Page 39 of I Would Die for You

“Jesus!” she says, taking the phone through to the dining room, stretching the coiled cord to its limit.

“Well, actually it’s Ben,” says the voice, laughing. “But people have been known to call me that.”

A prickly heat wraps itself around Nicole’s neck and her eardrums are banging so loudly that she can’t hear herself think. She needs to break this down into bite-sized chunks; weigh up how to deal with this one piece at a time. The most pressing problem, she quickly ascertains, is Cassie.

“You can’t be calling me here,” she says breathlessly, cupping her hand over the receiver to avoid anyone else hearing. “How did you get this number?”

“Well, the man behind the bar happened to mention you were staying with your parents in Finsbury Park for a while,” he says, sounding a little perturbed. “And thankfully there aren’t that many Aldertons in the phone book, so I tried my luck and kept everything crossed.”

“You can’t call me here again,” she says, her mind fast-forwarding to what her dad will do if he finds out that the man his sixteen-year-old daughter is infatuated with is now trying his luck with the other one.

“OK, I promise,” says Ben resolutely, and despite herself Nicole can’t help but be disappointed.

He waits a heartbeat before adding, “On one condition…”

She sighs for effect, while desperately trying to push away the part of her that’s excited by what his proposition is going to be.

“I need you to listen to something.”

Her heart skips a beat.

“I’ve got something down on tape and I’d appreciate your opinion.”

“OK…” she says hesitantly, not wanting to appear too keen, but the thought of being asked for her musical viewpoint from someone of Ben Edwards’s standing sends an electrical pulse through her nervous system.

“So, is that a yes?” he asks, with an excited lilt.

“I’m sure I can fit it in at some point this week,” she says.

“Ah, no can do,” he says. “I’m on a European press tour for the new album from tomorrow and not back until after the weekend.”

“Well, it looks like you’ll have to find yourself another muse,” she says, at pains to keep the disappointment of a lost opportunity from her voice.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “What are you doing today?”

“Today?”

“Yeah, what’s the problem?”

There must be a thousand and one reasons why she can’t meet him today, but she’s hard-pressed to think of any of them.

“Be ready in five minutes,” he says.

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” she starts, looking at the clock above the fireplace, the second hand moving ever so slightly out of sync with the loud ticking noise. “I’m not even dressed.”

“So, get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the black car that’s parked on the other side of your street.”

“What?”she says, rushing to the window and pulling the net curtains aside, though why she’s falling for it, she doesn’t know. What she sees snatches her breath away. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Five minutes,” he says, waving at her through the graffitied glass panes of the telephone box outside her house.

With her heart feeling as if it’s about to burst through her chest, Nicole pulls on the first things she can find: a pair of baggy jeans and a tassel-fringed blouse with built-in shoulder pads. It’s a little over the top for first thing on a Sunday morning, but her need to get Ben away from here before Cassie or their dad sees him is far more pressing than what she looks like.

“Where areyougoing?” asks Cassie, her tone accusatory, as she carries a plate of beans on toast back up to her room.

“I’ve just got to do a few things back at the flat,” she replies, falling over herself as she pulls her pixie boots on.

“Is that code for a secret rendezvous with whoever was on the phone?” asks Cassie, dourly.

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