From London with Love

by Jemma Forte

  ‘Tell him I feel a bit sick, but I’m fine and I’ll be out in a while, yeah?’

  ‘All right,’ said Kerry. Although concerned, she felt satisfied that Jessica wasn’t going to do anything silly. Like drown herself in the toilet bowl.

  The sound of Kerry’s footsteps diminished and the door creaked back into place. Jessica exhaled. Left with the empty silence, she was overcome with a huge and sudden urge to speak to her dad. Whenever she felt unhappy, it was always him who helped her gain perspective on things, his calm, reassuring voice that restored balance again. She’d been so preoccupied with Paul recently that she’d grown very slack about ringing him, but now she longed to see him and yearned for one of his big old bear hugs, which always made everything seem OK. Ironic, considering that, as ever, he was at the root of all her problems. She didn’t even have the option of talking to her other parent. Having finally psyched herself up to call Angelica, she’d been dismayed to discover she was off on a promotional tour of Europe and wouldn’t be in London again for weeks. Angelica had sounded really fed up about it but there was nothing she could do, so instead they’d promised to get together as soon as she was back in town. A rendezvous that was bound to be fairly awkward. Jessica sighed. She needed to get a grip and extricate herself from this toilet cubicle before Paul sent in a search party.

  She unlocked the door and approached the mirror with caution. She’d been right to do so. Her blue eyes were red, puffy and watery. Her fair complexion was blotchy and red. An attractive combination.

  When she finally emerged, a stressed-looking Paul was still keeping vigil outside. ‘Hey, you,’ he said, his face wreathed with concern. ‘What’s up? Kerry said you don’t feel well.’

  ‘I’m OK, probably just coming down with a cold or something,’ she said lamely.

  ‘Are you sure? Only for a second I was worried I might have offended you …’ he said hesitantly, his voice trailing off. ‘One minute I was wittering on about Heavenly Melons and the next you’d bolted. I hope you weren’t –’

  Jessica raised a hand, albeit weakly, to stop him from saying any more. Bless him, but she wasn’t that pathetic. Had he chosen Honor Blackman or Jane Seymour to wax lyrical about, it wouldn’t have bothered her in the slightest. But he hadn’t, and the inappropriate utterance about her mother would be etched in her memory forever. How could she ever explain that, far from suffering from some form of jealous hissy fit, what she’d had to cope with felt like incest of the weirdest kind?

  ‘Just feeling a bit under the weather. If I go home then I’ll be fine by tomorrow, I’m sure,’ she mumbled.

  Paul didn’t look convinced and his concern was making her feel horribly guilty and utterly confused. It was all too much to compute.

  ‘OK,’ he said, still looking worried. ‘You get yourself better though, won’t you? I’m holding you to that date, so if this is all an elaborate ploy to get out of seeing me then …’

  Jessica managed a weak smile. ‘Silly,’ she said tentatively, swinging her hand out to take one of his. ‘It’s not.’

  ‘OK,’ said Paul, slowly looking less freaked out. ‘I was just checking, you know.’

  Jessica swallowed. Damn this horrid, awkward turn of events. All she wanted was to be with Paul and for things to unfold between them as they had been doing so beautifully, up until now. Until this.

  ‘Right,’ she said calmly, gathering herself together. ‘Would you mind telling Mike that I’ve gone and that I’ll be in tomorrow?’ She wasn’t entirely sure this was true. She had a lot of thinking to do.

  ‘Of course,’ said Paul, who couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Jessica wasn’t telling him everything. ‘Let me walk you out of the building and put you in a cab though. If you’re ill you shouldn’t get the tube.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ protested Jessica, on the verge of sorrowful tears once more. She needed to get away as soon as possible. ‘I will get a cab but you really don’t need to see me out.’

  Paul regarded her, trying to work out how much he could protest before he just started to be annoying. He wanted to see her out. That was the thing.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said firmly, sensing his doubt. And with that she scurried as quickly as she could away to the elevators, leaving Paul thoroughly discomfited. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was stupid.

  Ten minutes later, Jessica was safely ensconced in the back of a taxi when her cell phone went. It was Mike.

