From London with Love

by Jemma Forte

  ‘Oh, Jessica,’ said Angelica, dabbing at her eyes. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’

  Jessica rolled her eyes in frustration.

  ‘OK. I will tell you,’ Angelica placated, knowing that this was it. There was no going back. She took a deep breath and prepared to launch into the tale she’d always wondered if she would ever tell. ‘When I found out I was pregnant with you, Jessica, I was delighted. Delighted but very scared. Terrified, in fact. I was so young, you see, even younger than you are now and much more immature, I think. At the same time I was being touted as the next big thing in Hollywood and all I’d ever wanted was to act, so I was very worried for my career. Though I need you to know, and this is important –’

  Jessica met her mother’s gaze and was startled by the intensity in her eyes.

  ‘I never, ever considered not having you. I was deeply in love with your father and being his wife meant everything to me. I already loved this person in my belly that we had created, but I was so naive,’ recalled Angelica, her face sad as she remembered the maelstrom of feelings from that time. ‘I was totally unaware of what having a baby really meant, and thought it would all just fall into place. I honestly believed that being so in love was enough to make everything OK.’

  She turned her head away, as if it were easier to remember and confront certain more unpalatable truths without looking at her daughter, and for the millionth time Jessica wondered how her mother had ever come to be so beautiful. She was almost other-worldly, although now Jessica could see how she was softening with age. How lines were making her more human and her beauty less threatening. Strangely, she felt rather proud of her suddenly.

  ‘When you arrived you were a very beautiful baby, Jessica, I remember that. I remember looking at you in the hospital and hardly being able to believe that I had a daughter, a beautiful daughter who needed me. Though after that, truthfully, I don’t remember much.’

  Jessica tried not to look hurt.

  ‘Please don’t take anything I say personally,’ said Angelica. ‘It’s just that if I’m going to tell you how things were it has to be the total truth. Oui?’

  Jessica nodded.

  ‘Anyway, with hindsight I know now that I was ill from the minute you were born. The birth was traumatic though I don’t even know if that had anything to do with it. All I know is that suddenly everything was black, literally. There are hundreds of euphemisms for depression. People talk about black dogs, black clouds, black cloaks of depression, and they’re all true. Jessica, I had never experienced sadness like it before and hope I never do again. I was desperately unhappy and felt so worthless. I had some quite manic episodes too. I didn’t have the kind of depression where you can’t get out of bed. Au contraire, I was up and about, trying to pretend that nothing had changed, when of course the truth was everything had changed. I was terrified of losing Edward and the studio were putting pressure on me, but I just couldn’t accept that I wasn’t in control of anything any more. You see, when you have a baby, the whole deck of cards gets thrown up in the air and, of course, this should be a wondrous experience. Yet for me, having no idea where those cards were going to fall was something I struggled to cope with. It felt like a bomb had gone off in the middle of my life.’

  As her mother paused to light her second cigarette of the evening, Jessica hardly dared to breathe, feeling like, if she did, Angelica might clam up again.

  ‘I honestly believed you would be better off without me. We had nannies, of course, and because they were there from day one they just took over, which I think only enhanced the problem. Then, by contrast, your father was so wonderful with you. A natural from the word go, the bond between you unbreakable,’ she added ruefully.

  ‘Excuse the pun,’ quipped Jessica bitterly, hating herself for the uncharitable thought that it couldn’t have been that hard, given all the help and money she’d had at her disposal. Angelica continued to smoke quietly, staring fixedly somewhere into the middle distance with glassy eyes.

  ‘Look, Mom, I understand that you were ill,’ Jessica said eventually, ‘but you’re my mother, didn’t you love me? Diane would never leave her children in a million years.’

