From London with Love

by Jemma Forte

  Furthermore, Kerry didn’t want to be with anyone who worked in the same industry because she worried they’d never have anything to talk about, and she definitely couldn’t be with a mummy’s boy. Luke worked in TV and loved his mum a ridiculous amount. In fact, if he had flu he couldn’t swear, hand on heart, that he wouldn’t want his mum to look after him over and above everyone else. In a nutshell, over the year and a half that Luke had known Kerry she had said enough to ensure that he didn’t feel able to let his feelings be known as she’d made it clear that if he did, for some of the reasons above, she would reject him. So he settled for adoring her from afar, spent a lot of time praying that she wouldn’t meet anyone else and, for one very worrying day, considered investing in some Cuban heels.

  Meanwhile, Jessica was in a world of her own. This place was her idea of nirvana. The vibe was amazing and so unlike the places she went to in LA. She wasn’t the only one to notice.

  ‘Oh my gosh, Jess,’ screamed Dulcie, her eyes shining with excitement. ‘This is so cool. I’m having … fun. I can’t even remember the last time I just went for it without worrying about what people would think of me.’

  ‘Good, isn’t it?’ said Jessica, grinning at her friend, enjoying seeing her so happy and relaxed.

  ‘It’s great,’ agreed Dulcie. ‘I have to admit I can even kinda see why you like it here.’

  ‘I know, the music’s brilliant.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant here in London, with these people. They’re OK, you know? And you seem happy. In fact, seeing you doing your own thing has made me understand why you needed to get away.’ The two girls embraced. ‘But, listen, don’t think you need to babysit me. I’m cool hanging with your friends if you want to go find lover boy.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ protested Jessica.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Dulcie. ‘He’s a judgemental asshole, but I can tell you like him and he is nice-looking.’

  Jessica shook her head. ‘I admit there’s something about him … maybe, but there’s no real point getting to know him better when I don’t even know how long I’m going to be here for.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Dulcie, looking genuinely puzzled.

  ‘Because it’s not like it could ever work out or anything.’

  Just then Isy emerged from the crowd, looking dishevelled. ‘Dulcie, my old leopard snake, come and do the wolf dance with me.’

  ‘Coming,’ called Dulcie. ‘You know what?’ she said to Jessica, her dark eyes glittering. ‘I think you’re so brave for coming here, but when it comes down to it you’re too scared to give anything that might actually force you to feel something a go. I don’t get it, Jess,’ she said, shrugging despondently.

  ‘Come on,’ said Isy, dragging Dulcie away.

  ‘I love this girl!’ yelled Dulcie over her shoulder. ‘She has to come to LA. She’s a scream. Paris would love her.’

  Jessica briefly put her finger to her mouth, warning her friend to keep quiet about life back in LA. What Dulcie had just said had annoyed her. She did like Paul, it was true, and she was seriously tempted to encourage a fling, but didn’t want to end up hurt.

  ‘Hey, you,’ said a voice in her ear. She knew who it was without having to turn round.

  ‘Do you want to come and sit down?’ Paul asked.

  Contradicting everything she’d just been thinking, she nodded, even ignoring the fact that ‘Dancing Queen’ had just come on, which proved how much she liked him.

  They found a free table and she flung herself down next to him. ‘Hi,’ she said shyly, feelings of self-consciousness returning by the bucketload.

  ‘Having a good time then?’ Paul asked her.

  ‘Oh, gosh, yes,’ she answered, amazed he couldn’t tell. ‘This place is awe– oh – you’re kidding, right?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Bender, I am kidding,’ he said.

  They regarded each other for a while and as Jessica stared into his eyes she noticed, not for the first time, that he had the most amazing eyelashes. The funny feeling in her stomach returned. Paul uncrossed his arms, leaned forward and brushed a stray bit of her hair back behind her ear. She gulped. She had never wanted anybody to kiss her quite so much as she wanted Paul Fletcher to kiss her right now. What would be so wrong with having a holiday romance anyway? Typically, however, just when Paul seemed to be thinking the same thing, Kerry barrelled over, hotly pursued by a very drunk-looking Luke. The two of them were clearly on a mission and were carrying trays of potent-looking shots.

