The Accidental Life of Jessie Jefferson (13 page)

‘Give it here,’ Johnny says, taking his plate.

‘So you live in Maidenhead?’ Meg asks, while Johnny blows on his son’s pizza.

‘Yeah. Not far from Henley, where you used to live, right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Weird coincidence, hey?’ Johnny chips in, sliding Barney’s plate back and returning to the conversation.

‘Yeah.’ It hurts to remember Stu telling me how Mum felt when he moved so close by . . . ‘Do you remember my mum?’ The question spills out of my mouth as though it has a will of its own. Meg stiffens and Johnny looks taken aback. ‘Her name was Candy,’ I blurt. ‘But maybe you knew her by her full name, Candace?’

Phoenix chooses that moment to throw a piece of pizza on the floor, making Meg jump to her feet and curse under her breath as she clears it up.

‘We’ll talk about this,’ Johnny promises me with a significant look. He doesn’t add, ‘soon’, but it’s implied.

I nod, as disappointment rushes through me. He clearly doesn’t remember Mum and he’s just trying to avoid telling me. He needn’t worry, because I’m not sure I want to hear it.

After a dinner strained with small talk about school, hobbies and anything else that avoids trickier subjects, I’m almost falling asleep at the table. I feel a bit bad about leaving Johnny and Meg to clear up, but I really am exhausted, so when Meg suggests I call it a night, I don’t argue.

I head upstairs to get ready for bed and then remember that I still haven’t texted Stu to let him know I’ve arrived safely. I hunt out my mobile phone charger before realising that I don’t have an American power adaptor. I’m sure Johnny and Meg will have a spare.

I head back out of my room, my bare feet making next to no noise on the concrete landing and stairs. Meg and Johnny are talking, with hushed, but irate-sounding voices in the kitchen. Adrenalin pumps through my body as I creep closer. I know I shouldn’t listen in, but I can’t walk away.

‘Look, I’m sorry, alright? But what am I supposed to do?’ Johnny is saying over the sound of children’s chatter in the background.

‘I don’t know, Johnny. I . . .’ Meg’s voice tails off. ‘I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest, but I have a bad feeling about this. About her.’

‘What’s your problem with her?’ Johnny demands to know. ‘She’s only just arrived.’

‘Yeah, looking like a right little rock-star wannabe, in her silver dress, boots and sunglasses indoors.’

I feel sick, so sick. I didn’t mean to come across like that.

‘That’s a bit harsh,’ Johnny defends me.

‘Is it?’ Meg asks heatedly.

‘She’s just lost her mum and discovered that I’m her father, for Christ’s sake!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ she warns, after a moment, but her voice sounds shaky. ‘This has all happened so quickly. One minute we know about her, the next she’s here! I haven’t had enough time to get my head around that fact.’

‘You were the one who suggested she come,’ he points out irately.

‘Only because we’re going away the week after next! I wanted to get it out of the way, not have it hanging over us!’

What am I, an
exam
? And why was it Meg suggesting I come and stay? Doesn’t Johnny want me here?

‘I can’t believe how much she looks like you. She has your eyes,’ she continues and I have to strain to hear her next words because the kids are starting to play up. ‘Although I only saw them when she finally took off her glasses,’ she adds sarkily.

‘Boys, be quiet,’ Johnny hushes his sons. He sighs. ‘Look, I know this is hard for you. I know that you didn’t want to come back to LA and I get that this whole thing is doing your head in, but we’ll be OK. I love you.’

The sound of a kiss, and then I hear her sniff.

‘OK?’ he asks again, gently.

She sniffs again and maybe she’s nodding, maybe she’s about to reply, but I don’t wait to find out. I hurry back up the stairs, my heart pounding.

Now I know what she really thinks of me. And to be honest, I just want to click my heels three times and go home.

Chapter 12

‘MUM!’ I scream. ‘Where are you?’ I look around in a blind panic, but she’s nowhere to be seen. I’m in my house, but it’s not really my house and the corridors are long and winding. I hear the television playing loudly so I stumble around the corner into a large and vacuous living room, nearly crying with relief when I see her sitting in her favourite place on our sofa. But she doesn’t look at me. Her face is strained, pale, bloodless. It’s like she can’t see me.

‘There you are!’ I fight back tears as I run to hug her, but my arms close around nothing. And then I remember. She’s dead. And she’s never coming back.

