by Andi Osho
‘That’s so kind of you, Simi, but the book is dead. I’ve decided to withdraw it and go to LA. No Miles, just me. I’ll be packed and ready to go in a fortnight.’
‘No, Jem, you can’t!’
‘I can and I am,’ said Jemima, ‘Now, let me take that bag for you, madam.’
‘Wait,’ said Simi taking her holdall back. ‘What about Chance?’
Jemima stopped. Simi knew, the truth was long overdue.
‘There’s nothing going on with me and him. On that date, he talked about you all night. He’s in love with you and, unless I’m going mad, you’re in love with him too, right?’
Jemima went to speak but nothing came out.
‘Right?’ said Simi.
‘It doesn’t matter. Even if, and it’s a big if, there were something between us, Meagan hates me and that’s more important than falling in love with some guy,’ said Jemima heading towards the car park.
Simi’s mind whirred. So, it wasn’t Chance, as she’d previously thought, who could persuade Jemima to stay. It was Meagan. Without the love of her best friend, Jemima was convinced there was nothing to stay for.
‘Wait. Let’s talk to Meagan. I mean, reeeeally talk and if she still wants to shut the book down and can’t see a way back, then you can go to LA with my blessing – as long as there’s a couch for me when I visit.’
Jemima looked around the airport as though she might sprint off there and then. Simi edged towards her. ‘Stop running, Jem. Face this.’
After a long silence, Jemima sighed. ‘Fine but if she murders me, I’m going to kill you.’
‘Yes!’ said Simi, punching the air. ‘Not the killing me bit but yay to everything else.’
Jemima hunched her shoulders, adjusting her grip on Simi’s bag. ‘Come on. The taxi’s waiting.’
‘Home, James!’ Simi trilled following her.
As they walked, she heard someone clear their throat, loud and close behind them.
‘Oh, hello… Brutus,’ came the voice, stopping them both in their tracks.
Chapter 49
Meagan
Meagan stood glaring as anger coursed through her veins. Even her idea of meeting Simi at the airport had been stolen by Jemima. The woman was shameless. Clearly she’d realised, of the two of them, Simi was the soft touch and had started working her to save her libellous blood-money book. Well, she would not be such a pushover, Meagan sneered, as Simi and Jemima span around in shock.
‘Meagan!’ Simi exclaimed. ‘What are you—’
‘I came to welcome my favourite kitchen maid home. Didn’t realise she’d become a turncoat,’ Meagan snarled shoving her name board in her bag.
Simi looked her up and down.
‘Wait. Why are you so small?’ she said as her eyes fell to Meagan’s feet. ‘You’re in flats! And a T-shirt!’
‘A lot’s changed, bitches,’ she retorted. ‘So, Jem, trying to save your little book?’
Not that she had to ask. It was obvious. Why else would she haul her ass to Gatwick on a Sunday morning? Well she was too late. All Meagan had to do was hit the kill switch and her lawyers would incinerate her. She laughed to herself at how, just that morning, she’d questioned if legal action was a step too far. However, seeing Jemima pull this weaselly manoeuvre made Meagan even more determined to bury her.
‘So what have you got to say for yourself, Jem-Jem?’ Meagan sneered.
‘Hudson Hicks offered me a two-book deal.’
‘You never said that,’ gasped Simi.
‘Big whoop. Once they find out about my case they’ll withdraw quicker than a catholic lad having a fumble with his girlfriend in the back of his parents’ car,’ shot Meagan, enjoying that zinger.
‘I’m turning it down and I’m withdrawing the book,’ said Jemima with a calmness that irritated Meagan.
‘So there’s no need for court and lawyers and stuff,’ said Simi.
Meagan shrugged. Though this was an unexpected plot twist Jemima was not off the hook.
‘What about your advance?’ she rallied.
‘I’m taking a loan to pay it back.’
Meagan floundered. That would be a millstone around Jemima’s neck for years and with no book to generate an income, would leave her struggling.
‘What about Hudson Hicks’s expenses, Shaheena’s commission?’ Meagan said, flailing inside.
She had been sure this book was the most important thing to Jemima given what she’d sacrifice to finish it. How could she now forsake it? This had to be a bluff.
