by Paige Toon
‘I haven’t seen you for ages,’ she interrupted. ‘You have to come!’
‘Can Tom—’
‘Yes, he can come, too,’ she said wearily. ‘Do you two live in each other’s pockets now?’
She claimed that she was joking when I didn’t answer, ending our call with, ‘Of course he can. The more the merrier.’
She meant that last part. Her place is more packed than I’ve ever seen it, and it doesn’t take long for me to see that Isla is here, too. My grip on Tom’s hand unwittingly tightens when I see her walk into the kitchen. Tom looks past me, clocking who I’ve seen. I let go of his hand.
‘Hey,’ he complains, reaching over to take it again and flashing me an enquiring look. I shrug and shake my head, reaching for my cider and taking a large swig. Natalie, Em and Lou are outside smoking, but I haven’t had a cigarette since LA. It helps that Tom doesn’t smoke. I know he doesn’t like it.
Later, we find ourselves in the crowded TV room where Natalie has got PlayStation SingStar up and running. Usually she’d persuade me to join in, but I’m refusing all of her attempts tonight because I’m not drunk enough. I only ever sing in front of other people when I’m wasted.
No, that’s not true. I sang with Johnny when I was stone-cold sober. I still can’t believe I did that. He was in his private studio playing one of his new songs to his friend Christian. I went in to have a listen and, the next thing I knew, Johnny was asking me to accompany him.
‘Get in here,’ he said from inside his glass-windowed box.
‘Go on!’ Christian urged me.
‘Forget it.’ I shook my head determinedly. ‘I don’t sing in public, remember?’
And then Christian told me I’d regret it if I didn’t and I realised that he was right.
God, I loved being in that studio with Johnny. We sang an acoustic version of one of his big hits. I just did a few harmonies to start with and then joined in and sang with Johnny until the end. Christian’s reaction shocked me. He was blown away and I was on such a high.
I’d give anything to feel like that again. SingStar can’t compete.
Still, it’s damn funny watching Natalie and Lou give it a go.
After a while, Tom heads off to get us some more drinks and I discover to my deeply unpleasant surprise that I have his ex’s attention. She’s with two of her friends and they’re all looking over at me, then turning back to each other.
I stare back at them defiantly.
‘Jessie! Come on, please!’ Natalie implores when the Guns N’ Roses song she and Lou were murdering finishes. I shake my head with a grin.
‘Go on,’ Chris urges, as a hot-and-sweaty-but-still-utterly-gorgeous Lou joins us. He wraps his arm round her neck.
‘No,’ I reiterate, noticing one of Isla’s friends looking over and saying something that makes Isla laugh nastily.
I excuse myself to go to the loo, hoping I’ll find Tom on the way back, but Isla and her friends are at the bottom of the stairs and I have to walk past them.
‘Slag…’
White noise fills my head at Isla’s jibe and suddenly I see red.
‘You might’ve shagged him and then screwed someone else, but I’ve got more restraint!’ I bite back.
Her face flushes and the looks on her friends’ faces could kill me right there on the spot. As I walk past them, one of them shoves me. I stumble, but don’t fall.
‘Stupid bitch,’ Isla hisses after me.
Blood rushes into my face. Tom only told me she kissed another guy – not slept with him – but I wanted to hurt her. I think I’ve just gone too far. I glance into the TV room only to catch Tom’s eye before I hurry out through the kitchen to the garden. A moment later he’s caught up with me.
‘Jessie?’ he asks with alarm. ‘What is it?’
I gulp back a sob. There’s a bench at the end of the garden which, thankfully, is empty. I sit down and angrily brush away my tears and try to take a deep, shaky breath as Tom sits beside me, his dark eyes regarding me with worry.
‘Is this about your mum?’
‘No.’ I stare at him and then look around, bemused. ‘We’ve been here before, haven’t we?’ I say, sidetracked for a moment.
He nods slightly, a sympathetic smile on his face. Before anything had happened between us – when we’d only spoken a couple of times – he comforted me on this very bench. I had heard a song that we’d played at Mum’s funeral and it had set me off. That was when he told me about his dad leaving.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks.
