Universally Challenged

by Anna Bell

  ‘I’m walking this way, want to come?’ she asked, walking away from the apartment block.

  ‘Sure. Have you seen the news this morning?’

  Jess shook her head. It had been a busy morning so far, no time for the TV.

  Jake passed her a copy of the weekend edition of the Wall Street Journal. The headline read ‘CLARITY UNCOVERS SINODAM SCANDAL’.

  ‘Oh, my god!’ said Jess. ‘So it did happen, the SinoDam deal, LMG Global, it all happened. Thank goodness LMG didn’t invest, huh?’

  ‘What are you talking about, Jess? LMG invested $10 million dollars yesterday, against your advice. Now they are in the shit.’

  ‘Then why are you smiling?’ asked Jess, her head spinning with all the information.

  ‘Because Max Cummings just phoned me to tell me he’s firing Roger and rehiring me because I’d done my homework, unlike Roger and Patricia.’

  Jess didn’t know who Patricia was, but she felt relieved to know he had his job back. ‘So you’re not unemployed after all.’

  ‘No, and it’s all because of you.’

  Jess stopped walking. They’d reached Washington Square Park, and they found a bench in the shade to sit on.

  ‘You know, I’ve had the weirdest week,’ said Jess.

  ‘Tell me about it. Since you walked into my life on Monday, everything has changed.’

  Jess looked at him. That was exactly true for her, too.

  ‘I’ve left Benjy, I’ve asked for a divorce.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a big decision.’

  ‘Not really, it’s been coming for a while.’

  Jake nodded. He looked straight ahead, focusing intently on the chess players in the park.

  ‘Well, maybe in time I could... well, ask you out?’ said Jake

  Jess looked at him and willed him to look at her. She looked into his eyes and wondered if he’d experienced the Empire State Building, too.

  ‘I’d like that, but not for a little while. My head is going to be all over the place.’

  ‘I’ll wait.’

  ‘And what about you? What about your girlfriend Elodie?’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you the story yesterday?’ he asked, scratching his head, ‘She’s not my girlfriend.’

  Jess didn’t ask him to elaborate; that was all she needed to hear.

  ‘So if we do go on a date, you’re going to have to go a bit further a field.’

  ‘Oh no, don’t tell me you’re moving to London?’

  ‘Nah, probably just Brooklyn or Williamsburg. There’s no way I can afford to live in the village on my teacher’s wage.’

  Jake laughed. ‘Ok, it’s a deal. I’ll leave you to contact me, when you’re ready.’

  ‘Thanks, Jake, for everything.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Jake walked off and Jess couldn’t help smiling. She was going to be just fine on her own. There was only one last thing she needed to do. She reached into her bag and as she did so she pulled out a business card. ‘Dr Rosenthal, psychiatrist.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ said Jess. She wondered if she perhaps wasn’t the only one that had lived another life that week.

  No longer needing Dr Rosenthal’s advice she crinkled the card up and threw it in the bin next to the bench. Finding her mobile she dialled a number.

  ‘Hello 345665.’

  ‘Hey, Mum, it’s me. Listen I’m coming home for a couple of weeks before term starts. Benjy and I are getting a divorce, and I think it’s about time we got things sorted.’

  Chapter 45 – Jessica Anderson

  Jessica wondered just what had gone on that week and just what she was going back to in London. She’d never get a job again if Simon gave her a bad reference. She felt sick to her stomach, and it was not because of the hangover.

  She’d gone through the motions of showering and getting dressed, but her heart wasn’t really in it. She had a few hours before she was due at the airport and she knew she should go out and get food, but she somehow couldn’t face it.

  It was funny walking round in her hotel room, where she should have been all week, instead of living in the apartment with Benjy. She would have expected to have missed Benjy, but instead all she felt was relief. Relief that she’d made the right decision all those years ago by walking away from him. She’d always wondered what if, and now she knew. There would be no more pining for him.

