From London with Love

by Jemma Forte

  ‘Guys, it’s nearly two,’ said Natasha, who remained unmoved by the exchange. ‘We’d better get going.’

  Reluctantly, the group began to clear up their debris and one by one got up and dragged themselves in the general direction of the lifts and The Bradley Mackintosh Show production office two floors above. Jessica hung back. She was still reeling from Paul’s outburst and felt humiliated and regretful about picking a fight. From now on she’d be avoiding him as much as possible, seeing as every time he opened his contemptuous mouth she ended up feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she apologized to Kerry, who was the last to gather up her things.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ her new boss replied kindly. ‘You’re entitled to say whatever you like, and don’t worry about Paul, his bark’s worse than his bite. He’s actually a lovely guy when you get to know him.’

  Jessica nodded, not at all convinced. From what she’d seen of him so far, he was a judgemental dick. Her stomach grumbled. She’d never make it through the day on an empty stomach so she’d have to risk salmonella and purchase one of the limp salads no one else had liked the look of. She trotted off to find one.

  Meanwhile Kerry went to fold up her magazine and, as she did so, the small bit of writing that accompanied the photograph of the rich heiress caught her eye.

  Helena Davies looking somewhat worse for wear after celebrating raising over half a million pounds for aid work in Namibia. Her father, property developer Damien Davies, has allegedly threatened to cut her off without a penny if she gives any more of her inheritance away to charity. Her leopard-skin shoes are Olivia Morris.

  Kerry decided to find out if Helena Davies had an agent straight after the meeting. Ironically, she might just make a very good guest. As she packed away her magazine and followed her colleagues out of the canteen, Kerry gave a wry smile. She’d met enough celebrities to know by now that Paul was wrong. If you only took people at face value you were making a huge mistake. People were never how you expected them to be when you only had an impression of them via the media, and were only equipped with a handful of facts. Besides, in Helena’s case, she could hardly be blamed for who her parents were, surely one of the few things in life no one has any control over.

  No, like Jessica she knew that you should never judge a celebrity, or indeed anyone else, by their cover. Unless their cover incorporated wine-bottle-shaped cufflinks, of course, in which case it was probably fair game.

  14

  Wednesday started off grey, cloudy and chilly enough to need a jacket, though such inconsistencies in the weather were still a huge novelty for Jessica who had woken up eager to crack on with her working day. Being part of the rat race was exciting, being part of the British rat race even more so, and she got a huge kick out of travelling into work with the masses. Just an ordinary girl. As soon as she sat down at her desk, however, she was reminded that in many ways she was far from ordinary and that pretending she was might be hard to keep up.

  ‘Morning,’ Kerry chirruped as soon as she walked in the door. ‘We’re going to have to bump off one of this week’s guests to another week because I got a call this morning and someone fantastic has become available.’

  ‘Great,’ said Jessica enthusiastically. ‘Who?’

  ‘Leonora Whittingston! You know, the comedy actress? You must. She’s huge in the States.’

  Jessica blanched and froze to the spot. Was this a joke or a test? Had they found out who she was already?

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Kerry. ‘Why do you look so freaked out?’

  ‘Morning,’ said Paul, barging into the office, saving Jessica from having to answer and providing her with a much-needed moment to gather her thoughts.

  ‘Morning, Paul. You’re going to hate me because you’ll need to rewrite a few links. I’ve just booked Leonora Whittingston for tomorrow’s show,’ announced Kerry proudly.

  ‘Oh, she’ll be great,’ said Paul, sounding impressed, ‘but you’re right, I do hate you, especially if you drop Jeff Bates, whose introduction I love.’

  ‘Even if you do say so yourself,’ said Luke.

  ‘I think I’m going to have to,’ replied Kerry apologetically. ‘Obviously I can’t drop Kate Templeton and I really don’t want to get rid of Alan Carr because I’ve been trying to get him on for ages, so that only leaves Jeff Bates. Though I reckon he’s a bit of a twat anyway.’

  ‘He is,’ agreed Isy. ‘I was at his birthday party at Movida the other night and I don’t reckon anyone there was actually his mate. It was full of freeloaders … like me.’