‘Isla called me a slag.’
He looks horrified, but his expression swiftly transforms into disgust. I can tell he’s furious with her.
‘But what I said was worse.’
Feeling ashamed, I repeat my words.
‘Well,’ he says, ‘maybe she did shag him, I don’t know. And I don’t care any more. I can’t believe she said that to you when we haven’t even done anything!’
I don’t know how or why, but the look on his face makes me laugh. I think I might be feeling a tiny bit hysterical.
‘Come here,’ he says, wrapping his arm round me and pulling me close. Some of the ice in my stomach is instantly thawed, but there’s something that’s bothering me so I may as well just get it over with. I pull away and look at him. ‘Were you her first?’
He looks uncomfortable, but he answers me with a nod.
‘Urgh,’ I can’t help but mutter, edging further away. ‘How many girls have you slept with?’
The expression on his face tightens. ‘Just Isla.’
Why oh why did I ask? I’m a virgin, too. Will he be comparing me to Isla, if we ever make it that far?
‘Stop it,’ he berates me, seeing the look on my face. ‘I’m with you. You,’ he says firmly. ‘Don’t ruin it. She broke my heart.’
‘I don’t want to hear that,’ I moan.
‘I’m not telling you to hurt you. I’m telling you because the way I feel about you… It’s stronger. I don’t want to spoil this, so I’m not going to push you to do anything you don’t want to.’
I manage a small smile and he cups my face and kisses me.
‘Please don’t care about what people say,’ he begs. ‘They’ll find something else to gossip about soon.’
He’s not wrong. The very next day, in fact. And it blows my liaison with Tom right out of the water.
Chapter 12
When Stu wakes me up, I know instantly that something’s wrong. Mum’s face flashes into my mind. But no one’s died this time. This is about me.
The whole of the front page of our local paper, in fact.
Me.
Me.
Me.
I’m completely and utterly screwed.
I read the story online because Stu hasn’t left the house to buy the paper yet. Wendel was the one who called to tell us about it.
Two short months ago, Maidenhead resident Jessie Pickerill was a very ordinary fifteen-year-old girl. But then her stepfather revealed a secret that would turn her whole life upside down. Her biological father is superstar Johnny Jefferson…
I skim over the words as my blood pumps with adrenalin.
Her mother, who sadly passed away earlier in the year, never told Jessie the truth. ‘It was such a shock,’ our source tells us…
Source? What source? I meet Stu’s eyes. ‘Who told them?’
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Does Johnny know? Does Wendel? Why hasn’t Johnny called?’
‘It’s the middle of the night in LA,’ Stu replies. ‘Wendel hasn’t told him yet.’
I feel a spike of loneliness. I wish he would. I wish he’d call his flipping client and wake him up so he can reassure his goddamn daughter.
‘What’s the time here?’ I think to ask.
‘Six a.m.,’ Stu replies.
No wonder my head and eyes hurt so much. Add that to the anxious pain in my stomach and I’m really not doing so well.
T
he phone rings and we both jump. ‘Here it goes,’ he says resignedly.
‘It might be Johnny,’ I say, but he puts his hand on my arm to keep me seated at the table while he answers the phone. I wait with baited breath, and then he says: ‘No comment.’ My heart sinks as he ends the call. I notice that the curtains in the kitchen are still drawn.
‘Are they… Is anyone outside?’ I ask with stunned horror.
‘I’m afraid so,’ he admits.
‘Oh, God,’ I say with a gulp. This is it. This is really happening. I won’t be able to stay here…
‘Oh, God!’ I say again, pushing my chair from the table and running up the stairs into the spare room. ‘Mum,’ I say out loud, as my voice shakes, and then my whole body. I sit on the bed among her things, enveloped by the smell of her, and Stu leaves me alone as I begin to cry. This is it. I’m going to have to leave this house. Leave Mum.
Johnny is on the other end of the phone half an hour later. Stu decided ‘to hell with Wendel’ and called him himself, rousing him from his sleep.