I bolt awake out of my dream, but my pain is real, and I’m overcome with silent, whole-body-wracking sobs until, eventually, the lump in my throat subsides and I come back to full consciousness. It’s only then that I remember where I am, and it occurs to me that I might still be dreaming. I stretch my arms wide and feel the soft cotton of the enormous bed beneath my fingers. No, I’m not dreaming. I really am in Johnny Jefferson’s house.

I take a deep breath, feeling utterly drained. I have no idea what time it is. The electric blackout blinds that I finally managed to work last night are blocking out all of the light from the windows, so it could be midnight or midday, for all I know.

I snuck straight back upstairs yesterday evening after overhearing Johnny and Meg’s conversation, but I was too wired to sleep for a long time afterwards, despite my exhaustion.

Meg thinks I’m a wannabe. I feel so humiliated. I only kept my sunnies on inside because it was so bright that I forgot I had them on. And as for the boots and silver dress . . . Well, I could carry that look off at night, but even
I
wouldn’t normally try to rock an outfit like that in the daytime. I wonder what Johnny thinks of me.

Eventually I drag myself out of bed and try to work the blackout blinds again. The sound of them going up is deafening and I’m worried I’ll wake Barney next door and annoy Meg even more. But soon they come to a halt and the light revealed behind them is pale and grey – early morning.

I want to call Stu before the time difference renders it difficult. I wonder if the office downstairs has an American phone adaptor? I switch on the halogens to flood the room and look at the jumble of clothes in my suitcase. What shall I wear? Something that doesn’t make me look like a rock-star wannabe, I think resentfully. I settle on a simple blue dress and venture out of my bedroom.

I can hear cutlery clinking against crockery in the kitchen. Someone is up. I pad downstairs in my bare feet and cautiously round the corner into the kitchen. It’s Meg and the boys, eating breakfast. They’re surprisingly quiet as they tuck into their cereal.

‘Morning,’ I say groggily and she jumps out of her skin.

‘You scared the life out of me!’ she exclaims.

‘Sorry.’

She recovers quickly. ‘How did you sleep?’ she asks with a smile, which I find almost impossible to return. Not now that I know how she really feels about me being here.

‘Not bad.’

‘Do you want some breakfast? There’s toast, cereal . . . or if you wait a while, Eddie, our chef, will be here and he can do you scrambled eggs or a fry-up or something like that?’

‘I’ll just have a bowl of cereal,’ I decide, not wanting to appear too ‘rock-star wannabe’ by having a cook cater to my every whim. I am so pissed off about that comment.

She pushes her chair out from the table.

‘Don’t worry, I can help myself,’ I tell her.

‘It’s OK,’ she insists. Martyr. She gets up and fetches me a bowl and spoon, then runs through the vast array of cereals on offer. I choose Cheerios because at least they’re familiar.

‘I was wondering if you had a US adaptor for my mobile phone charger?’ I ask when we’re seated back at the table.

‘Of course. Sorry, weren’t there some in your room?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t really think to look . . .’

‘Try the bedside drawer.’

We carry on eating in silence for a bit. I glance over at her bowl to see that it’s full of brightly-coloured, flat, Rice-Krispie-looking things. Curiosity gets the better of me. ‘What are they?’

‘Pebbles,’ she says with a bashful smile, offering up a box of Flintstones-themed cereal. ‘I always go for the kiddie stuff. I’ve got a sweet tooth.’

I notice the boys are eating plain Rice Krispies.

‘I’m a mean mummy,’ she jokes, having spotted me looking. ‘They have to eat the low sugar variety.’

I don’t comment. She
is
mean!

‘Do you want to try some?’ she coaxes hopefully.

‘No, thanks,’ I reply flatly. I don’t want anything from her after last night’s comment.

Her face falls. ‘OK.’

Now I feel like a bit of a bitch. I suppose I don’t need to give her any more reasons to dislike me. ‘Oh, go on, then,’ I find myself saying.

She seems happy as she fetches me a fresh bowl and pours some in. I take a mouthful. Oh my God, it’s really sweet.

‘What do you think?’ Her eyes are wide with anticipation.

‘I feel like I’m going to be climbing the walls in a minute.’

Meg laughs and I can’t help but giggle, too.

‘Morning.’ Johnny’s deep voice punctuates the sound of our laughter. I turn to see him standing in the doorway. His hair is dishevelled and he’s wearing a white T-shirt and khaki-coloured shorts. He looks tired, but he’s grinning.

‘Jesus, Nutmeg, you’re not getting Jessie started on Pebbles, are you?’ Nutmeg? Is that her nickname? Bizarre. He goes over to her and kisses the top of her head, then, to my surprise, places his hand on my shoulder.

