Midsummer Meltdown Read online

  Cathy Hopkins lives in London with her husband and two cats, Emmylou and Otis. The cats appear to be slightly insane. Their favourite game is to run from one side of the house to the other as fast as possible, then see if they can fly if they leap high enough off the furniture. This is usually at three o’clock in the morning and they land on anyone who happens to be asleep at the time.

  Cathy spends most of her time locked in a shed at the bottom of the garden pretending to write books but is actually in there listening to music, hippie dancing and checking her Facebook page.

  Apart from that, Cathy has joined the gym and spends more time than is good for her making up excuses as to why she hasn’t got time to go.

  Thanks to Brenda Gardner, Jon Appleton, Melissa Patey and all the team at Piccadilly. Thanks as always to Rosemary Bromley, my lovely agent, sadly no longer with us. And to Steve Lovering for his constant support and help in researching all aspects of this book.

  First published in Great Britain in 2005

  by Piccadilly Press Ltd,

  5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR

  This edition published 2008

  Text copyright © Cathy Hopkins, 2005

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

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

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

  ISBN: 978 1 85340 972 1 (paperback)

  eISBN: 978 1 84812 304 5

  3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Printed in the UK by CPI Bookmarque, Croydon, CR0 4TD

  Typeset by M Rules, London

  Set in Garamond and Fineprint

  Cover design by Simon Davis

  Cover illustration by Susan Hellard

  Contents

  1. Secrets and Lies

  2. Bag or Babe?

  3. Finking Stinking

  4. Teen Truants

  5. Itinerary

  6. Hospital

  7. No Go’s a No Go

  8. Morocco Bound

  9. Marrakech

  10. Fantasia

  11. Playboy of the Western World

  12. Essaouira

  13. Invalid

  14. Way to Go, Shakespeario

  15. Midsummer Meltdown

  16. Bath, Bed, Boring

  SQUIDGE NARROWED HIS EYES and scrutinised me closely as if he was trying to read my mind. ‘Something’s going on with you, Lia Axford,’ he said after a while. ‘There’s something you’re not telling us.’

  Cat, Becca and Mac turned away from the horror DVD we were watching to join Squidge in staring at me.

  ‘Rubbish,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing going on.’ I tried to look him straight in the eyes as I said this but it was difficult because he was right. Something was going on. Or would be going on some time soon. The weekend after next, to be precise. But I couldn’t tell anybody. Not yet. My dad had made me promise.

  ‘Is there?’ asked Becca as she popped a salt and vinegar crisp into her mouth. ‘Is something going on?’

  I folded my arms across my stomach and crossed my legs. ‘Yeah. A movie,’ I said as I turned my attention back to the TV screen. ‘And we’re missing it.’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Mac. ‘Get a load of Lia’s body language. A dead give-away. She’s closed right off. I saw a programme about it on telly last week. Your body says what your mouth doesn’t.’

  I quickly uncrossed my arms and legs. ‘All my body is trying to say is that I’m not keen on this movie. I don’t like scary films but you guys carry on, I know you like them. Anyone want more drinks? Crisps?’

  I got up to go out of the room but Squidge dived on to the floor and caught my right ankle. ‘We don’t want to watch any more until you tell us what’s happening,’ he insisted as I almost toppled over. ‘I know something is, and remember, body language or no body language, I can go beyond that. I-I-I-I can r-e-e-e-e-e-ad your m-i-i-i-i-nd.’

