' noise and stuck out her tongue. Last I'd heard she was meant to be getting it pierced for her eighteenth, but her birthday had been and gone. No tongue stud. Today she had her blue hair up in a ponytail and she was wearing a short plaid skirt with black Doctor Martens.

I was in my usual jeans and t–shirt, my hair all in my face. Saph glanced at me with a quizzical look as if to say, 'What's up with him?'

I shrugged.

Just then, our rhythm guitarist, Lou, turned up. Lou was quiet and bookish and she wore a thick fringe of brown hair over her glasses. Nobody would guess that under those fingerless gloves and chipped green nail polish were the hands that could pick out the riffs to _Stairway to Heaven_ and _November Rain_ and hundreds of brilliant classic rock anthems.

I had loads of respect for Lou. We all did. It's just none of us knew a thing about her.

Lou unzipped her guitar case without even so much as a nod to us. Saph waggled her eyebrows as if to say, 'Typical Lou', and we all took our positions behind our instruments. Chris was sober and uncharacteristically quiet as he took up his bass, his long fingers fanning out over the thick strings.

I gently tapped my symbol to get his attention and flashed him a smile when he turned round. The corners of his mouth twitched up, but his eyes were glossed over, far away and deep in thought.

We launched into one of our favourite covers, _I Can't Seem to Make You Mine_ , and led our way progressively towards our first single, which we were all nervous about. It was a melodramatic song about oppression, with lots of smashing on the drums, which was good for me. I got sweaty and messing and thrashed so hard my arms ached afterwards, but come the end I still didn't know what particularly oppressive thing we were singing about. The lyrics were mostly just 'oppression' screamed over and over.

Come the end of the session, I was panting. We'd all played pretty hard. Lou was gulping from her bottled water and Saph was wiping her brow. Chris seemed as solemn and shifty as he had been at the start, and even as he zipped up his bass, his deep brown eyes never met mine. Not once.

We cycled to Sammy's with the wind slicing at our faces, white–knuckled on the handlebars. I could just as easily slip my drumsticks into my backpack, but how Chris managed to cycle with that ginormous bass guitar strapped to his back I'd never know. The air was good for me, least of all because it cooled me down after that sweaty band session. I needed the air, to fill my lungs and to breeze through my hair and make me feel alive. Make me feel like, even though the world was on my shoulders, I was still here. Still breathing.

We chained our bikes up and instinctively laced our fingers as we made our way into Sammy's. It was a cloudy afternoon for summer, but a glint of pink beyond the clouds winked with promise for sunnier days to come. Better days. Chris ordered a white chocolate and raspberry mousse milkshake with whipped cream and marshmallows. I picked a triple–chocolate fudge swirl with popping candy, ice cream, whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles.

'Nothing ever replaces that feeling,' I said when our drinks arrived, sucking up the thick, creamy nectar through a straw. Chris used his straw to scoop cream off the top, grinning for the first time all day as he licked it. Just briefly. 'You know what I mean. When you get that first massive hit of sugar?'

'Mm,' he said, stirring.

I wanted to ask Chris why he had such a mood on, but I was terrified to do it. He needed to be my salvation. He needed to take me away from the harrowing truth that come the end of summer, I was moving out. He needed to _talk_ to me and remind me it was all going to be okay.

'Chris, what are we going to do in September? We never talk about it,' I said, licking chocolate from my lips. It's true, we never did. Though I supposed we didn't do much talking usually. We just kissed a lot, played music and talked about our favourite bands.

Chris dropped his straw in the thick mass of milkshake and watched it sink to the bottom. His blond eyelashes quivered. 'My dad's lined me up with a full–time job at the shop. He wants to see me work my way up to a managerial position within five years,' he said glumly.

It was like a sucker–punch to the gut. Then I snorted, deciding he couldn't be serious. 'You're kidding? But that was supposed to be a Saturday job. That's all it's ever been. Chris, you can't sell _furniture_ for the rest of your life.'

He sighed. 'There's job security. One day I might be running the place.'

Chris's dad's shop was a tiny little place that had just about survived the recession because everything he sold was ex–warehouse or rejects. Nothing dodgy, just the stuff that got sent back. It wasn't glamorous and it wasn't going anywhere.

'Can you hear yourself? I mean it's great and everything but it's so...not you.'

Chris looked at me properly for the first time that day, his brown eyes narrowing. 'What are your plans, Jude?'

His accusatory tone took me off–guard. I wasn't going to justify his sullen tone with an answer. I simply said, 'What good are plans when everybody else makes them for you?'

He thought I was just talking about his dad, but he was dead wrong. If I'd learned anything that morning, it's that any plans I did have – even if they were just to carry on living at home – were scuppered, just like that. No argument.

Chris didn't reply. He stirred his milkshake, his lips thinning into a grim line. I tried to soften the situation. 'We could make a go of the band. We could go on tour. You've got a driver's licence. We could do small clubs all over –'

He rolled his eyes and nudged the milkshake aside, silencing me. 'Jude, look,' he began, linking his fingers over the table. The bustling atmosphere of Sammy's was lost on me as I focused on that terrifying, matter–of–fact look on Chris' face. 'I'm done with this whole fantasy thing. It's been two months and you don't know a single thing about me. It's like you're living in your own little world.'

'I know loads about you!' I hissed, reaching for his hands. He snatched them away. 'Look, I'm sorry for what I said about the furniture shop. Happy?'

He shook his head. 'That's the problem, Jude. None of this is serious to you. You can't just fix it like that. I'm getting a full time job and you're still acting as if sixth form is going to last forever, or like we can just drive around the world playing music. Be serious.'

It was so unfair I found myself blinking away tears. 'Since when did you get so serious?' was all I could manage.

Chris softened, but his mouth stayed in its steely line. 'I wanted us to be serious. I did. Look, I like you Jude, a lot. You're loads of fun. But I think we should break it off and just be friends,' he said.

The words shattered me. My skin shivered colder than my ice cream, dribbling down the frosted glass. 'Please don't do this,' I whispered. 'Not right now. What about the band?'

Chris got up from the table and touched my cheek just briefly with his icy–cold fingertips. He gazed down at me from his halo of strawberry blond hair. 'I care about you, Jude. I just wish you were more grown up about this stuff.'

He fished a ten pound note out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. Then he left me in Sammy's with our melted milkshakes, between me and the empty chair.
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Chapter Three

The search for allies

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Grabbing fistfuls of waxy paper, I tore down the posters from my wall. Queens of the Stone Age fluttered in rags to the carpet, along with Metallica and The Prodigy and Siouxsie and the Banshees. Steely blue eyes and painted lips lay in ruins at my feet. 'None of you belong together anyway,' I said, swallowing my tears. 'You're not even the same bloody genre.'

Kicking the shreds of paper to the side, I set to work taping up large sheets of clean, white A3. A new start. Nothing represented that more than white paper. That's what Saph always said. 'There's nothing more foreboding than the blank page' or something like that. Just thinking of Saph was foreboding enough for me. What would happen to our band now that Chris had broken things off with me?

I shook my head, exasperated. I had about two months to figure out what to do with my life and the one person who was supposed to be my closest ally had abandoned me.

I popped the top off my permanent marker and drew a big cloud around the words, 'My future'. That's when I hit the first blank.

Biting my lip, I glanced around my bedroom for inspiration. My bookshelves were crammed with Manga and there were Sailor Moon figurines on my windowsill. The bed was cloaked in silk scarves from my nan and crochet blankets from when I was a baby, all knitted by her. They were all things I loved but none of them inspired my future. They just described my past.

I drew a limb from the cloud and wrote, 'Get a job'. From that I drew my key skills, which were drums, collecting stupid toys, losing boyfriends and screwing my life up.

'This is so crap,' I growled, chewing the pen lid. Then I sighed, thinking of one skill I'd mastered. I put, 'writing letters'.

My bedroom door burst open while I was standig there, my brow furrowed, with ink staining my lip. It was Pippa, swinging from the door handle like a monkey.

'What do you want, sprout?' I said through my teeth.

Pippa stopped swinging and gasped when she saw the massacre around my ankles. 'You've killed them,' she said, clenching her fists. Then, blood–thirsty, she dived in amongst the piles of paper and rolled around, cackling maniacally.

I very carefully stepped over her and crossed out one of my possible careers, 'working with children'.

She paused mid–roll and gazed up at me, furiously writing and crossing out terrible ideas of what to do with my life. Her jelly–like mouth glistened. 'What's this all about?'

'This is me growing up,' I muttered, sighing at my smudged and muddled list. So far I'd managed to come up with just a handful of things I might like to do. Number one was working in a guitar shop. The second was selling CDs. After that, every other option was crossed out for one reason or another.

Working with the elderly? Yuck. Too many saggy bottoms to wipe. Children were a no–go for reasons Pippa made clear over the years. Cleaning? I could do that, but I'd hate it. I wanted something involving my passion. Something I cared about.

'What's the point in you if you can't give me ideas?' I snapped at Pippa, slumping down beside her in the sea of paper.

'Why don't you just do whatever everyone else does?'

That was easy for Pippa to say. She'd never experienced anything beyond primary school. While I was busy trying to be an individual, she was pre–occupied with fitting in.

'Because I want to do things my way,' I said forlornly. 'What's wrong with that?'

Pippa tapped my nose with her sticky finger. I caught a whiff of jam. 'You are not very good at working in a team, Jude,' she said, waggling it teacherly–fashion in my face.

'You're right,' I said, biting it. Pippa shrieked and scrambled out the bedroom in a swirl of paper, blowing frantically on the mildly wounded finger. I laid back and spread out with my arms beneath my head. 'My idiot sister is right.'

Two weeks later an idea hit me like an explosion. I sat up in bed, dizzy with new promise, when I noticed the trail of black smoke meandering its way upstairs.

It wasn't an idea that woke me. Something had _actually_ exploded.

Taking the stairs three and four at a time, I burst into the kitchen to be met by a wall of smoke. Somewhere inside Pippa wailed, and dad could be heard cursing and faffing about knocking pans over. The smoke dissipated in moments, wafting out the open window while dad fanned it with a soggy tea–towel. I found Pippa under the table and pulled her out by the rim of her knickers.

At weekends, she never got dressed until at least mid–afternoon. Neither did I, if I was honest.

'It was that piggin' toaster,' said dad, flapping the towel with one hand while he held up the melted, blackened remains of the plug.

'Ah,' I said. 'Here was me thinking it was my bright idea.'

Dad scoffed. 'Well it wasn't a bright idea getting this down the market. What if it caused a fire while we were out?'

