From London with Love

by Jemma Forte

  ‘Sounds awesome and I guess a show like this is only ever as good as the guests, so your job must be really tough.’

  Kerry was flattered. It was what she’d always thought deep down, but it was lovely nevertheless to hear it said by someone else.

  ‘Is there a DVD I could watch?’ Jessica asked, spotting the machine in the corner. ‘That way if you really do want to know my thoughts, for what they’re worth, I can tell you.’

  ‘Er, yes,’ said Kerry, feeling quite wrong-footed by Jessica’s dramatic U-turn from annoying and clueless to perceptive and straightforward. ‘You can watch one from a couple of weeks ago. It’s one I’m quite proud of, actually. Michael Sheen was our big guest and also Dawn French – as in French and Saunders? Vicar of Dibley?’ she tried again, having noted Jessica’s blank expression. ‘Forget it. Anyway, enjoy, and while you’re watching I’ll find someone to make us a cup of tea.’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine, thanks,’ replied Jessica. ‘I’m not really a big tea drinker.’

  Bloody yanks, thought Kerry, but as she left Jessica watching the TV she found she was smiling to herself. Fancy her having pulled those agents’ names out of the bag.

  Fifteen minutes later Kerry returned to Mike’s office with a mug of tea and Paul and Luke in tow. They’d persuaded her to let them come and meet the potential new addition to the team.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ Kerry said, barging open the door to Mike’s office with her shoulder in order to avoid spilling her tea. ‘This is Paul and Luke.’

  ‘Hi,’ breezed Jessica happily. ‘Good to meet you both.’

  ‘And you,’ said Luke. ‘Kerry tells me the name’s Bender … Jessica Bender,’ he quipped, though he wished he hadn’t when Jessica whipped round in surprise, looking like she’d seen a ghost.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Paul, bemused.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jessica, blushing madly and looking flustered. ‘Fine.’

  ‘So what do you think?’ asked Kerry, gesturing at the screen.

  ‘Oh, gosh,’ Jessica exclaimed, still feeling thrown by Luke’s comment. ‘Um, well, that lady, Dawn French, she was hilarious. It was just brilliant the way she embarrassed Bradley Mackintosh like that by slapping him on the fanny.’

  ‘On the what?’ asked Paul, unable to suppress a smirk.

  ‘The fanny,’ repeated Jessica. ‘It was awesome,’ she continued hesitantly, ‘really funny.’

  ‘Should have seen it before the edit. Then you really would have laughed,’ interrupted Kerry drily, trying to drown out the sound of Luke who was killing himself laughing.

  ‘Oh, really?’ said Jessica, looking nervously at Luke.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Paul, pulling a disbelieving face at her before turning to Luke and adding so only he could hear, ‘You total nutter.’

  ‘Shit, man, I hope you get the job,’ Luke snorted. ‘There are hours of fun to be had.’

  Kerry tutted at him disapprovingly and gave both boys the filthiest look she could muster. She’d decided Jessica deserved a chance. There was something about her apparent lack of cynicism and lack of guile that appealed. It was quite refreshing, quite sweet. Besides, if everybody reacted to the show with such enthusiasm then life would be a lot easier.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it,’ she said.

  ‘I did. It’s a great show.’

  ‘And, just for the record, over here the word fanny doesn’t mean bum.’

  ‘Oh …’

  ‘You’re American,’ stated Paul.

  ‘Half British, half French actually, but I moved to the States when I was seven,’ replied Jessica shyly, wondering what the word fanny did mean over here.

  ‘Well, that explains it then.’

  Now Jessica looked from Paul back to Kerry, her eyes wide and questioning.

  ‘Bit more prone to PDEs over there, aren’t you?’ said Paul.

  ‘PD what?’

  ‘Public displays of enthusiasm.’

  Seeing Jessica’s unsure expression, Kerry decided it was time to intervene.

  ‘Right, well, thanks, you two, but I’d like to talk to Jessica alone now, so I’ll see you later,’ she said bluntly, half pushing them both back towards the office. Luke was first through the door, at which point he yelled, ‘Who can I hit on the fanny?’ to the entire office.