  ‘Here you go, you two,’ she said. Then, ‘Isy, Van, Tash, Scary Spice!’ she screeched at an impressive decibel that the girls could hear from the other side of the dance floor.

  ‘Wow,’ said Paul. ‘Your voice is like … a dog whistle – not that I’m calling them dogs or anything,’ he added hurriedly as they all came dancing over. Jessica noticed that Dulcie couldn’t keep her eyes off Isy. She looked positively star-struck by the younger girl.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Isy was screeching breathlessly now. ‘I just snogged a Japanese tourist who told me I’m the best dancer he’s ever seen in his life.’

  ‘I’d like to see the worst,’ said Luke and, as Isy proceeded to do her impression of what the worst might look like, everyone cracked up. One by one, they all went to grab a flaming Sambuca from Kerry’s tray and as they did Jessica felt quite overwhelmed by the wonderful feeling of camaraderie amongst these new friends she’d made in England. God, she was drunk. So was Dulcie.

  ‘I’d like to say something to the group,’ her friend was saying now, her voice a little slurred.

  ‘Go for it,’ said Kerry good-humouredly.

  ‘OK, well, I know we didn’t exactly get off to a great start, and that you wouldn’t have me on your show in a million years, but I still think you guys are pretty awesome. You’re wrong too, obviously, because I’d actually be a brilliant guest, but you’re still awesome nonetheless. So thanks for having me tonight and please make sure you look after Jess for me when I’m back in the States.’

  ‘We will,’ said Kerry.

  ‘You can count on it,’ added Vanessa, her accent more pronounced than ever. Dulcie stared at her blankly, clearly not having understood what she’d said. Jessica giggled. It wasn’t just her then.

  ‘I reckon she’s doing quite a good job of looking after herself,’ piped up Paul with only the slightest edge to his voice.

  Dulcie narrowed her eyes. ‘Well, it’s up to you,’ she said, ‘but you have no idea what you’d be up against if you messed her around in any way. Oh my God, Mr G gets pissed even if –’

  ‘OK, let’s not bore everybody about that, Dulcie,’ yelled Jessica, sort of launching herself at her friend.

  ‘Oh, sure,’ agreed Dulcie, checking herself.

  ‘I always get this feeling there’s something you’re not telling us, Jessica,’ shouted Natasha across the din.

  Jessica was just debating what to say when she was saved by the DJ’s next choice of record. It was ‘Baby One More Time’ by Britney Spears and as soon as they heard the familiar opening chords, all the girls, including Natasha, decided that dancing was more of a pressing need than interrogating Jessica and rushed back to the dance floor. Jessica’s head was left swirling. Should she follow them? Then Paul reached out for her hand. She sat back down. There was no contest really.

  ‘It’s my soundalike,’ she said loudly. By this point nothing was being said any more, only shouted. ‘Didn’t you guys decide I sound like Britney?’

  Paul grinned. ‘We’re horrid to you, aren’t we?’

  ‘Kinda,’ she said, shrugging. ‘But, hey, you’re all pretty nice underneath.’

  ‘Good,’ said Paul. ‘So you’ll be staying in England for a while then?’

  Jessica thought of home, and her dad and about Dulcie leaving tomorrow, and experienced a sharp pang of homesickness, yet knew she was here a while longer.

  ‘Yes. I think I will. I like England,’ she replied, the drink making her feel uninhibited. ‘Even if
it is a weird old place.’

  ‘Can’t be weirder than the country that let that idiot Bush run them for all those years,’ said Paul unimaginatively. He was drunk too.

  ‘Whatever,’ Jessica retorted, laughing, ‘and besides, shouldn’t you be looking at how many great things there are about my country, and how much of our culture you guys love? What track is the DJ playing right now, for crissakes? And you know we make the best shows, so get over it.’

  Paul laughed. ‘You are hilarious, Jessica Bender. Not my cup of tea in so many ways and yet I can tell you’re all right really.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ she said, displaying her straight, white, orthodontically dealt-with teeth.

  ‘Really,’ he replied, flashing his own slightly crooked, home-grown ones.

