Love Song Page 5

  ‘What about Connor?’ I asked. ‘More family problems?’

  ‘No-o,’ she admitted. ‘He’s had a really happy life. He grew up in a big house with his brother and sister. But everyone knows he’s a bit sensitive about his bass playing. I mean, he’s brilliant, but he seems to think he’s not the best ever. So be nice to him, OK?’

  Again, I promised not to damage the confidence of one of the richest, best-looking, supermodel-dating boys on the planet.

  ‘And George?’

  ‘Isn’t he lovely?’ she sighed. ‘He’s got this really sweet girlfriend called Kelly in Texas, and he talks about her all the time. He looks manic, but he’s just so adorable.’

  ‘Adorable. Got it.’

  She was starting to sense that I wasn’t entirely taking this seriously.

  ‘Look after them, Neenie. Promise me.’

  ‘All right. I promise.’

  Tammy had come over to say goodbye.

  ‘I just want you to know that I am completely jealous,’ she said, fishing something out of her bag. ‘And I will never speak to you again.’

  ‘Thanks, Tam.’

  ‘I got you this.’

  She handed me a journal. It was bigger than average – more of a scrapbook size, really – and she’d personalized the cover with a collage of cut-out pictures of The Point, with Sigrid’s face beaming beatifically from the middle.

  ‘Hmm. Tasteful.’

  ‘I thought you’d like it,’ she grinned. ‘I worked on it all last night. You can use it to write down all your deep and meaningful thoughts about Jamie.’

  ‘I promise that if I have any, this is exactly where they’re going.’

  For once, Tammy looked serious. She threw her arms around me and hugged me as tightly as I’d let her.

  ‘They’re lucky to have you,’ she murmured into my hair.

  Yeah. Something like that.

  ‘We’d better go,’ Dad said gruffly. ‘Don’t want to miss that flight.’

  Despite what he’d said before, I think he might have been very happy if the plane had gone without me. He dropped me off at the airport with the grizzled air of a man who, without knowing quite how it happened, has agreed to let his daughter play in the lions’ cage at the zoo.

  ‘If anything happens, call me,’ he instructed, checking for the tenth time that my suitcase was safely on its way into the baggage system, and my passport was in my hand. ‘Me, or the police. Or both. Just … call me. OK? Promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘If anyone tries to—’

  ‘They won’t, Dad.’

  ‘They’re boys. They will.’

  ‘I’ve seen some of their girlfriends. They won’t.’

  He shook his head and hugged me.

  ‘Your mother is a sucker for adventure. She hasn’t had any, so she doesn’t know how dangerous they are.’

  I laughed. ‘I know, Dad. You need to watch out for her.’

  ‘I will.’ His mouth turned down at the corners. ‘I’d watch out for you too, but … little girls grow up.’

  ‘I’m not getting married. I’m just doing a temporary PA job.’

  ‘And you’ll do it brilliantly. You’re the reliable one, Nina. You always were. But if anyone—’

  ‘Like I said, they won’t. I’m going now.’

  I gave him a kiss and walked off to passport control. If I didn’t hurry, I really would miss that plane.

  By the time I landed in Barcelona, it was already early evening. A driver was waiting for me, with my name handwritten on a cardboard sign, and soon we were heading for the venue in a luxury BMW. It was out of town, so I didn’t get to see any landmarks, but I loved seeing the ads at the side of the road, with their strange Spanish accents and upside-down exclamation marks.

  We pulled up in a special car park, near to the artists’ entrance. Rows and rows of dark, shiny tour buses gleamed under the lights. I checked the time: the band had started a while ago. It looked as though I’d miss at least the first half of the concert – but that didn’t matter. There would be plenty more to see.

  At the security desk inside, I waited for a long time while the guards phoned around to find out if anyone had any idea who I was, or what to do with me. Meanwhile, the boys were launching into another song, and the whole place seemed to throb with their music. The distant, distorted beat pulsed through me, and the sense of excitement everywhere was palpable – even among the backstage staff, rushing around behind the scenes. I could have been at home, I thought, revising for English. Why had I ever thought that was a good idea? How could I possibly have imagined that could be better than this?

