Chapter Fifty-Four
I can’t face heading back outside just yet, so I take Noah’s suggestion and sit on the bus for a while, staring at everything around me. I need to drink it in because this is likely to be the last time I will ever get to experience it.
The musky scent of boys’ aftershave hangs in the air, and there’s a row of small stickers from apples underneath one of the windows—leftovers from the hungry crew. Xbox games are sprawled across the table in front of me, reminding me of Blake—but I’m glad to note that the twinge of disgust that previously accompanied any thoughts of him is a little bit less prominent than before. I look down towards the back of the bus—past lines of empty beer bottles and the beginnings of a mosaic someone’s started to make with the empty bottle caps—and I spot Noah’s old hoodie. It’s hanging limply on a hook, the white strings looking frayed and slightly grey. It is the very hoodie that he draped over me when we had our picnic up on the roof of the Waldorf Astoria back in December. The same one he left for me in the care package in Rome.
I suddenly remember how that felt, having him place it over my arms to keep me warm. I felt protected, safe—a feeling I haven’t felt for so long, not since the car accident that triggered my anxiety in the first place. I walk over to the hoodie and hold it up close to my chest, breathing in the faded scent of Noah’s aftershave.
I don’t know whether I feel happy or sad. All I can think about is how badly I want Noah to wrap the hoodie round me again, to hold my hand and tell me everything will be OK, that the World Tour is cancelled and that he’s just going to spend the rest of his life with me in Brighton, where we’ll walk our puppy on the beach on a Wednesday evening and do yoga together on the lawn every morning.
But that’s just a dream.
While my emotions battle with each other, I realize that standing alone in Noah’s tour bus, sniffing his hoodie, might look very bizarre if someone were to walk in, so I throw it back on the hook and walk towards the door. I stop in my tracks when I hear voices just outside the bus door. One is a very loud, commanding voice that I recognize as Dean’s.
I tiptoe towards the front of the bus and peer out over the stairs. Dean’s leaning casually against the door, talking to two men in blazers and coloured chinos with lanyards round their necks. There is an equally loud voice in my head telling me that eavesdropping is a silly idea—especially as the last time I did this it ended in tears. But then I hear Dean mention my name and I can’t help but listen.
“Noah and Penny are finished, donezo. Look, all I’m saying is that Ella Parish would be amazing for Noah’s career. She’s up-and-coming; she looks great. The pair of them would cause a media frenzy.”
If someone had taken a picture of me at that very moment, I would have looked like one of those cartoon characters where steam starts billowing out of their ears and nose and their faces turn red in anger.
“I mean, if that’s what Noah wants, then we can certainly start the wheels in motion with Ella. Can we get on to Lorraine about that ASAP, Collin?” One of the blazers turns to the other and then smiles back at Dean. It takes absolutely every ounce of self-control in my body to remain calm and not leave this bus kicking and screaming about what an awful plan that is.
“Good, then it’s settled.” Dean extends his hand, and the men shake on it. “We can arrange some paps to catch them in Australia. Maybe holding hands on the beach?”
I can’t listen any more. Another fake relationship? How could Dean think that is a good idea? Noah would never want Dean to do this, especially not after what happened with Leah.
Then I remember the phone, now in my bag, and my red-hot rage boils over. Suddenly things begin clicking together. Has Dean been responsible for this all along? Noah was told that it was Leah Brown’s management who insisted on their fake relationship, but, thinking about it now, what would she have ever gained from that? It’s Noah who needed the boost. It’s Noah whose career needed the lift. And it’s Dean who is making all the decisions about Noah’s career.
The talking stops and I hear footsteps coming up the tour-bus stairs. My heart leaps in my chest and I look around for somewhere to hide, but it’s too late. Dean comes bounding onto the tour bus, a huge grin on his face.
The grin fades and he curses loudly and clutches at his chest when he sees me standing there. “Penny, what are you doing in here? You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He laughs weakly. We both stand there, staring at each other, until he realizes I’m not smiling back.