  ‘Well, that’s very good of you to say so,’ she said simply and he grinned. The two of them sat in happy silence for a while, laughing now and then at the others’ antics on the dance floor. Vanessa was holding on to Isy’s ankles and guiding her round the club like a wheelbarrow, until they both collapsed on the floor from laughing so hard. The Japanese tourist was clutching his sides and taking hundreds of photos, clearly enamoured with Isy, who was wearing her quirkiest outfit yet, an original concoction of tartan, lace and Doc Martens.

  ‘You’d never catch any of my friends at home doing that kind of thing.’

  Paul shot her a quizzical look, as if a world without people doing wheelbarrows in nightclubs was unimaginable.

  ‘It’s true,’ said Jessica. ‘You Brits are so much more relaxed about stuff. Take people’s attitudes to how they look, for instance. I was watching something with my aunt. I think it was called Coronation Street? Anyway, I couldn’t believe how ordinary the cast looked, which is so cool, because that way you don’t end up comparing yourself unfavourably with people the whole time and … am I making sense?’

  ‘I’m enjoying the speech,’ said Paul. ‘Carry on.’

  Jessica blushed and scrunched up her nose.

  ‘I’m serious,’ said Paul, and for once he sounded it. ‘I like hearing you chat about things. Tell me what other conclusions you’ve come to about our green and pleasant land.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘OK,’ said Jessica, battling against the volume. ‘Well, I love how London just reeks of history, cliché I know, and I also love how you guys speak, especially your newsreaders. They sound so regal, which isn’t surprising, I guess, considering they’re from a country that actually has a royal family. I mean, even the name of your country sounds stately. The United KINGdom. I love that. It just sums England and the English up. It’s so classy, so dignified.’

  ‘You sure about that?’ asked Paul, his face completely deadpan, at which point Jessica followed his gaze across the room to see Kerry clambering on top of a speaker in a very unladylike manner. Once she’d mounted it, due more to sheer perseverance as opposed to any athletic ability, she proceeded to shout something at the top of her lungs. From where Jessica was sitting it looked like ‘Let’s be having you.’ Then a large bouncer appeared from nowhere and dragged her off. Jessica cringed as the whole club got a glimpse of her knickers.

  ‘Admittedly,’ she said, ‘that’s probably not the best example of British decorum I’ve ever seen, but then again …’

  ‘Oh, shut up will you and come here,’ said Paul, and unable to wait a second longer he reached out for her, his hand finding the back of her head, and pulled her gently towards him. He then proceeded to kiss her so unbelievably well, Jessica honestly thought fainting was a distinct possibility. As his tongue explored her mouth she felt a sensation that started in her knickers, worked its way right up through her belly and ended in her brain, little tingles appearing throughout. Kissing him felt utterly right and she would have been quite happy to stay like that for the foreseeable future only just then the sound of Isy whooping on the dance floor carried across the club. It seemed to act like a trigger, for Paul immediately stopped and, as quickly as he’d started, pulled away again.

  Jessica was left awash with disappointment and paranoia. Would it be that awful to be seen kissing her? She couldn’t say anything because now some of the girls from the office were advancing, one of them being Natasha.

  Clearly ruffled, Paul ran a hand through his hair and visibly tried to compose himself, just as Mark Ronson’s ‘Valerie’ came on and a huge cheer went up in the club.

  ‘At last, a tune I actually like,’ he said jokily, his voice tellingly hoarse.

  At least he was as turned on as she was, Jessica thought ruefully, giving him a perfunctory smile by way of reply, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to do much more. Did Paul not want to be seen kissing her out of embarrassment, or because he cared what Natasha thought, or because he was just being sensible? She wasn’t sure and was too drunk to figure it out, though it briefly crossed her mind that come Monday morning she might be more concerned herself about being the subject of office gossip. As it was, she’d been totally carried away in the moment. A sobering thought.

  ‘Wotcher!’ yelled Isy, breaking the spell completely but also dispelling some of the tension.

  ‘Hi,’ said Jessica, smiling at her.

  ‘OMG, I am so thirsty,’ said the younger girl. ‘I could lick that sweaty bouncer’s forehead I’ve got such bad dry mouth.’