  ‘Don’t mind them,’ Kerry said, shutting the door behind them. ‘They’re like schoolboys when they’re together, which is a lot. They share a flat,’ she added, by way of explanation. ‘You probably won’t believe this now, but Paul is actually considered to be one of the most talented writers at the BBC. Anyway, I just need to get a few more details from you because, frankly, if you can handle agents like Jill Cunningham, you’ll be worth your weight in gold, which is more than your wage packet will be, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh, right …’

  ‘So what I’m trying to say is, as far as I’m concerned, if you want the job you can start on Monday. Truth be known, you’re the only person I’ve seen so far who seems up to the job and like someone I might get on with.’

  ‘Oh my gosh,’ replied Jessica, reeling from the speed at which everything had just happened. What a strange day. On the one hand she was pretty sure she’d just been vaguely humiliated by that guy Paul and his friend Luke. Yet, on the other, someone who had no way of either knowing or caring who she was had just offered her a job. Albeit a terribly paid job, which involved working on a show that centred on famous people, one of the very things she was trying to get away from, but a job nonetheless. In England. At the BBC. Though how she’d ever cope with it, she didn’t know. Suddenly she felt absolutely drained and quite overcome.

  ‘Are you up for it then?’

  ‘Oh, yes please, I’d love it, thank you,’ replied Jessica, running her middle fingers underneath both of her eyes to wipe away whatever havoc her eye make-up may have wreaked and smiling weakly. She was telling the truth. She was definitely up for it all right. Of that much she was certain. What worried her was whether she was up to it, another matter altogether, and if the last ten minutes were anything to go by, one she suspected she’d be getting to the bottom of pretty damn quickly.

  10

  That evening, Jessica returned to her room after a long workout in the hotel gym. It had been such an eventful and exciting day that she’d needed to run some of it out of her system. She smiled. Pam’s delighted screams were still ringing in her ears from when she’d phoned earlier to tell her she’d got the job. She was such a sweetie and Jessica would seriously be considering her most recent offer to move into her house in Hampstead. She’d been expecting her wage to be low, but when Kerry had informed her of the exact amount she’d be getting paid as her assistant, certain truths had finally hit home. In one week she’d be earning less than she was currently paying for a single night in the hotel.

  She flicked on the TV. Now that the adrenaline she’d been surviving on all day had run out, she felt exhausted and not a little fearful of what she’d be facing on Monday. All the doubts that had first emerged at the BBC about what she was getting herself into had risen to the surface. How was she going to pull this off? She’d never had a job like it before in her life and the people seemed downright scary. For the first time ever she wouldn’t be wearing the armour of her identity and it had taken that interview for her to fully comprehend how much it usually protected her. No one ever wanted to upset her dad, so they didn’t upset her.

  She stared at the screen. An English soap called EastEnders was just starting. She’d caught it a few times since arriving and found it fascinating. The tempo of the show was fairly slow and everything and everyone in it appeared to be either a shade of grey, brown or pale green, and yet the combination was strangely soothing. By the same token, watching such ordinary-looking folk going about their day was almost more surreal than the outlandish characters and plots one found in the colourful, high-octane American soaps she was used to.

  Ten minutes later and Jessica had decided that EastEnder
s was doing nothing to dissipate her nerves. If anything, some of the more bolshie female characters were reminding her of Kerry, so she switched off the TV and picked up the phone to ring her dad. She fancied hearing his voice and it would be fun to tell him that she’d found a job. Not that she’d be telling him what show she was working on, or where it was, otherwise faster than she could say ‘intruding old fart’ she’d probably have a promotion and a pay rise.

  ‘Hey, Dad? It’s me …’

  Half an hour later, in Malibu, Edward replaced his receiver, feeling better than he had in ages. Chatting to Jessica for so long had been wonderful and he suspected that the job she’d got could be her ticket home. He knew what it was like being a lowly assistant in TV. It was bloody hard work and with a bit of luck she’d soon appreciate how good she had things here and come home. He hoped so; he really missed her.