I shrugged. 'Then it'd do us a favour. The whole house would burn down and then nobody could have it.'

I hadn't told dad about Chris, but he'd been stepping around my feelings for the last fortnight, like he might break me, and all because of the flat situation.

'So does this bright idea of yours involve Chris by any chance?'

'Nope,' I said, in a clipped way that said _don't ask._

Dad nodded slowly, chucking the tea–towel in the sink. 'And dare I ask how your plans are coming along?'

'I've got some ideas brewing,' I said, cryptically.

In actual fact my bright idea was to go and see Saph and just tag along with whatever she was doing, because whatever it was, it was bound to be unconventional. Maybe we'd both become barmaids at a punk rock venue in Camden and rent a cockroach–infested room together. Maybe we'd tour the world in a duet.

'That's my girl,' said dad, ruffling my hair. 'You'll be all right.'

I stormed through the streets to meet Saph at Sammy's by three o'clock. My thighs were burning by the time I swerved into the bike stands and the clouds had gathered in an ominous grey mass. The speed was necessary. It didn't leave much time to pine over the fact that Sammy's wasn't mine and Chris' place anymore.

I darted into the cafe and made for our seat in the window just as the first of the rain began pattering on the glass. Saph was ready and waiting, nodding along to her headphones. Her plump lips were coated in shiny black lipstick and she was wearing a sensible blue hoodie, her hair pulled back in braids.

Usually blue would clash, but with all her dark roots coming through, she got away with it. Saph got away with a lot of things most people wouldn't dare to try.

'Jude! All right?'

I grinned. She was still keeping it up. 'Saph! Peachy,' I said, dumping my bag at my feet.

She cocked a pencilled eyebrow. 'Peachy? Really?'

Slumping, I hid my face behind a menu and ran my finger down the endless list of milkshakes. She was right. I wasn't exactly peachy, I was bitter. I chose a lemon sorbet shake to match my mood.

'Well, no,' I said, passing her the menu, which she snatched up. 'I feel like my life is over.'

'Chris is just a man,' said Saph, running her nail down the list. 'There's loads of them about. You'll be fine, kid.'

'That's what my dad says.'

Saph stabbed a strawberry swirl, tossed her purse, caught it with a rattle, and smiled. 'My treat.'

My eyes bulged at the sight of her purse. It was bursting at the seams, with tenners poking out the zip and coins sagging in the pouch. 'Where'd you get all that? Pocket money?'

She knitted her brow. 'Please. My 'rents haven't doled out cash since I turned eighteen. No, it's from the access course I'm doing. They give you a weekly stipend for studying.'

My mouth dropped open. 'What course? What _stipend_?' This was scandalous! Saph hadn't mentioned a thing about it. I gripped the underside of the table and began picking at an old piece of chewing gum to calm my nerves.

Her mouth turned down like a piece of black liquorice. 'I'm sure I told you. Or maybe I didn't. I'm sorry, Jude. I've been busy making plans. You know what it's like.'

I wish, I thought to myself.

A big part of me wanted to stamp my feet and order Saph to stop making whatever plans she had instantly because it just wasn't fair, full–stop. But I had to play it cool. 'Hey, I did have an idea. I was thinking you, me, a bar in Camden, right? We could rent a room and play gigs at weekends and be like The Runaways.'

Saph blinked several times, then snorted with laughter. 'A bar in Camden? You want us to go be barmaids in some grotty little pub?'

My hopes burst like a balloon. I dug my nail into the chewing gum, venting my rage in the most silent and micro way possible. The gum detached itself and fell, pinging off the metal table leg.

'Saph, come on. It'll be awesome.'

Saph shook her head and looked mildly amused. Her face seemed bare today, and I realised that despite her black lipstick, there wasn't any eyeliner, or eye shadow, or blush. Her natural colour was weaving down her braids like a disease.

'Things are changing, Jude. I can't just do what's fun anymore. My parents have been on my back for months to pick a career path, so I have.'

I wanted to sink to the floor where the mouldy little piece of gum was, rolling on the tiles. 'What is it?' I said hoarsely, my throat closing up. 'Break it to me gently.'

Saph's eyes lit up. 'It's an access to university course. Then I'm going to Greenwich in October, which was my second choice, to study English. After that I'm going straight into the teaching course for a placement in a school.' She waggled her pencilled eyebrows like it was the most thrilling thing ever.

'You? In a school?'

'Well, yeah. Obviously I'll have to tone it all down a bit...' she tucked a braid behind her ear, flicking her gaze from me to the busy bar.

'I knew something wasn't right about you. You're...you're disappearing, Saph! You can't give up your blue hair. What about your tattoos?'

My heart and mind were racing. Our rock 'n' roll lifestyle melted and turned black like the plug on dad's dodgy market stall toaster.

'I'll wear long sleeves. I'll dye my hair in the summer holidays. Jude, I'll still be me,' she said, reaching over the table to give my shoulder a squeeze. Her hands felt as cold as Chris' fingertips had been in this very place two weeks ago.

'But I'll never see you again,' I said.

'There's always the holidays. You should make some plans, Jude. We can't be kids forever.'

I manage a weak, meaningless smile. Saph tossed her purse. 'My treat,' she repeated, like there was anything sweet about it now.
**  
**

Chapter Four

Fading friends

****

When she returned, Saph was full of anecdotes from her course, about all the friends she'd met and what subjects they were planning to study. She went on and on like a ragdoll with a broken string, yapping out the same old phrases. She was full of teaching and university jargon, all _access_ this and _UCAS_ that and _Ofsted_ and _governing board_.

Saph as I knew her was melting away before my eyes, and by the time the milkshakes arrived she'd already transformed into a person I hardly recognised. A waitress emerged from the back parlour in a pink and white stripy tunic, her glasses all fogged up.

'Here we go,' she said, placing the shakes down blindly on the table. 'Lemon sorbet and strawberry. _Damn_.' The girl yanked off her glasses and rubbed them on her apron.

Both Saph and I paused with our lips puckered on the cusps of our straws.

'Lou?' I said, struggling to recognise her in the outside world.

We only ever saw Lou in the music room at school or in Saph's garage. Nobody knew where Lou had even come from. We'd just posted an ad on the school board and she turned up, played some immensely complicated riff on her guitar and disappeared again. It was a routine we'd kept up for almost a year without passing any casual words between us; just band business.

Lou squinted down at us behind her fringe. Her eyes seemed smaller without her glasses, but they were green and sparkled like gems. She slotted her glasses back on.

'Oh, Jude, Saph. Hey,' she said, smiling. Her cheeks were speckle with freckles and her voice was hoarse in that sort of edgy way. I'd never even noticed before.

Saph waggled her fingers in hello as she sucked her straw.

'I never even knew you worked here,' I said, as if I knew anything about Lou at all. It was an obvious thing to say.

She shrugged. 'I've worked here for a few weeks. I saw you and Chris the other day. I could see you were –'

'Yeah.' I interrupted. 'It wasn't a good scene.'

'Sorry about that,' said Lou. 'If it makes you feel any better, your drumming is just top. Like really insane. His bass skills? Not so top.'

Saph snorted, blowing bubbles in her milkshake. I knew it was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn't. My boyfriend had left me, my best friend was morphing into a bland, prudish teacher, and now Lou, a band mate I barely knew, was dishing out the jokes.

I rolled my eyes, biting my tongue. I knew if I said anything, it wouldn't be 'peachy'. Lou's mouth twitched, like she'd sussed that something was up. We shared an awkward silence.

'So...what are your plans for next year?'

That just about did it. I groaned. 'For god's sake, doesn't anyone talk about anything else except September? Why do you even care?'

Saph's mouth dropped open and Lou held up her hands in defence. 'Woah, okay.'

'Suddenly everyone's an expert on my life!'

'Calm down, Jude. It's not the end of the world,' said Saph, giving me another of those pitying looks she'd obviously been mastering for the last two weeks.

'It _is_ the end of the world. It's the end of everything!' I leapt up from my seat and rushed past Lou, barging out through the cafe door with its madly clanging bell. The rain was coming down hard but I barely noticed. Within seconds my clothes were sopping. I could hear Saph calling to me from the cafe, but my head was swarming with voices of doom, telling me I was never going to make it. Telling me I was alone, all alone.

Breaking into a run, I reached my bike and was soon coasting up the street, away from Sammy's, away from everything. I churned and churned the peddles, blinded by the huge blobs of rain that peppered my face like bullets. I reached East Street and shot across a road so fast I almost hit a van. The driver blared his horn, but I left it in my wake, peddling so fast my knees throbbed.

The sky rumbled, sending a shiver under my skin. Still I peddled on, faster and faster. I just wanted to get away, anywhere. I wanted to peddle back to the past when things were simple, when everything made sense.

A mile from my house a bolt of lightning came screeching down from the sky and hit a phone box mere meters away, exploding in a burst of electricity and shattering glass. I screamed and swerved in a panic. My wheel caught the kerb and sent me over the handlebars, where I skidded to a stop right in the gutter.

'Well thank you very _sodding_ much!' I screamed at the sky, my hair plastered to my head. I must've looked such a state, but I didn't care anymore. I was a lost girl with nothing and nobody to turn to. This is where they always ended up in the movies, though admittedly with a bottle in a brown bag. The gutter.

I rolled onto the pavement and felt a searing, stinging sensation on my arms, hands and knees. I'd scraped the lot of them, and I was now trickling blood. The rain mingled with it as it ran off my skin. I'd torn a massive hole in my jeans.

The thunder and lightning began to ease off. I gazed around the street and realised to my horror where I was. This was the street that Chris' dad's shop was on. I couldn't see it from where I was standing, and I wasn't exactly sure where it was, but I knew this was the street.

'Great,' I muttered, turning slowly around on the spot.

Just as I'd suspected and feared, there it was. Right behind me. The fact its windows were misted up was a complete blessing, otherwise Chris could easily see me standing here like an urchin, all bloodied and scuffed. I dipped into the alleyway beside the shop and peaked through a small back window.

There was Chris, looking chirpy in his freshly washed and ironed red apron. He was touring with a customer around some shabby–chic looking dressing tables, but she wasn't focusing on them. She was blonde, and little, and bouncy. She was grinning up at Chris like he was god's gift. Most certainly she wasn't there for the furniture.

'Who shops for furniture at our age, you big dope?' I said, turning away from the ugly scene.

I stumbled my way back to the bike, untwisted the handlebars, and set off on my wobbly journey home.

A hot shower and some sticky plasters later, I was back at the memory board, pen in teeth, attempting to dream up some more options. I was an active person; I loved adventure. Maybe joining the police was my answer!

