When I got to the studio, Addie was already in the mixing room with Boris, surrounded by takeaway noodle boxes and the heavy, sugary smell of MSG. She ran over to hug me, her fake ponytail swishing perfume clouds around. Now that I knew it was a wig, it seemed so obvious: no-one naturally had hair that thick.
I played ‘Stargirl’ for her, so nervous that I had to sit on the couch and keep my eyes on my fingers to avoid seeing her reaction. But when I finished, she looked impressed.
‘Lily, it’s amazing,’ she said. ‘God, I wish I could play an instrument like you.’
‘Your voice is your instrument,’ I said, and I didn’t mean it as a joke, but she smiled.
We recorded the song one painstaking verse at a time. Once, singing with Addie had been nothing but a fantasy. The reality was tougher than I’d imagined, but I couldn’t help grinning after every take anyway. Between each session, we waited while Boris made changes to the track and played the new version through our headphones. Once, when he was focused at the mixing desk, she offered me a packet of Starburst.
‘But don’t tell Saskia,’ she winked.
We finished late at night and Boris waved us goodbye as Addie folded herself into the car. When she invited me out, I hesitated.
‘I’m underage,’ I said, my usual excuse when Carter tried to get me to join him and Richie, although I knew my age wouldn’t be a problem if I went somewhere with Addie.
‘I know how old you are,’ she said. ‘We could just get some food or something.’
We were guaranteed to be photographed. I didn’t want to have to explain myself to Carter tomorrow or, worse, run into him and Richie at a nightclub. I was dressed in my off-duty clothes. I slid my sunglasses into the pocket of my jeans and checked my reflection in the car window. Addie caught me and laughed, then tugged out my hair elastic, pulling my hair around my face.
‘Now you look like Lady Stardust,’ she said.
‘It’s not that I don’t want to hang out,’ I said. ‘I just don’t want to go to Yellow Brick Road or anywhere we might be seen.’
She smiled. ‘I know just the place.’
I sat quietly beside her while she chatted to the driver as if they were old friends, directing him to a burger shop and then to her house in Hampstead. The gates no longer seemed foreboding. As we retreated inside, a wave of relief swept over me. No-one would find us here.
She moved smoothly through the house, turning on the lights in each room. We sat at the kitchen counter, which was as uncluttered as last time except for the mannequin head in the centre, and ate. As I bit into my burger, a squirt of sauce landed on my T-shirt and I winced with embarrassment, but she just laughed and handed me a serviette from the burger bag.
‘Addie Marmoset and Lady Stardust in relish fiasco!’ she hooted.
‘Addie Marmoset and Lady Stardust snacking late at night! Could they be pregnant?’ I said.
‘Addie Marmoset and Lady Stardust return to her house late at night with burgers! What kind of weird sex game are they playing?’
I dabbed at my T-shirt with the serviette, but the sauce was definitely going to stain. ‘You do realise they’re going to call us the Stargirls now,’ I said.
‘Oh, God, they so are. That or the Hampstead Lesbians.’
‘I’m not a lesbian.’
The grin faded from her face. Addie’s mood always seemed so fragile, like she was constantly wary of the next threat. ‘Yeah, sorry, I figured. “King Cutie” is your song, huh?’
‘The whole band wrote it together,’ I said, as if this was a Dennis Chang interview. ‘But yeah,’ I added truthfully, ‘the lyrics are mine.’
‘I think it’s dead mint, you know,’ she said. ‘That you’re so devoted to your band. I wish I had some people with me who’d been there since the beginning. Who knew me before I was –’ she waved a hand around the room and the lavish furniture spoke for itself.
‘What about the girls in Perfect Storm?’
‘They’re not speaking to me. When I left, Bella said I was taking their pay cheque with me.’
I remembered the incredulous look on Bella’s face at the concert in Reading, the way her head had flicked up at Addie’s announcement. Holding my wet T-shirt away from my body, I opened the pantry in search of a tea towel. Cereal, bread and tins of vegetables lined the shelves. Spaghetti stood in tall glass jars beside an array of condiments: soy sauce, sriracha, vinegar.
‘Did you know I was coming?’ I asked.
The look on Addie’s face was a mix of guilt and pride. ‘Well, you totally food-shamed me last time. I wanted to be ready in case you ever came back one day.’
I turned to face her. ‘Thank you,’ I said, and she grinned back. A few weeks ago, the thought that she’d prepared for my visit would have filled me with a strange kind of excitement, but now it fit in with what I knew of Addie. Before I’d known her, I’d thought she was cool – but I hadn’t also known she was kind.
I found a tea towel and dabbed at the orange stain, and asked her a question to hide how pleased I was. ‘So why did you leave Perfect Storm? You guys were on top of the world.’
She started fussing with mugs and tea bags, avoiding eye contact. ‘When you’re in a group with four other voices, you have five competing harmonies. Literally and metaphorically. I kind of got crowded out. That’s why I had to branch out on my own, but I didn’t realise what I was giving up until it was too late. I’m still glad I left the group, but I wish I’d talked it over with them more – given them a chance to prepare instead of springing it on them in Reading.’
‘In one glitter-dusted blink,’ I said, and she threw me a sad smile as she handed me a mug of tea. She’d remembered that I liked it without milk. As she sprayed rosewater into the glue of her wig and began to gently remove it with practised fingers, I realised how quickly things had changed. When I first met Addie it was like meeting an alien, but the more I got to know her, the more she seemed like an ordinary girl. Like a friend, even.
‘At least I’ve got my mum,’ she said, setting the wig on the mannequin head. ‘She’s my best friend, really. When Perfect Storm first went platinum, it was really hard. Every time I stepped outside my house I felt like I had to put on armour.’ She peeled off her wig cap and massaged her scalp, as though even the memory of those first days of fame still gave her a headache. Her short hair stuck up in punky spikes. I liked it. ‘And when Val and I split up, I was a total mess, but Mum was brilliant. She turned up here with ice-cream and said I could either see fame as a curse or an opportunity, but I couldn’t go backwards now so I might as well focus on the positives. That was when I knew I had to quit Perfect Storm and try to make music that actually meant something to me. So in a weird way, Val breaking my heart was the best thing that ever happened to me.’
I gripped the mug. I felt the usual knot in my chest when girls discussed their close relationships with their mums, but something else, too – something like acceptance. I was recognisable all over the world: if Mum wanted to find me now, she would have no trouble at all. And yet she hadn’t. Suddenly it hit me: she still didn’t want to be part of my life – and the realisation was a relief, not a disappointment, because it meant I was safe from yet another heartbreak.
Addie was watching me closely. ‘What is it?’ she said. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
‘No,’ I said, and I didn’t mean to, but the whole story about my mum started tumbling out. And then she told me about how her dad hadn’t hugged her since she came out, and before we knew it the tea was cold and dawn was breaking and we hadn’t been to bed.
‘We should probably call the paps,’ I suggested as we said goodbye. Amir wouldn’t want us to miss the chance to have my sleep-deprived mug splashed across the internet.
But her eyes narrowed, and I wished I hadn’t said it. ‘Well, I won’t mention it to Amir if you don’t,’ she said. ‘Night, Lily.’