  Putting thoughts of Jessica to one side for the moment, though, he stretched before bounding upstairs to start getting ready for his big day. Today it would be nice to feel like Edward Granger the movie star again. It had been a while. Feeling chipper, he strode into his bedroom only to find Betsey lying provocatively on the bed, wearing a black negligee and very little else. His heart sank.

  ‘Hi, honey,’ she purred. ‘Come and get me.’

  His first reaction was to start making excuses about not having enough time, but once he’d had a second to think about it a spot of sex didn’t seem like the worst idea after all. What the hell. She did look pretty hot in that black thing she was wearing and it would get her off his back for a while.

  A few minutes later, however, his back wasn’t the only body part Edward was wishing Betsey would get off. Meanwhile, Betsey was trying hard to lose herself in the moment. To be fair, she was hugely grateful it was happening at all, having spent days nagging Edward for sex, but was disappointed that the only thing (or things) that were stirring up any real feeling of desire were her own boobs, which she was enjoying watching in the mirror as they jiggled up and down. A flash of grave concern for her marriage almost overwhelmed her for a second, but she quickly quashed it. Making love brought couples closer together, babies even more so. It was a well-known fact.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she panted. ‘Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.’ She threw her head around a bit, emulating someone in the throes of passion, hoping that by doing so she might start feeling it for real. Briefly, she opened one eye to check what Edward was doing and for a second they made eye contact, which rather ruined the moment and only served to remind her how disconnected they were. Dismayed, she snapped it shut again, having seen enough to know that Edward’s expression wasn’t one of desire. His face looked the same as it did when he was putting on his socks or plucking his nostril hair.

  Betsey upped the ante. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,’ she screamed, riding her husband as vigorously and as determinedly as a cowboy on a bucking bronco. Again, as her head flailed around, she opened one green eye for a peak. Fuck it, now his expression was less enraptured passion, more alarm, horror, terror. Clearly, the quicker she got this over and done with the happier they’d both be.

  One and a half minutes later, Edward was standing stark bollock naked at the foot of the bed, watching his suits glide by inside his remote-controlled hi-tech wardrobe.

  ‘Er, how was that for you, darling? Was it … good? Did you … you know?’

  Betsey, who couldn’t stand it when Edward got all coy about things, pulled the sheets up under her armpits and deliberated for a while before answering. ‘No, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we finally got round to doing it. I was starting to think you were avoiding sex altogether.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Edward, not particularly convincingly. With a bit of luck that might be his conjugal duties over and done with for another month, he thought hopefully.

  Plucking one of Savile Row’s finest from the rail, he swung round to face Betsey, who couldn’t help but notice that his balls swung round with him, only a split second later. She averted her eyes and fixed them on his face instead, as Edward lifted the suit up for her to see. ‘What do you think? This, or I could just wear my blazer with some beige slacks?’

  What Betsey thought was that she couldn’t believe she was married to a man who could, in all seriousness, utter the words ‘beige slacks’. She also wished to high heaven that, whatever he chose to wear, he’d hurry up and put it on because the harsh sunshine pouring through the window was rather unforgiving. As a result she was being forced to confront the fact that, handsome though her husband still was, he had most definitely passed his prime and was starting to look less fillet steak, more scrag end.

  ‘The suit would be better, honey. It’s much more your image than a blazer and slacks. Leave that to Roger Moore,’ she said pointedly.

  ‘You’re the expert,’ said Edward, sounding more cheerful than he felt. He pressed another button, which caused the top rail to start moving so that he could pick a shirt out from the hundreds he owned.

  Betsey sighed and rolled on to her side. It was probably time for her to get up and get changed too. Today was a big day and while her marriage might not be everything she had once hoped it would be, it was important to remind herself how lucky she was to be married to her very own movie star. James Bond, no less. Today her husband was being awarded a gold star on Hollywood’s walk of fame and she would be by his side, playing the part of the beautiful, loving wife. She slid out of bed and went to the chair where she’d already laid out the outfit she’d bought especially for the event.

  Five minutes later, Betsey was examining herself in the mirror. She’d chosen her outfit with a great deal of care, but with hindsight probably wasn’t really a Chanel kind of gal. She looked at least five years older than she was, though maybe subconsciously that was what she’d been aiming for all along. Recently she’d been feeling horribly aware of the twenty-seven-year age gap between herself and her husband.