  The words ‘birthday party’ reminded Jessica that she needed to ask Kerry about getting time off in September. It was three months away, but the earlier she got it sorted out the better. Maybe she should ask if she could have tomorrow off too while she was at it, so she didn’t have to see Leonora?

  ‘Um, Kerry,’ she began, feeling mildly panicky about everything, ‘can I have a quick word?’

  ‘Go for it,’ Kerry said, winding her curly hair up on top of her head and securing it with a biro. Several sets of ears tuned in – a huge downside to an open-plan office, though at least most tried not to look like they were listening. Unlike Natasha, who stopped typing and sat back in her chair with her arms folded.

  ‘I need to go home for a week in September. Is that OK?’

  ‘Er, I don’t think so,’ said Kerry, looking surprised. ‘You’ve only just started and because the show’s rolling, time off has to be booked massively in advance. We can’t have loads of the team away at the same time, which is why Mike gets to go away now while other poor sods have their summer holidays in November. Besides, I think there are a couple of people already going away in September for the Ibiza closing parties,’ she finished, clearly assuming their discussion was at an end.

  Jessica felt like she’d been slapped in the face. The day was going from bad to worse. How could she not go to her father’s party? It would break her dad’s heart if she wasn’t there. Plus she had to see Dulcie. This was a nightmare. ‘Right,’ she said, feeling vaguely nauseous. Being told she couldn’t do something was a strange sensation, as was not automatically having her own way. Funnily enough, in all the jobs she’d had over the years, all of which her father had got himself involved with, time off had never been a problem.

  ‘So when does Mike get back again?’ she asked, trying but failing to sound casual.

  ‘Monday after next. Why? Thinking of asking him yourself?’ said Kerry, finally registering Jessica’s dismayed expression. ‘I mean, you can give it a go if you want, but I don’t think you’ll get a different answer. Was it something special you were going back for?’

  ‘My dad’s sixty-fifth,’ she replied, hoping that would sway things.

  Kerry looked sympathetic, but only mildly. ‘Oh, well, not such a big deal then. God, poor old Julian – you know, director Julian? He missed his sister’s wedding because he was working on a live show and in order to be able to do the series he had to commit to doing every single one.’

  ‘That’s awful,’ said Jessica, aghast.

  ‘That’s showbiz,’ Kerry said bluntly. ‘Now, let’s get on. We need to figure out what we’re going to do about our unwanted guest. Delicacy and diplomacy are the order of the day, I think.’

  Not half as much as they will be tomorrow, Jessica thought, when Leonora Whittingston, her mother’s best friend and her very own godmother, was due to be appearing on the show.

  An hour or so later, Jessica was just starting to debate which disguises she might be able to get away with (a yashmak and a crash helmet being her front-runners), when Leonora changed her mind about coming on. Kerry was livid but Jessica was over the moon and wanted to hug her godmother. In fact, she would next time she saw her. Now all she had to do was to help Kerry find someone else to fill in.

  ‘Bloody flaky bastard celebs,’ ranted Kerry, her mood deteriorating rapidly. ‘Do they know how much hassle they create by changing their
infuriating minds all the time? What am I going to do if I can’t get someone at this short notice? Now precious Jeff Bates has got his knickers in a huffy twist and can’t be persuaded to grace us with his dull presence either, so at this point any suggestions are welcome,’ she announced to a slightly scared office.

  Jessica racked her brains. She desperately wanted to help, but having already put the word out to every agent under the sun she was pretty sure there wasn’t one decent possibility left in town, apart from her godmother. Short of phoning Leonora herself and begging her to reconsider as a favour, there wasn’t much she could do, and that simply wasn’t an option.

  ‘How about Helena Davies, the heiress from the magazine?’ Jessica suggested hesitantly. ‘You saw the stuff I found out about her yesterday. I reckon she’d be amazing and you’ve already sounded out her agent.’