  ‘Jessica,’ he said. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said for what felt like the thousandth time that day before remembering that she was supposed to be meeting his wife later. ‘Oh, gosh, Mike, I’m so sorry, I left without seeing you. It was just that –’

  ‘No, no, don’t worry. If you’re ill, you’re ill,’ he answered, trying to disguise how disappointed he was. ‘You must go home and get better and – not that it’s important at all – but I’m assuming you won’t be coming round tonight?’

  Jessica thought about it. She didn’t want to let him down if she didn’t have to. It clearly meant so much to him, but then again she needed him to think she was ill in order to have some much-needed thinking time … ‘Well, I’m not really that ill. I mean, I don’t think it’s contagious,’ she began tentatively, testing the waters.

  ‘Really?’ said Mike, leaping on this titbit of information. ‘Well … gosh, I don’t want you feeling you have to drag yourself over if you don’t feel up to it … I suppose I could always ask Isy, though I’d probably spend the night worrying in case she set the house on fire or something.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Jessica, almost laughing by now at the ridiculousness of the whole situation. ‘If I rest up this afternoon then I’m sure I’ll be fine to come by yours, if that’s OK? I don’t want you to think like I’m cutting class or anything. I do feel awful, but I’m just as sure that I can shrug it off, and I’d love to meet your little girls,’ she added, finishing before she tied herself in a complete knot.

  ‘Right, brilliant,’ said Mike. ‘So just go home and rest and then come over when you’re ready.’

  ‘OK,’ sniffed Jessica, ‘I’ll see you later then. You said earlyish so that they’re still up. Is six OK?’

  ‘That would be wonderful. I’ll try to leave as early as I can too so that I can see you.’

  Mike put the phone down and sat back feeling relieved but also mildly guilty in case he’d just put pressure on an ill person to come and do something she didn’t really want to do. What he didn’t notice was Natasha, who had slipped unseen into his office for a chat about something and who was now looking at him with a blatantly suspicious expression on her face.

  A little before six, Jessica was on her way to Chiswick when her phone went. She was surprised, but not in a good way, to discover Graydon on the line.

  ‘I’m glad to have caught you,’ he said ominously.

  ‘Right …’ she said, sounding as unsure as she felt.

  ‘Because we’re going away for quite some time, though I’m sure you’ve heard all about it from your mother.’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ said Jessica, feeling defensive. She may not have asked Angelica that much about her forthcoming trip but then her going away was hardly a big deal. She was permanently away.

  ‘Right, well, I wanted to have a word on her behalf before we left,’ he said smoothly, ‘because I believe you saw her the other day, only didn’t honour the arrangement.’

  Honour the arrangement? What the hell was he talking about?

  ‘It was a misunderstanding,’ said Jessica. ‘I got my wires a bit crossed but –’

  ‘Right,’ said Graydon. ‘Only it’s affected her quite badly and, your mother’s mental health being what it is, I worry about you doing it again.’

  ‘What do you mean, my mother’s mental health? What are you getting at?’

  ‘Look,’ said Graydon as if he was talking to someone a bit slow, ‘your mother is of a very sensitive and delicate disposit
ion so it is up to me to protect her and make sure she doesn’t have to face situations she’s not equipped to deal with. You rejecting her the other day was a kick in the teeth and I simply can’t allow it to happen again.’

  Had she been having the best day ever, Jessica would have still reacted badly to the poisonous dross that was coming out of his mouth. As it was, she was in no mood to endure it for even a moment longer.

  ‘With all due respect, Graydon,’ she protested, ‘what goes on between my mother and me is none of your goddamn business.’

  ‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ he said. ‘It’s very much my business and if I have my way that will become official before too long.’

  Feeling sick to the stomach, Jessica replied, ‘Well, I’m pretty sure Mom would be fairly unimpressed to find out you’ve been threatening me, Graydon, so if I were you I’d back off.’

  ‘Now don’t overreact. I’m merely expressing concern about the way you treat your mother. That’s all,’ he said lightly. ‘Besides, I’m not so sure you do have the upper hand. It’s not like the two of you are really bonded, is it?’

