Chapter 11
‘Isla?’ I’m not sure why I’m asking my identical twin to confirm her identity.
I’m confused both by her unannounced presence and the photo on the front of the newspaper she’s waving in my face.
The bold headline reads, ‘Peter Piper picks a peck’.
Below this terrible use of alliteration is a photo of me and Jock kissing in Loews Casino.
‘Jock?’ I turn to my boyfriend bewildered.
‘Oh my fucking god he’s HERE!’ Isla screeches when she notices the man sitting at the opposite end of my bed. ‘I’m Isla,’ she pushes her hand towards a shellshocked Jock. ‘Who’s Jock?’
‘Can I see that please?’ Jock says calmly after he’s released Isla’s hand from her vigorous greeting setting the pizza box down on the bed between us.
Isla shoves the box of pizza aside and plonks herself on the bed in the space it took up.
‘What are you doing here, Isla?’ I ask, baffled, while Jock pores over the newspaper like he’s deciphering Egyptian hieroglyphs, expression unreadable, fingers twitching at the corners of the page .
‘When I saw my skin and blister on the front page of a major tabloid newspaper, you bet I was taking a couple of days off, jumping on the coach leaving, and coming to find out what you’ve been up to.
Snogging pop stars in casinos, that’s what it looks like.
’ She laughs. ‘And then eating pizza with them in your tiny cabin. Not your usual style surely Peter?’ she asks looking at Jock.
‘Who the fuck is Peter? Jock, what’s going on?’ I plead.
Jock, finishes reading the front page of the paper. He stands abruptly, throwing it angrily onto the bed, narrowly missing both Isla and the pizza.
‘There’s something I have to do,’ he states, his voice icy. ‘Bella, please trust me. I can explain everything.’
‘Explain what Jock? Please don’t go,’ I beg.
‘Bella,’ his tone softens, ‘I love you. I want to be with you forever. If you feel the same, pack your bags and meet me at our bench next Friday night at 9 pm. I have some business to take care of.’ He leans down, planting a soft kiss on my trembling lips.
‘It was nice meeting you, Isla.’ With that, he’s gone, the door left swinging behind him.
‘He loves you, Bella!’ Isla squeals. ‘The actual Peter Piper is in love with my twin sister!’
‘Pass me that fucking paper, Isla,’ I demand. Slowly, I read the article that has just turned my newly happy world upside down.
PETER PIPER PICKS A… brUNETTE?!
Dreamstreets Hunk Caught in Casino Clinch — But Where’s the Blonde?
He’s the frontman with the voice of an angel and the lifestyle of a rock god — but has Peter Piper just hit a bum note?
After wrapping up Dreamstreets’ record-breaking ‘I’ll Make You Dream’ world tour — 12 months, 10 countries, 27 cities, and more shrieking fans than a fire drill at a girls’ school - the heartthrob didn’t head home like bandmates Syd Simons, Luca Starr, Phoenix Blaze, and Niko Rush.
Instead, Piper jetted off to the Med, where he’s reportedly holed up on a luxury yacht in Monaco Harbour, “working on new material” (and possibly new mischief).
He’s also been linked to icy blonde bombshell Vanessa Marlowe, the band’s edgy new stylist - though neither camp has confirmed the romance. But it wasn’t Marlowe Piper who was spotted puckering up with in a low-rent Monaco casino this weekend…
Our roving snapper caught the dark-haired lothario singer (sans his blonde stage mullet) in a passionate clinch with a mysterious brunette in the dim lights of a piano bar.
So who is she? And more importantly - where’s Vanessa?
Is Piper playing the field, or is this just another wild night in the high-stakes world of pop? And what will this mean for Dreamstreets’ next chapter?
Is Peter Piper still living the dream — or has the fantasy started to fray at the seams?
Stay tuned, pop pickers. Monaco might be sunny, but it looks like a storm’s brewing…
‘I’m not a fucking brunette,’ I say pathetically. Tears burn the back of my eyes. My bottom lip starts to quiver again, then my entire body joins in sympathy. The tears escape, and I ugly cry.
‘Och wee Bells.’ Isla envelopes me in a hug. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come, and whatever secret this is could have stayed secret.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I get out between sobs onto my sister’s shoulder. ‘I thought this was the real deal. I love him, Isla. But now, now, I don’t know who it is that I love.’
Another wave of ugly crying hits. As I make the shoulder pad of my sister’s denim shirt wet with tears, she rubs my back softly, saying soothing words like our mam used to say to us when we were wee. ‘Hush now, wee yin, it’ll be awright. Dinnae worry, darlin’, Isla’s here.’
Eventually, I fall into a restless, dream-filled sleep.
I toss and turn as, in my sleep, I see Jock with a virtual parade of women he’s chosen instead of me.
Except instead of being actual women, they are literally birds of different breeds.
They mock me with their squawking as they fawn over Jock.
My final dream of the night is more like a flashback.
Isla and I are playing in our backyard, our matching, homemade dresses grubby from building a tiny house out of sticks and long grass.
We have a stick mummy, a stick daddy and two smaller sticks representing the two of us.
After we’ve played make-believe happy families with our sticks, hunger drives us into the house.
We hear crying from the back of the house and tiptoe silently towards the noise.
Hiding silently in the shadows, we peer around the door into mam and da’s bedroom.
‘I cannae believe he’s done it, Jean,’ our mother sobs on her sister’s shoulder.
‘Neither can I hen, neither can I,’ Aunty Jean soothes.
‘How could he leave his girls without even saying goodbye? Without even a backwards glance, Jean? What kind of man does that?’ Our mam asks.
‘None of ‘em are worth trusting, Annie, none of ‘em. They’ll always hurt you in the end,’ Aunty Jean counsels. ‘It’s up to you now, hen, you’ve got to be strong for those beautiful girls of yours.’
I jolt myself awake, desperate to outrun the cold stab of fear the dream keeps driving into me, even behind closed eyes.
My room is dark.
I sense another body in my bed.
For a moment my heart leaps thinking it’s Jock and that maybe earlier was just a bad dream.
‘You okay, love?’ Isla asks, throwing an arm over me.
‘Uh huh,’ I respond groggily before turning over and letting sleep take me again, feeling safe in the knowledge Isla is beside me.