The Accidental Life of Jessie Jefferson

  ‘You’d better call Johnny.’

  I nod. ‘I know. What were they doing?’ I’m so confused. ‘Johnny said they wouldn’t harass me. That he’d get an injunction.’

  ‘He might get an injunction against publication, but no one can stop them from harassing you,’ Agnes says darkly.

  ‘But they weren’t even up at the gate,’ I say, momentarily sidetracked as Jack sits back in his seat and the whole left-hand side of his body presses into mine. ‘They were waiting down the road.’ I try to focus. ‘Did somebody tell them I was coming? Lissa was on the phone . . .’

  ‘Lissa wouldn’t—’ Agnes starts.

  ‘Wouldn’t she?’ Jack interrupts sharply.

  They exchange a look. ‘I know she’s jealous of Jessie, but she wouldn’t rat her out to the press. That’s the lowest of the low.’

  Agnes gets out of the car and yanks Jack’s door open. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions,’ she says. ‘The paps are slippery little suckers.’

  She steps aside and I feel deflated as Jack climbs out, leaving my right-hand side cool from the absence of his body. I edge out of the car after him.

  We go to the games room. I call Johnny while Agnes goes up to the house to tell her mum we’re home. Jack sits over in the corner, absent-mindedly plucking his guitar strings as he waits for me to finish.

  ‘I’ll send Davey to collect you,’ Johnny snaps when I’ve filled him in. I can tell he’s angry that I went out without Davey tonight, against his better judgement.

  ‘There’s no rush.’

  ‘Half an hour, max,’ he warns, ending the call.

  I turn around, and look at Jack. I sigh heavily.

  ‘You alright?’ he asks.

  ‘Not really. This is all too weird.’

  I wander over to him. He’s leaning against the wall with his guitar in his hands, his legs stretched out and crossed in front of him.

  He starts to play a jaunty little tune and then he begins to sing, and I laugh out loud when I realise what the song is and who it’s by: One Direction. He doesn’t know all of the words, but he makes some of them up and it’s so funny. He sings the penultimate line of the chorus, ‘Tonight let’s get some . . .’

  I join in for the last line of ‘Live While We’re Young’.

  He gives his guitar one last strum and grins up at me as my heart flips over and over. I want to hate him, but I can’t. He props his guitar up against the wall and stands up, coming towards me with a raised eyebrow.

  I shake my head with amusement as he reaches me, grinning down at me. ‘You’re a shithead,’ I tell him as he puts his hands on my waist.

  Agnes chooses that moment to come back into the games room.

  ‘Jeez, Jack,’ she chastises. ‘Hasn’t she been through enough?’

  He sighs loudly, and pretends to be frustrated, but he winks at me.

  Agnes passes me a large glass of something red and fizzing on ice. I hope it’s alcoholic.

  ‘Cranberry and lemonade,’ she says.

  No such luck.

  We go and sit on the grass slope and look down at the multi-coloured city lights. Jack is sitting between us. He strikes a match and I glance across at his face, lit by the flame’s orange glow.

  ‘Urgh, do you have to smoke?’ Agnes complains, shifting away from him. ‘You’re starting to stink like Drew,’ she says of their older brother.

  ‘Did you speak to him last night?’ Jack asks with interest.

  Last night? Oh, at the All Hype gig. I wonder who he was.

  ‘Briefly. He asked me to go to lunch with him sometime.’

  ‘That’d be good.’

  She doesn’t say anything and I feel bad for her, being estranged from her dad and her brother, just like Charlotte is estranged from her mum. It’s no way to live.

  ‘My mum died in January,’ I say slowly. Jack inhales sharply on his cigarette and out of the corner of my eye I see Agnes leaning forward to look across at me. ‘She would never tell me who my real dad was. And when she died, I hated her for that . . . and for leaving me.’ I whisper the last bit. I look across at Agnes. ‘If there’s any chance at all that you can make amends with your brother and your dad, do it,’ I urge. ‘Because they could be gone tomorrow.’ I stare back at the view. ‘My stepdad was the one who told me about Johnny. I’ve treated him badly ever since Mum died – and before, probably – but he’s a good guy.’

  My phone starts to ring and I sigh, pulling it out.