  Jessica felt like she’d been punched in the solar plexus. The bastard. ‘I don’t care what you think,’ she said, trying hard not to cry. ‘Just stay out of my business.’ Fuming, she cut him off. The cheek of the guy. What an idiot and how dare he get involved. He had no idea of the years of complicated history she and her mother shared and, frankly, if Angelica was running back to the hairy ape, moaning about how Jessica was ‘treating’ her, they could both fuck off.

  By now she was approaching Mike’s house so, banishing the last unpleasant five minutes from her mind, Jessica pulled herself together and rang the bell to number twenty-six. She’d been through so much today already she wasn’t really feeling nervous about this latest situation she found herself in and at least she knew what to expect. She remembered from the photographs she’d seen in the kitchen that Diane was attractive with long dark brown hair. She had a curvaceous, fairly voluptuous figure and a pretty, pleasant face. Which was why Jessica was somewhat thrown when a Neanderthal in a stained T-shirt and dressing gown opened the door, with skin the colour of putty and greasy, dishevelled hair.

  ‘Er, hi,’ Jessica said, looking behind this scary creature, expecting Diane to appear any second now and explain why there was a cave woman standing in her hallway.

  ‘Is Diane in?’

  ‘I’m Diane. You must be Jessica?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jessica over-loudly, trying desperately to rectify her mistake. ‘Pleased to meet you and I hope I’m not too early. It’s just Mike said to come when the babies were still up.’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine,’ said Diane quietly. ‘Come in. It’s very kind of you to come. It’s bath time so it’s a bit chaotic, but do come on up.’

  Jessica could hear shrill laughter coming from the first floor and felt quite excited. There had been a distinct lack of small people in her life so far, but when she did come across children she usually got on with them pretty well. Diane stomped wearily up the stairs and, still not over the shock of how dowdy and unkempt she looked, Jessica studied her from behind. Her bottom was very large but then in LA women probably got any leftover pregnancy fat scooped out of them surgically, she mused.

  ‘So,’ said Diane wearily once they’d reached the landing, as if simply speaking to another person was a monumental effort and one that she didn’t have any spare energy for, ‘this is Grace. Grace darling, come here and say hello. This is Jessica from Daddy’s work.’

  A small whirlwind, dressed only in pants and a vest, with a shock of tangled curls, sped out of one of the bedrooms and Jessica couldn’t help but smile. She was so sweet. She had an impish little face, a button nose and a high forehead. Her bright, inquisitive eyes checked Jessica over and then the questions started.

  ‘Who your name?’

  ‘What’s your name,’ corrected Diane, reaching forward to pull her daughter’s vest up over her head. ‘Come here you, your bath’s ready.’

  ‘My name’s Jessica and you’re Grace, aren’t you?’ said Jessica, kneeling down on the landing to talk to her.

  ‘When we went on holiday,’ said the little girl, ‘we went out at night for our supper.’

  ‘Did you?’ said Jessica, genuinely fascinated by the random turn the conversation had taken. ‘And what did you eat?’

  ‘Um.’

  Grace thought this one over while her mum pulled off her pants, lifted her up, carried her into the bathroom and plonked her in the water.

  ‘Pizza and ps-getthi,’ she lisped.

  ‘Spaghetti, darling,’ said Diane, seemingly on autopilot as she started pulling plastic toys out of a box and dropping them into the bath. Suddenly she turned questioningly to Jessica. ‘I know you’ve only just got here, but are you OK to watch Grace for a second, Jessica? Just while I get Ava. I’ve left her in the cot looking at her mobile but she’ll be grizzling for a feed in a minute.’

  Right on cue, the sound of a mewing cry drifted through from the baby’s nearby bedroom.

  ‘Sure,’ said Jessica. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Thanks,’ muttered Diane.

  As her mother left the room, Grace rolled her eyes conspiratorially at Jessica in a way that was so clearly copied from grown-ups it made Jessica giggle.

  ‘Mummy says rude words,’ she whispered mischievously, her face breaking out into a joyous grin.

  ‘Grace,’ warned Diane as she appeared back in the bathroom, carrying a small, grunting, babygro’d bundle.