‘You need your dad,’ he mutters, wincing slightly. He hands over the phone and I sit up from my foetal position in the spare room. Johnny is angry.
‘Meg and Annie are already in the office,’ he tells me.
‘Do you think they’ll find out who the source is?’
‘Honestly? No,’ he says, a hardness to his tone. ‘Do you have any idea?’ he asks me.
‘No. I mean, hardly anyone knows,’ I say, feeling a wave of sickness engulf me once more. ‘I’ve only told Natalie, Libby and Tom.’
‘Natalie and Libby hadn’t said anything so far,’ he says, and I hate where he’s going with this.
‘It’s not Tom,’ I cut him off, my voice rising. He can’t make me doubt Tom. ‘It could be anyone.’ I will him to believe it, clutching at straws. ‘There are girls in my school who teased me that I looked like the picture in the papers. Maybe they’ve realised it really is me?’
‘I doubt that,’ Johnny states. ‘Is it possible that one of your friends told one of their friends? You need to know who you can trust.’ He’s speaking from experience.
‘No!’ But, deep down, I’m not so sure. I’ve always been worried that Libby would tell Amanda, and Natalie and I haven’t been as close recently. Our other friend, Em, is a huge Johnny Jefferson fan. If she knew, I’m not sure she’d be able to keep quiet. Word would spread like wildfire until someone blabbed to the press.
‘Are you absolutely certain about Tom?’ Johnny asks again, and at that moment I really don’t like him very much.
‘It’s not him!’ I say angrily. ‘He wouldn’t have told anyone! He cares about me too much!’ A lump springs up in my throat. It can’t be him. He’s made me happier in these last few weeks than I’ve been in months. I’ll be heartbroken if he has anything – anything at all – to do with this. Could he have told Chris? No, he wouldn’t. What about his mum? Becky?
Oh, God, no, please no.
‘I’ve gotta go,’ I say to Johnny.
‘You know you can’t leave the house,’ he says sharply. ‘I’ll send security for you. You and Stu can relocate to my place for now.’
I start to cry.
‘Jessie,’ he says gently, and his voice is torn. ‘You’ve got to.’
Stu comes back into the room and takes the phone from me. I barely hear his half of the conversation because my head is spinning so much. I’m going to have to leave my home, and I have no idea how long it will be before I’ll be allowed to come back.
As soon as Stu ends the call, he stares down at me kindly.
‘Go pack a suitcase,’ he says. ‘Two if you like. Just your most important things.’
My most important things, I already know, are my memories, but I’ll also take my photo albums and Mum’s dressing gown that still smells of her. My other stuff can be packed up at another time.
Stu leaves to pull the plug out of the wall before the phone calls start up again, and I return to my room to ring Tom from my mobile.
‘Don’t use your mobile,’ Stu’s voice calls from the landing outside my door.
‘What? Why?’ I exclaim.
‘It could be tapped,’ he says, poking his head round the door. ‘You don’t want to give the press anything else to gossip about, do you?’
‘But I have to call Tom!’
‘It’s not a good idea, Jess.’
‘It wasn’t him,’ I say angrily, just in case Johnny has got to him.
‘I’m not saying it was,’ he replies firmly. ‘But Johnny has someone coming within the hour and you can call Tom once we’re at his place where we know the line is secure.’
‘I can’t not call him! He’ll be worried if he wakes up and finds out about all of this!’
‘Send him a text. But that’s it. I’m warning you, Jess,’ he adds when he sees me wavering. ‘Don’t make this worse for yourself – or him.’
I nod tightly and he leaves the room, giving me privacy to type out a text for Tom:
The press know about me. It’s in the papers. I’ve gotta go to Johnny’s house, but I’ll call you when I get there.
I keep it neutral – just in case the press have ways of tapping into text messages, too.
The car arrives an hour later. By then I have my bags ready in the hall and my sunglasses on the top of my head, ready to put on. Not that it matters. The picture of me on the front of the paper is enormous. It’s a close-up so I can’t see what I’m wearing, but I don’t recognise it. I don’t know when it was taken. I’m smiling and looking almost straight into the lens. Wendel says it’s likely to be a pap shot and I wouldn’t have even known they were there. It could have been taken anywhere, on the street, at the park, and I was completely oblivious to them waiting and watching. It makes me feel sick. Sicker than I already feel.