But no, a quick search on my phone told me they weren't recruiting. The army, then? I wasn't much cop at taking fierce orders or handling myself in a battle, but I was an expert at _Call of Duty_. With an uncertain hand, I scrawled 'enlisting' in small, smudged handwriting. Even in tiny letters, the idea didn't sit well with me at all.

'So my choices are to be a checkout monkey forever, or to get myself blown to bits in the army,' I said aloud, reviewing my work so far. 'Fab.'

There was still the band idea, but I didn't dare write it up. It'd look silly there amongst all the other, 'realistic' options. Besides, what was I going to do? Become a one man band?

The doorbell went, breaking my thought process. I tossed my pen at the wall. Dad was out with Pippa, taking her swimming first and then on to the shops for her high school uniform.

'Don't ever grow up, Pippa,' I said under my breath as I plodded downstairs. 'It just leads to disaster.'

I swung open the front door and gasped to see Lou standing there, with my bag swinging from her arm. She smiled sheepishly. 'You forgot this when you...you know.'

'Stormed out like a brat,' I said, taking the bag from her. I hadn't even realised it wasn't with me. Probably because I didn't have a bean to my name anyway, so the bag wasn't a priority. I wouldn't miss an empty purse.

'I'm not judging,' said Lou, clasping her hands by her thighs, like she didn't know what to do with them now. 'I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known it was a sore subject.'

'You weren't to know,' I admitted. It was sinking in now that I'd been a total idiot, but it couldn't be helped. I'd text Saph later to apologise.

'I put your milkshake in a takeout cup, but it was all slushy and melted and I didn't think you'd want it,' said Lou, breaking into a laugh.

I grinned. 'Thanks, anyway.'

Lou kicked a stone and huddled up in her cardigan as if to say, 'Some summer we're having.'

I knew I should invite her in, but I didn't have the heart for it. I just wanted to be alone after the day I'd had, even if I technically was to blame for that.

'Listen, do you need a job?' said Lou, taking me off guard.

My heart thudded. How did Lou know I needed a job? Suddenly I felt exposed, like she'd been spying on me or something. I looked at her quizzically.

'It's just that there's one going, that's all, and you did get bees in your bonnet when I asked you what your plans were. I just figured that maybe you didn't have any.'

All the air filtered out of my lungs. Either Lou was psychic or the most perceptive person I'd ever met before in my life. 'You're the first person who's really asked me what I'm doing,' I said, opening the front door a little wider. 'Everybody just talks about what they want.'

'Yeah, well I know how that feels.'

'Weird. Why didn't we ever talk before?' I asked. Lou sniggered into the cuffs of her cardigan. I could see the stripes of her Sammy's uniform beneath it.

'Jude, you didn't even know I lived on your street.'

My mouth dropped open. ' _What?_ You're kidding.'

She shrugged. 'And you thought you were the only one people forgot about.'

She had a point. A very, very big point. So far I'd just been wallowing in my own self pity, and yet here, all along, was someone who had the time and thought to give me a helping hand. If only I'd noticed her, things might have never seemed so bad.

'All right, all right. I hear you,' I said, covering my face in shame. 'I'm an idiot.'

When I resurfaced, I saw that Lou had pulled some pink sheets of folded paper from her pocket. 'My boss says he sees you in Sammy's all the time. If you just fill out this application, the job is pretty much yours. It's just part–time, but it's something.'

Sammy's. I'd recently made a bad memory there, but I'd made thousands of good ones there too. And she was right. It was a _start_.

'Sounds brill,' I said, taking the application. I paused. 'Do you...want to come in and maybe help me fill it out?' I blushed. I'd never even applied for a job before.

'Course,' said Lou, stepping into the hallway. She smelled like vanilla. 'I have time to kill.'

****

_My a–maz–ing hotel room._

__

_Dear Jude,_

__

_I actually cannot believe what I just read. Has dad been taking crack or something? That's our family home. They can tell the other family to sod off! We've got memories there! How's Pip going to start high school living in a flat? It's bad enough living in a council house as it is, but a council flat? Give me a break._

__

_Jude, there's no way they can kick you out. I'm going to write hundreds of letters to the council, and to our MP. It's insane. You're still just a baby. I swear you still have some baby teeth. They can't just provide for dad and Pip and tell you to jog on, can they?_

__

_And if the housing crisis is so bad then surely chucking people out is the opposite of what they should be doing. I don't know, Jude. This'd never happen in Aus. I know I'm surrounded by glamour and big–money people all the time, but I do think about our humble home sometimes. I still miss you all._

__

_Anyway, it's all go here. My manager has got me on a high–end makeup commercial today in a studio. After Ayers Rock this should feel like taking a warm bath. The minute I get paid I'm sending some money. I will NOT spend it on beauty products while my sister is being made homeless. Promise._

__

_Love and smooches,_

__

_Melody_
_  
_

_Saph, I'm dead sorry about what I did at Sammy's. I was an idiot. Please say you'll be my sexy bitch again and I'll buy you a million milkshakes._
_  
_

__

_Jude! I'm still v. angry with you. v. embarrassing to leave like that. Had to drink shake alone._
_  
_

__

_Saph, I know. Please forgive me. I'm even sorting my stupid life out now. I have a job at Sammy's!_
_  
_

__

_Jude! Be serious. A milkshake bar?_
_  
_

Chapter Five

Starting something

__

I pocketed my phone in disgust, wondering what it'd take before I was allowed to feel like I was on par with everybody else. It wasn't fair. Saph got to feel all smart and sophisticated about her course and her uni place, and all that teaching nonsense, but I couldn't even be proud of getting my first job.

All right, I'd had a lot of help from Lou. But she was the _only_ one really helping me, and besides, she didn't talk about herself all day long. That in itself was refreshing of late. Even dad was driving me barmy, talking about packing the house up, ready for the move to the flat. Without me.

Dad was turfing some scrambled eggs onto a plate when I entered the kitchen in my Sammy's smock. I smoothed it down and did a twirl for Pippa, who cooed over all the pink. Dad did a wolf–whistle, making my cheeks burn.

'I'm nervous enough as it is. Don't make me go red,' I said, secretly pleased with the response. It was hard being a tomboy and facing the dilemma of wearing girly colours. It felt like putting on somebody else's underwear.

'Hey, I'm proud of you,' said dad, serving me the plate of eggs. 'You never know. You could save up enough money to join your sister in Aus.'

'What, in four weeks? Get real, dad. I won't even have my first pay by then, _and_ it's minimum wage,' I said, scooping a lump of fluffy egg into my mouth.

'Doesn't matter about the money, sweetheart. The point is you're earning.'

'But it does matter,' I blurted. I couldn't stop myself. 'I'll never get my own place on six quid an hour. They'll send me to that shared accommodation you talked about, with all the druggies.'

Dad frowned, losing himself in thought. 'We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Just focus on you for now, all right kiddo?'

I sighed. One moment I was supposed to sort my life out, and the next I was supposed to go wherever the wind took me. If this was the life of an adult, I was over it already.

'I notice there's no toast,' I said, cocking my eyebrow at Pippa, who was munching her usual cereal.

'Dad'll just get a toaster that explodes again,' she said, licking a stray sugar pop from her chin.

At that moment dad threw the pan down in the sink, startling us both. His eyes were red and puffy, like he hadn't had much sleep. 'I'm just one big screw–up, aren't I? I've lost our house and now I can't even buy an appliance without bringing home a death trap.'

'You didn't lose our house,' I protested. 'They're taking it away.'

'Everything gets taken away. I only ever wanted what's best for you girls and none of my hard work pays off. It's bloody difficult, you know, raising three kids alone.'

There was a long pause. Pippa awkwardly crunched her cereal, slowly, in case dad erupted again. 'We know,' she said eventually, scooping another spoonful into her mouth.

Dad sank into his chair. 'Course you do. I do nothing but moan, do I? How could you not know?'

I couldn't stomach my eggs anymore. When dad said 'everything gets taken away', he was talking about mum. Except she wasn't taken from us. She left by choice, just like Melody did. Soon it'd be just him and Pippa.

'I'm going to have a great day, dad. I'll make the most of it, like you said.'

Dad seemed to perk up, then. 'That's my Jude,' he said.

As it turned out, my first morning was smooth as anything. Lou met me at the end of the street and we walked in together. Then she showed me where the lockers were and got me started with the dishwasher and the till, even showing me all the thousands of syrups and fruits and recipes I would be mixing up for milkshakes.

It was only when the lunch hour came around that I realised what hell on earth could be like. A queue of about a hundred people swarmed the bar, swelling up like a virus. All right, a hundred was exaggerating, but it was a lot. Lou was supposed to guide me through the mixing process as I took the orders, but as we found out, it wasn't going to be that simple.

My first customer was a woman with triplets who were all lactose intolerant.

'They can't have any dairy,' said the woman, hoisting each child up on a seat at the bar.

They were all blond boys, like little cherubs. Just with Satan's soul. One boy stabbed another with the shovel–end of a straw and he shrieked instantly, slapping his brother back with one meaty little hand. Now _that_ brother was crying, snot dribbling over his lip, and the third brother thought he'd join in for good measure.

It all happened so fast I'd hardly blinked. 'We serve milkshake here,' I said lamely, looking nervously at Lou.

I expected Lou to be confused as well, but she looked more embarrassed than anything. She swung open the fridge door and gestured at an assortment of soya milk cartons and vegan ice cream in the freezer box.

'Ah,' I said.

The woman crinkled her brow. 'Do you think I'm some sort of idiot?'

I shrugged. 'Well, not now.'

In the periphery of my vision, I saw Lou draw her palm to her face and groan.

When it came to actually making the milkshakes, I screwed that up from the word 'go'. First I used soya milk but with dairy ice cream, so about 10 pints of the stuff had to be chucked while I started again. Then I got the soya right, but the flavours flat-out wrong.

'No, no. I wanted banana parfait, not lemon, and I ordered two _raspberry,_ not strawberry. For god's sake, that'll have to do. How much is it?'

'Erm.'

The woman blinked slowly, hands dipped in her purse, while I navigated the till.

Meanwhile Lou was speedily churning the blenders, bussing tables and ringing up the till for her own line of customers. I happened to glance up at the clock. It was only one.

'Oh _god_ ,' I moaned, tapping in the prices.

'Excuse me?'

'Nothing, nothing. Sorry. It's just you know, technology.' I waffled, pressing 'total'. The till drawer shot out and jabbed me in the gut, the bell ringing like the first round of a boxing match.