  She walked around her room collecting her toiletries together to pack into her case, so that she was at least ready to go. She picked up the snow globe from the dressing table and shook it. She watched the snow fall magically over Manhattan and she laughed. How cheesy. She wondered what had possessed her to buy that.

  She tipped it over to see how much it had cost and then she saw the note.

  Jess

  A little something to remind you of how brave you were and how you can always overcome your fears.

  Jake

  Jessica wondered what it meant. She placed it carefully back down on the dresser, as if it was the most precious possession on earth.

  She opened her case and saw the garment bag with her Valentino in. She unzipped it to check it was still ok and she could have sworn it had a worn look to it. She looked at all her clothes in the case and they all looked like they’d been moved. She wondered just who had been wearing them.

  She picked up the pile of receipts on the sideboard that looked like the type of receipts to boost an expenses claim. Jessica flicked through, trying to piece together what had gone on that week. And then she saw amongst it a business card for Dr Rosenthal’s office. So she had gone to see her. Or at least the Jessica that had been wearing the Valentino and been given snow globes had been to see Dr Rosenthal. Jessica shook her head; she couldn’t get her head around any of it.

  With a sudden need to get some fresh air, Jessica picked up her bag and left the hotel room and decided to get that bite to eat after all. She smiled at the receptionist who waved at her. He was the same man who had told her point blank she wasn’t a guest there.

  She walked out of the hotel and bumped into Jake.

  ‘Have you seen this?’ he asked.

  Jessica thought back to her last encounter with him, the anger and resentment that had been in his voice, but all that had vanished.

  She took hold of the paper he was offering up to her. ‘CLARITY UNCOVERS SINODAM SCANDAL’

  ‘Oh my god, no wonder Simon wants to see me. The deal, the money, we’ve lost the money.’

  Jake looked at her quizzically. ‘Jess, what are you talking about? We didn’t invest in SinoDam.’

  ‘We didn’t?’

  ‘Oh no, don’t tell me you’re having the memory loss again? Are you married or an astronaut?’ he said, laughing.

  ‘No, I’m actually me. But what are you saying, that LMG didn’t sign?’

  ‘No, and guess what? PRT did and now they’re stuck over the weekend with $10 million dollar investment in a company that probably isn’t even worth a few hundred thousand.’

  ‘Oh. Jilly?’

  Jake nodded.

  ‘How did that happen? Never mind.’ Jessica had learnt this week that she didn’t need to know everything. ‘What about your job, why are you smiling?’

  ‘Roger phoned me, thanking me for causing the scene with SinoDam as, if they hadn’t walked out, we’d be in the same position as PRT. He’d have probably lost his job. He’s rehiring me and giving me a raise.’

  ‘That’s great news!’

  ‘Yeah, it is. I was also thinking of asking him if maybe... if I could get a secondment over to the London office for a while.’

  ‘Oh, really and why’s that?’

  ‘Well, just because I hear they need some help in their sustainable energies department. I hear their soon to be vice president is losing it a bit.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Ha, well, from the email I got earlier I may not be making vice president.’

  ‘I’m sure it wi
ll have sorted itself out by the time you get back to London.’

  Jessica looked into Jake’s eyes and she saw the same look that had been in his eyes when they were in the horse drawn carriage. She wondered if he knew any of what had gone on over the past week. But the more she looked into his eyes, the more she realised it didn’t matter what had happened. She thought she could see the future in his eyes.

  Jake pulled at the bottom of her vest top and pulled her in towards him and kissed her. She felt her hands go up to clutch his face and his reach round the small of her back. It was the most natural feeling in the world.

  ‘This week has been the weirdest week of my life but, Jessica Anderson, I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.’

  Jessica laughed, although she’d had lived a totally different week to him, she felt exactly the same.

