Johnny grips my hands tighter. I feel numb.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers.
‘Tell me everything,’ I reply in a dull voice.
Wendel is based in London, and yesterday he spoke to an English man called Stuart Taylor, who claimed that Johnny is the father of his stepdaughter, Jessica Pickerill. Wendel didn’t want to alarm Johnny immediately, so he worked through the night in the UK, checking as many facts as he could. He confirmed that Stuart’s wife, Candice, was killed in a tragic accident just over five months ago, leaving behind her only daughter. Stuart claimed that Candice – Candy – was one of Johnny’s original groupies when he first kicked off his career with Fence. He said that Candy fell pregnant, but by then, Johnny had gone on tour in Europe, and Candy, feeling sickened about being just another one of Johnny’s many groupies, decided to raise the baby on her own. As the years went by, she became increasingly fearful that her daughter would choose to leave home and live with her rock star father if she should ever find out the truth. So Candy kept it hidden. Now Stuart has told Jessica everything. And she wants to meet her dad.
All of the blood has drained from my face. ‘Do you remember her?’ I whisper. ‘Candy?’
Johnny looks away, but nods. ‘Yeah. I remember her.’
I feel like I’m going to throw up. ‘So it’s true?’
He doesn’t answer immediately. ‘There’s a chance that it is.’
‘But… But… What if she slept with someone else? What if this girl isn’t yours?’ My words come out in a rush.
‘That’s possible of course. Wendel is arranging for a paternity test.’
I wrench my hands away from Johnny. He puts his hand on my shoulder, but I shrug him off. ‘Don’t touch me!’ I blurt, violently edging away.
‘Fuck,’ he mutters, covering his face with his hands.
‘Don’t you feel sorry for yourself!’ I all but shout. ‘I should have known this was going to happen when I married you!’
‘But you did marry me!’ he raises his voice in return, his expression fierce. ‘For better or for worse!’
My face crumples and he takes me into his arms.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he murmurs into my hair as a lump forms in my throat and hot tears spring into my eyes. ‘We’ll know as early as next week. It might be nothing to worry about.’
Deep in my heart, though, I know that Johnny will always give me something to worry about.
The next day, Wendel confirms that the paternity test has been delivered direct to the girl’s stepfather. They live in Maidenhead, in Berkshire. She’s only fifteen. I wonder what’s going through her mind, having just discovered that her father is Johnny Jefferson, one of the most recognisable people in the world. I can’t even imagine.
It’ll be a few days before the tests come back. But in the meantime, Wendel emails through a picture of Jessica.
My heart sinks. We don’t need a paternity test. The evidence is right here in front of us. She looks just like her dad. And there’s no doubt in my mind that said dad is my husband.
My best friend Bess calls me on Tuesday afternoon when Johnny is at the studio. Despite the earth-shattering news, he’s determined to continue recording his album.
‘It’s been a pretty shit few days, to be honest,’ I tell her glumly when she asks how I am.
‘What’s up?’ She sounds concerned.
It goes without saying that she’ll never repeat anything I tell her in confidence. ‘Johnny has a daughter.’
‘What?’ She’s aghast.
‘She’s fifteen. Her mother died recently, and her stepfather has only just told her the truth about who her dad is.’
Silence. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Pretty much. The paternity test results will come back in the next couple of days, but I’ve seen a picture. She looks just like him.’
‘In what way?’
‘Same eyes, tousled blonde hair… I don’t know, she just looks like him. She’s very pretty.’
‘Jesus. How’s Johnny taking it?’
I hesitate. ‘He’s a bit knocked for six, to be honest.’
Last night I came downstairs after putting the kids to bed to find Johnny sitting out on the terrace, sucking the life out of a cigarette in much the same way as I’d imagine a vampire sucking the blood out of its victim.
‘Oh, hon,’ I’d said with disappointment.
‘Just don’t,’ he’d snapped, holding his hand up to keep me at bay.
‘It’s okay,’ I’d said gently, going over and taking his hand. It was shaking. ‘Oh, Johnny.’ I bent down and kissed him on the top of his head, then rubbed his rigid back, my heart going out to him. He inhaled a deep breath and exhaled unsteadily. I’ve rarely seen him so cut up. I’d been so hard on him the last couple of days, barely speaking to him, barely looking at him, too hurt and confused to consider that he might need consoling himself. Now I felt fiercely protective and horrendously guilty for pushing him away.
‘It’s going to be alright,’ I’d said, sitting down next to him on the sun-lounger and resting my chin on his shoulder. He didn’t look at me, taking another drag, but blowing the smoke away from me, so I knew he still cared. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, but we will get through this.’
‘I really want a fucking drink,’ he said under his breath and terror pulsed through me. ‘I won’t,’ he said, glancing at me sharply before stabbing his fag out on the stone ground. ‘But I really fucking want one.’
‘We’ll get through this,’ I promised him again, more firmly this time.
‘He’s going to a meeting tonight,’ I tell Bess now. She knows I mean an AA meeting. ‘I think he might start smoking again, which makes me so sad after everything he went through to give up.’
‘Hey,’ she says gently. ‘What are you going to do if the tests come back positive?’