‘Shaheena keeps her commission. I’ll return the advance and pay Hudson Hicks’s expenses as soon as I can,’ Jemima said.
‘It’s true,’ Simi chimed.
Meagan looked at Jemima as her uncertainty built. Jemima always talked about how much she enjoyed being a writer, how much she loved Beverly. Could she really throw all that away?
‘What will you do?’ asked Meagan, now on shifting sands.
‘Go to LA. Start again.’
‘No!’ said Simi. ‘You said you’d try!’
‘And I did, darling, but this isn’t working,’ Jemima said going to leave.
Meagan shoved her hands in her pockets. She wanted to turn away too. She wanted to not care and for this image of Jemima to be her last, but…
‘What will you do in LA? You only know Rebecca,’ Meagan blurted.
Damn. Why couldn’t she just let her go? She was angry, so very angry but there was something else too. Was it love? God, she hated giving a shit about people!
‘Get a part-time job. I’ll still write, maybe try my hand at comedy,’ Jemima said.
‘You could write about this,’ Meagan snipped.
‘Meag.’ said Simi.
‘You’re right. No one would believe it anyway.’
Jemima faced Meagan, the two of them standing like monuments as the world zipped and raced around them. Meagan wanted to forgive but the hurt was profound.
‘Can I ask you something?’ she said. ‘And be honest. Why didn’t you ask?’
Jemima stared at the floor. ‘I tried so many times but, Meagan, you are a bloody scary woman.’
Meagan glanced over at Simi who was nodding in sombre agreement. Fuck. Meagan knew she was formidable at work but how was it her two best friends were scared of her as well. Instantly, Meagan recalled the conversation they’d all had in the rocking horse bar when she’d torn into Jemima for questioning her high standards. At the time Meagan had felt under attack but Jemima hadn’t been critiquing her. In her own fearful and peculiar way, she was asking for forgiveness. Had Meagan become that much of a tyrant that she was practically unapproachable?
‘Jem,’ said Simi into the silence, ‘I need to ask something too. Why didn’t you use your stories?’
Jemima began to shake. ‘I tried but where I’d shut down a chance of… something… you two hadn’t. Simi, those butterflies you get when you like someone feel like dread to me. That smile a stranger gives you, terrifies me. Whatever you’d been through you could still let a man in – even a little. Beverly was dying with me but with you guys, she could breathe again. And I want to breathe again too, stop running and just… stay still.’
All three of them fell silent as the airport crowd navigated around them sensing this was something delicate, not to be disturbed.
‘I read the book again,’ said Meagan. ‘I was making notes for the case. It’s… it’s really good.’
‘You think so?’ Jemima said, a smile breaking through her sorrow.
Meagan smiled back. Just like bowling, reading was never going to be her thing but Jemima had written a real page turner. Even in the world of comedy, Meagan saw on a daily basis how narratives were still so male-dominated. But in Beverly Blake, here was a strong, female lead that was smart and now sweet, funny and sexy. There was no way she was going to stand in the way of that.
‘You should publish it,’ said Meagan.
Simi gasped.
‘What do you think, Sim?’ said
Meagan.
‘Like, totally. Completely and utterly!’ Simi chimed.
Jemima clasped her forehead, her eyes searching Meagan’s.
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yes!’ clapped Simi.
‘Absolutely. But on one condition,’ said Meagan.
Simi stopped mid-clap.
‘Name it,’ Jemima said, seeming about to hyperventilate.
‘Don’t go to America,’ said Meagan.
There was no way she was going to let Jemima go. Simi needed her, she needed her, and she knew Jemima needed them too. Good girlfriends were a rare and precious thing and in their womanhood they had a matchless kinship. After ten years they were so entangled it was impossible to tell where their love for each other began and ended. They’d seen each other at their lowest ebb and highest highs. They’d celebrated together, commiserated together, briefly lived together, fought, wrestled and primal screamed together. From the stream of disparate souls that moved like bouncing atoms through each other’s lives, these girls had, like atomic fusion, clung to each other to create a greater whole. Jemima and Simi made Meagan a better, happier, wiser and now, hopefully kinder, person. No, she would not allow Jemima to disappear from her life. She couldn’t. She was her life.
