‘Hey, you,’ Meg laughingly says when Barney and I burst into the playroom – a large, airy room stocked with toys, comfy sofas and bookshelves crammed with brightly-jacketed books. She’s sitting on the carpet in the bay window with Phoenix, my one-year-old half-brother. They’re surrounded by Playmobil emergency vehicles.
Meg gets up to give me a hug. At five foot eight, she’s taller than me by a couple of inches and she’s slim and pretty with straight, shoulder-length blonde hair and brown eyes. She seems genuinely happy to see me, which makes me feel kind of gooey inside.
Phoenix’s face lights up at the sight of me. He babbles something incomprehensible as he gets to his sturdy little feet and waddles over.
‘Hi, cutie,’ I say, breaking away from Meg to pick him up and give his cuddly body a squeeze.
‘Look, Jessie, look!’ Barney interrupts, tugging on my hand. ‘The cars go in here.’ He starts to prattle on about Lego so I put Phoenix back down, flash Meg a grin and give the eldest of my two small half-siblings my full attention.
Meg leaves us to say hi to Stu, but returns after a few minutes with the temptation of chocolate-chip cookies, the one thing that is guaranteed to get my little brothers’ feet running in the direction of the kitchen.
‘How are you? Good week?’ Meg asks with a smile, as the boys tear off down the corridor.
‘It was OK,’ I reply. ‘How was yours? Johnny said you were catching up with a friend this week?’
‘Bess.’ She smiles. ‘You’ll have to meet her one of these days.’
‘Is she a good friend?’ She must be if Meg is willing to reveal my identity to her. So far, she’s been keen to keep it hush-hush.
‘The best,’ she replies. This makes me think of Libby and my heart hurts. ‘How’s school been?’
‘Oh, you know.’ I shrug.
‘Missing Natalie?’ she asks. ‘And maybe even Libby?’
‘A bit,’ I admit, a little taken aback. I told her about Natalie moving up to college and Libby finding a new friend in Amanda, but I guess I didn’t think she’d remember. I still have a small chip on my shoulder that I’m not welcome here, but I really need to get over that. She’s been nothing but nice to me for weeks.
‘Come have a cup of tea before Stu leaves. We’ll have plenty of time to chat later.’
‘OK.’ I nod and follow her to the living room.
Johnny and Stu are sitting on oversized brown leather sofas. They stop talking when we enter the room and Stu clears his throat.
‘Not gossiping about me again, are you?’ I ask wryly.
‘I hear you had a big night last night,’ Johnny replies, equally wryly.
‘It wasn’t that big,’ I scoff, slumping down next to him and sinking into the comfy cushions. ‘And despite what he’ll tell you,’ I say, giving Stu a pointed look, ‘I wasn’t smoking.’
‘Your room certainly smelled like you were when I woke you up this morning,’ he says.
‘I had a couple of drinks, but that’s all. Jesus, it’s not like I wasn’t offered cigarettes, but I said no! I wish I’d said yes if I’m going to get stick for it anyway,’ I snap.
‘OK, OK.’ Stu puts his hands up in defeat. ‘I believe you. Sorry.’
‘You should be,’ I reply crossly.
Stu looks hurt and that makes me feel bad.
‘Where are the boys?’ Johnny asks Meg, changing the subject.
‘Eddie’s got them in the kitchen,’ she replies. Their American cook often travels with them.
Speak of the devil, Eddie walks into the room with a tray. ‘Hi, Jessie!’ he says brightly, placing it on a beautifully carved wooden coffee table.
The style of this house couldn’t be more different to the Los Angeles pad, which is modern and sparsely furnished, with floor-to-ceiling glass featuring views over an infinity pool and the city beyond. Their American home is allegedly more to Johnny’s taste, but I think Meg prefers it here, where a combination of modern and classic art hangs on the flocked wallpaper walls and the rooms are chock-full of antiques.
Stuart leaves shortly afterwards.
‘You’re too hard on him,’ Johnny says when Stu’s little white Fiat has driven out of the driveway and the heavy wooden gates have clunked shut behind him.
‘I know,’ I mutter, feeling a twinge of guilt. ‘But he never believes anything I say.’
