CHAPTER 1December 2010'Welcome to Holmes Chapel, Cheshire.' The sigh that I let out was so loud that it made mum turn round, something that I knew she didn't want to do, having been told by Mumsnet to ignore me when I was being 'difficult'. But I was past the point of caring if I was 'difficult' or not. I was past the point of caring about much really. Considering I was being moved half way across the country, away from London, all of my friends and my amazing performing arts school, where I was finally beginning to be noticed… to this place, the back of beyond, to live with my grandparents, who I hardly even know, she should be pleased that I hadn't done more than smash a few things! Snow was starting to swirl down around us as we pulled into my grandparent's house, fully bedecked with what seemed like a lifetimes collection of tacky Christmas decorations. 'What a very merry Christmas I'm going to have', I said, sighing to myself again and moving to the boot to pull out two suitcases and duffle bag, into which I'd somehow managed to fit all of the possessions that I'd need for the next 6 months, as well as my guitar case. My grandparents met me at the bottom of the path, and after an awkward hug managed to help me heave the book-and-CD laden suitcases up to the tiny box room that I was to be living in, and by the time I'd unpacked, my mother had already left, without even saying goodbye. By this time tomorrow she'd be in New Zealand, starting a new life, one where she didn't have a moody teenager to worry about 24/7, just like my dad had done 6 months earlier. A few hours later and I was fully unpacked and had changed into the 'smart' outfit I'd brought with me, ready to go and meet the neighbours, something my grandparents had suggested, probably to save themselves from an awkward evening with a moody teenager. Smart for me meaning normal dark-washed jeans, rather than the distressed (destroyed more like) pair I normally wore, a striped top and a blazer, something which I hadn't quite got used to wearing yet, but that my best friend Jessica had assured me would make me look, as she put it, sophisticated. The neighbours, so I'd heard, had a boy my age, who had just come back from some sort of singing thing in London. My grandparents, lost without internet and a fully working TV, had not been able to tell me quite what this singing thing was, but I was hoping he'd be the type who was in a band, preferably as the lead singer, and who would able to sing along to my guitar, as we played a duet of 'Wonderwall' by Oasis together. We'd arrived at the neighbour's door now, which, unlike that of my grandparents, was decorated quite tastefully, with only a wreath of holly adorning it. 'Hello Mr and Mrs Coombe', came a cheery voice, as the door opened and a women, perhaps in her mid 30s with straight, brown hair, stepped over the doorway and gave both my grandparents a kiss on the cheek, 'And this must be Abigail', she said, beaming at me. I instantly felt more at home than I had done in months, and returned her smile, feeling the butterflies that has been exploding in my stomach suddenly fade. 'I'll call Harry down, wait a moment', she turned back into the house and shouted up the stairs, 'HARRY! HARRYYY!'. A moment later and a pair of legs in chinos came sprinting down the stairs, followed by a printed tee and then… the curly haired face of Harry Styles appeared, his sparkling green eyes staring into mine. I comfortable feeing that I'd had just a few seconds ago completely vanished. Harry Styles from 1 Direction, the band that I'd loved on the X-factor, and that my friends cough Jessica, were completely obsessed with, was standing right in front of me. 'H..h..hi' I managed to whisper, holding out a shaky hand, something which I almost immediately regretted. He didn't really look like a hand shaking kind of guy. But he took it anyway, and instead of letting go, led me through the immaculate hallway, and up the carpeted stairs he'd just come down. I was shaking pretty badly now, my hands almost jumping off the banister that I was trying to cling to. 'You're in HARRY STYLES' HOUSE.', The voice inside me kept repeating, 'Just relax!' But of course, I couldn't.