  Eventually, a stressed-looking young man showed up, dressed in the typical black, casual outfit of the band’s entourage, and clutching a two-way radio.

  He held out his hand. ‘Hi. I’m Oliver. I work for Steve. You must be Nina. You look …’

  His brow furrowed as he looked me up and down. I wondered what the problem was. My outfit? I was dressed in black from head to toe, like him, as Dad told me that was what staff wore backstage, so they remained invisible. My hair? Had my face gone puffy after the flight?’

  ‘… younger than I expected.’

  ‘Oh. I’m seventeen.’

  The furrows deepened. ‘And you’ve done this kind of thing before?’

  ‘Absolutely not. Nothing like it. Sorry.’

  ‘OK, fine,’ he sighed, sagging slightly. ‘Let’s hope there’s method in her madness. I don’t have time to babysit, so ask if you’ve got a problem, but once I tell you how to fix it, you’re on your own.’

  I nodded dumbly. It wasn’t the world’s best welcome, but I liked the idea of knowing at least one person who could fix things.

  ‘Have you got your pass yet?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. He sighed and said something to the guards. Eventually they handed over two of them, with lanyards attached, and gave me a special wristband for good measure. One pass was black, the other red. The guards seemed surprised that I needed the red one, and Oliver had to show them an email from Steve to prove it.

  As soon as I was ready, he took my case for me and hurried me down miles of corridors, past stacks of equipment and busy roadies, and several layers of security – all of whom double-checked my red pass as if they couldn’t quite believe I was wearing it.

  ‘Look after that,’ he said, noticing me staring down at it as it dangled in front of my chest. ‘It’s Access All Areas. It takes you right inside the dressing room. Only about ten people have this, but Sigrid insisted one of them was you.’

  We finally reached an area marked ‘BAND – NO ENTRY’ and Oliver led me to a door flanked by two enormous bodyguards, also dressed in black. They stared at me impassively.

  ‘This is Paul and this is Ian,’ Oliver said. ‘Be nice to them. They control who gets close to the boys. They like me, because I feed them chocolate. But they can be terrifying when roused.’

  He didn’t need to remind me. Ian was the same bodyguard who had slammed me to the floor a couple of weeks ago. He frowned at me for a second, as if I looked familiar but he couldn’t place me. I decided not to bring it up – it wasn’t exactly one of my favourite moments.

  ‘Is she still in there?’ Oliver asked.

  Ian nodded.

  By now, the distorted roar of the music was immense. We couldn’t be far from the stage. Ian opened the door behind him.

  I didn’t quite know what I’d expected (possibly the Tardis, crossed with Rio at Carnival – I had no idea), but it wasn’t this – a large, messy room that reminded me a bit of the sixth-form common room, but with less comfortable furniture. It smelt of hairspray, talc, stale food and decades of smelly feet, overlaid with expensive but inadequate room spray. It was scattered with clothes and abandoned plates of food.

  Oliver rushed me through it and knocked on a further door at the back. Sigrid appeared in the doorway, in a towelling robe, with her hand to her head. Even with her hair in rollers, with no
make-up on, she looked heart-stoppingly beautiful. She glanced from Oliver to me, and practically shouted.

  ‘HOW BIG IS THE POOL? IS IT INFINITY? Well, can they make it infinity? And can you see the ocean from it? How far away did you say Jennifer’s place was? No, the other one.’

  ‘Gotta go,’ Oliver whispered to me. ‘I’m needed elsewhere. I’ll leave you in her capable hands.’

  Looking at Sigrid more closely, I spotted the phone she was holding, tucked next to her ear under one of the rollers. I stood facing her, uncertain what to do, while she carried on talking.

  ‘Send me the details on that one, and the one with the video mirrors in the closets … I totally need those for ass views. ASS views. I can hardly hear you – the reception’s lousy. Love you, Stan. Talk later. Ciao ciao.’

  She peered at me in polite confusion.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘It’s Nina,’ I said. ‘Your new assistant. From London.’

  It took another second to sink in, but when it did her whole demeanour changed. Her face lit up. ‘Oh! Nina! From Croydon! Hi, sweetie! I’ve got so much for you to do!’