  I felt myself go pink because, a few moments earlier when he was staring at me, I was thinking that if only I could get rid of the others, we could have a snogging session instead of getting freaked out by some stupid, scary movie. Cat, Becca and Mac might be my best mates down here in Cornwall but Squidge is more than a mate. He’s my boyfriend and possibly the most romantic boy in the world, but I hadn’t been on my own with him for ages. I hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want to be too demanding or come across as clingy. I’d read in one of Becca’s magazines that boys don’t like that and that it’s best to give them space – plus, he seemed to be enjoying the film. My brother Ollie left it for us to watch before he went back to his school up in London last night. He loves this kind of thing and thinks that whatever he likes everyone else will too. I don’t, but I was outvoted by the others. Getting scared out of my wits is not my idea of fun. I can just about sit through a horror film when there are people around, but they come back to haunt me later. Seriously. In the middle of the night when I’m alone in my room, it’s then that the most frightening part of the movie starts to play back in my head. I imagine eyes watching me in the dark, hands appearing outside the window trying to get in, headless bodies floating about in the corridors, coming through the walls to hover over my bed. Sometimes I have to put the covers over my head as I reckon if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

  ‘Actually, you can’t read minds because you haven’t a clue what I was thinking. And nothing is going on,’ I lied.

  Squidge laughed. ‘Your name is Lia, not liar. You are the worst liar in the world.’

  Mac pressed the pause button on the remote control and the DVD froze on the screen with some girl in mid-scream. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Spill. If my mate says you are holding back on us, then you are holding back on us.’

  Four pairs of eyes stared at me. Mac’s. Becca’s. Cat’s. Squidge’s. Almost like a scene from the DVD. They’re a good-looking bunch normally but each of them can pull a freaky face when they want – a face they’d practised in the ‘who can do the grossest face?’ competition that we like to play from time to time. Cat ran her fingers through her short, dark hair, making it stick up like she’d just got out of bed, and made herself go cross-eyed. Mac flattened his straw-blond hair and pulled his lips in so that it looked like he had no mouth. Becca pulled her Titian-red hair over her face so that it was like a curtain obscuring all her features except for her tongue which she poked through the hair, and Squidge did the same as Cat and spiked his dark hair up like a mad man’s, then stuck his front teeth over his bottom lip.

  ‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘Stop looking at me like that. It’s spooking me out.’

  Squidge began to cackle and laugh as if he was possessed and then he got up and started walking like a zombie from the film. Mac got up too, followed by Becca and Cat and soon they were all walking round the room acting like they had no brains. And they were coming towards me.

  Cat, Becca, Mac and Squidge have been my mates since I decided to change from my boarding school in London to the local school down here in Cornwall last September. Not that boarding school was bad or that I didn’t like London because I did. In fact, my sister Star lives up there in Notting Hill and my brother Ollie wasn’t far away at his school in Kensington. Thing was, I missed my parents and I missed being at home. I felt like I was always travelling. It took forty minutes to get from my old school to Paddington station, three hours from Paddington to Plymouth, then it’s a forty-minute drive to where we live. The quickest way to get here is ac
tually by helicopter and sometimes Dad hires one, because we have a landing pad down here behind the paddocks at the back of the house. But mainly it was the train on Friday night or Saturday morning and then I’d have to leave mid-afternoon on Sunday to be back in time for school on Monday.

  I’m so much happier now. It’s like I have a normal life – well, as normal as it ever will be for the Axford family. My dad is rock star Zac Axford. He was famous in the Eighties and still has a devoted following, although Ollie and I tease him that he belongs more to the ageing rock star category. My mum is/was Carly Newman, top model in America until she married Dad and gave it all up to be a mother. My sister is Star Axford, also top model and featured on just about every front cover of every glossy at the moment. My brother Ollie is still at school but no doubt he’ll go on to do something fab and glam as he’s already heading that way. He was Romeo in his school’s production of Romeo and Juliet last year and he definitely has charisma, a fact that he’s well aware of. Even I can see that he is a babe magnet. And then there’s me. People say I’m the quiet one, sometimes I think that actually they mean the ordinary one. If it weren’t for the fact that I clearly have my mum’s hair (blond) and flat chest (all the Axford girls have size AA boobs) and Dad’s eyes (silver blue), I’d say that I was from a different family altogether. People say that I’m good-looking but I don’t think I am. I think my neck’s too long, I’m too bony-looking and on a bad day I look like a duck! I don’t have any super-duper musical talents like Dad. I can’t act like Ollie and I don’t like being the centre of attention like Star. I don’t even know what I want to do when I leave school yet. Perhaps be a vet, but I’m not sure. Not knowing is starting to worry me as we had to choose GCSE subjects earlier this year for when we go into Year Ten next September, and I’m not sure I picked the right ones.