  ‘Mmm,’ mused Kerry, and Jessica could tell her mind was working overtime. ‘She’s not really a big enough name. Then again, she’d be a damn sight better than an empty sofa and there’s no way we can eke the others out for an entire show. I’ll think about it,’ she said, verbally dismissing Jessica so she could mull over the implications of such a big gamble.

  Taking the hint, Jessica got on with some work and only looked up when a sixth sense told her someone was staring. It was Paul and when she returned his gaze he got up and padded over to her desk.

  ‘Trying to make a point?’ he said lightly, his eyes almost daring her as usual. They were such an amazing blue-green colour. In certain lights they almost looked silver.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said, her stomach churning. This, it seemed, was her default response to him.

  ‘I mean, I don’t think you’re doing Kerry any favours by persuading her to have Helena Davies on the show, when all anyone knows about her is that she’s a socialite with a rich daddy. Our viewers deserve a bit more credit.’

  ‘But we did some research and actually –’ began Jessica.

  ‘Look, it’s not really any of my business,’ he said, looking over Jessica’s shoulder at her screen. ‘I just don’t want to see Kerry get into trouble, especially when you’ve got an email there from Lisa Wright’s agent.’

  ‘She’s the soap actress, right?’ questioned Jessica, unconsciously inhaling. Paul may have been deeply aggravating and volatile but he smelled gorgeous.

  ‘Yes. Not a very interesting one, but at least people have vaguely heard of her.’

  ‘I haven’t,’ she protested.

  ‘Er, well, you wouldn’t have, would you? Given that you’re from the States,’ he pointed out before strolling off.

  ‘What was he on about?’ asked Kerry, looking up.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Jessica, whose heart was pounding. Why did he have to be so spiky?

  ‘OK,’ said Kerry, leaning right back in her chair and stretching. ‘I’m officially starting to panic now, so if we don’t hear from anyone else soon, I think I will book Helena Davies and just pray your hunch about her is right. I’ll ring Mike first though. Then if it backfires at least I can say I warned him.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Jessica, her mind performing somersaults. She knew she should mention Lisa Wright’s availability, for it was probably up to Kerry and not her to decide if she was a better option or not, and yet for rather shadowy, ulterior, proving-a-point-to-Paul-type motives, she chose to keep quiet, watching mutely as Kerry picked up the phone.

  ‘Mike, hi, it’s Kerry here. Can I pick your brains for a second?’

  ‘Kerry, hi, what can I do you for?’ answered Mike, who had only arrived at his Tuscan villa twenty minutes previously but was already wishing he was back at work. It was boiling hot, Diane was spoiling for a fight, the baby was screaming, his toddler daughter was demanding he blow up her water wings and he was naked but couldn’t find his trunks.

  Unable to hear what Kerry was saying over the children’s din, he shooed his daughter away and signalled to his wife to take the baby.

  Seething with resentment, Diane frowned. She’d literally only just off-loaded Ava and had wanted a minute to find everybody’s flip-flops. Grace hadn’t stopped whinging for the last hour and Mike was doing bugger all to help. It had been a long journey and Diane felt sweaty, intensely stressed and desperate to air her swollen feet. She’d been really looking forward to having an extra pair of hands to help on this holiday, but if those hands weren’t going to do anything except check their ruddy emails on their sodding iPhone there was a chance she’d lose the plot. They all needed to plunge into the pool and cool off, but she couldn’t find everything and see to two children at the same time. Did Mike really have to take a work call the second they’d arrived? Wanting to avoid a fight, Diane took a deep breath and retrieved a wailing Ava from her naked husband, just in time to see her screwing up her face in concentration. The smell that followed was horrific.

  ‘Muuuummy. Want go pool now,’ whined Grace. ‘Hurry up.’

  ‘Just give me a minute, will you?’ snapped Diane. ‘I can’t do everything round here. I need to change Ava’s nappy, so wait until your father gets off the phone.’ She mouthed this last bit in Mike’s direction, who flapped at her as though she were an annoying mosquito – at which point Diane experienced a strong desire to knee her husband in his dangerously exposed balls.