  Angelica looked stung. ‘Jessica, from the sound of it I was much, much more ill than Diane,’ she said plainly. ‘And I don’t want to upset you but there were moments when I really felt suicidal. I detested myself and had no sense of self-worth whatsoever. In the end, I think I left precisely because I did love you so much. You see,’ she added more gently, having noticed how rattled Jessica was, ‘in those days there wasn’t so much knowledge about post-natal depression. It wasn’t something that people looked out for like they do now. Edward honestly had no idea how bad things were because I hid it from him. He was worried, of course. I was losing weight, I was anxious and not myself, but he just thought I wasn’t coping, so his answer was to provide round-the-clock care for you and to do more himself, which only added to my feelings of self-loathing. Everything worked beautifully without me and I didn’t know what to do to make things right. I didn’t think I’d ever know how to love you properly or be able to be the mother you deserved. So I left, and I will never stop punishing myself for that mistake.’

  As Angelica started weeping, tears also streamed down Jessica’s face. Tears of sadness for herself and for her mom, tears of regret for so many wasted years and, above all, tears of relief.

  ‘I thought you left because you didn’t love me enough,’ she sobbed and Angelica rushed over to the sofa to embrace her daughter, distraught and guilty for the hurt she’d caused.

  ‘I have always loved you so much I cannot even begin to tell you. Maybe I couldn’t feel it at first but it came and when it did I knew that it had always been there. I’m so, so sorry, Jessica. Truly, not a day goes by when I don’t question what I did. How could I have left my baby? But I have to believe that it wasn’t really me doing it. I was very sick.’

  ‘When did you get better?’ wailed Jessica. ‘Why didn’t you come back then? Why didn’t you tell Dad all of this? I know he pined after you for years, and he didn’t meet anyone else for ages. You could have come back. I could have had a proper family.’

  Angelica stopped stroking Jessica’s hair and looked sadly at the floor. ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ she answered diplomatically, deciding that enough was enough for one day. Her daughter had plenty of information to digest already. ‘And, besides, I didn’t get better for years, Jessica. Depression became a part of my life eventually. Without diagnosis I had no treatment, so I just assumed that the wretched way I felt was some sort of fitting punishment for being such a terrible mother. So I worked. I threw myself into my acting because being somebody else felt so much better than being me. It was only one day when the depression started to lift a little, maybe ten years later or so, when I began to question everything. Finally I got some help and slowly learned how to stop blaming myself and to accept that I’d been ill. But I want you to know,’ she said, cupping her daughter’s tear-stained face in her hands, ‘that I never stopped loving you.’

  ‘And what about Dad?’ sobbed Jessica. ‘Did you stop loving him?’

  Angelica looked taken aback. Then, still stroking her daughter’s hair, she looked away slightly, eyes brimming with tears, before answering quietly, ‘Yes.’

  And in that instance, Jessica knew beyond all doubt that for the first time that day her mother wasn’t telling her the whole truth.

  32

  On Sunday Jessica met up with Paul as planned but almost wished she hadn’t. Her mind was so busy trying to make sense of everything her mother had told her that she only felt half present. She was dying to speak to Edward too. She knew she’d have to tread carefully but wanted to try and figure out how much of Angelica’s illness he’d been aware of. If he was as in the dark as she was, wouldn’t finding out change the entire way he’d perceive what had happened?

  By now she felt completely weighed down by the strain of all her secrets and was desperat
e to come clean to Paul. However, she decided it would be wiser to wait until after the show. With the show imminent, everybody was suffering from a renewed dose of Bond mania, so telling him about her parents now would be like rubbing salt into a paper cut, along with a bit of lemon, vinegar and some nail-varnish remover. ‘Four more sleeps’, as Grace would say, and it would all be over. It had finally got to the point where telling him was something she was almost looking forward to getting over and done with.

  Monday and Tuesday were difficult days in the office so by the time Wednesday came around Jessica was delighted to sneak off early to Diane’s as usual, much to Kerry’s annoyance for she was frantically making last-minute arrangements for the Bond special.

  Within five minutes of walking in the door at Chiswick Jessica finally got round to having a much-needed heart to heart with Diane about everything. Being a reasonable woman, Diane understood Jessica’s concerns about their deceit and agreed things couldn’t continue as they were, especially since she planned on poaching Jessica as soon as the Bond show had been filmed.

