by Jemma Forte
Diane’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘You’re joking? Why not?’
‘It’s a long story,’ replied Jessica vaguely, feeling nervous. She didn’t like not being in control of the situation any more. It was the end of an era, she thought sadly. The end of quiet anonymity.
‘Well, I’m sure you had your reasons, but I want you to know I’m a huge fan of your dad’s. He’s my absolute favourite Bond – well, maybe apart from the divine Pierce Brosnan – and of course it explains how you managed to get Angelica Dupree on the show the other day. You look a lot like your dad, don’t you? As soon as I knew I saw the resemblance straight away.’
This was exactly why Jessica hadn’t told anyone …
‘Diane, please don’t mention this to anyone yet, will you?’ pleaded Jessica. ‘I really need to tell Paul and I don’t want him finding out from anyone else.’
‘Well, mum’s the word then,’ said Diane, smiling at Jessica and signalling to her that they should probably leave the room. Grace was fast asleep and it was time to rejoin the party.
‘And can I just say,’ said Diane, whispering at the top of the stairs, ‘that although it’s fantastic goss, I really couldn’t care less who your parents are. You’re the star as far as I’m concerned.’
It was just what Jessica needed to hear and she was so touched by the heartfelt compliment that she felt an urge to give Diane a hug. So, feeling much more reassured, she did so before following Diane back down the stairs. ‘Grace asleep?’ enquired Mike in an over-cheerful voice.
‘Like a lamb,’ said Diane. ‘Now, how’s the mousse? Any more for any more?’
‘No thanks,’ said Mike, and only then did Jessica realize that something was seriously wrong. Everyone was staring at her, there was a deathly hush and Paul was looking at her with an expression of utter contempt and something else that was harder to read. He’d also gone rather pale.
‘You OK?’ she said tentatively, slipping back into her seat.
‘Great,’ he said in a voice that suggested otherwise. ‘It’s amazing what you can find out through modern technology these days,’ he added sarcastically, his voice unrecognizably hard and dripping with disdain.
Jessica had no idea what he was talking about. Diane looked like she did, however. Her heart racing with nervous anticipation, Jessica followed Diane’s gaze until her eyes came to rest on the baby monitor that was sitting innocently in the corner.
FUCK!
‘I can explain,’ began Jessica.
‘But I don’t want you to,’ retorted Paul coldly. ‘In fact, I want you to fuck off and leave me alone. Or rather, I’ll fuck off. Mike, Diane, thanks for dinner but I’m going now. I couldn’t stomach another thing, I’m afraid.’
And with that he pushed his chair out and went off in search of his jacket.
Jessica stared helplessly around the room, searching for some support, but no one could look her in the eye. Natasha looked like she was trying not to laugh, but in the kind of way one did at a funeral or something. Nervously. ‘Can’t believe I didn’t spot it myself,’ she said now. ‘Still, Edward Granger’s daughter. I knew there was something special about you, Jess.’
Jess? This was transparent even by Natasha’s standards.
‘I’m sure you had your reasons for keeping it quiet,’ offered Kerry, who wasn’t enjoying seeing Jessica look so distressed. She knew how much she loved Paul. There again, she wasn’t particularly happy about how hurt Paul was either and this was just the sort of thing guaranteed to wind him up. It was so frustrating. Why hadn’t Jessica just told them? And what the hell was all that crap about getting her mother on the show?
‘So,’ attempted Luke, ‘did you know Mike before? Was it part of the deal of doing the Bond show or something?’
‘No,’ said Jessica weakly.
Mike shook his head and was about to speak when Paul reappeared with his jacket on, looking furious still. ‘Well, thanks for a great night,’ he said to Mike.
‘Er, pleasure,’ said Mike bemusedly. He was dumbfounded by what they’d all just learned via the monitor, but was more impressed than cross. Daughter of Bond had been in their midst no less. Extraordinary really and not, as far as he could make out, any reason for Paul to get his knickers in such a twist.
‘Please don’t do this,’ implored Jessica, but her voice came out as barely a whisper and Paul refused to even look at her.