  ‘Well, I can’t pretend I’m one hundred per cent happy,’ he was saying, pacing around, hand on hip, just as if he were in the office. ‘And, frankly, if this Helena Davies turns out to be anything other than a blinding guest, it’ll be your neck on the line, Kerry, not mine.’

  Back in London, Kerry gulped but, sticking to her guns, spent a further few minutes reassuring him it would all be fine before concluding their conversation.

  As Kerry recounted what had been said to the entire office, Jessica listened intently before quickly deleting all the emails from Lisa Wright’s agent from her in-box.

  Now Helena Davies simply had to be a great guest because, apart from anything else, Jessica couldn’t bear the thought of Paul Fletcher saying ‘I told you so’.

  15

  Angelica Dupree was in a quandary. She was in LA for the week filming pick-up shots for her new film. Word on the movie grapevine had got out that her most recent performance was fabulous. The word ‘Oscar’ was even being bandied about. Yet right now work was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Picking up her cigarettes and lighter, she slid open the glass doors that led out on to the balcony of her penthouse suite. Surveying the sun-drenched Beverly Hills landscape, she tried to relax but it was no good. Recently Graydon had started dropping hints about taking their relationship to the next level, which had triggered an unexpected but urgent desire to speak to her ex-husband. She hadn’t spoken to Edward directly in years, having always made arrangements concerning Jessica via his agent Jill Cunningham, but with marriage looming it felt like the time had come to set things straight with husband number one.

  She’d never forgiven Edward for not replying to the hundreds of letters she’d written him after she’d left, but she wanted to lay the ghost of their relationship to rest. Before getting married again she needed closure. So, after days of procrastination, she’d finally decided she was damn well going to ring him. In a minute. Happy to have reached a decision, but slightly confused by how she’d got there, Angelica dragged hard on her cigarette.

  Meanwhile, not far away at his home in Malibu, Edward was just finishing up a meeting with agent Jill, his assistant Clare, and Brendan, the producer from his upcoming movie Soldier.

  ‘Well, it’s been enlightening, Brendan, and thanks so much for coming all the way out here,’ Jill was saying as she saw him out.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ said Brendan, halfway out the door already, squinting in the bright sunshine. ‘And I just hope Edward comes to his senses about our leading lady,’ he added quietly, so only Jill could hear.

  ‘Oh, he will,’ she said firmly, waving goodbye.

  Edward stood scowling in the background
and as Jill shut the door his assistant, Clare, decided to make herself scarce. ‘If you don’t need me, I think I might just go and type up these notes,’ she told Edward.

  ‘Good idea. Thanks, love,’ he replied as she scuttled off.

  Jill took a deep breath. Now Brendan had left the building, she could tell her oldest client was about to give her a rocketing.

  Sure enough …

  ‘Is he out of his fucking mind?’ Edward blustered. ‘I simply cannot and will not act opposite a twenty-one-year-old love interest. Juliana – whatever her name is – is five years younger than my own daughter, for Christ’s sake. I’ll look like Gary bloody Glitter.’

  ‘Calm down,’ said Jill, following Edward as he strode angrily through the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Juliana Sabatini is going to be huge and, I’m telling you now, in a few months’ time you’ll thank me for standing my ground over this one. I agree she’s a bit young, but they wouldn’t have cast her if they didn’t think you could pull it off. And, besides, would I ever let you look foolish?’

  ‘No,’ conceded Edward huffily, though he was still fuming inside. ‘But even you have to admit, Jill, the script’s a heap of crap. Trite at best. Ah, Consuela, there you are,’ he said, marching into his vast kitchen. ‘I’m peckish. Any chance of one of your legendary lobster sandwiches, preferably with lots of mayo?’

  ‘Coming right up, Mr G,’ she replied.

  ‘Why don’t you have a nice egg white omelette instead?’ suggested Jill bravely, ever mindful of the ten pounds she’d promised the studio her client would drop before shooting began.

  ‘If I fancied a plate of something deeply pointless and unsatisfying I would have it, but I don’t,’ said Edward angrily, fetching himself a can of Coke from the fridge.

  Ignoring Consuela, who was trying not to laugh, Jill stared at Edward reproachfully.