My break couldn't come fast enough. I needed to get out of there and into the fresh air before my face turned scarlet forever. Lou seemed cool as anything despite the lunchtime rush, which had thinned out considerably thanks to her.

I exhaled deeply when our supervisor announced that I could go. As I went out the entrance I mouthed a very guilty 'sorry' to Lou, who smiled and mouthed back, 'Don't worry'. Then she bent down to serve a tray of milkshakes to a group of students from the local college, balancing it all expertly on one arm.

Saph was waiting for me by the bike stand. 'Jude! Wow, your cheeks are all red. How's it been?'

'It's been...' I was lost for an accurate description. Was it terrible? Horrible? Or was it just my own incompetence? At this stage I felt it was the latter. 'I'm never going to get this stuff right.'

Saph snorted. 'You're better than that place anyway. Hey, what's Lou like to work with?'

'She's great,' I said, walking with Saph aimlessly down the high street. The breeze cooled my face off and filled my lungs with fresh air. I would have loved to go for a ride on my bike. 'Actually, she's the only one holding it all together.'

Saph rolled her eyes. 'What are you, married?'

I grinned. 'Not yet.'

We made our way down to the green and sprawled out under the shade of a tree. It was a sweltering day, and even with the door open all day at Sammy's, it still made things a million times more difficult. My head was thumping.

'Listen, I've been thinking about your problem. You don't know what to do with yourself once summer is over, right?'

'Amongst other things,' I said. _Like the council kicking me out._

'Right. Well I spoke to my support officer, and she said that if you join the access course now, you might still have time to get the extra UCAS points for uni. Then you could get on a course through clearing.' It all spilled from Saph's peachy lips in one excitable rush.

The liquorice lipstick hadn't made an appearance in a while.

She watched me, her eyes sparkling. 'Well? Am I brilliant or am I brilliant?'

I propped myself up on my elbows. 'University? What, really?'

'Sure. Jude, everyone needs a degree now–days. It's a given. You'll never get anywhere without one.'

'But it's a teaching course. I don't want to teach.'

Saph rolled her eyes. 'It's an _access_ course. You can do IT skills, anything you like. It's just a way of topping up your UCAS points if they crashed and burned the first time around.'

'Then why do you need it? You aced yours, practically.'

Saph batted her lashes. 'Just as a safety measure. It'll look good on the old CV. So how about it?'

I bit my lip. If I turned down an opportunity like this, then I'd be letting everyone down, not just myself. I thought of dad and how depressed he'd seemed that morning, getting all upset over an exploding toaster.

If I had a job _and_ some qualifications, he mightn't feel so bad about it all.

I could assess how it made _me_ feel some other time. Right now, I didn't have a lot of choices. 'So how do I apply?'

Saph tapped her nose like a magical genie. 'Ah, but I came prepared, of course.' She rummaged in her bag and pulled out what was unmistakably an application form.

'Wow. I'm seeing a lot of friends with application forms lately,' I said, taking it and flipping through the pages.

'But only your very _best_ friend has given you this form. See, didn't I come through for you?'

It all looked pretty much like the kind of coursework we did at A–level. The kind I hated. But regardless, I had to be grateful. I'd wanted help and here it was, delivered straight to my lap.

Who was I to complain?
**  
**

Chapter Six

Balancing act

'Band practice was cancelled again. Sorry,' said Lou, looking genuinely ticked off as she broke the news on my doorstep.

'I know,' I said, letting the door swing open. Lou closed it, waggled her fingers at my sister, and followed me upstairs to my room. 'I got the text from Saph not long ago. I was going to come and tell you.'

Lou was wearing her acoustic on her back; a shiny white thing with a glossy finish, like something Dolly Parton would play. It wasn't so rock 'n' roll, but it was eclectic and it was very _Lou_.

She finger–picked nonchalantly, cross–legged on my carpet. Fragments of Siouxsie and James Hetfield lay scattered about her, where I still hadn't bothered to sweep them up. My brainstorm loomed above us, asking questions I didn't want to face. It was mid–August now, and despite my job at Sammy's and the access course I attended with Saph, I still hadn't sorted a place to live.

_Because you STILL haven't made your mind up about anything yet._

As if deliberately disturbing the evil little voice in my mind, Lou said, 'So you're going to university through clearing, huh?'

I threw myself back on the bed. 'Apparently,' I said, exhausted already. It felt like I'd had this conversation a thousand times already, and I supposed I had. Just in my head.

'You don't sound so sure,' Lou sang. I threw a teddy at her and narrowly missed. 'Oi! I'm just calling it how I see it.'

'Well don't. I _want_ to live in my own little dream–world for a while. I mean Christ, Lou, when did life get so serious?'

'It got serious?'

Lou looked genuinely perplexed. Then again, nothing ever bothered her, as if even a cage of hungry lions with a distinct taste for 'Lou burgers' couldn't make her pulse race. She'd go with it, like being gobbled up was a riot.

'All right, Dolly,' I said in reference to the guitar, making her smirk. 'How come you're so free and easy?'

'Probably all that studying I don't do,' she teased. Lou knew I'd been stuck doing IT skills for the last fortnight between shifts at Sammy's. My heart wasn't in it _at all_ , and that was putting it diplomatically.

'No, really,' I said, levelling with her. 'I just feel like I'm biding time for the next disaster. How are you so...just... _not worried_?'

Lou took out her phone. 'This,' she said, flipping it to face me.

It was an e–pamphlet for a cycling trip around the south of France. I gingerly took the phone from Lou's hand and cradled it, flipping through the pictures. They were all of young people riding bicycles in the sunshine, having cook–outs beside rivers and camping under the stars with steaming cups of coffee.

Something stirred in my tummy. I hadn't felt it in a long while, not since me and Chris started going out.

'What do you think about that, eh? Imagine it. Croissants at dawn. Long winding dirt paths surrounded by fields and fields of wheat or sunflowers. I could get a job in a _boulangerie_ or a _chocolatiers_ , and sip wine under the stars. I could just camp forever and never worry about possessions or flats or any of that crap. Just pure freedom.'

Lou's voice faded like a beautiful song in the background. I couldn't tear myself from the screen.

Eventually she had to pry my fingers off the phone and shake me out of it. 'You never said you liked cycling,' I whispered. Croissants and delicate glasses of wine and fast, muddy rides through the mountains at top speed went round and round in my mind.

'Jude. Jude, you're drooling.'

I rolled over and hugged my pillow, closing my eyes tight. Lou's awkwardness was tangible but I didn't bother trying to dissipate it. I couldn't muster the energy to pretend I wasn't upset.

After a while, Lou patted me on the arm. 'Listen, I won't disappear forever. I know you're upset about Saph leaving for uni, and Chris...well, doing whatever he does. But I'll be back. I don't know. Nothing's certain.'

I knew she was trying to make things better but it only made it worse.

'If you'd told me just a few weeks ago...ergh, I don't know.' I sat up and tossed my pillow across the room at the brainstorm. Two pages tore off and fluttered to the floor.

Lou's face erupted into a grin. 'So you want to come? Jude, it's going to be epic.'

'I can't,' I said, blowing the gleam right out of Lou's eyes.

'Why the hell not?' she said. 'Your little sister? The course? Jude, if there's one thing I've learned about you it's that education isn't your thing. Saph's leaving. Why shouldn't you?'

'You don't understand,' I said. 'It's perfect. It's all sodding perfect. But Saph's been putting in an insane effort with my coursework. She's practically doing it for me because she cares so much.'

Lou's expression softened. She bit her lip. 'Break it to her gently?'

'She's my best friend. She thinks she's helping me. She _is_ helping me.'

Now Lou didn't look so soft. Beneath her fringe, I spied her eyes rolling. 'Wasn't it Saph who basically told you to grow up? She's no better than Chris.'

I couldn't say anything positive, so I did what I always did.

I kept my mouth shut.

All through our shift at Sammy's, I thought of cycling in France. There was a deeply–rooted pining inside me that was growing by the hour. I served milkshake after milkshake, bussed tables and worked the till with such natural ease that even Lou was delighted, giving me the odd thumbs–up when we passed each other in the kitchen.

I _was_ getting better at this. But I couldn't even feel good about that, because the only reason I wasn't sucking any more was because I simply wasn't thinking too much about it. I always performed terribly when my mind was in overdrive, but after seeing the cycling website, that was it. All negative thoughts of the job just fell by the wayside.

After work I was due to meet Saph so we could head to the library and swat up for the end of summer access exam. Fetching my bag from the locker room, a waxy–looking booklet caught my eye, its dog–ear peeking out under the flap of my satchel.

It was the hard copy of the cycling e–pamphlet. Lou. She must have slipped it in there on her break.

Unable to resist, I flipped it open and gazed longingly at all the photographs; the sprawling golden landscapes and buttery baguettes and croissants. Dirt paths that went on for miles and miles. Lou had even written me a little note: _THIS is your education!_

'It should be,' I muttered, stroking the note with my finger. 'But that's another life.'

I folded the pamphlet and stuffed it back in the bag, nudging my locker closed. The fact was that I was fiercely loyal to Saph, even if she could be a little hard at times. I'd asked for help and she was practically breaking her back to give it to me. She was the best friend I could have.

What was it mum used to say, before she left us for good? _You've made your bed. Now lay in it._

Saph was waiting for me at the bike stand with a bunch of textbooks cradled in her arms like a baby. Her enthusiastic wave made my heart ache. She was dead set on this clearing thing. She even wanted it to be Greenwich so we could be roomies together. After hours of research on my behalf, Saph had found a way.

That kind of spirit all for a friend deserved a medal. I couldn't crush it.

'Just two more weeks,' she said, bouncing up and down while I untied my bike. She was actually excited about the access exam, like she even needed it. Her grades were so high she was just showing off.

'Wowee,' I said, rolling my eyes.

We strolled along with the bike between us, heading for the library beside the college. Saph was babbling on about Freshers' week at university and how drunk we were going to get and how there'd be so many gorgeous blokes around that I'd forget about Chris forever.

Like he was all I had to frown about. I almost felt guilty about it, but he was right. I didn't know that much about him; not romantically, anyway. But I was still sad about the breakup. We'd lost our band practices. We hadn't had one since because he always made an excuse.

And I lost a really good friend.

'Are you listening? Your eyes have done that thing where they go all squinty and glazed over,' said Saph, whacking me in the side with a textbook.

'Sorry,' I said. 'Long shift.'

'Mm, at Sammy's. Don't worry, you can leave that crap behind you when we go zipping off to uni. I'm so glad you saw the light, Jude.'