‘I won’t ask if anyone knew about Jessica’s little scam,’ said Paul from the doorway, looking directly at Mike. ‘I’ll take it as a given, seeing as some of you have no problem with nepotism.’
Mike flushed red then sighed, top teeth resting on his lip. ‘Do you know what, Paul? I’m glad you said that, because it just confirms what I’ve always suspected you really think of me. Though perhaps you’d think differently if you knew what working for my father-in-law is actually like?’
‘I don’t want to know,’ muttered Paul, turning to leave. ‘Wouldn’t have minded knowing what was going on in my girlfriend’s devious mind, but unlike her you don’t owe me an explanation about anything.’
‘Look, hold on a minute,’ replied Mike, who was quite drunk. ‘For a start, I didn’t know anything about Jessica being related to Edward Granger, though why you’re so fed up about it I shall never know. Secondly, I’m not stupid. I know you think I’m just a puppet, kow-towing to David and getting a helping hand whenever I need it, but in truth it’s not really like that. Well, not completely. Anyway, to be honest, I bloody hate it. It adds enormous pressure and if ever I want to disagree with him about anything it’s a nightmare because there’s always a chance we’re having lunch with him on Sunday.’
Paul felt ashamed suddenly. He’d only alluded to the David thing to make a dig at Jessica, but it was probably churlish of him. It wasn’t Mike’s fault Jessica had lied to him.
‘I’m sure it must have its disadvantages,’ he conceded doubtfully. ‘Anyway, it’s none of my business and I’m sorry if I was out of line. Thanks for dinner again, Diane. Luke, Kerry, I’ll see you later.’
‘Don’t do this,’ urged Jessica again, starting to cry. She pushed back her seat, no longer bothered about salvaging any dignity from the situation. She followed Paul out into the hallway. ‘Please, Paul,’ she begged. ‘I care about you so much and I was going to tell you.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Paul, his eyes glistening with what looked suspiciously like hot tears, his expression one of disgust and disappointment. Jessica knew she needed to provide him with a proper, decent explanation but couldn’t. She felt exhausted, spun out from jet lag, a bit drunk and now devastated. A combination that made finding the right words a challenge to say the least.
‘I was … going to … tell you … tomorrow,’ she just about managed.
‘Well, that’s easy for you to say, isn’t it?’
‘I was and I wanted to tell you before, but there was never a right time,’ Jessica wailed, tears coursing down her face now, her nose filling up with snot. ‘If I’d known I was going to meet you I never would have –’
‘Save your bullshit, Jessica,’ Paul replied angrily. ‘You know how much honesty means to me and now I don’t know if anything about us was actually real. I mean, when I think of some of the crap you’ve fed me,’ he ran his hands through his hair frustratedly, ‘when I think that we sat watching your own mother on TV together, for fuck’s sake, and not once did you think to say anything. Not once. And Cheaper by the Dozen,’ he yelled suddenly.
Jessica jumped.
‘You even told me that your dad cried at Cheaper by the Dozen. I mean, what kind of a sick fucking laugh were you having with me then? As if Edward Granger, one of Hollywood’s hardest actors of all time, would ever do that in a million years? Oh, how you must have been laughing.’
‘No,’ said Jessica, tears streaming down her face. ‘That was true.’ She couldn’t stand seeing Paul like this. Couldn’t believe she was the one who had caused him so much pain, when he was the last person in
the world she wanted to be unhappy. How could she have let this happen?
Paul’s mouth opened and for a minute it looked as though he was going to counter what she’d just said, but then he seemed to think again and a look of such awful pain flickered across his face that Jessica shuddered. Clearly not able to be around her any more, Paul zipped up his jacket and finally left, slamming the door in her face before heading off up the street as quickly as he could. There was no way he was going to give Jessica the satisfaction of seeing how upset he was. He’d opened up to her in a way he’d never felt able to with girlfriends in the past and now it turned out she was nothing but a liar and a fraud.
Still, Jessica had no such qualms about letting anyone see her cry. She stood sobbing in the hallway for a full five minutes before realizing she should probably return to the kitchen and face everyone and their questions. She was a sorry sight by now and, though it was hard to tell through her mist of tears, the faces looking back at her were, in the main, sympathetic.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Mike, trying to sound as if he hadn’t just heard her breaking up with her boyfriend. ‘I was just going to put the kettle on. Who’s for peppermint?’