‘OK?’ Stu asks me, clearly not expecting an answer. I don’t give him one. A burly man dressed in a black suit with an earpiece strides in and takes my bags. Another man is right behind him.
‘Miss Jefferson?’ he asks me.
‘Pickerill,’ I correct him, putting my sunglasses in place and feeling Stu’s eyes on me.
‘This way, please,’ he says firmly, and then I’m being shoved out of the door and herded towards the car while the sound of cameras clicking and people jostling reaches my ears. Seconds later I’m in the car with Stu beside me.
‘Bloody hell!’ he exclaims, and I’m surreally aware that I hardly ever hear him swear.
Stu won’t have seen anything like that before, but I got a taste of it when I was in LA with Johnny. The frenzied attention he receives from the press, not to mention his fans, is mind-blowing.
The two men in black are suddenly in the front seats and the car moves forward. The windows, they assure me, are completely blacked-out from the sides, but they can barely get the car past the pushy paps taking shots from the front.
‘Haven’t they ever seen a celebrity’s daughter before?’ I ask out loud.
‘Not one with your story,’ the second bodyguard replies.
I glance out of my window, back at our tired old house, its front garden overgrown with weeds and one of the curtains in the living room hanging slightly off the rail.
No, I don’t suppose they have, I think, a touch bitterly, before turning my eyes to the front and the life that lies ahead.
Chapter 13
It’s very strange to be back in Johnny’s house without the warmth and chaos that his family’s presence brings. My family’s, I guess.
When Bruce – the second bodyguard – finally closes the door behind us to give us some privacy, Stu and I just stand there in the hall, not really knowing what to do.
We’ve been told the housekeeper is on her way to get the house ready for us, but it all looks pristine to me.
‘Cup of tea?’ Stu asks.
I nod and follow him into the kitchen. Bruce took our bags upstairs, but I’m too shell-shocked to go and explore. I wonder which room Stu will be
staying in.
Stu opens the fridge and peers inside, but of course there’s no milk.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ I tell him. ‘I’m sure Helen will be here soon.’
Johnny’s Henley housekeeper is only part-time when he’s abroad. I hope she doesn’t mind coming into work for my sake. This is so weird.
‘Can I go and call Tom?’ I ask Stu. Bruce confirmed that the phones in the study have secure lines.
‘Sure,’ he says. ‘I might put the telly on for a bit.’
I feel nervous as I dial Tom’s number. It only rings once before he picks up.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks with such concern that my eyes prick with tears.
‘I’m a bit freaked out,’ I reply weakly.
‘What happened? I thought you were safe. I didn’t think…’ His voice trails off.
‘Someone must’ve told them.’
‘But who else knows?’
‘Only Libby and Natalie. You didn’t—’
‘No!’ he exclaims, sounding alarmed. But I have to ask. Despite my unwavering belief in him when I was speaking to Johnny, I can’t help the toxic doubt that is creeping in.
‘Not even your sister?’
‘Jessie, it wasn’t me,’ he says firmly. ‘Christ, did you think that it was?’ He sounds hurt.
‘No, I didn’t! But I had to ask.’
‘I didn’t even tell my mum!’ he exclaims. ‘Her face nearly fell off a cliff earlier.’
Relief surges through me. I believe him.
‘You don’t have any idea, then?’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘You were the third and last person I told.’
‘Johnny doesn’t think it was me, does he?’
‘Um…’
‘Oh, shit, he does.’
‘He doesn’t know what to think.’
‘Bloody hell,’ he mutters. ‘Great way to impress your dad,’ he adds in a sullen voice.
I can’t help but smile. ‘I think we have worse things to worry about right now,’ I say gently.
‘Sorry,’ he says quickly.
I laugh a little, but the smile quickly falls from my face. ‘I can’t quite believe this is happening. I don’t know when I’m even going to see you next.’