‘Maybe you haven’t given him enough reason to.’ Johnny turns to me, his brilliant green eyes piercing mine. ‘Time will sort it out,’ he adds kindly, closing the front door.
I don’t respond, but I still feel bad as we head back to the living room.
‘So I didn’t get a chance to tell you this, but my dad’s coming to stay today as well.’
‘Really?’ My face breaks into a grin as I sit on the other sofa next to the empty space vacated by my stepfather. I wasn’t bothered about sitting next to Stu when he was here, but I feel a bizarre sense of loyalty now that he’s gone. ‘How’s he feeling?’ I ask.
‘Much better this week,’ Johnny replies.
Johnny’s dad had to stay in hospital for a few days after his heart attack and since then a nurse has been caring for him at home. Johnny took me to meet him for the first time about ten days ago. He still seemed pretty fragile, then, so I’m glad he’s well enough to visit now. From what I gather, my grandfather got married to a younger woman a few years ago, but now they’re divorced, and there isn’t anyone special in his life. He was a full-blown womaniser when Johnny was younger, and I don’t think age has changed him much. Johnny went to live with him after losing his mum to cancer at the age of thirteen. Unfortunately we have our mothers’ untimely deaths in common.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Johnny asks me with a frown, seeing the expression on my face.
‘My mum. Don’t worry about it.’
He nods, his gaze drifting sombrely to the coffee table.
‘So what time will he be arriving?’ I ask. I don’t know what to call my biological grandfather. Barney calls him Gramps, but that feels so familiar. I suppose I could call him by his first name, Brian, like Meg does, but at the moment he’s just ‘Johnny’s dad’.
‘Sam’s gone to get him,’ Johnny says. ‘They should be back around lunchtime.’
‘Cool.’ I smile. ‘It’ll be good to spend some more time with him.’
‘You know, you could always go to visit him once we’re back in LA,’ Johnny points out. ‘You don’t need us to be around for you two to catch up.’
My heart lifts at the idea, but stutters when I compute what he’s saying. ‘When are you going back?’
‘End of the week,’ he says gently. ‘Meg wants to be back in time for Barney to start school.’
‘Hasn’t he missed the start of the school term already?’ I ask with confusion.
‘Private school. Starts back later,’ Johnny explains, his eyebrows knitting together. We’re both thinking the same thing: I don’t go to private school. Not that I want to, but he doesn’t know that.
‘I’ve gotta get back as well,’ he adds uncomfortably. ‘Work to do. But we’ll be here again soon and then, of course, you’re coming to visit us at Christmas.’
That feels like ages away.
‘I can’t wait!’ I try to sound upbeat. ‘And I’d love to visit your dad while you’re gone.’
‘I know he’d like that, too.’ Johnny smiles. ‘He thinks you’re – what did he say? – “sparky”.’
‘Oh.’ I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
Johnny laughs. ‘It’s a compliment, believe me.’ I smile.
My phone buzzing against my thigh distracts me. My heart flips when I see a text from Tom.
Still good for tomorrow? What shall we go and see?
‘What’s his name?’ Johnny asks.
‘What?’ I splutter, my eyes shooting up to meet his. ‘How do you know it’s from a boy?!’
‘I know that look,’ he replies nonchalantly. ‘So?’
‘So
what?’
‘What’s his name?’ he persists.
‘Tom,’ I reply begrudgingly.
‘And is Tom your boyfriend or do you just want him to be your boyfriend?’
‘What are you, my dad now?’
‘Yeah, I am, actually,’ he replies with a twinkle in his eye.
I chuckle. It’s still so weird to have Johnny Jefferson giving me fatherly lectures. ‘He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just going to the movies tomorrow night.’
‘Aah. So you do want him to be your boyfriend,’ he says.
‘Might do.’ I purse my lips and look down at my phone screen.
‘And are you going to reply to him?’ he inquires.
‘Later,’ I tell him with a grin, wriggling to shove my phone back into my pocket.
Johnny smirks, but his smile soon turns genuine. ‘I’m glad you want to catch up with Dad. It’d give me peace of mind to know you’re doing that,’ he adds.
‘I’m happy to.’
I hope Brian’s going to be OK. I’m afraid of losing him now that I’ve found him so unwittingly. I feel a sudden pang of loss for Mum’s mum, the grandmother that I never had a relationship with, and Johnny’s mum, the grandmother I never even knew I had.