  ‘No need,’ said Natasha, sauntering over with a jug of tap water and some glasses. Suddenly Jessica was horribly aware of how good the other girl looked in her French Connection playsuit and platform sandals.

  ‘Not dancing, Pauly?’ enquired Natasha, as Isy grabbed the jug from her and drank directly from it.

  ‘You know I don’t dance,’ Paul said to his ex.

  ‘I do,’ she agreed. ‘But I thought you might make an exception for this tune.’

  This last comment was loaded with meaning and Jessica felt sick to the stomach. Paul and Natasha had tunes that meant stuff to them. They had history and yet here she was, having known him a mere couple of weeks, getting completely ahead of herself. She was so naive. What was she even thinking?

  ‘Well, I’m going back for more,’ said Vanessa, having also downed about a pint of water.

  ‘Me too,’ said Isy, leaving the jug on the low table in front of where Jessica and Paul were sitting before heading back to the dance floor with Natasha and Vanessa.

  Once they’d gone Paul immediately turned to her, but Jessica avoided his eye, for now it was Dulcie’s turn to dance over to them. This time Jessica was pleased of the distraction. She had some serious thinking to do when it came to Paul Fletcher and she suddenly wasn’t so sure of the wisdom of leaping feet first into an ill-advised office romance. She certainly didn’t want to be treading on Natasha’s toes.

  She smiled at her friend. Dulcie really did stick out like a sore thumb, but in a good way, and even Paul couldn’t help but crack a grin as she bobbed her way over to them.

  ‘Room for a little one,’ she yelled, squeezing between the two of them. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not staying long, I just wanted a quick word with lover boy here, seeing as I’m off tomorrow.’

  Jessica cringed and nudged Dulcie hard in the ribs.

  ‘Ow!’ screeched Dulcie, slightly ruining the effect.

  ‘If you’re going to issue another warning, you needn’t bother. I’ll look out for Jess,’ said Paul and Jessica’s heart nearly popped out of her chest and went for a hopeful little dance by itself. Unfortunately, however, she couldn’t ignore for another second how much she needed the toilet.

  ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ she told them, feeling torn. She hated leaving them alone, wary of what might be said, but was completely bursting. Damn that litre of alcohol.

  ‘So,’ said Dulcie, once Jessica had scuttled off, ‘I can tell you’ve decided not to like me, but you should know that actually I’m not all bad.’

  ‘I never said you were,’ said Paul. ‘I don’t even know you. We’re just … different.’

 
‘Well, of course we are,’ exclaimed Dulcie. ‘We come from totally different places, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find a way to get on. Besides, if you’re going to be getting it on with my BF, we should make the effort. It’ll be good for you anyway. You’re so closed.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ moaned Paul. ‘Psychobabble on a Saturday night in a club. My favourite. And who said anything about “getting it on” with Jessica?’

  Dulcie answered with a look that spoke volumes about how ridiculous she found this comment. ‘I’ve got eyes, haven’t I? Look, Paul, there’s a huge rock of granite on your shoulder but you must have some redeeming features because Jessica has decided you’re OK. So I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.’

  ‘You’re willing to give me the benefit of the doubt?’ repeated Paul, dumbfounded but laughing despite himself. ‘Look, the feeling’s mutual, OK? Jessica obviously cares about you so you must be all right because she’s all right, but that doesn’t mean we have to be best mates. I’m sure you are a lovely person, underneath all that … leopard-skin, but we’re never going to have stuff in common like Jess and I do for instance.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ said Dulcie, getting agitated. ‘So in what way are Jess and I so different then?’

  ‘I’m not saying it’s your fault,’ said Paul earnestly. ‘It’s just, unlike you, Jessica has always had to work hard. She’s had to make something out of nothing, whereas you’ve been handed it all on a plate. She’s on my level. Her dad drives your dad, for Christ’s sake.’

  ‘Paul,’ sighed Dulcie, shaking her head, ‘have you ever stopped to think that maybe you get on with Jessica because she’s an amazing person and not because of her background? And let me tell you something else for nothing: if someone does come from money it doesn’t necessarily mean their life is one long walk in the park.’

  Paul didn’t look convinced.

  ‘Besides, how can any of us help who our parents are, or how we’re raised?’