I can see the understanding dawn on his face and he turns a slight shade of grey. Anger is rising up inside me like lava in a volcano, but the calm voice of Ocean Strong comes out instead.
“Have you always been this much of an idiot, Dean?”
“So, you heard me outside? You’re not going to mess this up for Noah, are you, Penny?”
“I’ll mess things up? It seems like you’re doing that perfectly well for him on your own! I mean, what exactly do you think you’re doing? Do you want to see Noah succeed because he’s so incredibly talented, or do you want to ruin everything he has that isn’t his music career by staging fake relationships and destroying his real ones?”
Suddenly I feel like the most powerful person on this planet. I feel tall, confident, and in control. I’m loud, concise, and clear, and I stare at Dean as his face warps and his confidence shrinks. He mutters something and I don’t quite hear him so I raise an eyebrow and he repeats himself.
“I don’t know what you mean—you’re crazy. I think you need to run home, back to Mummy and Daddy.” He shrugs, trying to move past me to get whatever it was he came in for.
I move in front of him so he can’t. He looks at me and then abruptly his face changes. He doesn’t look weak and scared anymore; he looks angry. I keep my confident posture and continue to stare at him, but inside I’m freaking out.
“Get out of my way, Penny.”
“Not before you answer my questions.” I dig around in my bag and bring out my old phone. “You’ve had this the whole time, haven’t you? Larry gave it to me earlier—he found it in your room.”
“And so what if I did?”
I swallow hard, trying to hold my nerve. “Tell me honestly: are you TheRealTruth?” My voice is shaking now. He laughs and, at first, I think he’s going to deny that he has anything to do with it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he starts clapping.
“You got it. Someone handed your phone in to security and it made its way to me. I thought all my Christmases had come at once. I thought that with a couple of messages you’d be scared off straightaway, but I’ll give you credit—you had more guts than I anticipated.”
Everything is still so confused in my brain; I can’t make sense of it all. “But . . . why? Why did you visit my house and convince my parents to let me come on the tour if you didn’t even want me there? Why not just refuse?”
“What, and just make Noah want you even more? Come on, Penny.” He rolls his eyes. “This way I could show him just how unsuited you are for this life. It was bad enough when Noah went rogue at Christmas—I thought this whole tour would be off, all our hard work down the drain. But then he went and met you: sweet, adorable, normal girl Penny Porter. For a while, it worked for Noah’s story. Made the girls love him. But now you’ve run your course.” He walks past me and sits down on the sofa and leans over to open the mini fridge. He cracks open a beer and leans back, now brimming with self-confidence. I turn and watch him, but edge slightly closer to the door as I do.
“So you thought the best solution was to blackmail me?” I say, trying hard to control my anger. “How old are you, twelve ? You don’t see Noah—you see dollar signs. And why did you have to drag my friends into it? They had nothing to do with me and Noah.”
He takes a sip of beer and smacks his lips together, before grinning wide like the Joker from Batman. “Finally made you leave, though, didn’t it? When the text message and emails didn’t work, I thought taking Noah away might. It was so easy
to add in meetings, make him busy, unable to have your silly mystery days—and, even though he treated you badly, you still stuck around. Then we had that conversation on the bus and it clicked with the pictures I’d downloaded from your phone. I finally knew how to get rid of you. Poor friends all broken up, so Penny has to go back home to save the day. It was perfect.
“Look, you’re a sweet girl, but what else do you have to offer? You’re a kid. You need to go back to playing with your dolls, or I dunno . . . making daisy chains in the field with your friends. Just leave Noah to do what he does best: play his music, make his millions, and become the global superstar he’s destined to be. He doesn’t need you for a distraction. You’re not good for his brand. I’m just being a good manager.
