by Andi Osho
‘Mmmm, It’s still just an idea really. I haven’t actually confirmed anything,’ she said.
‘Well you need to. Rebecca’s offer won’t be on the table forever. Isn’t it great that with our jobs we can work anywhere?’ he laughed. ‘This could be amazing for me. I mean for us.’
‘Mmmmm.’
‘And I don’t want to jump the gun but with your dual citizenship, my green card should be a doddle,’ he said.
He put his arms around her, his grip feeling like a boa constricting its prey. Jemima shivered.
‘I’m so glad you called, Jem-Jem. To be honest, I thought you just wanted to shag. Which is fine. Girl power and all that but, well, inviting me to LA, it’s amazing. And look, I know I screwed up before but I promise – this is going to be different.’
‘Mmmmm!’ Jemima cringed.
But she hadn’t invited him! He’d invited himself and now she was trapped in his tightening grasp, desperate for an exit strategy.
Jemima jumped at the sound of a loud clackety thump! thump! thump! at her front door.
‘Blimey, the God Squad are getting aggressive,’ Miles joked as he nuzzled her neck. ‘Who could that be? It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday morning.’
Whoever it is, they’re probably not going away,’ Jemima said freeing herself from Miles and throwing on some clothes.
The thumping grew louder and more urgent. Jemima put a hand on the bedroom door knob but as she went to turn it, she heard Simi’s muffled voice in the corridor. Jemima pressed her ear to the cool wood and listened.
‘Where is she?’
It was Meagan. What was she doing here at what was technically still Saturday night in her world?
‘What’s going on?’ said Miles.
Jemima span round, all at once surrounded.
‘I know you’re in there!’ Meagan hollered.
Jemima listened at the door again. It sounded like Meagan was pacing but every step was accompanied by a loud thunk. Did she have a baseball bat?
Jemima gulped. Meagan knew.
‘Stay here,’ she hissed at Miles, ‘and whatever you hear, do not come out.’
‘You better get out here or I’m gonna kick that door in with my one good foot!’ Meagan screeched.
Jemima braced herself and opened the door, swiftly closing it behind her.
‘Oh, here’s Sleeping Beauty,’ Meagan cawed.
‘What’s going on? What happened?’ said Jemima pointing at Meagan’s trussed-up ankle.
Meagan leaned on her crutch, her normally flawless hair wet from the rain, her face as thunderous as the impending storm.
‘Never mind that. How’s about you tell us about your little book?’
Simi looked to Jemima. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Would you like to explain?’ said Meagan, one hand on her hip.
Jemima’s breath quickened. How had she found out? Against all odds Shaheena had kept her mouth shut at the party. In fact, everyone who knew Jemima’s dirty secret had been there that night and none had said a word. So how the hell did Meagan know?
‘Why don’t we go into the living room,’ said Jemima hopelessly attempting to deescalate.
‘Let’s talk here!’ Simi piped throwing a concerned glance towards the closed living-room door.
‘Fine by me. Let’s talk about how Agatha Christie here has been stealing stories for her book!’
‘You mean plagiarising?’ asked Simi.
Jemima could barely bring herself to look at Simi. Her innocence and confusion was crushing.
‘Come on, let’s have a cuppa,’ Jemima pleaded.
‘Urm, there’s something I should explain,’ said Simi as the living-room door opened.
All three girls turned to see… Chance.
‘I should probably—’ he said shuffling towards the door. ‘Hey, Meagan. Jemima.’
Jemima watched Chance edge between the three of them. The front door clicked shut behind him and her heart fell through the floor. This was awfulness squared. Her knees weak, she turned to Meagan and Simi.
‘Can we please just talk?’ She quivered, heading to the living room, praying they’d follow.
After an eon, Simi then Meagan clacked in behind her.
‘Jem, what’s going on?’ Simi asked. ‘What’s Meag talking about?’
Jemima steeled herself. There was still a slender chance they would understand.
‘Sit down and I’ll tell you everything…’ she said. ‘Tea?’