Well, I didn't have much choice.

I smiled, but it was a little forced. 'I wouldn't be anywhere without you.'

The rest of the way, I stole glances at Saph's dramatically changed appearance. All the blue dye had been washed out of her hair now, and she wore it in braids or up with bobby pins. No more back–combed ponytails or clip–in dreadlocks. I hadn't seen her Doctor Martens in weeks and her lips were eerily rosy, her skin tanned.

She made me uneasy. It was like Saph was sick and nobody but me could see it.

As we sat down at our study table and began the usual faff of flash–cards and pop quizzes, it dawned on me that if Saph was sick, it was because this growing up thing was a deadly disease, and it was spreading throughout her body, draining the life from her before my eyes. It was taking all of the _Saphness_ out of her.

And it had to be contagious, because here I was in the library, despite every instinct in my body telling me to hop on my bike and never look back.

Right here beside her.

That night in bed I spent so long flicking through the cycling pamphlet that I had to stuff it under my pillow if I hoped to get any sleep. I tossed about in the sheets, kicking off the duvet. It was hot and irritable in my bedroom, and that stupid brain–storm on the wall seemed to glow in the darkness like a neon light, blinking at me.

Giving up on sleep, I took out my phone and scrolled my contacts. I needed to talk to someone who would understand. Anyone. Just someone I could vent to; a friend who wasn't hell–bent on pulling me this way, or that.

Hovering over the name, I gulped. I couldn't call them; no way. Things were too weird. But I could send one little text, couldn't I? Was there anything wrong with that?

_Everything has fallen apart and I don't just mean you. Things aren't the same. I need someone to talk to. Are you still there for me?_

_Please. It's important._

_From your friend,_

_Jude._

__

I bit my lip and re–read the text until my eyes blurred, dreaming up all the ways the message could be misconstrued. Then I pressed the ominous send button and watched the little green speech bubble appear on the screen, dated weeks and weeks after the last messages between us. Those were punctuated with kisses, but mine seemed cold, desperate.

It was time to see if Chris could come through for me; if I ever meant anything to him at all.

_Jude,_

__

_I'm sorry you feel like that. I am. But this can't happen, whatever this is. I know we used to be friends but it's been awkward since the breakup and I can't face you. If that makes me a coward, then I'm a coward, but that's how it is. We were never right for each other and I think we both know that._

_I might as well tell you that I'm seeing somebody else. She works near me. We've got lots in common. When you meet someone else you'll understand what it means to really connect with someone. As for the band, I guess you know I'm out. Emma wouldn't like it if she knew I was jamming with my ex._

__

_I heard you're going to uni after all with Saph. That's great. It looks like you're finally sorting your life out after all & I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do._

__

_Best wishes,_

_Chris_
**_  
_**

Chapter Seven

Waking up

****

' _Best wishes!_ ' I spat, thumping my pillow. ' _Emma wouldn't like it_. Well done for _sorting your life out._ Who the heck does he think he is? This is such _bullshit_.'

My sister Pippa covered her mouth and snorted, spread–out at the foot of my bed. I'd miss moments like this. The day I didn't wake up to my annoying sister rolling about on my duvet like the family dog was the day I'd left my childhood forever, and I knew it.

'He's completely full of himself,' said Pippa, using her expert gossip–magazine voice. 'Good job he's history.'

'I know, right?' I said, scrolling back through the text. I wrinkled my nose. 'God, and he even used the word _jam_. What kind of loser says _jam_ when they talk about band practice? It's sickening.'

'Totally vomit worthy,' agreed Pippa.

'I mean who reads three sentences and writes an entire essay? To think he had the cheek to call _me_ dramatic. I wasn't even trying to get back with him; I just wanted...I just wanted my friend back, that's all.'

'When I want to make my ex–friends jealous, like if we've had a row, I just act like I'm having a really amazing time in the playground with my other mates,' said Pippa, toying with a shredded piece of poster.

'It's not that simple at my age, Pip,' I said, without thinking.

Then I realised. Why couldn't it be that simple? Why should I dwell on someone who's so full of himself he couldn't even keep _Emma_ out of his message? I had a sinking feeling she was the blonde girl I'd seen wafting around him in the shop like a bad smell.

'Anyone who could go on the rebound so fast isn't worth my time.' I decided. 'And that's exactly what I'm going to do, Pip. I'm going to show him and anyone else for that matter.'

'That's my girl,' she said, mocking dad's voice.

The question was how. My mind was branching off down two very different paths. Down one was a university, a set course, a _plan._

And down the other was golden sunshine, fields of wheat, and meandering over rolling hills before me, an infinite, winding road.

Dad was nose–deep in a letter when I came downstairs for breakfast. It had to be important because dad never paid attention to letters for fear of finding a bill we hadn't paid.

Pippa hadn't long left for her swimming party, so it was just us for a change. The house seemed hollow without the sound of her singing or shrieking in the background. Goose pimples shivered up my skin. It was the sound of a family evaporating, one by one.

'It's here,' he said, glancing up at me over his coffee. 'They've found us the flat. The move has to be quick, it says.'

I swallowed hard, tears pricking my eyes. Dad didn't look much better.

'I thought I'd feel more ready for this,' he said, running a hand through his greying hair. 'Everything's caught up with me. I'd hoped to have you more sorted for uni so the move could go smoothly.'

He caught my gaze and faltered. Dad could be hopeless at times, but the conflicting emotion coursing through me wasn't something I could disguise any more. He saw it. He sensed it.

'Let's go for a bike ride like we used to,' he said, taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze. Heat rushed up through my arm and swelled inside me. It was all I needed; that comfort that Chris had refused to provide. Comfort I couldn't expect.

All along, Dad was here with magic hands that could instantly make the world seem better. Less dark and frightening. Why had I ever looked anywhere else?

Blinking back tears, I grinned. 'I'll race you.'

It was a cloudy afternoon, with September creeping in on the horizon.

I glided the bike to a stop on a hill and waited for dad, who was panting away, bringing up the rear. He'd dug out his '90s mountain jobby with purple and silver stripes, just for the occasion. The tyres sagged under his weight a little more than they used to, but it was the same bike. The same dad.

'We'll stop here for a bit, Jude. Get my breath back.' Dad wheezed, dropping the bike on the grass.

There used to be a park bench here that looked out over town. Even as a little girl, I could sit on my dad's shoulders and point to some building in the distance, screaming, 'There's our house!'

I couldn't see it now. The cloud obscured the light and it was too murky to even see the streets we'd just curled our way through. I planted my bike and we plonked down on the grass, elbow to elbow, surveying our murky kingdom.

Dad's wispy grey hair fluttered at the collar of his anorak. The breeze was getting nippier. Soon summer will have totally faded away, and the nights would be crawling in earlier. I tried to picture myself in winter; tried to place myself in the world, in a future as unclear to me as the town was on a day like today.

I felt dad turn to me, all pensive, like he had something serious to say. Whatever it was, I almost didn't want to hear it. Since when had talking ever done us any good? All we did was make decisions. Big, terrifying, life–altering decisions. Or rather, somebody in an office made them for us.

'You really don't want to go to Greenwich, do you?'

I inhaled too quickly and spluttered, covering my mouth. Dad patted my back patiently, his eyes never leaving me.

'Course I do. Saph's got it all figured out.' I lied. It was painful, lying to him like that, but it was necessary. He needed to know I could look out for myself; that I had somewhere to go.

'Jude.' He groaned, shaking his head. 'You always want to say the right thing, don't you? Even when everything is wrong.'

I pressed my lips together, swallowing the lump building in my throat. I focused on the misty town below us, the sprawling streets of houses. Somewhere amongst them, Saph was shopping for pots and pans and new bed linen for Greenwich. Chris was holding hands with Emma, whiling away the last of the summer sun without me. Lou was playing guitar in her room, plotting out the cycling trip of her dreams. Our dreams.

Somewhere else, Pippa was squealing with her friends at the leisure centre, waist–deep in blue chlorine, unaware of the horror she faced. The inevitable plight of growing up.

Dad's arm curled around me. I stiffened, wishing I could leap on the bike and peddle away from it all.

'Tell me what you're thinking,' he said.

This was weird. We hadn't been like this since I was little. It was as if I was a prisoner on my way to the electric chair, and dad was stealing this last chance to wind back the clock to when times were simpler. When everything made sense.

I bit my lip. 'I'm wondering why the sofa wasn't good enough for me.'

Dad erupted into one of his booming laughs, squeezing me to him. 'That sofa will be there for you whenever you need it, for as long as you need it. Sod it, I'll sleep on the thing. It's not like a single man needs a double bed now is it?'

I sniggered. Then my laughter faded on the wind. 'But you said I had to find somewhere. You said I had to move out.'

Dad sighed. 'If I had my way, all my girls would be with me forever 'til I was an old, old man. Who needs a woman when I've got three already?'

He laughed, but he could see my confusion. My desperation to understand why any of this had to change at all.

'When Mel went off to Aus, Jude, I was beside myself. Wept like a baby. Nobody down the pub wanted to be near me in case it was catching. But you see, parenting, it's...it's a long, slippery slope. You never know what's best. I let your sister go in the end because she had dreams of her own. Who was I to take that away? I couldn't lock her up in a tower.'

I nodded slowly. 'Mel always had it figured out.'

'No,' said dad, quickly. 'No, she didn't. She was just like you; full of dreams and ideas. She just didn't know how to express it. Australia is a long, long way for an eighteen year old girl. It's not just the other side of the world; it's like the other side of the galaxy. But all the desire was there, Jude, she just needed a little push. And that's what this thing about the council flat should be for you. It's your big push.'

'But what if I don't want to be pushed? Mel knew what she wanted. I have no idea.'

Dad sighed. 'Then do everything and anything, Jude. See the world. Find out what's out there for you,' he said, rummaging in his pocket. He pulled out something I recognised very well.

'Hey!'

'Don't kill me,' said dad, lifting his hands in defence. 'I was doing the duvet wash when this fell out from under your pillow. Is this what you want?'

I flopped back on the grass and stared up at the clouds. 'Lou's going. You go cycling round France with all these other people and eat baguettes and camp out in fields.'

'And then after that?'

'Whatever you want. Anything, anywhere,' I said. 'But if I go I'll just let Saph down. And anyway, it's way too late. The final exam is the same day Lou leaves for the ferry in Dover.'

Dad nodded his head slowly, considering it. 'That's a dilemma. You know what you do when you have a dilemma?'

'What?' I asked.