41
After Jessica and Paul’s row, the dinner party spluttered to a rather desultory standstill.
As everyone sat around staring mournfully at one another, Mike was first to break the silence. ‘By the way,’ he said, pointedly staring first at the baby monitor and then at Diane, ‘the divine Pierce Brosnan, eh? Didn’t realize you had such a crush.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ his wife snapped, putting him firmly in his place.
Embarrassed and unsure what to do next, Mike turned from one displacement activity – making tea – to another – washing up. Deep down, all he really wanted to do was ask Jessica loads of questions about her dad but suspected it might not be quite the right moment.
By contrast, Diane was feeling too utterly wretched to help or do anything. She was in absolute turmoil about having unwittingly wrecked things for Jessica, and wished she could turn back the clock. She also wished she could offer some comfort to Jessica but doubted the poor thing would want her anywhere near her. Still, she couldn’t just stand around watching her cry her eyes out, so in the end she decided to risk being told to piss off and went to hug her better.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Diane kept saying once her hug had been accepted, stroking Jessica’s hair in much the same way as she had Grace’s earlier.
‘No, I’m the one that’s sorry,’ Jessica sniffed. ‘I’ve messed up everyone’s night and I should have just told you all before, but I …’ she trailed off, too upset to continue.
‘Yeah … I think I’m going to call some cabs,’ said Natasha, wondering why on earth everyone was feeling so sorry for Jessica. They’d just found out she must be minted. Were they thick? Her dad was Edward Granger, which meant the problem was what exactly? She felt quite chuffed with herself too. She’d always known there was something about her. Her only regret was not having been more friendly to her …
A painfully long forty-five minutes later, Luke and Kerry’s cab finally arrived. Typically, Natasha’s had arrived in seconds, leaving Luke and Kerry to make polite conversation with the Connors, which due to the fact that they were all a bit pissed and tired, and that Jessica was sat in the corner quietly sobbing, was a fairly stressful experience.
‘Thanks for a … really great evening,’ Kerry said, darting to her feet as soon as they heard a rap on the door.
‘Yeah, thanks, it was really nice and don’t worry about her,’ yelled Luke over-brightly, trying desperately to compensate for Jessica’s misery. ‘She’ll be fine in the morning, I’m sure,’ he said, hoping to mollify Diane who was still wringing her hands, feeling riddled with guilt about the whole situation.
‘Christ, you can’t half cry, Jess,’ said Kerry as they spilled on to the street, Kerry and Luke dragging Jessica between them. Kerry had never been so happy to see a cab in all her life.
‘My head hurts,’ mumbled Jessica.
‘I’m not surprised,’ said Kerry, shoving her into the back seat. ‘Here, I think I might have some Nurofen in my bag. Do you want one?’
‘No,’ replied Jessica, her voice shuddering with misery. The pounding headache she’d managed to give herself was deserved, she thought weakly, so she would suffer it like a monk in a hair shirt. Even if there was a chance that without tablets it might transform into a vomit-inducing migraine.
Kerry and Luke climbed in and when the driver enquired ‘where to?’ almost had their first proper row as they tried to decide what to do with the wreck that was Jessica Bender, née Granger, who had broken into a fresh round of tears.
‘We can’t take her back to yours,’ Kerry hissed, who by now had had enough of Jessica’s histrionics, had had enough of Jessica in fact and of the whole wretched shambles of an evening. ‘It’s not fair on Paul. She’s the last person he wants to see right now.’
‘She can sleep on the couch,’ argued Luke. ‘It’s not like we have much other choice. I’m not paying to take her to Hampstead first and we can’t leave her here.’
‘Well, let her have this cab and we’ll get another one,’ said Kerry in exasperation.
‘Oh, yeah, because going back into Mike’s for another scintillating hour of slurred, hideously self-conscious conversation is just what I fancy now.’
‘Just leave me here,’ snorted Jessica suddenly, clutching wildly for the door handle. She looked dreadful. Her skin was blotchy and smeared with snot. Her eyes were surrounded by black where she’d rubbed her mascara into her face. ‘I don’t care where I go. I just want to be on my own.’