  ‘Miss Pickerill?’

  ‘You know, I keep meaning to tell you to call me Jessie,’ I say wryly to Davey.

  ‘As you wish,’ he replies warmly. ‘I’m outside the gates. Can Mr or Miss Mitchell buzz me in?’

  ‘I’ll be with you in a bit.’ I end the call.

  ‘I’ll walk you out.’ Jack gets up.

  ‘Keep your hands to yourself,’ Agnes mutters, also standing.

  I smirk and glance up at him as he rolls his eyes.

  ‘I’ll call you,’ she says to me. ‘We’ll catch up again.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ I reply with a smile, and then Jack and I walk around the side of the house towards the courtyard-cum-driveway. I can see up ahead that there’s a control panel on the side of the gate.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he tells me. ‘The paps are probably still out there.’ I hang back as he goes ahead to press the button. Davey drives in and Jack closes the gates again, keeping the prying eyes out.

  Jack jogs back over to me while Davey gets out of the car and opens the back door. I start towards him.

  ‘Wait,’ Jack says to me, holding his hand up and making me halt in my steps. ‘She’ll be there in a minute,’ he calls over his shoulder to Davey. Taking my arm, he leads me back around the side of the house where it’s more private.

  ‘What is it?’ I ask, confused.

  His brow is furrowed. ‘Can we start again?’

  ‘In what way?’ I ask.

  ‘Let’s hang out. Go see a movie or something.’

  ‘What about Eve? What about your band? Isn’t that going to make things difficult?’

  He sighs and stares at me directly. ‘You’re only here for, what? Another week or so?’

  ‘And then I’ll be gone again. That’s pretty convenient, hey?’ I raise one eyebrow at him.

  He shrugs. ‘You’ll be back.’

  I sigh with regret. ‘I’ve gotta go.’ I nervously smooth the front of my dress down and then remember it’s not my dress. ‘Shit! I’m still wearing your sister’s dress!’ I hastily glance towards the courtyard where Davey’s waiting.

  ‘Give it to me next time I see you,’ he says. ‘I’ll pass it on.’

  ‘Or I could give it to her next time I see her,’ I reply with meaning.

  He looks momentarily downcast. I undo the necklace and take off the bracelets. ‘You can give her these, though.’

  ‘Why don’t I give her the dress now, too?’ he asks cheekily, eyeing me up and down before laughing at the look on my face. ‘Come on, Jessie,’ he pleads, his shoulders slumping. ‘Let me take you out on a real date.’ He doesn’t give up, does he?

  ‘Fine,’ I snap with a melodramatic sigh. ‘But only if you promise to sing One Direction to me again.’

  He perks up and my heart flips. ‘Baby say yeah, yeah, yea-eah . . .’ he sings softly.

  ‘No, you can’t kiss me,’ I interject, knowing where he’s going with the lyrics to ‘Kiss You’.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, trailing the fingertips of his right hand down my bare arm and sending a shiver up and down my spine.

  I step away from him. ‘Yeah. I’m sure.’

  When I’m safely back inside the limo with Davey, I exhale loudly. I can’t believe my willpower was that strong. You’re a tough little cookie, Jessie Pickerill, I think to myself with a smile.

  Jessie Jefferson, I silently find myself correcting.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Stop saying that!’ I laugh. I’m o
n the phone to Natalie and she finally – finally – believes me.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Stop saying that, too,’ I reply with a smile. This has been the most repetitive conversation of my life.

  ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Natalie. Snap out of it!’

  ‘When are you coming home again?’ At last she has something new to say.

  ‘A week on Sunday.’

  ‘I saw Tom yesterday, looking very fit, tanned and utterly gorgeous. He asked after you.’

  Despite my rollercoaster ride with Jack, this makes me feel happy. ‘He texted me from Ibiza,’ I reveal.

  ‘No! Did he really?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I sigh. Then I tell her about Jack.

  ‘Whoa,’ she says, and I don’t quite know if it’s whoa good, or whoa bad. ‘Do you have any pics of him?’

  ‘Look up All Hype online. He’s the guitar player with the black hair.’

  ‘OK, I will.’

  I hear Johnny shout for me from downstairs. And there’s something about the tone of his voice that makes me think it’s urgent.