'Follow your gut,' he said, prodding me in the belly button. I giggled, kicking away from him. Dad's smiling face sobered. 'You're a free bird, like your mother. She wasn't ready for us. Don't let yourself be penned in all your life, Jude. Spread your wings.'

'I'm nothing like mum,' I said. 'I'm like you.'

Dad grinned. 'My adventure was raising three screaming girls. That woman doesn't know what she's missed out on.'

'She really doesn't,' I said, gazing up at dad.

_A rooftop bar, sipping a cool drink._

__

_Dear Jude,_

__

_Chris is an absolute pillock. Who uses words like 'jam' at his age, anyway? That's positively archaic. Pip was right. Good job we're well shot of that moron, or else we might have ended up stuck with him as a brother–in–law one day. Imagine you in an ivory gown! It doesn't get much un–Jude–like than a dress and a life of servitude, does it?_

__

_Listen, I've been thinking about Greenwich. I know you're trying to do the right thing, but since when were you the bookish type? Stretch your legs, J. Where's that brave girl who used to go screaming through the house, trailing muck everywhere?_

_Look, in case nobody tells it to you straight, I'm taking the burden upon myself:_

_SOD SAPH._

__

_I mean don't lose her as a friend, obviously. I know how much she means to you. But if she wasn't so wrapped up in herself she might see how much you're missing the band, and that bothers me, J. How could she not see that?_

_I looked at that cycling trip website. Now that has 'Jude' written all over it._

_So what's it going to be?_

__

_I've enclosed some money. It's everything I've saved. I bet you thought I'd forgotten all about you, didn't you? Well, I didn't. But it's not for Dad and Pippa, all right?_

_It's strictly for YOU. Have a blast with it, whatever you choose to do. Make the right choice for you, J._

__

_Love and smooches,_

__

_Melody_
**_  
_**

Chapter Eight

The dilemma

****

Lou handed her notice in at Sammy's.

'Come the end of this week I'll be boarding the ferry to Calais,' she said, squirting cream on a banana and marshmallow swirl. 'Then it's a train down to Hendaye where we all meet and cycle through the mountains to Saint Cyprien at the end. We're going to swim in the Med.'

Her voice was so dreamy I could almost close my eyes and imagine it myself. Cycling through jagged landscapes and blue skies, the sun on our backs, muscles pumping.

'How are you going to afford to live?' I asked, stacking up tall glasses.

Lou smiled. 'It's all inclusive, dummy. You just pay your rental fees for the tents and the camping equipment. When it's over I might just buy my own. I could busk for the money. My voice isn't half bad.'

'You can sing?'

'A little,' she said, popping her shake on a tray. She stared at it thoughtfully a moment. 'It's a shame you're going to Greenwich. Me and you could have kept The Manic Flamingos together. Maybe do a few gigs. Rent a –'

'– rent a room,' I finished.

Our eyes met and a moment passed between us.

It was bittersweet. Together we shared a picture of us really giving it a go, touring the South of France on our bikes, maybe getting the odd job, but never for long, because we'd always be hitting the road, looking for the next gig. It wouldn't even matter if we didn't make it big, because we'd be free.

We'd be steering ourselves towards our destiny.

Lou sighed. 'There's still time, Jude. I'm just saying. All you need is your bike, your passport, some money and the love of a good woman...or something like that.'

'Saph's meeting me on Friday to go to this exam,' I said, like it meant anything to Lou. 'I'll probably fail. Greenwich might never happen, even through clearing.'

Lou shrugged. 'It's up to you, J. World's your oyster, as they say.'

'Is it?' I asked, to nobody in particular. Lou was already skirting round the counter, serving the shakes to the couple in the bay window.

I froze. Lou, upon approaching them, tensed up as well. I could see her coiling up like a spring, hands shaking as she lowered the glasses.

It was Chris. And Emma.

Lou muttered a short conversation while Emma dove into her banana marshmallow swirl. Chris glanced my way and I ducked behind the ice machine, praying and praying he wouldn't see me.

When Lou returned, she looked shaken as the pink mixture churning in the blender, buzzing like a wasp. 'I had no idea that was _her_ when she came up and ordered,' she said in an agonised squeak.

'Did they see me?'

'Oh god, Jude. He's coming this way. Quick, nip in the staffroom.'

I could hear his converse slapping the tiles as he made his way towards us. The ceiling fan hummed above me, chanting a rhythm of doom. He'd see me if I darted now. There was only one thing for it. I dropped to the floor and crawled on my belly.

'What the heck are you _doing?'_ said Lou.

I wriggled like some slimy creature from 3000 BC, my heart like a jackhammer behind my breastplate. ' _Distract him_.'

Halfway over the threshold into the kitchen, Lou began stuttering. 'Is e–everything okay with your drink?'

'Yeah, s'fine. I just wanted to say sorry about the band and all.'

Lou's voice dipped remarkably in tone. 'No apology necessary.'

'It's just that it's really awkward being around Jude, what with Emma and everything,' said Chris, adopting his new smarmy attitude. Once again he wasn't paying attention to the other party. He just wanted to hear his own voice.

'Me and Jude have formed our own band. Don't you worry about her.'

I could practically hear the cogs in Chris' brain turning, digesting this new information. Heck, it was news to me too. 'Oh. So you see her?'

'Yep.'

He paused. 'Does she ever...you know...talk about...?'

I stole a glance at Lou. Chris' floppy hair was just visible, poking out behind the ice machine. She was treating him to her steely gaze and one of her best shrugs.

'Never mentions you, Craig.'

I frowned, drawing my legs in. I'd managed to slither my way into the nook behind the door. _Craig?_

'My name's Chris,' he said bitterly.

There was another pause. 'Woah. Okay. All this time I thought your name was Craig,' said Lou. She almost sounded genuinely dumbfounded.

'No,' he said. 'It isn't.'

'Mm'kay,' said Lou.

I busied myself with the dishwasher after that, cursing myself for not being brave enough to face him alone. But what was the point? He only wanted to rub Emma in my face, and if he managed that, he was winning. Wasn't he?

'Looks like I saw him off,' said Lou, twirling a tea towel. 'Him and blondie just left. He still looked all pissed off. _And_ he had chocolate stuck to his chin, the big idiot.'

I giggled, arching my arm to give Lou a high–five. She reciprocated with ease, like it was something we'd been doing for years. 'Thanks. Seriously, you made my day.'

Lou waved her hand. 'Don't mention it. I live to tease idiots. Jude...'

I gulped. 'Yeah?'

She stuck out her hand. 'If this is our last week together, then I just wanna say it's been a pleasure.'

I grabbed her hand and squeezed. In my mind's eye the backs of thousands of cyclists disappeared over the crown of a glowing green hill.

'Ditto,' I said thickly.

It was the day of the exam. The college spread before me, its thousands of panels winking in the sun like so many scrutinizing eyes. In one hand I held a pen, palms sweating in anticipation. In the other I held my rucksack.

Saph was up ahead, waiting for me, the ghost of a girl I used to know in The Manic Flamingos. A bead of sweat trickled down the nape of my neck. This was it. This was _it._

'So Jude,' said Saph, marching up to me. 'Are you ready? Or are you ready to _balk_?'

My mouth twitched. 'Balk? Why would I? Of course not.'

She cocked an eyebrow, linking arms with me as we made our way into the corridor. 'It was a joke! I've never seen you so nervous before. Anyway, I know you wouldn't ditch me. If you did, all that studying last night would be wasted. You wouldn't waste your best friend's precious time, would you?'

My rucksack got heavier by the second, like I was carrying a dead body, curled up inside, and at any moment it'd spill out onto the floor, exposing my secret. I hitched it up on my shoulder, breathing deep.

The exam room had one of those big round clocks above the whiteboard, with obscenely large numbers and a loudly ticking hand. I groaned. Would Lou be at the station right now, watching the clock?

Would she risk a few moments, a few minutes, just in case I turned up?

I turned away from the door and paced the hall. We still had a few minutes to go. Saph grabbed me by the shoulders, sending a shock down into my core. Her eyes darted between mine, as if she could sense my unease. Sense my urgency to just get out of there and leave this mess behind.

'You know we can't take bags into the exam room. You have to lock them in the office,' she said, yanking the rucksack from my shoulder. Her arm sagged dramatically under its weight. 'Yikes, Jude, what the heck have you got in here? A corpse?'

My tongue swelled. 'D–don't do that. I'll go lock it up.'

She frowned. 'You don't even know where the office is. Jude, are you _sweating?'_

'No,' I said, feeling another bead trickle all the way to the small of my back. Saph wasn't buying it. Her left eye twitched, the way it did when she smelled a rat.

'What is it?' she said, lifting the rucksack to her hip. I could practically feel her muscles straining under the bag's bulk. Without thinking my hand shot out and I made to snatch it from her, but she held on, struggling. She bared her teeth. 'What _is it_?'

'It's nothing.' I growled.

With that, Saph shoved me in the side and unzipped it, the shriek of the zipper a piercing sound in the quiet of the corridor. A small crowed of nervous students were queuing by the door, and now they were craning their necks to see the spectacle.

She pulled the rucksack open and examined it like a giant mouthful of teeth. My roll–up bed mat poked out like an obscene red tongue. The lid of the gas lamp rattled. Saph's face drained of colour as she peered from the bag to me, hurt clouding her eyes.

'I knew you had to be planning something,' she said hoarsely.

'It's just a camping trip...' I muttered, clawing a hand through my hair. I wanted to tear it all out. 'I don't even know why I packed that. I never planned to go, not really. I swear.'

It was true. A last minute raid of the garden shed, a bag from my room, that's all it was. Wishful thinking. A fantasy. I'd never had to guts to just up and leave like that, and deep down, I'd always known it. That was ninety–nine percent of my problem, right there.

She shook her head incredulously, dumping the bag at my feet. 'Why the big secret?'

'Saph, leave it.' I snapped. The answer to that was obvious, but it was too painful to admit out loud. It was a secret because it didn't include Saph. She wasn't a feature in my plans at all, fantasy or not.

'No. So you're going on some trip right after the exam? You were going to shoot off and leave me?'

I floundered, holding up my hands as if to grab an answer from thin air.

'Who with?'

'Lou,' I said, covering my face with my hands.

Saph paused, then, probably adding it up in her head. When she spoke next her voice was soft and almost tender, but it was laced with uncertainty. It was heartbreaking.

'What about Greenwich?'

'Saph, come on. I didn't go. I _chose_ to say.'

'What about _Greenwich_?'

A woman appeared in my periphery. She waved the queue of smirking onlookers in. It was time for the exam. 'I'll take that bag for you,' she said, holding out a manicured hand. 'Come and take a seat, you two.'