“Let’s face it: the only good thing to come from him meeting you was his bestselling song ‘Autumn Girl.’ And I’m afraid that’s where this fairy tale ends.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
It feels like I’ve forgotten how to breathe. I feel the anger swirling around inside me like a tornado as I watch Dean sipping from his beer, smirking. But, before I can think of something to say to him, there’s a noise from behind me and I see Dean jump to his feet, knocking his beer over on the table.
“So, this is what a good manager does, is it, Dean?” I turn and see Noah standing behind me, his eyes narrowed.
As he strides past me towards Dean, he brushes his hand over my lower back and I know that Noah is going to fight in my corner.
“Noah, I don’t know what you heard but—” Dean stands with his arms in the air as Noah approaches him.
My feet are rooted to the floor—I couldn’t move even if I wanted to.
“I heard everything, Dean. The whole conversation. What the hell is wrong with you? I trusted you.” He looks away, his nose wrinkled in disgust. “I can’t even bear to look at you. The way you just spoke to Penny made me feel physically sick.”
Noah looks over at me, and then back at Dean. I can see the muscles in his arms and neck tensing, his breath heavy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Noah this angry before, but it isn’t just anger; it’s hurt. He’s been through so much—from dealing with the death of his parents, to being away from Sadie Lee and Bella—and all the while trusting Dean with his career and to do what is best for him.
“Noah, please, let me explain.” Dean grabs his arm, but Noah shakes him off.
“Just get out. I don’t want to work with you or see your face ever again. You’re fired.” Noah looks at the floor now, as the spilt beer drips on Dean’s suit trousers and shiny leather shoes.
Dean opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Instead, he barges past Noah, knocking him off balance slightly. He then walks past me and gives me a hateful glare.
We both watch in silence, through the window, as Dean marches out of the VIP area and into the crowds of festivalgoers. Suddenly he doesn’t look so important; he looks like a selfish man with nothing going for him.
Noah stands and stares. I reach forward and hold his hand. Without saying anything, he clutches it tightly. We stand for a moment until he lets go and flops down on the sofa. He deflates like a balloon, letting out a long sigh. He drops his head into his hands, his hair cascading through his fingers.
“What do I do now? Dean is the only manager I’ve ever had. Clearly he was terrible, but he organized all this. The tour . . . everything.” Noah looks around the bus with a worried expression, and I can tell he’s picturing everything crumbling in front of his eyes.
I sit down next to him and place my hand on his knee, which is poking out through a rip in his jeans.
“It’s not Dean who got you here—it’s you. Everything he did was a step in the wrong direction anyway. You need new management, someone who’s going to actually have your best interests at heart and help you to grow as both a recording artist and a person.” He turns to me and smiles, his dimples appearing like magic.
“How is it that you always know what to say, Penny? You’re very wise, you know.”
My stomach flips as his eyes meet mine. Like a magnet, I feel completely connected to Noah. It’s like the tension that was left over after our latest goodbye has been carried off with Dean and his beer-stained shoes. I suddenly get the urge to kiss Noah, but I don’t. Instead, I think about how I can actually help this situation that he’s in.
“Wait—Leah gave me the number for someone in her management team a while back. She said that if I ever needed her urgently I’d be able to get to her through this woman. I think her name was Fenella. Maybe give her a call? If they can’t sign you, they can maybe at least give you advice?”
I whip out my phone and transfer the number across to his.
“Thanks, Penny,” Noah says. “I seriously don’t know what I am going to do without you.” He jumps up. “I’m due onstage! I only came back to grab some posters that I’d signed for these competition winners. I’m going to have to go, but, even if you still don’t want to stick around, can I call you?”
“Sure,” I say.
I watch Noah hurry off the bus, and I feel happy that things might have finally worked out for the best. I grab my bag and head off to find Megan, smiling to myself as I wonder exactly how much trouble she’s got herself into.
Chapter Fifty-Six
The pop-up gallery for our school showcase looks amazing.