  ‘Look, say no if you want,’ Diane suggested, ‘but I was thinking, after this wretched show’s out the way and you’re back from the States, why don’t you and Paul come for dinner? I might invite Kerry and Luke too. Maybe even Natasha? That way, you can tell everyone about me and, if they’re cross, I can help explain things to them over dinner. Give you a bit of support.’

  ‘That’s so sweet,’ said Jessica. ‘But you don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I know, but I’d like to. Anyway, it’ll give me a chance to meet some of the people Mike works with. Between you and me, I think he thinks they think he’s a prick.’

  Startled, Jessica did her best not to show that Mike was spot on and left that evening feeling calmer and relieved to have some kind of a plan.

  The line-up for the show was finalized and looking good. It consisted of Daniel Craig (even Jessica was excited), Christopher Walken, who played the baddie Max Zorin in A View to a Kill, Dame Judi Dench (the legend), John Cleese and the young Russian starlet Nadia Vladinokova, the latest Bond girl to join the history books. It promised to be a cracking show. Though when Thursday finally arrived, as Kerry was about to find out, all the preparation in the world couldn’t avoid certain fiascos.

  At eleven thirty Kerry was in make-up, briefing Robbie: ‘So Daniel Craig has said he’s definitely happy for you to do him, as is Dame Judi.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ squealed Robbie. ‘I just hope I can keep my hands from shaking.’

  ‘Anyway, Bradley can’t be hanging out in here today like he usually does. He’s going to have to use his dressing room because we’ll need to give them their space. Oh, and by the way, proving the theory that the biggest stars aren’t always the ones with the biggest egos, the only person bringing any kind of an entourage is Ms Vladinokova. She’s also insisting we stump up for her own make-up artist, hairdresser, a stylist and a masseuse, which is just fucking weird if you ask me.’

  ‘Silly mare,’ agreed Robbie.

  Just then Kerry’s phone rang for the hundredth time that day. As she answered it, she leaned forward to dump all the folders of information she was clutching on the side. Robbie watched in concern as her face slowly drained of all its colour.

  ‘You are joking?’ she was saying. ‘Because, with all due respect, I don’t care how ill she is, you’ll have to dose her up and bring her in –’

  Just then Jessica barged in, clutching bottles of mineral water to leave out for the guests. She immediately noticed how harassed the usually unflappable Kerry was and mouthed, ‘What is it?’ to Robbie, who just shrugged non-committally.

  ‘Look, this is completely unprofessional,’ Kerry spluttered, ‘and I shall have to talk to my producer because in the contract – now there’s no need for that. This has been arranged for ages and – right, well, call me back.’ As Kerry rang off she sank, defeated, into a chair and placed her head in her hands before dismally peering through her fingers into the light-bulb-framed mirror. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck it,’ she raged.

  ‘What is it? It’s not Dame Judi, is it?’ enquired Jessica.

  ‘Find Mike,’ Kerry said, looking wild-eyed with anxiety. ‘Tell him we need to talk, now.’

  Knowing better than to question further, Jessica took off.

  Two minutes later, she was still racing around searching for their boss when she bumped into Paul, who was strolling down the corridor, deep in conversation with Bradley.

  ‘No running in the corridors, you,’ said Bradley. ‘Wouldn’t want to land on that nice bottom of yours. Or, as you might say, your peachy ass.’

  Behind Bradley’s back, Paul made a gesture to demonstrate that he concurred with this description of her bottom, but Jessica was too intent on finding Mike to be amused or flattered, or to accuse him of sexism.

  ‘Where’s Mike?’ she urged.

  ‘In the gallery, talking to Julian,’ said Paul. ‘But I wouldn’t interrupt if I were –’

  But Jessica had already sped off again. Mike initially looked quite irritated to have his chat with Julian interrupted, until he realized there was a potential problem with one of the guests.

  ‘Please don’t let it be Daniel Craig,’ Mike muttered, leaping up and racing off towards make-up with Jessica on his tail.