  ‘Oh my gosh,’ exclaimed Jessica, who was blown away by the tiny dimensions of the person in Diane’s arms. ‘She is so cute.’

  Diane sat down on the toilet and regarded little Ava as if she hadn’t stopped to consider this before now. ‘Yes, I suppose she is, isn’t she?’ she said, though by the tone of her voice Jessica got the impression she wasn’t entirely sure. She could certainly see why Mike was worried about his wife. She looked absolutely exhausted. Like the most tired person in the world, and as if she could happily curl up now on the bathroom floor and drop off. She also seemed rather detached, which didn’t make Jessica feel at all uncomfortable but did make her feel as though she should be doing something to help.

  Grace started singing to herself in the bath. Jessica was amused to note it was ‘The Winner Takes It All’ the three-year-old was strangling, as opposed to a nursery rhyme.

  ‘She loves Mamma Mia,’ said Diane by way of explanation.

  ‘Don’t we all,’ said Jessica to Grace, wishing she could offer signed photographs from Pierce Brosnan, which would only be a phone call away.

  ‘Thanks so much for coming round,’ added Diane, the first really direct thing she’d said to her since she’d arrived. Jessica was about to say that it was a pleasure when she was distracted by the sight of Diane rummaging around with one hand underneath her T-shirt. Having achieved whatever it was she was trying to do, she shoved it up, revealing folds of soft skin on her belly. Then, one large, pendulous, milk-filled breast flopped out. As quickly as it appeared some of it disappeared again as it was stuffed into Ava’s rooting mouth, which was feverishly trying to find it. Jessica’s jaw briefly fell to the ground.

  She’d never seen anyone breastfeed before in her life and didn’t know where to look. Wherever she did decide upon, however, it seemed there was no escaping the sight of Diane’s enormous brown nipple. Or rather, not her nipple exactly, because that was stuffed firmly into the baby’s plunger-like jaws, but the area around the nipple that was hanging out of one of the strangest bra-like contraptions Jessica had ever seen. It looked like a chocolate digestive.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ said Diane with a start, as if it had only just occurred that social convention probably required her to at least enquire, given that there was a relative stranger in her bathroom.

  ‘Gosh, no,’ said Jessica, trying to be terribly European and cool. She remembered Angelica telling her once that, generally speaking, Am
ericans’ attitude towards feeding had always enraged her. It was an unexpected memory which evoked an unusual pang of tenderness in Jessica towards her decidedly continental mother, followed by a deeply resentful one as she remembered what Graydon had said earlier.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Diane. ‘Sometimes I forget that not everyone is existing in a strange insular bubble that revolves around feeding and wiping and not sleeping.’

  Jessica smiled reassuringly at her and when Diane smiled back she spotted for the first time a glimpse of the woman from the pictures downstairs.

  ‘I want some more toys,’ demanded Grace suddenly and stridently. She’d obviously grown tired of singing and of submerging her frog under the water.

  Diane, who had just settled into a vaguely comfortable position, rolled her eyes as if the timing of Grace’s request was completely typical. She looked done in, defeated, but started nevertheless to move to get some more toys. The minute she did, however, Ava – livid to have been interrupted from her feed – started screaming. Jessica was quite taken aback that such a screech could emerge from such a small body. At the same time, Grace started to kick off too, whining that she wanted more toys NOW, until the cacophony of wailing became quite extraordinary. As Diane shuffled around, like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame in a dressing gown, Jessica leapt to her feet.

  ‘No, no, please let me. You just carry on feeding that little one,’ she said over the din, unable to watch Diane struggling any longer. ‘Right,’ she said to Grace, ‘what are you after? There’s a boat in here, you’ve got a digger, some fish.’

  ‘I don’t want those. They’re boring,’ whined Grace, barely audible against Ava’s screaming. The toddler was going a funny shade of puce, her bottom lip trembling dangerously.

  ‘Grace,’ snapped Diane, who had finally got Ava positioned back on her boob. ‘Don’t start, OK? That’s what we’ve got, so just don’t start. Mummy’s very tired and it’s been a long day. And you say please when you ask for things, or you don’t get them.’