‘Deal and thank you,’ Jemima said choking down her emotions.
‘Thank you,’ said Meagan hugging her.
‘Ohmygod, ohmygod. Yay!’ Simi yelped as she threw her arms around them in sheer joy.
Chapter 50
Jemima
Jemima took in deep life-affirming breaths, still reeling. In twenty-four hours she’d gone from having nothing to feeling like the world was at her feet and she had everything – almost. She’d been lurking around the corner from Nostromo for an hour. Every now and then she’d edge closer only to scuttle back to her hiding place the moment the door opened. She had called Chance’s practice but it had gone to his answer machine every time. He wasn’t at the park which left Nostromo as her only other option but that meant seeing Azi. As the sun peeped from behind the clouds, Jemima watched curiously as her shadow crept across the pavement. No more running, she reminded herself. No more running. She threw back her shoulders and strode towards the front door.
‘Jem!’ Rania whispered, scurrying over. ‘How you doing?’
‘Good, I think. Is Azi about?’ Jemima whispered back.
‘She’s at the cash and carry.’
‘Then why are we whispering?’
‘Good point,’ Rania chuckled. ‘A latte to go?’
‘No. To have in, please. I’m going to wait,’ Jemima said pointing to the airplane seats which had just become available.
Rania gave Jemima a knowing nod and busied herself at her coffee machine. As Jemima watched her, she mulled over the mess she had made and how lucky she was to be surrounded by such amazing and, frankly, forgiving women. She had taken them for granted but never again, she affirmed as she took her coffee to the airplane seats. Around her, in the café, friends chatted, yummy mummies and daddies wrangled their children and the usual collection of lone creatives beavered away at their laptops. The one person Jemima wanted to see, however, was nowhere in sight. And even if he were here, she had no idea if he still felt the same way about her after her awful behaviour. All she could do was be still, be here, experiencing the most agonising wait of her life. As Jemima pulled off a chunk of her cinnamon swirl, the door swished open and she practically snapped her neck turning. She looked on as Rania had a brief exchange with someone asking for directions. After, the door closed behind them and Jemima sank back into her seat. Was she too late? From the moment they’d met she’d known he was special but had wasted so much energy pushing him away. Who could blame him for finally writing her off. Jemima glanced over at Rania who gave a consoling smile, then went back to her cleaning. This was going to be a very, very, long wait. As Jemima settled into her seat she heard Azi bustle in through the back door.
‘Oh my god, Ran, the lines at that bloody cash and carry. I thought I was queueing for a Beatles reunion not coffee grounds!’
Jemima sank down further, praying she would somehow go unnoticed but the moment Azi came through, she spotted her and stopped. Jemima gave her a feeble wave. Azi ignored her, instead entering into an animated exchange with Rania. Every now and then, one of them would point in Jemima’s direction before diving back into their agitated back and forth. Jemima tensed as her flight instincts went in to overdrive. As she considered knocking over her cup to create a distraction so she could flee, Azi and Rania headed over.
Jemima stiffened but before she could even stand, they were upon her.
‘Azi, lovely surprise. Can’t stay, I was just leaving,’ yakked Jemima, pushing herself out of her seat.
‘It’s okay, Jem. Azi has something to say, don’t you, darling?’ said Rania.
Azi glared at her feet as Jemima wondered what the hell was going on.
‘Sorry,’ said Azi still burning a hole in the ground with her gaze.
‘Go on,’ said Rania.
Jemima blinked in bewilderment, her eyes jolting between them.
‘I’m sorry I shouted at you. I just care for Chance,’ said Azi looking up at Jemima.
‘We both do,’ said Rania putting an arm around her wife. ‘We just want him to be happy.’
‘So do I,’ said Jemima, still clinging to the hope she might add to his happiness not take from it.
‘Do you?’ Azi prodded.
Rania muttered something to Azi in Arabic and she softened. Rani was like the Azi-Whisperer, able to calm even her most skittish outbursts.