Saph glowered as she heaved the bag at the woman and flounced into the exam room, slumping at her desk. I took my seat two chairs behind her, staring at the back of her rounded shoulders.

The blood was racing around my body so fast I couldn't sit still. I fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing my legs, sighing. I just wanted to talk to her. To say I was sorry.

'Saph,' I whispered, leaning over my desk. ' _Saph_.'

'Everybody, you have one hour to complete the exam. If you need more sheets of paper, raise your hand and I'll bring them to you. There'll be no talking.' The woman at the front eyed me as she spoke. 'Your time starts now.'

Ten minutes passed before I even flipped open the first page. Saph's hand was whizzing across her table, scribbling frantically. Any desire to complete the course now was fast slipping away from me. I wanted to be at the station, wheeling my bike onto a train with Lou. I watched the clock and slumped further down on my desk when I realised, miserably, that Lou would be long gone by now. It was official.

I waded through my own syrupy reluctance, and with great effort turned the page to start my exam paper. Answers came in drips and drabs. My pen barely scratched the surface. Then as the minutes ticked away, my troubles slowly faded into the background, until all that remained was me and the paper.

After a while my pen drew easier across the page. I read the questions slowly, taking my time, paying more attention now than I'd ever bothered to over the last month. And it was easy. The information had sunk in.

I was doing it, really doing it.

Then someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was the woman running the exam. I didn't even know her name, but she looked down at me with an unmistakable glint of pity in her eyes.

'Jude?'

'Yes?'

'The hospital have just called,' she said gravely. 'You'd better come with me.'

_Jude,_

__

_I waited for you, just in case. I hoped you might change your mind. Guess not._

_I understand. If you ever do, call me. I'll meet you anywhere, if you'll come and find me._

__

_It's been a pleasure, pal._

__

_Lou._
_  
_

_Jude,_

__

_I was midway through another stupid letter when I got your text. I'm in the foyer at Sydney airport. Stay strong. Give dad a kiss from me. A thousand kisses. Tell him I love him._

__

_I'm coming home._

__

_Melody_
**_  
_**

Chapter Nine

Growing up

****

Me and Pippa were either side of dad as he lay on the hospital bed, clutching a hand each. He was snoring in and out of consciousness, his head dipping back on the pillow, just like it did at home when he fell asleep in his armchair.

But this wasn't like that at all, because dad was sick. Really sick.

Pippa sobbed. She hadn't stopped crying since she'd got the call at her friend's house in the middle of a play date. It was probably the last one she'd ever have before the term started at her new school.

'Can his heart fix itself?' she said, wiping her soppy face over the back of dad's limp hand. Seeing her cry just kept setting me off. She was like something from an old movie. I focused on dad's face and willed the hours to go by; waiting for Melody to come.

'Maybe if he hears Mel's voice it will,' I said, tucking the blanket under dad's chin.

'Is she coming soon?'

'Sooner than you think.'

I didn't even know what I was saying. Everything was falling apart. There I'd been, worrying about my own life and my own stupid problems. All the while, dad was clutching his chest in some Portakabin at work, having a heart attack.

Another hour passed. Pippa was nodding off on dad's shoulder, her hand still holding his. 'It'll be all this stress about the sodding move,' I said, talking to myself. 'It's the councils fault.'

I thought of all the times dad had asked about me and my feelings, and my plans, in the last few weeks. When had I ever asked about his?

'And my fault, worst of all,' I said, fiercely wiping a tear from my cheek.

It was the middle of the night, a whole day after dad was first rushed in. The senior nurse was yapping away about getting us home and calling our nan to pick us up, or to at least give her a turn at dad's bedside. Just as I'd been doing all day, and all evening, I told her to jog on. This was our dad, and we weren't leaving him. Not ever.

'Nan's very worried about you,' the nurse persisted, touching my shoulder. I shrugged her off. 'She's been calling and calling.'

'Well she can call all she likes, but we're not bloody moving!'

With that, my very tanned and exhausted–looking sister burst into the room.

'Dad!'

She rushed to his side in a waft of perfume, her wavy brown hair extensions whipping me in the face. 'Oh dad,' she said, sobbing. She already had streaks of eyeliner all down her face, smeared from where she'd wiped the tears away. The crappy circumstances aside, it was the first time I'd seen Melody looking normal in years.

In fact it was the first I'd seen Melody at all in what seemed like a century.

Pippa jolted awake and ran sleepily to Melody's side. Feeling her hands around her waist, Melody winced and seemed to wake up and see us for the first time. 'Jude! Pip!' she cried, embracing us both. Her bangles rattled by my ears as she squeezed me, hard, her body vibrating as she cried.

She smelled like foreign air and expensive leather and hair products, but best of all she smelled like Melody. And Melody meant _home_.

'We're all back together, dad,' she said, her breath catching in her throat.

Dad stirred, groaning. He lifted an arm slowly, weighed down with wires and plugs and his cannula, pawing at his lopsided hospital gown. Then his eyes fluttered open, and our bodies sighed in unison as we clung to each other. My knees were so weak I was sure if it wasn't for Melody, I'd have collapsed with relief.

'Melody,' dad whispered in a raspy voice. 'Kids. You're all here.'

'Of course we're here, dad,' said Melody. 'Of _course_ we are.'

We finally brought dad home after five days in hospital and some major surgical intervention. A blood clot had formed in dad's heart and caused a blockage. The doctor said nobody could have foreseen it, and that it was one of those things.

But I still couldn't help brooding over the what ifs. I was supposed to be the eldest one at home; the responsible one. Why hadn't _I_ seen this coming?

Melody breezed back into her old bedroom with no less than _four_ suitcases of her belongings, adamant that she was going to be the good daughter now that she was home. I had to admit that I was relieved for her to be here, to take the burden off me and Pip. She was like the last missing piece of us all, finally slotting into place.

Dad lounged in his armchair and dozed an awful lot, with Pippa clinging to his side. When Melody wasn't taking phone calls – or rejecting phone calls – from her manager, she was zipping about the house, cleaning up the messes we'd never bothered to tidy ourselves.

'It's like a pack of men live here,' she said, crushing cans and deflating empty bottles for the recycling bag. 'It's time we injected a bit of class back into this place.'

Melody tended dad's needs all day every day while I worked my shifts at Sammy's, and during my days off she took Pip out to get the rest of her bits for school. She even bought us a new toaster, a proper branded one from the supermarket.

We ate toast like it'd been rationed for years after that. Dad even gulped down four slices piled high with scrambled eggs, seasoned just the way he liked it. Slowly but surely, Melody brought the colour back to dad's cheeks.

We'd all had rounds of toast and marmalade when Melody brought Pippa out in her posh new uniform, with a grey blazer and a stripy purple tie. Dad clapped us into a round of applause as she twirled, her pleated skirt fanning out around her.

Then dad suddenly stopped, his hands pausing mid–clap. His mouth dropped open. 'Jude, the flat. We're supposed to be gone by now. We're –'

'Ssh, dad, it's okay. The council wrote us a letter to say that because our circumstances have changed, we're not going after all,' I said, and taking great delight in it too.

I'd wanted desperately to blurt it out the day the letter came, but Melody insisted that we waited until dad asked about it himself. 'Then we'll know he's really on the mend,' she'd said.

'Is this a dream?' said dad, his eyes pooling. 'We're really staying?'

All three of us nodded. Pippa even rushed out to the kitchen and fetched the letter from the cupboard where Melody had stashed it. Dad took the letter in his trembling hands and read it over three or four times.

Then he gathered us all close to him and cried.

'We've got our home back,' he said, sniffing. It wasn't like dad to cry, but he'd been doing a lot of it lately, and that was his trouble. It was the stress. 'I'd have had ten bloody heart attacks if I'd known that's what it took!'

He looked at me, smiling. 'No couch for you after all.'

I grinned, shrugging my shoulders. 'So sue me. I always get my way.'

Dad's smile faded slightly. 'And what about Greenwich? Or France? What happened to all of that?'

The truth was I hadn't even thought of either of those since dad's heart attack, and I didn't care, either. My shifts at Sammy's gave me plenty of distraction when I needed it, and without the extra drama of making decisions, I could focus on what really mattered. Us. Our family.

'Greenwich and France can go do one, dad,' I said.

Ushering Pippa into the hall to collect her satchel and school shoes, Melody eyed me silently, shaking her head.

Come January, we were all well entrenched in our new routines. Pippa had a new circle of friends in high school. Dad was on blood pressure tablets and blood thinners, and back working his forklift truck. I was still working at Sammy's, and Melody was working with her London connections on a new brand.

I hadn't heard a word from Saph, really, since it all went wrong. That is, except from a single text that came through on the day she was to start her degree at Greenwich.

_I heard about what happened. I'm so glad he's okay. I'm here if you need me._

_I mean it._

__

_Saph x_

__

The other person I hadn't heard a peep from was Lou, but that was understandable. Her cycling trip would have finished months ago, and she'd no doubt set off on her own and got a job in a boulangerie just as she'd planned, with her own room and a balcony where she could eat baguettes and watch the goings on in the village below.

I knew that was probably an exaggeration, but I wanted it to be true for her.

And even though I would never be so spiteful as to let Melody or dad or even Pippa find out, I still found myself waking up at night, turning over my pillow, and pulling out that cycling pamphlet. It helped, even if all I did was look at the pictures and dream.

My life continued that way, until one afternoon, as I was filling glasses with frosty raspberry milkshake, a face I thought I wouldn't see for years appeared above the counter. She startled me so much I nearly dropped my jug and splattered milkshake all over my uniform.

'Saph!' I cried.

She waggled her fingers, blushing slightly. I'd expected her to be dramatically different by now, wearing a shirt and a pair of secretarial glasses perched on her nose or something like that. And she _was_ different, only not at all how I'd expected.

She had bright blue hair, backcombed, and her mouth was slick with a coat of black lipstick. She was even wearing a cap–sleeved top despite the cold outside, showing off her sleeve of tattoos. When she smiled, a new tongue stud glistened under the glow of the lights.

'Jude! How's it going?'

'It's going...well, it's going. What are you doing here? I thought all the uni kids had gone back after Christmas,' I said, still in awe of her standing right in front of me.

She swayed on the spot, eyes flitting to the floor. When she looked back up again, the air of shame about her wasn't difficult to sense. Her posture was changed, more humbled. She didn't hold her head so aloof anymore.

'I'm kind of not going back, J.'

' _What_?'