  ‘Tell us the truth or you’ll become a zombie like us,’ said Squidge in a deep voice.

  ‘Never,’ I said. ‘My secrets will die with me.’

  Mac hovered over where I’d fallen back on the sofa when Squidge had gone for my ankle. ‘You will tell me all those secrets, little girl,’ he said, imitating a scene from the movie. ‘Or else we will have to k-e-e-l-l you in a very nasty way . . .’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Cat with a nod at the sofa. ‘Get your weapons ready.’

  That’s the trouble with getting in with a crowd like this, who have all known each other for a while. There’s telepathy between them and with just a nod, they all know what the others are thinking. They each picked up a cushion from the back of the sofa and held them up ready to bash me.

  ‘You’re all mad,’ I said. ‘And ganging up on me isn’t going to make me tell you anything.’

  ‘Ah. So there is something,’ said Squidge, lifting his cushion up in readiness.

  ‘No, I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You did,’ Squidge insisted. ‘Didn’t she, guys?’

  The others nodded and moved a bit closer in on me.

  ‘OK. OK. There might be something but it’s nothing bad.’

  ‘I knew it,’ said Squidge. ‘Tell us or you’re a dead man . . . woman . . . girl . . . gerbil . . .’

  I shook my head. Squidge gave the others a nod and they all pounced at once. In a second, I’d been wrestled to the floor and was being smothered with cushions. I wriggled free, grabbed my own cushion and began to defend myself.

  ‘Ai ya!’ I cried as I stood up and went into my best ninja warrior pose. ‘Do not come near me as I am a yellow belt.’

  Mac went into kung fu stance opposite me. ‘And I am a brown belt.’

  Becca and Cat got up to join in. ‘And we are . . . what are we?’ asked Cat.

  ‘Green belts,’ said Becca, then laughed. ‘Or does that mean something else?’

  ‘Forget that,’ said Squidge as he made a dash for my legs. ‘I know how to get her to talk. Get her feet. Tickle her feet. She can’t stand it.’

  Once again they pounced and no way could I fend the four of them off. Cat, Becca and Squidge pinned me down while Mac pulled my socks off and began to tickle my feet. It was excruciating.

  ‘Arrrrghhhhhh, g-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-t o-o-o-o-o-o-f-f-f-f-f-f,’ I wailed as I began to laugh and scream at the same time.

  Seconds later, the door opened and Dad appeared.

  ‘Hey, what’s all the racket?’ he asked as he took in the scattered cushions, spilt crisps and writhing bodies on the floor in front of him. ‘It sounds like someone is being murdered.’

  Squidge and Mac immediately released me and sat back on their heels looking embarrassed. Becca looked out of the window as if she’d seen something fascinating and Cat tried to look invisible.

  ‘Er, nothing, Dad. We were just messing about,’ I said.

  ‘Then can you do it a bit more quietly?’ he asked. ‘From out there in the kitchen, you sound like a bunch of rioting football fans whose team have just lost. And Mac and Squidge, you should be an example to the others seeing as you’re both sixteen.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Axford,’ said Squidge.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Axford,’ said Mac.

  Dad rolled his eyes. ‘Call me Zac. Mr Axford makes me sound ancient.’

  I got the giggles then as they all looked so sheepish. Sometimes I think my friends are intimidated by my dad and not because he’s at all frightening or strict or scary. He’s actually really gentle. I think it’s because he’s so famous.

  ‘And what’s so funny, Lia?’ asked Dad. ‘And why are there crisps all over the rug?’

  ‘Squidge thinks that I’m not telling him something,’ I said, knowing that he’d understand my dilemma. ‘And he decided to beat the information out of me.’

  Dad turned to look at Squidge who by now looked like he wanted the rug to open up and swallow him. ‘Oh he did, did he?’

  ‘Not seriously. I wouldn’t hurt her,’ Squidge blurted.

