Undeniable
Authors: Liz Bankes
Praise for Liz Bankes’
‘Compelling, juicy, and highly enjoyable.’
Chicklish
A quick, fun, sexy read ... I will be keeping my eye out for more books by Bankes in the future.’
Once Upon a Bookcase
‘Great, chemistry-filled scenes.’
Fluttering Butterflies
A fun, sexy debut [with] some genuinely laugh-out-loud moments.
Daisy Chain Book Reviews
‘Simply irresistible, truly one of those rare reads that captivated me ... amazing.’
Totally Bookalicious
‘Really absorbing - should Mia stick with good-guy Dan or follow her heart and dive into a rocky relationship with Jamie?
A real page-turner!’
Amber, 16
An enthralling insight into the inner workings of teenage life with the thrill of relationships and new experiences - fantastic!’
Polly, 15
From an early age Liz Bankes wanted to be a Thunderbird. Upon discovering that they were fictional and wooden she decided to be a writer. She wrote her GCSE coursework about a
woman who cooks people in pies and later won the Tunbridge Wells Girls Grammar School creative writing prize.
She went on to study book-reading at some universities in order to avoid getting a job and to spend the next four years in pyjamas. After working on a building magazine and a science magazine,
she had the wonderful and very exciting chance to write a story.
As well as all book-related things, she also likes comedy and cats.
First published in Great Britain in 2013
by Piccadilly Press
A Templar/Bonnier publishing company
Deepdene Lodge, Deepdene Avenue, Dorking, Surrey, RH5 4AT
www.piccadillypress.co.uk
Text copyright © Liz Bankes, 2013
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 Liz Bankes 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 84812 345 8 (paperback)
978 1 84812 346 5 (ebook)
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Printed in the UK by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Cover photo © istockphoto.com - weareadventurers
To Suzy,
who is always there with half-naked Ryan Gosling
and a wimple when I need her.
(Thank you.)
‘Gabi,’ Julia says, looking up from her desk, ‘you wanted to see me?’
I always told Mia she was a loser when she said she used to be terrified of Julia. Mia hasn’t worked at Radleigh Castle for a year and she still has a mini-shudder when I mention her old
boss. Right from when I started working here I’ve said whatever I want to Julia and she doesn’t seem to mind – I’ve even made fun of her a few times to her face. She laughed
once. Polly – one of the other waitresses who follows me around a lot – says I’m brave. But I’m not feeling brave at the moment.
I really wish I had told her about this earlier. I kept meaning to but then I’d find some reason to put it off because I’m worried she’s going to say no. Two days ago I got as
far as going to her office after my shift, but just as I got there Mia called me. When Julia opened the door I chickened out and decided to pretend the phone call was urgent, so I ran off going,
‘OMG, I’ll be there RIGHT AWAY! JUST STAY CALM!’ Mia was just calling to invite me to the cinema. She didn’t even think my reaction was that weird – she assumed
I’d been helping myself to the sherry trifle in the kitchens again. I had, but only a bit.
Now I’ve got as far as sitting in Julia’s office. And I am beginning to see what Mia meant. Oh well, the worst thing would be if she says no. I take a deep breath.
‘So I’ve got this thing,’ I tell her. ‘My granny phoned – she’s an actress, but on stage, so not a famous one . . .’
I trail off because someone at the window has got my attention. Messy blond hair. Dressed like a bit of a knob – I mean, who wears shirts in the daytime? Apart from teachers. And people
with jobs. It can only be Jamie Elliot-Fox. He waves. I ignore him.
Julia frowns. ‘And . . .?’
‘Sorry!’ I say, but keep my eyes on the window. ‘And she knows this guy who is the dad of this other guy who is the producer or something for
The Halls
.’
Oh my God, he’s kissing someone! The dick! Cheating on my best friend! I’ll kill him. I will literally strangle— Oh no, wait, that
is
Mia. I’d forgotten
she’d dyed her hair back to brown again.
Julia sees my eyes go wide and turns to look. Mia realises they are by the window and pushes Jamie away, pretending to be really interested in something on the ground. Then she looks up like
she’s only just seen us. She’s such a fool. I wave at her and then stop when Julia turns back round.