'You were right,' she said, before I could bombard her with questions. 'My parents aren't happy, like _at all_ , but you were right. It just wasn't for me, Jude. I was living a stupid lie and you were the only one who could see it.'

I didn't know what to say. I moved my lips to speak but nothing came to mind, nothing at all.

Eventually, one thing did come to mind, though I couldn't fathom why I'd even want to ask it. I swallowed and did it anyway. 'Does this mean The Manic Flamingos are back on?'

Saph's face erupted into a liquorice grin. I'd missed that face. 'Jude! I thought you'd never ask. There's just one problem, though. My parents are going on about me getting a job now that I'm a disgraceful drop out.'

'There are always shifts going here, if you could lower yourself, your highness.'

Saph blushed, even through her thick layer of pale foundation, remembering her initial aloofness when I'd told her about my job at Sammy's.

'And to think I was calling you childish,' she said, her voice trembling. 'Speaking of her highness, I heard Melody came back to London.'

I nodded, filling the rest of the glasses with icy pink slush. 'She did. She's still doing shoots, just closer to home for once. I don't know where we'd be without her. She just came in and took control, fixing everything. She brought our family back together,' I said, blinking back tears. I ducked my head, hoping Saph wouldn't see.

No such luck. 'You look like you're holding it together pretty well yourself,' she said, dipping her head to catch my eye. 'You've done us all proud, J.'

I knew that, deep down. Dad and Melody told me every day, and even Pippa seemed to look up to me more now. But something still felt missing for me, still empty. Every day I'd check my phone for a message from Lou and find nothing, like always. And like always, each day would feel just a little bleak.

Saph came round for my birthday in April, and for the first time in years, both my sisters were present. I unwrapped a plethora of quirky gifts, including a pair of pink drum sticks from Saph, socks with toes from Pippa, and a pair of designer cycling gloves from dad, amongst many other things.

'For those days when the wind has a bite to it,' said dad, winking.

When it came time for me to unwrap Melody's present, she tapped her nose and said, 'Wait right here. Oh, but close your eyes!'

I obliged and stiffened, listening for sounds that might give the mystery away. There were stifled giggles, whispers, and a lot of scuffling and sounds of the front door being bashed opened and closed.

'All right,' said Melody in a teasing voice. 'Open!'

My eyes shot open to find a brand new bike, wrapped up in blue ribbons with bows tied around each handlebar. It was a gorgeous modern thing, with gears and a sparkling new chain and a cushioned saddle with grips.

I squealed, first rushing to squeeze my sister, before hopping on the bike and taking it for a test drive round the living room sofa, jerking it around the awkward turns. By the time I was done toying with it, we were all laughing. Melody had her phone out, filming me with a glittering grin on her face.

I propped the bike up in the hall, running a hand over the seat. 'It's perfect. No, better than perfect. More than that.'

'Well, just wait until you see the next part,' said Melody, flashing a knowing smirk at dad, Pippa and Saph. She dipped into her handbag and brought out a humble white envelope. 'Open it.'

'A card,' I said, tearing it open. 'I've always wanted one of these.'

'Just read it, dipstick,' said Melody, sitting on the arm of dad's chair.

It wasn't a birthday card, but a postcard with a foreign stamp.

On it was a picture of the Eiffel tower.

Barely able to hold back the flood of tears that threatened to erupt at any moment, I held my breath tight and didn't dare let it out until I'd read the whole message. I read it at least three times, and I didn't let go of a single breath.

_Sitting amongst daffodils._

__

_Hey Jude,_

__

_How has it been so long? Your sister got hold of me when she nicked your phone while you were taking a shower. She said you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to give me a call, so she decided to do it herself._

__

_I've been having a wicked time in France. It took us a whole week to cycle coast to coast, and we even swam in the Med when we got to Saint Cyprien, just like I said we would. I thought about you when I was surrounded by all that warm, crystalline blue water. Jealous?_

_Well don't be, because you're coming to meet me._

__

_Melody says she's bought you two lots of tickets, so bring Saph along. Oh, and don't forget your brand new bike, you spoiled sod._

_There's enough time left to chuck in your notice at Sammy's before you leave. Mel's got it all sorted out, so don't even think about worrying. Besides, a little bird told me you haven't even spent the dosh she sent you back in the summer, and you must have saved a whole load of your own by now. Don't be selfish. Come spend it on me!_

__

_I'm working for a woman called Fabienne at a French chocolatier, and she said you're welcome to come share some shifts with me. Saph too. Better still, we can play a few gigs in the bar upstairs and show France a taste of The Manic Flamingos._

_The address and details are all enclosed. Just hurry up and get here._

_I'm waiting!_

__

_With pleasure, as always._

__

_Lou._
**_  
_**

Chapter Ten

Stepping out

****

On the crest of a swaying green hill, three girls glided their bicycles through a sunlit valley of daffodils on a spring afternoon in Saint Cyprien.

Saph and Lou gathered speed and raced across a narrow bridge, muscles bulging in their thighs as they pumped their legs. Lou avoided the concrete post by a near miss and swerved, snaking her way just ahead of Saph. I was lagging behind, pedalling gently, breathing in the air. Their screams were carried on the wind even when they dipped out of sight, collapsing on the edge of a softly babbling river.

By the time I joined them they'd abandoned their bikes and were in the midst of a wrestling match. Lou tugged Saph down the river bank kicking and squealing by the loop of her denim shorts, but was soon overturned by one swing of Saph's powerful leg. I laid down my bike and refereed, calling foul when Lou came back and bit Saph's wrist, making her shriek.

'She _bit me!_ ' she screamed, her blue hair in disarray. 'Disqualify!'

'She sang out of tune the other night and never got disqualified. She should be sacked!' Lou wriggled free of Saph's grasp and tore off her vest, tossing it back in her face.

'You're both losers,' I said, plonking down beside Saph. She peeled Lou's vest off her face while I tore up a handful of daisies and made chains. Lou dipped a toe in the brook, wincing at the cold.

Saph winked at me and, stealthily, crept up behind Lou and shoved her in. The splash was immense and we were showered with spray, shrieking like it was the funniest and most original prank in the world. 'It never gets old,' said Saph, holding her sides.

'You know what else doesn't?' I said, getting up and brushing the grass off my shorts. Saph's eyes widened.

'Don't you dare.'

Without a second's hesitation I launched myself at Saph and shoved her in after Lou, and the pair of them spluttered and coughed and slapped one another's hands away. Soon their protests turned to yet more laughter and they were floating on their backs, yapping on about lyrics and cover songs.

The clouds drifted aimlessly above until they disappeared all together, leaving an infinite blue sky jewelled only by the dazzling sun.

'Are you coming in, Jude, you absolute _bore_?' called Saph, spitting river water.

I flipped her the finger, grinning. She and Lou cooed and whistled as I pulled out my latest post card.

'She's got another love letter,' said Lou, puckering her lips.

'Sod off!' I said, kicking off my trainers. 'It's from my dad.'

I always loved my post cards from dad. And Melody, and Pippa too.

_In my arm chair with a lovely cuppa tea._

__

_Dear Jude,_

__

_How's the chocolate shop? We still ain't had a single truffle come through the post. I thought you were supposed to be an expert by now?_

_Anyway, shan't make it a long one, love. Still can't get used to this letter writing malarkey. I can never think of things to say. Just keep having fun, darlin', and think of your dear old dad next time you box up another tray of those chocolates._

__

_I'll give you a bell on Saturday and see how you're getting on. Mel's been showing me your band videos on the internet and all the views you've been getting. That boss of yours might just be the making of you, with all these opportunities coming your way. The Manic Flamingos will be on 'Later with Jools' in no time, mark my words._

_Pippa's decided she's going to be a model and a drummer now, thanks to you and your sister. One day she'll figure it all out for herself but I'm glad it's a long way off yet. She's still our baby._

_We're all missing you, J._

__

_Have fun, love._

__

_Dad._
_  
_

__

Just as I was slotting dad's letter back in my bag, a text rang through. I knitted my brow, fumbling for it at the bottom of an inside pocket. I rarely checked my phone. I couldn't stand being glued to the thing like everybody else was.

'Is that a message I just heard bleeping?' called out Lou. 'I haven't heard one of those in months.'

'Who is it?' said Saph, splashing Lou. 'All your best bitches are here.'

'I'm not sure,' I said, opening it up. It wasn't anybody on my contacts list and I didn't recognise the number.

Lou and Saph leaned on the river bank, squinting in the sun, waiting.

_J,_

__

_Me and Emma are through._

__

_I came by your house the other week and your sister Melody was there. She saw me right off. I don't blame her, after all we've been through. She's quite scary though, your sister. I never imagined her being so unlike you._

__

_Anyway, I went there because your boss at Sammy's said you'd left months ago. Are you really making it in France? I saw all your hits on YouTube and I almost didn't believe it. The Manic Flamingos are back together._

_Well, almost back together. That depends on where I stand in all this. I was one whole quarter of that band, you know._

__

_Give me another chance. Please? I miss you. I miss us._

__

_I'll be waiting on your text._

__

_Love,_

__

_Chris._

__

'Well?' said Saph and Lou in unison.

Smirking, I deleted Chris' text and switched off my phone, before dumping it back in the inside pocket of my bag, where it belonged. 'Just someone who's going to be waiting a very, very long time,' I said, standing up. 'I'd move if I were you.'

Lou and Saph scrambled out of the way just before I came plunging in, fully clothed. They both screamed as a wave of water exploded all around me, soaking the bank.

Bubbles scattered about my head and went spiralling up to the surface, where the sunny sky swayed behind a veil of shimmering water.

I could hear their muffled squeals as I peered about in the depths, my cheeks puffed out. Either side of my head, Lou and Saph's legs were pedalling, churning up the river bed, their toes wriggling amongst the weeds. When I surfaced my feet joined theirs, the cool water coiling around our ankles and toes, so icy cold it was like we were made of the stuff.

Just us free girls, treading water.

Making waves.

**The End**

About the author

****

Ava Bloomfield lives by the sea with her partner Matt and their Scottish Terrier, Sputnik. When she's not busy with her day job as a transcriber, Ava can be found rummaging in charity shops for hidden treasure, mooching about in her local library, or writing her next novel.

Ava writes stand alone books about angsty teenagers. Check out her other works: _Honest_ , _All Girls Cry_ , _Leap_ and _Beyond_ on Goodreads.

**Ways of chumming up to Ava:**

Twitter: http://twitter.com/avabloomfield

Blog: avabloomfield.wordpress.com

Alternatively, send her a psychic message over the cosmos. She's not quite tuned into it yet, but she's certain it'll happen any day now.

****