  The End

  Also by the Author: Don’t Tell the Groom

  When bride-to-be Penny discovers that she’s lost £10,000 of wedding savings playing online bingo, she convinces her fiancé Mark that they should have a don’t tell the groom themed wedding. Penny then has to plan a wedding fit for a princess on a shoestring budget. But by the time she discovers the true meaning of marriage isn’t a Vera Wang wedding dress or Jimmy Choo shoes, will she still have a groom to marry?

  Out now on Amazon Kindle –Turn the page for a sneak preview of the first chapter

  Chapter One

  Everyone should feel like a princess on their wedding day; it’s practically the law. As I gaze down at myself in my sparkling dress, a dress that would make Mary Berry’s meringues weep with jealousy at how light and fluffy it is, that is exactly how I feel: like a princess.

  My dad’s just about holding it together as we glide into the room to the bridal march. He’s choked up and I think there might even be a tiny glint of a tear in his eye. Walking down the aisle I see all of my friends and close family beaming at me. I know what they’re thinking, that I’m wearing the most beautiful dress they’ve ever seen. All except my aunt Dorian. Her face is full of thunder as I’ve quite possibly upstaged my precious cousin Dawn’s wedding.

  And then I notice my handsome groom, my most favourite person in the whole wide world. He’s standing there in his bespoke suit looking sexy as hell. To think in mere minutes I’m going to be Mrs Mark Robinson.

  There’s my mum sat in the front row looking like the cat that got the cream. I can almost imagine what she’ll be writing in this year’s Christmas-card round robin. All her friend’s kids will be shown the photos of me and Mark looking absolutely stunning, at the most wonderful wedding in the world.

  The room in the castle looks even more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. The candles flickering in the alcoves give off a dusky glow, and the simple vases of long-stem white roses adorning the end of the rows are like the icing on the cake.

  Approaching the end of the aisle, I come to a halt up against Mark. He leans over to me and whispers that I look beautiful, just like Prince William did to Kate. I smile back and gaze into his eyes, which are easier to see than usual because my to-die-for Jimmy Choos make me only an inch or two shorter than him.

  I hand my bouquet back to my friend Lou, my maid of honour, who’s dressed in a simple purple empire-line dress, which I love almost as much as my dress. My sister is standing next to her with my little niece clinging on to her leg and looking angelic and lovely.

  This is the happiest day of my life. I. Am. A. Princess.

  It is at that blissfully perfect moment that the computer makes the worst sound imaginable. The synthetic crowd cheer snaps me out of my daydream and back in to my pokey little bedroom. The strategic lighting of the candles is replaced by the dim light of an energy-saving lamp, and instead of Jimmy Choos and a Vera Wang wedding dress, I’m in Marks-and-Spencer pyjamas and a pair of cartoon-character slippers.

  The words on the screen are there in dayglo pink and yellow: Bingo. I was just about to call Bingo. I only had one number to go. This was the game. The game I was going to win. The one which would have allowed me to actually buy the Jimmy Choos. The one that would get me one step closer to the wedding of my dreams. The wedding in the castle where I’m the most beautiful bride that anyone has ever seen.

  And now ‘LuckyLes11’ has won my £500. Goodbye Jimmy Choos.

  There’s a feeling of nausea that creeps over my body when I lose a game of bingo. But the feeling is so much worse when you’re so close to winning that you are practically spending the money.

  Not that I do this often, you understand. Just every now and then. It just happens to be now as Mark is late home from work and, whilst I was flicking through the latest copy of Bridal Dreams, I saw they had the top ten must-have wedding shoes. I fell in love with pair number two and at £550 I thought a cheeky little go of 90-ball bingo might just get me them, you know, if it was meant to be.

  Turns out it wasn’t. I bet LuckyLess11 has fat ankles and wouldn’t look good in the Choos anyway. Not that I’m bitter.

  ‘Shit.’ That’s the sound of the front door slamming. Mark is home.

  I log out of FizzleBingo quicker than you can say goodbye Jimmy Choos and switch off my private browsing. By the time Mark makes it over the threshold and I hear him kicking his shoes off, I’m idly surfing for books on Amazon. God, I’m quick, or well practised. Either way I still feel like I’ve just cheated on my boyfriend.