  ‘And is this how you treat all the girls in your life who choose not to tell you something?’ Dad teased, causing Squidge to squirm and join Mac in blushing furiously.

  ‘Er . . . no, I . . . course not . . .’ he stuttered.

  Dad turned to me. ‘And did you tell him what he wanted to know?’

  ‘No way,’ I said and zipped my lips.

  Dad winked at me. ‘Good girl.’ Then he turned to the others. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll find out the news soon enough.’

  And with that, he went out of the room.

  ‘So there is something,’ said Squidge. ‘Why can’t you tell us?’

  ‘Because I promised Dad,’ I said. ‘It’s a secret.’

  ‘Is your mum pregnant?’ asked Cat.

  ‘Ewww,’ I said. ‘Don’t even go there. But no, that’s not it.’

  Squidge looked worried. ‘Hey. You’re not moving, are you?’

  I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘No. We’re not moving.’

  ‘You’re changing schools again?’ he asked.

  I shook my head again.

  ‘Divorce,’ said Mac. ‘Your mum’s having an affair with the milkman.’

  ‘Nooo,’ I said.

  ‘Your dad’s having an affair with the milkman?’ asked Squidge.

  ‘Noooo,’ I said, laughing. ‘And I’m not telling you. Now let’s change the subject.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Cat. ‘Give her a break. If she doesn’t want to tell, she doesn’t want to tell. Now I wanted to check you all out for something. Weekend after next, it’s the summer fête at the vicar’s house in Cawsand. I know, I know. . . boring, but it could be a laugh if we’re all there. Dad’s roped me in to sell cakes baked by the local ladies but will the rest of you come?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Squidge and Becca.

  ‘Not sure,’ said Mac. ‘Have to see what the guest situation is.’ Mac’s mum runs an upmarket B&B and often has guests at the weekends now that the weather is getting better. She likes Mac to be around to run errands and help out as he is the only man in their house since she divorced Mac’s dad.

  ‘Lia?’ asked Cat.


  ‘Er . . .’ I couldn’t say without spilling the beans. That was the weekend Dad had pencilled in for his surprise. ‘Might be busy.’

  ‘Doing what?’ asked Squidge.

  ‘Can’t say.’

  Squidge went to mock strangle me and just as he had his hands around my throat, Dad walked in again and caught him. He gave Squidge a quizzical look as he searched for his glasses and Squidge whipped his hands away and sat on them looking sheepish again. I couldn’t stop laughing.

  After Dad had gone again, Squidge sighed heavily. ‘He’s going to think that I’m a total axe murderer,’ he said, then his face brightened. ‘I know how we’ll get it out of you without strangulation, Lia. Truth, dare, kiss or promise.’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Mac. ‘Not that again. I thought we were finished with that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Becca. ‘It leads to all sorts of trouble.’ Then she grinned. ‘So no options, just the truth, Lia. You have to tell us the truth.’ She began to count off her fingers. ‘Clue one. There is a mystery. Clue two. Something is going on that you can’t tell us but your dad’s in on it. Clue three. It is possibly going to take place the weekend after next. Hhhmmmm? I know. Easy. Your mum’s having one of her parties. That’s it, isn’t it? She’s Gemini. Her birthday is in June. I remember. Can we come? I love your mum’s parties.’

  It wasn’t a bad guess from Becca as usually my mum likes nothing better than to throw a party. The bigger the better. Christmas. Birthdays. Valentine’s. Any excuse. All sorts of themes and no money spared. And it was coming up to her birthday. Her fortieth birthday. But she’d been acting really weird about it saying that she wanted no fuss. No big do. ‘Mid-life crisis,’ Ollie had said by way of explanation. All of us tried our best to talk her into doing something but she was adamant that she just wanted to ‘get it over with in as quiet manner as possible’.

  As the time got closer, Dad began to panic. ‘It’s not right. I know women. I know your mother. She may be saying forget it but when it comes to the day, she’ll want the works. We’d better organise something and we’d better organise it quick!’