  She motioned me inside. This room was much smaller than the last, and contained not much more than a mirror, a cupboard and a couple of chairs. As the strains of ‘Unlock Me’ came over the PA system, I wondered how far the boys were through the set.

  ‘It’s lucky you caught me,’ Sigrid smiled, sitting at the mirror. ‘If it wasn’t for my realtor calling, I’d be out there already.’

  ‘Have you missed most of the show?’ I asked, concerned.

  ‘No biggie,’ she said, examining her face critically in the mirror. ‘I know the songs by now. I’ll catch the end of it.’ She flicked her fingers as if to say The Point’s back catalogue could get boring after a while. I imagined Ariel’s outrage if she knew.

  Over the next three numbers, I watched in the mirror as Sigrid expertly did her hair and make-up, transforming her face from natural, unadorned beauty to cover-ready perfection.

  ‘Bring me that dress,’ she instructed, pointing to a doll-sized micro-mini hanging on a cupboard door.

  I held it out to her and she stripped to her knickers. (If there is a boss/new employee version of too much information, this was it.) She took the dress from me and wriggled into it.

  ‘Zip.’

  She held up her hair as I dutifully zipped up the dress at the back. It looked if it had been sprayed on to her.

  ‘You’ll have to do my shoes,’ she added, pointing to a pair of strappy sandals on the floor.

  For a moment, I was confused. The sandals were right beside her. Then, as she lifted one foot a few centimetres, I realized that she wanted me to put them on for her. The dress was so tight she couldn’t bend over. I knelt down and buckled the straps to her satisfaction. It felt a bit ridiculous, but also very easy. If this was the kind of thing she wanted from an assistant, anyone could do it. I still didn’t really get why she’d asked for me.

  As she put on a bright beaded necklace, she gave me a businesslike look.

  ‘I got Pamela to make a spreadsheet of duties for the new girl. It’s somewhere on my phone. You can find it and email it to yourself. For now, just stick by me and carry my bag. Oh, and since Pamela left I’ve had, like, a million emails. Why don’t we start now? Like I always say, there’s no time like the present.’ She handed me her luxury phone in its crystal-encrusted case and told me her PIN number. ‘Save the ones I need to see and delete the junk, OK? If they’re fans, I always reply. Tell them their message means the world to me.’

  Next thing I knew, I ‘was’ Sigrid Santorini online. Wow she had a lot of haters. Mostly people accusing her of boyfriend-stealing (Jamie wasn’t the first who’d been going out with someone else when they met), or breaking up The Point. I could see that blocking them alone could be practically a full-time activity.

  Over a speaker in the ceiling, the band were playing ‘Eden’. I shuddered. My break-up song. Sigrid cocked her head and listened as Jamie’s voice floated over the sound of the guitars.

  ‘Time to go. Jamie likes me to be there for this one. I have a little spot near the speaker stacks. It’s so cool.’ She headed for the door and I went to follow her, but she shook her head. ‘You stay here – you’re so busy. I’ll see you later, OK?’

  She left before I could reply.

  Oh. OK. So I wasn’t going to see the band tonight, which was a shame. I’d been hoping to catch a song or two and tell Ariel about it. However, Sigrid was right: she’d left me with a lot of work to do.

  Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.

  Thank you for your kind words. Your message

  means the world to me.

  Was this how Jamie wrote to my sister? Via some intern in an abandoned dressing room? No wonder he didn’t remember her.

  With my head buried in the internet, I hardly noticed the time go by. Over the PA system I heard screams, then an encore and more screaming. I didn’t think much about it until there was a sound like thunder in the room next door and I realized it was filling up with people.

  The show was over, and I was sitting in a part of their dressing room. My heart raced.

  I was about to get up close and personal with The Point.

  I took a minute or two to finish the task I was doing. I didn’t even bother to try and kid myself – I was stalling for time. The band were right there, through that door, and I was about to meet them. I hadn’t thought this through. I wasn’t ready. I remembered how weird it had felt last time, and then I was just holding a camera. Now I was part of the team.