  Oh yes, that’s right, my boyfriend. You were expecting me to say my fiancé, right? Seeing as I’ve planned the most wonderful wedding in the world and that I was trying to win myself the money for the perfect shoes.

  The truth is we aren’t engaged. But that’s not to say we’re not getting married, as we are. We just haven’t got engaged yet, but we will. We have a wedding fund and everything. Mark, my hopefully soon-to-be-fiancé, is very sensible like that.

  He just had a whole lot of stages we had to go through in his life plan before we get to the engagement stage. First, we had to rent a flat together to find out if we were compatible living together. When we had lived with each other in a flat the size of a shoebox for two years in Clapham and didn’t kill each other, we went on to stage two: buying a house. So here I am sat in said house, a cosy little terraced house in Farnborough, where we grew up. We’d picked our home town because it was cheaper than London, yet commutable. Only after three months of sardine like journeys, both of us had taken local jobs. And whilst our house may not be the nicest in the world it has the all important two bedrooms (which helps for stage six: have a baby).

  I’m jumping ahead of the stages again; Mark is always accusing me of doing that. So stage three relates to Mark and his training as an accountant. He had to pass lots of accountancy exams to be a fully fledged accountant, which he did a few months ago. Congratulations Mark! We had an amazingly lovely party with all our friends to celebrate. Although there was a teeny tiny bit of me that had hoped he’d mark the occasion with an engagement ring. Mark didn’t see it that way, to paraphrase what he said to console my 3 a.m. drunken tears but we’ve the got the rest of our lives – what’s the rush?

  But that’s where we are. Stage three, waiting for stage four: get engaged ready for stage five. Stage five is, of course, when we get married and I become Mrs Robinson. I can’t ever say that without The Lemonheads’ song going round and round in my head. I’m hoping it wears off by the time we actually do get married or else I’m going to be driven slightly mad when I become her.

  And then there’s the terribly sensible wedding fund. Which, the last time I looked, had a balance of around five thousand pounds. We’ve been direct debiting to it every month and over the last couple of years we’ve been putting our bonuses in it, too. Plus there’s my bingo money. I make sure that my winnings go in there, as well. So I’m sure by now it is almost up to twenty thousand pounds which is nearly my budget for my dream wedding.

  So whenever stage four happens, I’ll be ready to put operation ‘Become Mrs Robinson’ into full swing. Hence all
the bridal magazine preparation. Not to mention my active membership on Confetti, my wedding planning board on Pintrest and my mood boards in the cupboard. As Mark always says, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.

  ‘Penny?’

  ‘Up here.’

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ he asks, walking into the bedroom. I can see him clocking the fact I’m in my PJs at seven o’clock.

  ‘I came up to get the laptop and the bed looked so warm and snuggly I couldn’t resist it.’

  Mark is giving me that look again. He’s been doing that a lot lately. I can’t work out what it means but he turns his head to the side and sort of hesitates before he changes the subject. I bet if I were his wife I’d be able to read him and know exactly what that meant. Maybe we’re not ready for stage four yet after all.

  ‘Have you started dinner yet?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. It wasn’t a complete lie. I had taken the chicken out of the freezer when I came home an hour ago. I just hadn’t put it in the microwave to defrost. It did, however, signal my intention to cook chicken though; that had to count surely?

  ‘Really? As I saw frozen chicken sitting on the worktop and it is still as solid as an ice block.’ says Mark.

  Bollocks, I really should learn to intercept him at the door.

  ‘Oh, is it?’ I falter with surprise. ‘I thought that the lights might have been bright enough to defrost it.’

  We have ridiculously bright lights in our kitchen. If I’ve got a hangover, or it is before sunrise in the winter, then I use the torch on my phone to navigate my way round the kitchen.

  ‘I’m not changing the lights, Pen.’

  Mark likes the lights; he says he likes to see what he’s eating.