‘Any thoughts about what you’d like to do today?’ he asks me, the warmth of his touch seeping through the flimsy fabric of my dress. Meg glances our way and he removes his hand.

‘I don’t know. Won’t we just hang here?’ I feel oddly disappointed that he’s taken his hand away.

‘We could do, if that’s what you’d like. But we thought you might like to go to Santa Monica beach?’

‘I’m still not sure that’s such a good idea,’ Meg interrupts him nervously.

‘It’ll be fine,’ he brushes her off. ‘We’ll bring the guys.’

The guys, I later discover, are Samuel and Lewis, two burly bodyguards who also handle the security for Johnny. They follow us in a slick black Mercedes, while Davey leads the way in the limo. I sit in the middle at the back, between Phoenix and Barney in their two car seats while Johnny and Meg take the bench seat up the side.

‘You alright there?’ Meg asks with a smile. ‘Not too squashed?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Did you get through to your dad?’

‘I call him Stu, not dad,’ I automatically correct her. She looks embarrassed, so I quickly continue. ‘Yeah, I did, thanks. Thanks for letting me use the landline,’ I say to Johnny.

‘Anytime,’ he replies.

I couldn’t get through to Stuart on my mobile, because I forgot that it won’t allow me to make international calls. It’s only a cheap phone. Johnny told me to use one of the phones in the office.

I think Meg was embarrassed that she hadn’t suggested that herself, so she tried to make up for it by coming with me and showing me how to work it. Just as well, because I didn’t know what the international dialling code was.

‘Call home as much as you like,’ she’d stressed before she left the room. Maybe she’s feeling guilty, but I can’t say I’m not relieved that she’s being extra nice to me today.

Stu seemed pleased that I called, but I felt strangely sad to hear his voice and I even felt like crying once we hung up. I didn’t tell him that I didn’t feel welcome because I didn’t want him to worry. This was my choice after all, so I need to see it through. The distance between us feels more than just physical at the moment. I feel like I’m very much in this by myself.

‘Hopefully it won’t be too busy at the beach,’ Meg says, pulling me from my thought. ‘We’re not normally up and out of the house at this time, are we?’ She nudges Johnny. ‘Johnny would sleep in every morning if he could,’ she tells me good-naturedly.

‘Yeah, blood— I mean,
bloomin’
kids,’ he corrects himself, stopping short of swearing. He flashes Meg a cheeky look. Beside me, Phoenix starts to whinge.

‘What’s up with you?’ I ask in my best appeal-to-a-little-person voice.

He just continues to wriggle with annoyance.

‘He hates being strapped in,’ Meg tells me. ‘We’ll be there soon,’ she addresses her youngest son. On the other side of me, Barney begins to moan.

‘I’m bored!’ he complains. We’ve only been in the car fifteen minutes.

‘Do you want Daddy to sing you a song?’ Meg asks.

‘Meg!’ Johnny grumbles.

‘Yeah!’ Barney chips in.

‘Alright,’ he says wearily. ‘What do you want me to sing?’ He flashes me a resigned look. ‘Sorry about this.’

As if I mind getting a private Johnny Jefferson concert!

‘“Baa Baa Black Sheep”!’ Barney bleats.

‘Something else,’ he says firmly.

‘“Old MacDonald Had A Farm”!’ Barney tries again.

‘I used to refuse point-blank to sing nursery rhymes,’ he tells me wryly. ‘But I’ve given up, now.’

Meg smiles at me, and Johnny gives her a comically withering look.

‘I’ll do Thomas,’ Johnny decides, and Meg claps her hands excitedly. The boys imitate her. ‘At least Ringo Starr deems it worthy.’

It turns out that even when he’s singing the theme tune from a children’s TV show, Johnny’s voice is incredible.

‘
Thomas
!’ he shouts, clapping once and holding his palms out towards Meg in a sort of ‘ta-dah’ way, leaving a pause for her to fill in the gap.

‘
He’s the cheeky one
,’ she tries to sing, and Johnny winces theatrically because her singing voice is truly awful. I laugh as they continue in this way, going through James and Henry and all of Thomas’s other friends. Even Barney seems to know some of the words, and as they get to “square” Toby, I can’t resist joining in.

Then all three of us continue to sing at the top of our voices, Meg completely out of tune and me just about remembering the words as the kids bounce up and down in their seats with delight. For the first time since I landed, I feel a little bit at ease.