‘See?’ said Luke, folding his arms and giving Kerry a look as if to say ‘Point proved. She’s a suicidal maniac.’
‘Fine,’ said Kerry huffily. ‘Yours it is then.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said the driver. ‘So Tufnell Park, yeah? And you’re sure she’s not going to be sick?’ he added, pointing at Jessica who was trying to get herself into something resembling the foetal position. No mean feat with three of them squashed in the back.
As it turned out, Kerry needn’t have worried. When they finally got back to the flat just after midnight, Paul wasn’t in, though Jessica would only accept this fact after she’d checked under his bed and poked around in his wardrobe. Relief that he wasn’t going to see her in such a state mingled with disappointment and outright fear she might never see him again. Being in his room where they’d shared all their most intimate moments was too much and she sank on to his bed, sniffing his duvet for signs of his smell, wanting to be close to him in some way.
‘Jesus,’ said Luke, sounding nervous, as he stood observing in the doorway with Kerry. ‘At least we know she really cares about him. She wasn’t making that bit up, was she?’
‘No,’ said Kerry, shutting the door on Jessica so that she could be mad and hysterical in peace. ‘All a bit bloody weird though, isn’t it? I keep thinking of things we may have said about her dad at work and stuff. I don’t know how she managed to keep quiet all this time.’
‘I know,’ said Luke, flopping exhausted on to the sofa in the sitting room and pulling Kerry down next to him. He pulled her close for a hug.
‘Sorry about before. I didn’t mean to get shirty with you.’
‘That’s OK.’
‘Kerry?’
‘Yeah?’
‘James Bond’s daughter is in my flat.’
‘I know,’ laughed Kerry suddenly as the absurdity of it all got the better of her. ‘And not just that. James Bond’s daughter is in your flat, sniffing Paul Fletcher’s bed linen.’
‘Well, he has got a licence to thrill,’ quipped Luke.
‘Though tonight he was more shaken than stirred,’ added Kerry, giggling.
‘Judging by the look on his face when he left we should probably rename him Thunderballs.’
‘That was crap,’ laughed Kerry out loud. ‘Still, maybe he wants to kn
ock The Living Daylights out of her?’
‘Ah, Miss Moneypenny, I like it, apart from the fact that you’ve just made my best mate sound like a wife beater.’
‘Actually,’ said Kerry, ‘I can understand in a way why she might not have wanted any of us to know.’ Slightly sobered by this thought, she snuggled into Luke before saying, ‘Anyway, where the hell is Paul do you reckon?’
‘His mum’s, I suppose,’ came the reply.
42
By the next morning, Jessica had come to pretty much the same conclusion as Luke. Paul must be at his mum’s. Now he’d found out who she was, in such a dreadful way, she needed desperately to find him, to try and explain how this whole thing had happened, even if she barely knew herself.
When she first opened her eyes after a fitful night’s sleep, for a lovely few seconds it was like nothing had happened, probably due to the fact she was in Paul’s bed. And then she remembered. Everything had happened and it was all disastrous.
Her head ached, her body ached, but most of all her heart ached with sadness. Still, lying around in Paul’s bedroom certainly wasn’t going to get her anywhere, so after a shower she headed dolefully back to Pam’s, having decided that Paul probably needed a day or so to cool off. He certainly wasn’t answering his phone at any rate. She’d see him at work tomorrow.
However, upon arriving at work the next day, to Jessica’s dismay he wasn’t there. He’d phoned in sick, which Mike had sensibly decided not to dispute. Having psyched herself up for a showdown, Jessica felt herself deflate back into her previous pitiful state. The day was endless, she couldn’t concentrate on anything and she was convinced everyone in the office was talking about her (they were), so it wasn’t long before she was online, researching into tickets home. She never got as far as booking one though. Apart from the fact she’d made a commitment to Diane, she also knew deep down there was no way she was going anywhere till things were reconciled with Paul.
At one point, keen to escape curious eyes, she left the office under false pretences and headed for the canteen where she rang Dulcie, who wasn’t as sympathetic as she’d hoped she might be.