  But I wouldn’t be for much longer if I spent my time hiding like this. So I slipped Sigrid’s phone into her big leather tote bag, hooked it over my arm, took a deep breath, ran my hands through my hair, checked in the mirror that my eye make-up hadn’t smudged (it had – I corrected it), took another deep breath, and opened the door.

  To a noisy group of people I didn’t recognize.

  Perhaps I’d misunderstood. Maybe this was a meet-and-greet room, or something, and the band were somewhere else. I felt my heartbeat slow slightly.

  And then I caught a glimpse of Connor, the bassist, checking his bleached blond hairstyle in the mirror. George the drummer was sharing a joke with a couple of people who looked vaguely famous, while he glugged champagne straight from the bottle.

  Nearby me, Angus, the dark-haired guitarist, was … undressing.

  His skinny frame showed off a set of surprisingly sculpted abs under the sweaty T-shirt he was throwing to the floor. As he stretched up, the tattoo of a snake that wound itself around his right bicep seemed to move like a living creature. He caught my eye and muttered something I couldn’t hear above the excited noises in the room. I assumed he was introducing himself.

  ‘I’m Nina,’ I said loudly, holding out my hand to shake his. ‘Hi.’ I tried to look like the kind of girl who meets rock stars every day.

  He frowned at me for a moment, then flicked his eyes to the wall behind me.

  ‘Tow-el,’ his lips mouthed, slowly.

  I turned round. I was standing next to a stack of them. Mortified, I handed him one. He took it without giving me a second glance. The heat from my face would have powered this arena for several minutes. I tried to take my mind off it, and Angus’s nearby, naked torso, by focusing on the men that George was talking to. I knew I’d seen them before somewhere.

  Oh yes. They were two of Spain’s biggest footballers. Tammy had posters of them in her room. If anything, they were hotter than Angus. Or possibly not. This wasn’t helping. I was getting very confused.

  It was a massive relief when another door opened at the back of the room and Jamie and Sigrid emerged together. She was adjusting a silk scarf around his neck. He’d changed into one of his loose shirts and several colourful beaded bracelets, matching the necklace that Sigrid wore. It wasn’t as drop-dead cool as the ripped-jeans-and-school-shirt combos he used to wear in the early days, but he carried it off. To be
fair, a boy with that smile could carry off anything.

  I was nervous that I hadn’t seen the show and had nothing to say, but as they passed by there was a faraway look in his eye and he didn’t seem to see me anyway. Sigrid threw me a vague smile, the main door opened, and a moment later they were swallowed by the eager crowd outside. I looked down at the tote bag I was holding for her, with her phone and all her personal stuff in it.

  Oh.

  For now I had one job: Stick by me and carry my bag. Not as easy as it looked. I followed her as best I could, muscling my way through the crowd that now filled the corridor, flashing my red pass at anyone who tried to stop me.

  Luckily, they weren’t too far ahead. Jamie’s progress was slowed down by the endless excited fans and VIPs, eager to hug and kiss him and take a selfie. He was like the still point in a perfect storm.

  It was strange to see the world from an almost-Jamie perspective. All the faces around him were extremely happy, extremely excited, extremely in love. Extreme. And everyone seemed to want a picture of their face next to his. His view must be a constant sea of phone screens, capturing every moment of his life for eternity. I would hate to be Jamie Maldon. One day, maybe, I’d ask him how he coped.

  Sigrid, on the other hand, beamed with happiness, posing for every selfie she could. It took a while before I could attract her attention.

  ‘I have your bag,’ I said, panting slightly from the effort of getting through to her. ‘Do you want me to hold on to it?’

  She barely glanced at me. ‘Uh huh.’ Then she turned back to Jamie and left me to follow in their wake.

  The rest of the night passed by in a blur.

  Suddenly remembering my own suitcase, and rushing back to find it, before it was too late …

  Losing Sigrid and Jamie as they got a golf cart without me and were whisked to a waiting limo …

  Sitting in a following car, arranged by Oliver, alongside a PR girl called Jess, who was kind, and three glamorous VIP girls, with perfect hair and perfect nails, who gave us both the evil eye the whole way.