  ‘I’ve gotta go,’ I say quickly. ‘I’ll call you again soon.’

  ‘OK,’ she says.

  ‘Bye.’ I hang up quickly, then run to the door. ‘I’m here!’ I shout over the landing wall to Johnny in the living room below.

  ‘Can you come down?’ he asks, his voice strained and his expression tense.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask quickly, hurrying along the landing and down the stairs. Meg is sitting on the sofa, cuddling Phoenix to her and rubbing his back. She looks upset.

  ‘My dad’s had a heart attack,’ Johnny tells me.

  ‘Oh no,’ I breathe.

  ‘He’s in hospital,’ he says. ‘They think he’ll pull through.’

  ‘OK,’ I reply. Phew.

  ‘I’ve got to go to him,’ Johnny says, glancing at Meg. She stares back at him with compassion, then she looks at me.

  ‘We’ve all got to go,’ she says gently. ‘The boys and me.’

  Obviously, I don’t know him, so that’s fair enough. But hang on . . . What are they saying?

  ‘Have I got to leave too?’ Finally it sinks in.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Meg says.

  ‘I don’t know how long I’ll have to be in the UK, but it could be some time,’ Johnny says softly, as all of this computes. ‘More likely to be weeks rather than months, but that still takes you into your school term.’

  But what about Jack? What about Agnes? I’ve just got to leave?

  ‘Obviously we can see each other while we’re in the UK,’ he says. ‘But I’m afraid we’ve all got to leave LA today. There’s always the next holidays,’ he continues to speak, but inside I’m a mess. ‘Maybe you could come back for Christmas?’

  I look up at him in a daze and see him glance at Meg. She nods in agreement.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says, touching my arm. ‘But you’ve got to go and pack. Carly can help you. We’re leaving in a couple of hours.’

  ‘I don’t need any help,’ I reply automatically, and then I go back upstairs to my room, my mind reeling. I can’t believe this is it. This is me going home. I feel sick as I pull my suitcase out of the wardrobe and start to pack away my things.

  I’m done quickly – packing everything I’ve bought and brought with me. When I’m ready, I grab my phone and slump down on to the carpet, my back against the wall.

  I dial Jack’s number.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charms,’ he says when he answers, and I know he’s smiling.

  ‘I’m going home,’ I tell him sadly.

  ‘When?’

  ‘Now. Today.’

  ‘Why?’ He sounds taken aback. ‘Is this because of Lissa?’

  ‘Lissa? No. Why do you say that?’

  ‘We think she was the one who told the press you were on your way to Johnny’s. Agnes has been leaving shitty messages on her phone all morning.’

  My heart sinks even further. I knew I couldn’t trust Lissa, but her betrayal is still difficult to bear. She must really despise me.

  ‘No, it’s not about Lissa,’ I reply. ‘Johnny’s father has had a heart attack. He’s got to go and see him, and obviously I can’t stay here alone.’

  ‘No way. Can’t you . . . Isn’t there . . . You could come and stay with us?’

  I laugh out loud, despite myself. ‘I don’t think that would go down too well with Johnny. He doesn’t think very highly of you,’ I point out.

  ‘Mmm.’ Is he squirming? ‘We didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye.’

  ‘What, like the last time?’ I ask without amusement. ‘You cheered yourself up pretty quickly after that. I’m sure you’re capable of doing it again.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he says gruffly, falling silent for a bit before finally asking: ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘Christmas. Maybe even when I have my school half term in a couple of months.’ Johnny did say holidays.

  Pause. ‘That’s not so bad.’

  ‘Are you better at emails than you are at texts?’ I still remember the bluntness of his text when I told him I stayed.

  ‘Kinda,’ he replies. ‘But yeah, let’s stay in touch this time. You can’t escape me by running off to another country.’

  I bite my lip. ‘Oh no, what about Agnes’s dress? I’ll ask Johnny’s PA to send it,’ I decide.

  ‘I’ll tell her. She’ll want to email you too, you know.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ I reply with a smile. And I would. I really would.

  Jack and I have unfinished business, I think to myself as we hang up, and I’m immediately hit with a sense of déjà vu as I remember that that’s exactly what I thought about Tom when I left England to come here.