‘Do you have any photos of your mum?’ I ask Johnny.
‘Course,’ he says. ‘You want to see them?’
‘Yes, please.’
He leaves the room and comes back a minute or so later with a brown, leather-bound photo album. He sits down beside me and rests the weighty book on my lap, leaning over my shoulder as I open it up.
‘Aw, is that you?’ I coo, peering at the picture of a little boy with bright blond hair and green eyes. He looks just like Barney.
‘Yeah.’ He smiles and nods down at the photo. ‘And that’s Mum.’
The woman in the picture looks young – probably only mid-twenties – and she’s slim with tousled blonde hair. She’s wearing a colourful print dress and is smiling happily at whoever’s taking the picture.
‘She’s beautiful,’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ he agrees quietly.
I remember that her name is Ursula. I scrutinise the next picture in the album, one of Johnny and his mum standing in the middle of a small garden bursting with flowers.
‘She looks happy.’ I glance up at him.
‘She was, for the most part. Or, if she wasn’t, she put on a good act,’ he says. ‘Meg made this album for me,’ he explains, as I continue to turn the pages. ‘I used to keep all of my photos in a shoebox,’ he adds.
‘That was nice of her.’ I smile.
‘Will you show me some pictures of Candy sometime?’ he asks.
‘Really?’ I wouldn’t have thought he’d want to be reminded of what he’d done to her. And I haven’t looked at my albums for ages. It hurts too much.
‘When you’re ready,’ he says gently, and his understanding makes my eyes prick with tears.
I nod because I don’t trust myself to speak. I turn back to the album and lean into him a bit more.
The energy of the house changes the moment Brian walks through the front door. He looks like an ageing musician, with slightly too long, greying, light-brown hair. His skin is tanned, but I heard Johnny saying to Meg how pale he looks, so I’m guessing he’s usually bordering on leathery. There were dark circles under his eyes when I last saw him – they’re less apparent now, but he looks thin. Thin and wiry, though still oddly good-looking. And I can’t believe I’m saying that about an ancient.
‘Jessie, Jessie, Jessie,’ he says, once he’s fought off the affections of his other grandchildren and managed to make it more than a metre or so into the hall. Samuel walks past us with Brian’s overnight bag. ‘Hey, girl,’ Samuel says to me, clapping me on the shoulder with one of his big hands.
‘Hi, Samuel,’ I reply warmly.
He bends down to pick up my own bag. ‘I’ll take these up,’ he says.
‘She’s in the Orange Room,’ Meg calls after him.
‘Got it.’ Samuel sets off up the stairs.
Johnny and Meg always seem to name their guest bedrooms after colours. In LA, I stayed in the White Room. It was properly amazing.
‘How’s it going, kiddo?’ Brian asks me.
‘I’m good,’ I reply with a smile. ‘How are you?’
‘Never better,’ he exclaims. I notice Johnny cast Meg a look. She purses her lips at Brian’s flippancy. He nearly died.
We spend the next couple of hours hanging out in the garden, playing croquet of all things. Meg wins two games in a row, cheering in a purposefully over-the-top fashion until Johnny grabs her and throws her over his shoulder, pretending to be annoyed. She squeals until he puts her back on her feet.
‘What are we doing tonight?’ Brian asks when they’ve calmed down.
‘Eddie’s got a roast planned,’ Meg answers, slapping Johnny playfully.
‘No offence to Eddie, but can’t we go out?’ Brian asks. ‘I’ve been cooped up at home for weeks.’
Her face falls. ‘I don’t know if that’s such a good—’
‘Come on, Meggie,’ Brian interrupts her jovially. ‘Do this old man a favour. Isn’t there a nice restaurant on the river where we could sit and watch the world go by? I’ve been bored out of my brains and I’m finally feeling perky again.’
‘Sure, Dad, we can go out,’ Johnny interjects casually, wrapping his arm round Meg’s neck.
‘Johnny…’ Her voice trails off.
He glances down at her. ‘What’s the problem, babe?’
Her eyes dart towards me, and it finally dawns on me that she’s not worried about Brian’s health: she’s worried about my cover being blown.