‘The thing is, Jem, in our country, it’s not easy to just love who you love,’ Azi said as she wrapped an arm around Rania, resting her head on her shoulder.
Jemima looked on feeling like spare change. It had never occurred to her what these women had given up to be together.
‘How often do you find someone who fits you so well? I just got frustrated because it seemed like you were throwing that away,’ said Azi reaching out and taking Jemima’s hand.
At her touch, almost by osmosis, Jemima could sense what Azi and Rania had experienced by simply loving each other – the obstacles, the judgements, the fear. Jemima knew only fragments of their story but enough to realise, if people around the world were suffering as they had, only a fool would turn away from love when their path was clear.
‘Do you know where he is?’ Jemima asked, her intent rekindling.
Azi shook her head. ‘He’s gone, darling. Took a flight to Mexico to be with his brother.’
‘Azi…’ said Rania before being nudged silent.
Jemima’s legs gave way beneath her and she fell back into her chair. He hadn’t even said goodbye. She buried her head in her hands as the load of another self-created disaster bore down on her. For the first time, she had allowed herself to care for this good, patient, kind and funny man who celebrated her, lifted her up rather than projecting his own insecurities onto her, loved passionately, was unafraid of his emotions and Jemima had blown it.
‘Azi?’ said Rania, now a scolding tone in her voice.
‘Well at least we know how she feels about him!’ Azi said planting herself next to Jemima, brimming with excitement.
‘He hasn’t gone to Mexico. He’s on a training course in Welwyn Garden City and he’ll be back this afternoon. We’ve got a package for him. He’ll be coming in to collect it. Wait for him, angel. Don’t go anywhere.’
Jemima looked from Azi to Rania not knowing what to believe.
‘Are you serious?’ she said.
‘I am, darling. I’m sorry. You know I’ve got a horrible sense of humour,’ said Azi.
Rania nodded, her face testament to the many pranks and wind-ups she’d endured over the years.
‘I’m sorry I was cross with you. We love you, Jem. We want you to be happy too,’ said Azi as she threw her arms around her.
Jemima hugged her back as Rania patted the two of them.
> ‘Okay, I need a coffee! You want a basbousa, Jem. On the house,’ Rania said as she headed back to the counter.
‘Yes, please!’ Jemima nodded.
This drama had sent her blood sugars through the floor. Azi stood and kissed Jemima’s forehead. ‘Remember, this is Chance not Miles. Chance – good. Miles – plonker. Got it?’ said Azi.
Jemima nodded. Satisfied, Azi headed through to the back room.
Jemima leaned back into the soft leather cushions. Even Azi could see she had projected Miles’s failings onto Chance. Her history was stuck to her like glue, casting a shadow ahead of her, wherever she went. In some ways, it reminded her of her downstairs neighbour’s toddler, Nia, who’d fallen in love with a local black and white cat. Nia’s mum had named the moggy Sylvester, but unable to pronounce that, Nia always called him Cester. One day, a ginger tom came around and Nia had called out, ‘Cester!’ It wasn’t that Nia had mistaken this cat for her old pal, it was just, to her all cats were Cester. Jemima exhaled. That was what she did with men. Every guy she encountered was Miles, no matter his shape or form, no matter how good a person he was. Could she break out of this self-made trap? Could she disappear that shadow in the cooling shade of a life that included her amazing girlfriends, the career she’d always wanted and maybe, just maybe…
‘Is this seat taken?’
She turned to see Chance. His hair was tussled and that same kind smile was spread across his face just as it had been the day they’d first met. She rose from her seat.
‘Hi.’
‘Hey,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘You looked like you were miles away.’
‘I was but I’m back.’ She smiled, daring to take his hand in hers too.
Wordlessly, he moved closer while she stayed still. The background murmur faded as they looked into each other’s eyes and an electricity crackled around them.
‘So, I’m not sure of the etiquette here but I really want to kiss you. That cool?’ said Chance.
Finally, Jemima moved towards him resting her hand on his face. His stubble was soft, his skin warm. Chance pressed his cheek into her palm and closed his eyes as Jemima leaned in and let her lips meet his. His kiss was like the cool shade she’d been seeking for a long, long time.