  I exhale loudly and look around the room one last time, before kneeling on my suitcase and struggling to zip it closed. I manage. Just.

  Barney is jumping up and down outside his bedroom door when I emerge, tugging my weighty bag behind me.

  ‘We’re going on a plane! We’re going on a plane!’ he shouts, and I wish I had his enthusiasm.

  ‘I know, cheeky monkey. Are you excited?’

  ‘Yeah!’ he shouts, running back into his room. I smile as I pass, glancing in to his bedroom to see that, for once, Meg has enlisted Carly’s help with packing his things. We really must be in a hurry.

  ‘You ready?’ Meg calls to me, as I pass Phoenix’s room.

  ‘I think so.’ I leave my suitcase on the landing and go inside. Phoenix is babbling away to himself in his cot. He’s usually asleep at this time, but there’s too much going on today.

  ‘Davey’s going to take the luggage separately,’ Meg tells me as she packs nappies and baby wipes into a bag. I wander over to the cot and peer down at Phoenix, who smiles up at me. ‘We’re going by helicopter,’ she says, as I tickle his chin and make him giggle.

  ‘Helicopter?’ I look over at her.

  She smiles at me. ‘It lands on the roof. It’ll avoid us being tailed by paps the whole way on the road.’ She doesn’t look impressed. ‘By the time Davey gets to the airfield with our bags, we’ll already be on the plane.’

  ‘Are they still outside the gates?’ I ask worriedly. A bunch of cars followed us all the way home last night, and there were even more paparazzi waiting at the gates, but they couldn’t see me inside the darkened glass of the limo’s windows.

  ‘I’m afraid so. It was like this when the press found out about Barney. But it’ll blow over. Hopefully when you come back at Christmas, everything will have calmed down.’

  ‘Hopefully,’ I murmur. She didn’t mention half term, but maybe I can swing it somehow. Christmas seems so far away.

  ‘Even if you had stayed, it would have been hard for you to go anywhere,’ she points out.

  That gives me a little comfort. But not much.

  Libby rings me when we’re in the living room, listening out for the helicopter.

  After wai
ting longer than I thought I’d have to for her call, I’m now too preoccupied to talk.

  ‘Hi,’ I answer, tapping my foot on the floor. I’m sitting on the sofa next to Johnny, who’s also tapping his foot on the floor. We both have magazines in our hands, but neither of us appear to be reading.

  ‘Hi,’ she says.

  ‘I can’t really talk right now,’ I tell her bluntly.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner,’ she blurts out.

  I close my eyes briefly. It’s a relief to hear her say that. I get up and go out of the living room door to the terrace.

  ‘It’s just that I still feel like I don’t know you any more,’ she says quickly.

  I nod, even though she can’t see me. ‘I get it,’ I reply. ‘If we’d been close, like we used to be—’

  ‘I would have called you every day,’ she finishes my sentence for me.

  There’s a helicopter in the distance. I wonder if it’s ours?

  ‘I’m coming home,’ I tell her. ‘We’re leaving today. Johnny’s dad has had a heart attack.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘I think he’s going to be OK, but it means I have to leave sooner than I was supposed to. Can we catch up when I get back? There’s so much I want to tell you.’

  The helicopter is coming closer.

  ‘That would be great.’

  Johnny comes out on to the terrace with Phoenix in his arms, closely followed by Barney. ‘Look, helicopter!’ he says.

  ‘Copter!’ Barney replies, jumping up and down.

  ‘Here, put these on,’ he says to me, passing me my hat and sunglasses. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘Was that Johnny?’ I hear Libby say in my ear. She sounds shell-shocked.

  ‘Yeah.’ I pull the hat on and pop on my sunnies.

  ‘Oh my God, Johnny Jefferson is your dad,’ she says, as though it’s only just hit her. I know how she feels.

  I smirk. ‘I’ll see you soon,’ I say.

  And then the noise of the helicopter landing on the roof drowns out our goodbyes.

  As we take off, headsets on and the pilot’s voice in our ears telling us about the flight time, I look back down at Johnny’s ultra modern house, gleaming white in the baking hot afternoon sun. There are still a few paparazzi waiting outside the gates, despite Davey’s diversion, and their cameras are pointed up at us.