‘Fuck tea, Jemima. Fuck sitting down. Fuck listening to you try and wheedle out of this,’ blasted Meagan. ‘So here’s what’s up, Sim. Your girl Jemima has been using stories from our lives to finish her book. That’s why she wanted to play the stupid dating game. She didn’t want to meet anyone and she wasn’t bothered about you meeting anyone either. She just wanted intel.’
Simi searched Jemima’s face, her eyes clouded in bewilderment. Jemima tried to hold her gaze hoping somehow Simi would see the good in her as she always did and not the betrayal.
‘No, Meag. This must be a mistake. Jem?’ Simi whimpered. ‘Or a coincidence? Writers absorb stuff all the time, don’t they? That’s what Shaheena said at the party. I mean, how do you know for sure, Meag?’
Sweet Simi, thought Jemima. She so wanted it to be ‘them against the world’, when the truth was, the enemy had been among them all along. Jemima’s head bowed in shame as Meagan clacked towards her.
‘How do I know?’ said Meagan, hovering, ‘“Package like a clenched fist.”’
Jemima’s stomach lurched. Todd. How could she have overlooked the fact that Todd worked in marketing and might read the book – and recognise that description. She felt herself go light-headed. She’d been so preoccupied with not letting it slip to Meagan and Simi, she’d forgotten to keep her book out of Todd’s hands, too.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Simi, her voice shaking.
Meagan lowered herself into a seat and placed her crutch across her lap.
‘Sit, Simi. It’s my turn to tell a story. Remember when Jemima was whining about how her editor wanted her to sort out Beverly, her frigid flop? Well, she did it by using us, our experiences, our lives, to give her a backstory,’ said Meagan jabbing her fingers into her own chest.
Jemima stared at the floor as Simi listened, horrified.
‘Ever wonder why Jemima always asked questions about our love lives but brushed us off when we asked about hers? I told you she was up to something,’ Meagan said, spitting the words out.
‘How did you find out?’ Simi asked.
‘Ah, ha,’ said Meagan waving a triumphant finger like a TV detective revealing the killer’s fateful error. ‘Jemima did a good job of getting everyone to keep schtum but she forgot one person: Todd. He doesn’t normally read all the new novels but this time he did. So he’s reading away and he says, there’s this character called Rodd who had a—’
‘Package like a clenched fist,’ finished Simi.
Jemima’s entire body collapsed as she realised how foolish she’d been to think that keeping Shaheena quiet and the girls away from Eve was all it would take to stop them finding out.
‘By the way, sweetheart that he is, Todd said he’s okay to be in your book,’ said Meagan smiling archly. ‘I, however, am gonna sue you inside out. You’re gonna be like a chew toy in a dog shelter when I’ve finished with you.’
Meagan eased herself off the sofa and went to stand.
‘Hold on, Meagan. Shouldn’t we let Jemima explain? If she’s only put in details about Todd and he’s fine, that’s okay, isn’t it?’ said Simi.
Jemima stared into the middle distance as Meagan laughed.
‘Darling, Todd isn’t the half of it. She makes Troy look like the archangel Gabriel. She put in stuff about my mum and dad, about Parker, you and Oscar, oh and a lovely little backstory about that time Beverly stalked a guy in college. She didn’t even change his damn name!’
‘J… Jemima?’ Simi spluttered.
; ‘You’ve got to understand, I was inspired by your stories but… the deeper I got the harder it became to speak to you about it. Instead I just hoped you’d forgive me. I mean that’s what best friends do, right… forgive each other’s missteps,’ Jemima said as she noticed Meagan’s grip on her crutch tighten.
She braced herself, ready to duck.
‘Misstep?!’ You used our lives to turn Beverly into an obsessive, home-wrecking freak,’ bellowed Meagan.
Jemima watched as rain streaked down the living-room window, wishing somewhere in those rivulets she could find the right thing to say. She looked back at Meagan who was close to tears, her face burning red. Meagan’s vulnerability was almost more terrifying than her fury.
‘I was desperate and because you said the dating game would help with my book, I thought that meant it would be okay,’ said Jemima.
‘I meant your experiences. Not mine!’
‘I tried to use my stories. I did but – it was too painful,’ Jemima whimpered.
