The taxi took forever to arrive, I was stood at the gates of the richest pad in London clutching a duffel bag and shivering like mad.

I was surprised the neighbours didn’t call the police on me.

When the taxi did come I jumped in, the driver recognised me instantly.

“Ahhh!” he smiled, “Antonelle Gray,”

I nodded, feeling really sheepish. I was running away and the getaway taxi driver knew me- just what I needed. He drove me to the train station, trying to make conversation about the weather, the new book my dad was releasing and the price of fuel.

When we arrived at London Victoria I handed him the money then ran for the Ticket booths. I needed to be faster, people were starting to stare- I needed something to cover my face up with; sunglasses. Why on earth hadn’t I thought about sun-bloody-glasses?! I was scuttling around with a duffel bag; the security guards were starting to get suspicious and my train was practically leaving.

I bought my tickets, grabbed my bag from the floor then stumbled down the escalators with the blood throbbing in my ears. I didn’t want to go back to the house, 1A Kings Street; I wanted to have a go at being a normal kid.

No Fame, no backstabbing best friends and definitely no sucker boyfriends.