  At this point, despite sympathizing deeply with Kerry, Jessica couldn’t help but marvel once again at how film and television people made problems appear so life-threatening. Show business-related hysteria was something she’d struggled to care about her entire life. Sure, a guest dropping out was a bummer, annoying and unprofessional, but in the grand scheme of things did it really warrant quite so much drama? Leaving to work for Diane was definitely for the best. Fun though this world was, she didn’t think she’d ever care quite enough about it. Still, as she dashed after Mike she made sure her face was displaying the required grave expression. Now was not the time to get the giggles, she told herself, especially since Kerry was the one who’d be under fire from all the people who did view this show as a matter of life and death.

  In make-up, Kerry was having a full-blown argument on the phone. ‘That’s totally unreasonable,’ she was saying forcibly. ‘You know how important this show is for us …’

  Jessica and Mike could hear whoever was on the other end getting louder, like the voices in cartoons on the end of phones.

  ‘Look,’ said Kerry, trying to stay in control, ‘our make-up artist, Robbie Baines, is one of the best in the business and I know he could sort this out –’ But whatever she meant, her pleas were falling on deaf ears. She rang off. ‘Shit,’ she said, turning to Mike.

  ‘Nadia?’ he said.

  ‘Yes, frigging Nadia Vladinokova. Her management tried telling me she was ill but I double-bluffed Cherie, her London agent’s assistant, and she told me that the silly bitch has only got a cold sore. She’s not ill at all, just run down from all the frigging partying she’s been doing since arriving in town.’

  ‘Let me speak to them,’ said Mike. ‘Jessica, run and get the contract for Nadia, please?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, turning on her heel at once.

  ‘No need,’ said Kerry. ‘I’ve got it here.’

  ‘Right,’ said Mike. ‘Where’s Bradley?’ he enquired, as an afterthought.

  ‘With Paul, though I’m not sure where they’re going,’ said Jessica.

  By now they were all talking like army officers.

  ‘OK, well, shut the door and wave at me if he appears, OK?’ instructed Mike. Jessica was impressed by how calm he was remaining. Kerry looked grateful too. That was the thing with producers. Half the time it looked like they were just milling around, picking their noses, but when the shit hit the fan they were there to step up to the plate, which was exactly what Mike was doing now.

  Mike spoke to Nadia’s ‘people’ for twenty minutes. He cajoled, pleaded, even threatened, but they weren’t budging. As far as they were concerned, being seen with crusty, oozing facial
herpes was career suicide for an actress who was about to make her debut as a Bond girl. Everyone in the room knew they had a point.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mike,’ said a distraught Kerry. She was so diligent she couldn’t help but see the cancellation as a reflection on herself.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ said Mike, already anticipating the bollocking from his father-in-law and picturing the look of sour disappointment on his face.

  ‘It’s still a great line-up,’ offered Jessica tentatively. ‘It would have been much worse if Daniel Craig had cancelled.’

  ‘I know, but the show will be missing the female sex factor, that’s the thing,’ stated Mike wearily. ‘Right, Kerry, I know you’ve probably exhausted all the possibilities, but think. Which other Bond girls could get here in a few hours and might be tempted by a huge financial carrot?’

  Kerry shook her head. ‘None. Well, maybe one, but not a well-known one and one who doesn’t want publicity. Oh, God, this is a nightmare, Bradley’s going to freak.’

  ‘I’ll deal with him,’ said Mike dolefully, and the two of them sounded so fed up, looked so beaten, that Jessica’s heart went out to them.

  Unnoticed, she slunk out of the room, checking first that her cell phone was still in her pocket. Then she walked calmly down the corridor towards the lifts and, finally, out of the building completely.

  Before she made her call, she asked herself if she really wanted to do this. Her hands were clammy with nerves, but in the pit of her stomach she knew she did. She wanted to help – mainly Kerry, who frankly she owed, but Mike as well, who despite other people’s reservations had always been good to her. Also, she’d had an idea, albeit one she hadn’t had time to examine properly. A ridiculous one that probably proved she was a deluded screw-up with serious issues, but one she couldn’t resist anyway. There was a risk her secret might be prematurely revealed, but it was a risk she’d have to take. Besides, there was no guarantee she’d say yes anyway. She made the call.