‘So, what? You decided using our stories wouldn’t hurt us? We’ve all been through shit, Jem. You’re not the only one who’s had their heart broken, lost something they wanted. I wanted Parker but he didn’t want me. Simi wanted a family but Oscar didn’t. We got over it. You’re the only person I know who thinks their only option is freeze or flight. You’re not a fucking deer. You’re a 42-year-old woman yet you still run away like a 5-year-old,’ said Meagan slamming her fist on her lap.
‘It’s because of my mother,’ Jemima began, her voice barely a whisper.
‘I swear down, if I hear that dead-body-in-the-street story one more time! It’s because of you! The reason you couldn’t do what you needed with your book isn’t because of your mum. It’s because you were too afraid to take on your own life, own what you’ve been through and make it count for something. You had everything you needed in your own history but you were too shit scared to use it! The only reason your precious Beverly had a stick up her arse in the first place is because you do. She can’t love because you won’t,’ bawled Meagan.
Rage brewed inside Jemima. Meagan knew nothing and was more of a love cripple than she was.
‘What about you with Todd?’ sneered Jemima before she could stop herself. ‘You’ve got a man who loves you yet you use this ludicrous plan to avoid commitment. Truth is, you’re scared. You’re too scared to lean on anyone that’s for sure. No one’s allowed to do anything for you yet you think you know best for everyone else, well you don’t!’
‘Jemima, that’s not cool,’ said Simi holding her hands up.
‘She’s been hiding behind this Parker-didn’t-want-me-thing for years! It’s a set-up. She picked a married man, so she would always have a get-out and you’ve been using the plan as an excuse ever since! You think I’ve got a stick up my arse? You’re a bloody shish kebab!’
‘Jemima, stop!’ implored Simi.
‘No, Simi. This whole, if I can get this last client over the line then my life can start, it’s bullshit. That’s why she sabotages you, so you don’t succeed and she has an excuse to never start living!’ yelled Jemima. ‘And you let her because you’re too scared to be responsible for your life.’
Simi wobbled, the force of Jemima’s accusation knocking her onto the ropes.
‘Meagan was helping me and at least she didn’t try and sabotage my love life,’ said Simi glaring at Jemima. ‘I know why you told me lies about Chance. Because you’re in love with him.’
Meagan drummed her nails along the metal frame of her crutch. ‘Wow, you are hashtag squad goals. Stealing our men, stealing our stories. You want to steal my crutch coz you clearly can’t stand on your own two feet.’
Silence descended as the girls fumed in their own corner of the ring.
‘I just don’t know how you could do it, especially after Troy,’ Meagan continued. ‘I knew something fishy was going on but I thought you were going to church or something.’
‘I was desperate,’ whispered Jemima.
‘Yeah, well, you’ll be hearing from my lawyer first thing. After I’ve finished, you won’t be able to get a job writing product descriptions on the Tesco website.’
‘Oh, give it a rest, Meagan.’
Everyone looked over.
Jemima’s face drained as she saw Miles standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a towel around his waist. Meagan turned back to Jemima.
‘Yep, desperate,’ she said pushing herself up.
She clacked towards the door, barging Miles out of her way.
‘At least when we move to LA we won’t have to put up with any more of your shit,’ Miles sneered at Meagan before winking at Jemima.
‘You’re going with him?’ said Simi.
Jemima folded back into her seat and closed her eyes as the horror washed over her. Waking up next to Miles had been as bad a start to the day as she could imagine but clearly the Universe had seen that as a challenge. She exhaled hard suddenly aware of the tense quiet. She opened her eyes. Miles had gone, by the sounds of things, to the bathroom. Meagan had left, leaving the front door wide open in her wake and Simi was stuffing clothes into her black holdall.
‘Simi,’ said Jemima approaching her.
She continued packing, ignoring Jemima, who tried to put a hand on her shoulder. Simi brushed it off.
‘You and Miles – in LA?’ Simi snorted.
‘I’m not going to LA with him. I promise you.’
‘And the stories. How could you?’ said Simi as she collected up her toiletries.
‘I’m an idiot,’ said Jemima, her heart heaving.