‘It’ll be fine,’ Johnny says in a low voice, flashing me an apologetic smile. ‘I’ll let Eddie know.’ He claps me on the back as he begins to walk towards the house. ‘You need to get ready?’ he asks.
‘I might change,’ I reply.
‘Cool.’
I don’t dare look back at Meg as I follow him inside.
I get ready quickly, swapping my shorts for a pair of blue jeans. It’s a sunny day, but it might get cold later. I choose a cream lace top and touch up my make-up, then head out of my room, stuffing my phone into my handbag. I still haven’t replied to Tom. I need to check out what films are on first. I feel jumpy at the thought of sitting next to him in the dark.
‘You want me to make a booking?’ I hear Meg ask when I’m halfway down the stairs. She and Johnny are waiting at the bottom, a few metres away from Samuel, who appears to be standing sentry just inside the front door. He normally spends his time in the guardhouse by the gates, so I’m guessing he’s driving us.
‘No, don’t call ahead,’ Johnny decides. ‘Let’s go incognito.’
‘Sir,’ Samuel says. It sounds like a warning.
‘S’alright, Sam, you can wait in the car.’
‘Johnny…’ Meg says.
‘It’ll be fine,’ Johnny reassures her, glancing at me as I reach them. ‘Dad?’ he calls down the hall. Brian is with the boys in the playroom. ‘You ready?’
‘Coming!’ Brian calls back.
Johnny grabs a baseball cap from one of the coat hooks and pulls it on.
‘That’s doesn’t help,’ Meg comments wryly.
‘Fffff-udge it,’ he says, stopping short of swearing. He rips the cap off and tosses it on the hallstand as Brian appears with his grandsons in tow. ‘Let’s go,’ Johnny says.
As we walk out into the warm air, I notice that he’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, and I’m guessing he’s trying to keep his telltale tattoos hidden. I’m pretty sure that his attempts to disguise his identity will be futile, though. His celebrity aura radiates from him like expensive aftershave. You barely have to glance at him to know that he’s famous.
We should look like any other family. But Johnny doesn’t look like any other dad. He’s a little over six foot tall, with chin-length dark-blond hair. He has stubble at the moment, but he’s ofte
n clean-shaven, and his eyes are an intense green, not unlike my own, or so I’ve been told.
The waitress leads us out onto a terrace overlooking the River Thames. The people at the next table start whispering before I’ve even pulled out my chair.
‘Maybe I’m the one who should have gone in disguise,’ I murmur when I see two teenage girls gawking at me from a couple of tables away.
‘Put these on, just in case anyone starts taking pictures,’ Meg says in a low voice, handing me the sunnies from her handbag.
‘It’s OK, I’ve got my own,’ I reply, pulling them out and sliding them onto my nose.
Luckily it’s sunny, otherwise I’d look like a right twat.
I notice Brian frowning at Meg. ‘What’s the big deal?’ he finally asks. ‘So what if they find out who she is?’
‘She’ll be harassed,’ Meg explains irritably.
‘I don’t get harassed,’ he says with a casual shrug. ‘And I’m his father.’
‘Yeah, you do, Dad,’ Johnny chips in wearily.
‘Not as much as I’d like,’ Brian replies with a cheeky grin.
Johnny raises his eyes to the sky.
‘Alright, girls?’ Brian says to the two middle-aged women drinking glasses of white wine at the next table. They titter their replies.
I order a lemonade and lime and plaster a smile on my face, but I can’t relax.
Later that night, when I’m on my way back to my bedroom from the guest bathroom, I hear hushed but irate-sounding voices coming from the downstairs living room. Last time I heard Johnny and Meg arguing, it was about me. I’m guessing nothing’s changed. My heart sinks as I pause at the top of the stairs to listen.
‘It was a bad idea,’ I can just make out Meg saying. ‘I know what it’s like. Being well-known is hard. I’d take anonymity any day of the week.’ Pause. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she continues. ‘You know I wouldn’t change my life with you for a second. But Jessie is only fifteen.’
‘The boys cope well enough with it,’ I hear Johnny reply in his deep voice.
‘They were born into it,’ Meg replies reasonably. ‘They don’t know any different. But I remember what it was like to be fifteen. Going on dates, meeting boys…’