‘So he’s the producer or something for
The Halls
,’ I continue, ‘which is obviously
am-a-zing
.’
Julia shakes her head. ‘I haven’t seen it.’
‘Oh my God, you should! It’s
so
good. It’s about all these students who go to uni in London and lots of them get it on and some die and—’
‘Gabi, can you get to the point?’
Okay. Here goes.
‘Can I have the summer . . . off?’
The train back to Granny’s is absolutely rammed and I want to scream. I really don’t understand how they do things in London. I thought that once the carriage was
nicely full then people would stop getting on and wait patiently for the next train. NO. They kept cramming in and I’ve ended up squashed in a corner with my face in a man’s back.
I guess I should have expected it after getting the rush-hour train in this morning. I turned up all bright and chirpy and determined to enjoy the commuting fun, despite the fact I’d had
to get up at the crack of
death
– in the school holidays – and also hadn’t had time to wash my hair because I’d been wrestling my cretin of a sister for the last Pop
Tart. You would have thought she would let me have it, seeing as I was about to leave home and live in London for the entire holidays. But she didn’t. Because she is evil.
What I discovered on the morning train was that all commuters are angry and silent. And that you have to be good at clambering when someone is sitting in an aisle seat and doesn’t fancy
budging up into the empty one next to them. The man I straddled did look a bit surprised as I think he was worried I would sit on him at first. I tried to lighten the mood by telling him he had a
nice newspaper (it is difficult to think of a compliment for someone with such an angry face) and by pointing out interesting things I saw on the journey (mostly birds and other trains), but all I
got was a grunt. What a knob. I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud, though.
Just like then, as I now inhale this man’s shirt, I am determined not to let it bother me. Today was the first day of my super-amazing, exciting summer and nothing can dampen my mood.
Especially not thinking about how I won’t be spending the summer with my best friends. And definitely not thinking about the boyfriend I recently dumped. Or trying not to.
A few people get off at the next station and I can actually breathe again. I’ve got quite a good spot holding on to a pole by the door. I feel a nice yawn coming on when suddenly the train
lurches. This woman in front of me falls forward and her whole fist goes into my mouth.
We stay like that for a moment, just staring at each other. And then she withdraws her hand, wipes it on her cardigan and looks at me like I was some weird person who’d tried to eat
her.
I really hope no one from the production company saw that. I don’t want to get a reputation as someone who attacks people with my mouth.
I hear a stifled laughing sound and look over towards it. There’s a guy leaning against the door about a metre away and looking very amused. He’s wearing one of those hats that sit
on the back of your head – usually worn by arrogant people – and has dark curls of hair framing his face at the front. His eyebrows are arched so they go a bit crooked and he has an
irritatingly big grin on his face.
‘It’s rude to stare, you know,’ I say and he just looks down at the book he’s reading. Great, well that’s just made me look mental.
Deep breath. Ignore dickheads. Focus on amazing summer, day one. To be honest, the induction today was not so amazing and was mostly signing forms saying I wouldn’t break anything or blame
the company if I died while working for them. I was waiting for the bit when they’d ask me which parts of the TV process I want to be involved in and I would say, ‘Oh, I’d like to
be a script writer and editor but,
you know
, if you
insist
, I’ll also act in some scenes.’ And then I’d be able to show them the writing I’d brought with me.
But it didn’t come. Instead they said things like, ‘Make sure you are here early to put out the chairs for the read-through tomorrow.’
I had tried to be early today, but ended up being only just on time by getting lost in Camden. Dad had printed off like seven maps for me, but on none of them had he told me which way up to hold
the map. I was also dragging round a suitcase on wheels, which did not help. Neither does muttering ‘arse’, ‘bugger’ and ‘balls’ at regular intervals, but it
does get people to move out of your way in case you are a lunatic.
I should maybe try that now because the train is pulling into my stop and I need to get to the door. The guy who was laughing at me earlier is in my way.
‘Excuse me,’ I say in the firm and professional manner of a person with a job, and not a person who gets lost a lot and attacks people with their mouth.