Simi stopped.
‘You could have asked. It might not have been okay but you should have tried,’ said Simi, her eyes glistening with tears.
Jemima stood back helplessly as Simi packed. This was unbearable. Simi’s pain felt like emotional craters that plummeted down into the core of her soul.
‘Alice’s flatmate is on a theatre tour so I’ll stay there,’ said Simi sucking in her emotions.
‘Please, you don’t have to—’ Jemima said grabbing her arm.
Simi yanked herself away.
‘Yes, Jem. I do. I can’t bring Chance here now, can I? You’ll probably steal him too.’
Jemima’s stomach churned at Simi’s words. So, she and Chance were serious? She tried to catch Simi’s eye, searching for confirmation but Simi avoided her gaze, instead looping her bag strap over her head.
‘I’ll be back for the rest of my things,’ said Simi before taking one last look around and leaving.
Jemima stood, rooted to the spot. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t shout, she couldn’t even be angry. Her pathetic desperation had ruined the one great thing in her life. Jemima fell to the floor as guttural sobs rocked her body. It was the end. As she throbbed with sadness, she felt a hand on her back. Miles scooped her up and pulled her to him, the warmth of his breath, soothing. He stroked her hair as her sobs ebbed and she slowly calmed.
‘It’s okay, Jem-Jem. Meagan won’t sue. She loves you. She’s just angry, as per,’ said Miles.
He rocked Jemima, and at last the sorrow which had enveloped her subsided.
‘You know what would make you feel better? Breakfast,’ he said brushing hair from her face.
Yes, that was exactly what Jemima needed. She was emotionally as well as physically hungover and a great, big, greasy fry-up would most certainly ease the pain.
‘That would be amazing,’ she said smiling up at Miles.
‘Good girl. Grab yourself some eggs and bacon. I’ve got a brunch thing to go to but, when I get back we can research my green card application. Best to start now because—’
‘You’re going out?’ Jemima said pulling away.
‘It’s just a thing,’ he said trying to haul her back into their hug.
Jemima broke free from his grasp.
‘Get out, Miles. Now,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Get out and don’t come back. Don’t call me. Don’t
text. Don’t even think of me. Unfriend me on Facebook. Get out. We’re done.’
Miles hesitated, ‘Come on, sweetness.’
Jemima’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a vase Shaheena had given her as a moving-in present. She picked it up, tossing it from hand to hand.
‘Jem-Jem, you’re upset,’ said Miles.
‘Too right I am. Now get out!’ she said, pulling the vase back ready to launch it at his head.
Miles raised his hands and took a step forward. The vase whistled past him, shattering on the living-room wall. He turned to look at the fragments on the floor.
‘JEM-JEM!’
‘GET OUT!!’ she screamed as her gaze jerked around the room in search of more missiles.
She hurled a dirty plate. It span through the air like a flying saucer piloted by a drunk alien. Alarm pulsated across Miles’s face as he skidded into the hallway, one hand holding his towel the other slamming against the wall for balance.
‘Have you lost your—!’
The plate smashed against the wall inches from his head.
‘That’s it, Jemima. You’ve lost me forever too!’ he said as he ducked a metal tealight holder, which thudded into the wall sending plaster dust into the air.
‘GOOD!’ Jemima yelled as Miles bustled out of the front door.
She watched him spill down the stairs and out into the street, darting around, unsure where to go or what to do.
‘You’ll always be alone, Jem-Jem! You’ll always be running away. Go to LA. No one cares!’ he hollered from the street.
Jemima marched through to the bedroom, gathered up Miles’s clothes and stomped back to the living room. She yanked the window open and threw everything out, enjoying the sight of his underwear fluttering to the ground.
‘You’re a lonely, pathetic lunatic. Always have been. Always will be!’ Miles wailed.
‘Here, catch,’ Jemima said as she balled up his designer jeans and threw them out too.
She pushed down the window blocking out the sound of Miles’s banshee-like cries and exhaled. Running her fingers through her hair, Jemima looked at the shards of glass and ceramics scattered everywhere. How had she made such a god-awful mess?
Chapter 42
Meagan