  ‘You look beautiful,’ said Edward, sidling up to her and putting an arm round her waist. He wasn’t just saying it either. His young wife looked much more elegant than usual. The Chanel suited her.

  Touched by her husband’s clearly genuine compliment, Betsey turned to give him a hug. Not a grope, or a lusty grab, but a hug, and for a second everything felt right between the two of them. A calm descended and in that moment the couple felt closer than they had in a long while. Edward was pleased. Maybe he could even forgive her for the Roger Moore jibe. As they pulled away, Edward smiled down at his wife, and in a manner that would have had his legions of female fans swooning, proffered his arm for her to take. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly, taking his arm. ‘It’s a good thing I’m not wearing any knickers, otherwise I really would be feeling like Barbara Bush in this get-up,’ she had to add though, which ruined the moment completely.

  Edward sighed wearily and, as Betsey made her way downstairs, he stopped to check his appearance in the landing mirror one last time. ‘Nothing wrong with Roger’s style anyway,’ he muttered to himself as he adjusted his cuffs. ‘One of the most stylish men I’ve ever met, I’ll have you know.’

  11

  Jessica’s first day as Kerry’s assistant dawned a bright and sunny beautiful June day. She knew this for a fact because at dawn she was already running in Hyde Park. Of course, in LA there was nothing particularly unusual about this kind of early morning, active behaviour. However, later, when Jessica happened to mention to Kerry what a great run she’d had, judging by how her new boss reacted she may as well have said she’d been out on a casual killing spree.

  ‘Right,’ said Kerry, looking at her as if she’d offended her sensibilities. ‘Well, each to their own.’

  Today Kerry was wearing black three-quarter-length leggings with a rather shapeless, baggy tunic dress over the top, a wide belt slung round her hips. Her hair was unkempt, but suited her that way, and she had a chunky wooden bangle on her wrist.

  ‘OK, let me show you where you’ll be
sitting. You’re next to me and then – ah, here’s Natasha, our researcher. Tash, this is Jessica, my new assistant.’

  ‘Hi,’ said Jessica shyly.

  ‘Hello,’ said Natasha, putting her bag down on the desk and slipping off her denim jacket. She gave Jessica the once-over with her discerning eye for fashion but there was nothing much to disapprove of. Jessica’s short khaki skirt, ballet flats and long-sleeved T-shirt might be boring but they smacked of good quality. Natasha raised one eyebrow while wondering what her male colleagues would make of this new girl. She was pretty, but not as pretty as her, so that was OK. ‘I like your skirt. Where’s that from then?’

  ‘Um, I’m not sure,’ said Jessica, who knew full well that Angelica had bought it for her in Paris, from Comme des Garçons. ‘I think it’s Gap,’ she bluffed, not really sure why she was bothering to lie.

  ‘Right, come and meet Mike,’ Kerry interrupted, saving Jessica from any more sartorial scrutiny by ushering her through the office towards the room where they’d had their interview. She rapped sharply on the door.

  ‘Come.’

  ‘Mike,’ Kerry said, poking her head round the door. ‘Have you got a minute? I want you to meet someone,’ she said, shooing Jessica in. ‘This is my new assistant, Jessica Bender.’

  ‘You’re such a bitch,’ exclaimed Mike, taking both Kerry and Jessica by surprise.

  ‘Sorry?’ said Kerry.

  ‘There’s no need to take the piss out of the girl on her first day,’ said Mike, who was sitting at his desk and had immediately struck Jessica as rather good-looking, despite the fact she had no idea what he was on about.

  Kerry did though.

  ‘No, no, Mike,’ she said, shaking her head vigorously while widening her eyes to try and alert him to his mistake. ‘Bender is actually her name.’

  For a split second Mike froze. Then, ‘Course it is,’ he said swiftly, but the tell-tale red patches that had appeared on both cheeks were a giveaway. ‘I knew that, I was just saying, you know, don’t be a bitch, like you sometimes … can be. Anyway, Jessica, welcome to the team.’