The school has taken over one of the small, cute stores tucked away in the Lanes for the exhibition. With the sun streaming through the big windows onto the whitewashed walls and blue tiles, it almost feels like we’ve been transported to some far-off Greek island. Our photography-exam work is displayed on the walls, hung off rustic wooden planks, and it looks gorgeous.
To my surprise, when I arrive the tiny place is absolutely packed. There is even someone handing out drinks and canapés. In the midst of planning the surprise for Elliot, I had almost forgotten that tonight also meant my photography was going to be on display. I’d always been dead against the idea of showing off my work, thinking it would be an awful trigger for my anxiety. However, Leah helping me to believe that my photography could turn into something more than a hobby—a real profession—was an eye-opener, but it’s also something that could never happen if I didn’t show any of my work in public.
“I’m really proud of you, Pen-face. These are incredible.” Elliot and I stand side by side. As he sips his sparkling orange juice, he wraps an arm round me. I feel my face blush crimson as he studies the photos. Elliot has always been my biggest cheerleader, and for that I love him very much.
“Thanks, Wiki.” I squeeze him into my side by pulling on his waist and we just stand together, connected by a sideways hug, looking at all my photographs displayed on a wall alongside the work of my other talented classmates.
“I have to say, I especially like this one,” Elliot says with a wink.
Of course he does, because it features him. It’s a silhouette of him standing outside the Royal Pavilion in Brighton, the domes lit up orange in front of a darkening sky. It was for a series of pictures I called Local, about special areas of Brighton that are close to my heart.
“How is everything with Noah? Have you spoken since the weekend?” He lowers his voice and draws me into a quieter corner. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come with you to the festival, but it was good for me to have some time with my parents. Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d say.”
I shake my head. “No, we haven’t spoken, but we’ve texted. He’s busy sorting out everything to do with Dean. I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. There are no hard feelings there and we both seem happy. I’m a bit scared that if we really make a go of this again—properly—it will hurt more than ever and I’ll turn into one of those crazy, jealous stalker girlfriends while my famous boyfriend goes on tour. It takes up a lot of headspace . . .” I bite my nails and let out a huge sigh.
“I know what you mean. His life is about to get a lot crazier. But you know, Penny, he was very lucky to ha
ve you. I can’t believe his manager was the creepy stalker after all!”
“I know,” I say—I’m still stunned by the revelation.
“Maybe it’s like murderers—you should always look at the people closest to the victim first.”
“Well, he’s in good hands now.” Leah’s manager had been all too happy to help when Noah called. “I’m so glad that it’s working out for him.”
“It’s not just all about him, you know, Penny. Yes, he is extremely cute and plays the guitar like an absolute god and sings like an angel, but you are really very special too”—he raises an eyebrow—“in your own weird way.”
We laugh together and I notice Miss Mills approaching us. She’s made a real effort today, tying her hair up in a really chic chignon and wearing a stunning LBD. I’m always impressed at how normal teachers look outside of school. It’s easy to forget that they have lives beyond the hallways and the classrooms.
“Penny, I was worried you wouldn’t show! Don’t your photos just look so stunning like this? I’m so proud of all my students. And you must be Elliot—or should I say Wiki?” She extends a hand to Elliot and he holds it and curtseys.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he says as he dips on his heel, smiling in the cheeky way he does. Miss Mills giggles and Elliot slides off to look at other people’s work and to follow the tray of pizza canapés that are rapidly disappearing.
“How has your summer been?” asks Miss Mills. “Have you been OK, anxiety-wise?”
I can imagine so many students would reel with embarrassment at the thought of their teacher knowing so much about their personal lives, but when Miss Mills talks to me it’s like we’re best friends and I instantly feel at ease.
“It’s been the most challenging summer I think I’ve ever had—a total emotional roller coaster! But now I feel the most me I’ve felt in a really long time. I feel like I’ve discovered a lot about myself—maybe in the hardest way possible, but it’s definitely been an experience and I wouldn’t change it.”