‘I don’t know. I’m sure they will come back positive, but it’s really down to the girl. Her name’s Jessica. I don’t know what she’ll want to do. Presumably she wants to meet Johnny.’ I refrain from bitterly adding, who wouldn’t? I know it’s terrible of me to judge someone I don’t know, but she’s a teenage girl. How could she not be beside herself to discover that her dad is rich and famous? And then I remember that she’s lost her mum and a wave of sympathy crashes through me. I’m all over the bloody place. I’m trying so hard to stay calm and objective, but it’s hard. Johnny and I have only been married a year and a half and now this huge damn curveball has been thrown at us. Our lives will never be the same again. Johnny has a teenage daughter! Of course he’s going to have to see her, to get to know her, to support her. But what will she be like? What if she’s a right little shit, who screws around and is badly behaved near our boys? Seeing Dana again has reminded me how awful it was when she was with Johnny. I couldn’t bear to be back in LA with another loose cannon staying in our house.
Anger surges through me once more, but I try to control it. After last night, I know I have to be rock-solid for Johnny. That’s the way it’s always been. I can’t risk him going off the rails again.
‘Have you told your parents yet?’ Bess asks me.
‘No. Just Kitty.’ She called me after the premiere party. She and Dex snogged each other that night at Chateaux Marmont. They’ve since been on a proper date. But as for telling my parents… ‘I’ll wait until the test results are confirmed.’ Delaying tactics. I’m dreading how they’ll react.
‘Shit,’ Bess says.
‘I really wish you were here,’ I murmur.
She sighs, then: ‘Do you want me to show you something to cheer you up?’
‘Show me something? You’re five and a half thousand miles away, how are you going to do that?’
‘It’s on the internet, you ninny.’ She instantly sounds more perky, and it has a knock on effect of brightening my mood. ‘I can’t believe I’ve only just seen it,’ she adds.
‘Go on, then,’ I say.
‘Right. Go to YouTube
and type in “Tom McFly’s wedding speech”.’
‘Tom from McFly’s wedding speech?’
‘Yeah. Trust me, you’ll love it. Hang on a sec, I’m going to watch it too, so I know which bit you’re crying at.’
‘Crying?’ I ask with alarm.
‘Just put it on,’ she snaps.
I purse my lips and follow her directions.
‘Are you ready?’ she asks.
‘Yep.’ Then I spy the clip length. ‘It’s nearly fifteen minutes long!’
‘Shut up. Okay, press Play on the count of three. One, two, three…’
Unconvinced, I press Play.
Fifteen minutes later…
‘Oh my God, that is SOOOOO cute!’ I squeal into the receiver, wiping away tears of emotion.
‘I know!’ Bess squeals back. ‘I want to marry him!’
‘Me too! I think that is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!’
‘Told you you’d love it,’ Bess says with glee.
‘Are you staring at pictures of puppies again?’
I jump at the sound of Johnny’s voice, spinning around on my swivel chair to see him standing at the doorway, one arm resting on the doorframe.
‘Johnny’s back,’ I tell Bess, sniffing loudly.
‘Don’t tell him about Tom, otherwise he’ll get a complex,’ she warns jokily.
Hmm…
‘Better go. Thanks for cheering me up. Chat tomorrow maybe?’
‘Sure. Call me anytime. Well, not in the middle of the night, obviously. Unless you really need to. If it’s a proper emergency-’
‘Bye, Bess,’ I laughingly interrupt.
‘See ya.’
We hang up. I look back at Johnny to see him standing there and I’m struck by an odd sense of déjà vu, remembering a time from our past when he would come into this office to chat to me, his employee. I was in love with him, then, and it hurt. It really hurt.
It still hurts…
‘What were you watching?’ he asks quietly, seeing the smile slip from my face.
‘Tom from McFly’s wedding speech,’ I reply dully.
He screws up his nose and comes into the office, pulling up the chair next to mine. ‘Tom from McFly?’
‘Yeah.’ I stare at him defiantly. Johnny has always picked on my taste in music, but I’ve always been a pop girl, not a rock chick.
He reaches over and presses Play. Tom starts to talk about how doesn’t know how to write a speech, but he does know how to write a song. And then he starts to sing his entire wedding speech and I love it all over again.
‘Well, I’m glad he’s managed to cheer you up,’ Johnny says sardonically.
‘I adore him!’
‘Fuck me,’ he snaps, reaching over and clicking on Pause. ‘Wasn’t my wedding speech good enough for you?’
‘I would have preferred it if you’d sung a song,’ I tease him, even though, actually, his wedding speech was beautifully heartfelt and made everyone cry, including me.
‘Fucking hell,’ he mutters again, sitting back in his seat and eyeing me. ‘So what do you want to do, get married again?’
‘Are we getting a divorce first?’ I shoot back, raising one eyebrow.
His brow creases. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘I’m only joking!’ I cry, reaching forward and taking his hands, hating how pear-shaped things have been between us.
‘I’ve written you loads of songs,’ he says crossly.
‘I know, I know, and they were lovely…’
‘Lovely?’ He’s appalled at the description and I can’t help but laugh. His face softens. He runs his fingertips down the side of my leg.
I lean towards him and gently rest my forehead against his. My earlier tension and anger feels long gone. I don’t know when it will return, but for now I just want to feel close to the love of my life again.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ he whispers.
I’ve been saying the same thing, but something tells me our lives will never be this perfect, ever again.
A couple of days later, we get the results back. Confirmed: fifteen-year-old Jessica Pickerill is Johnny’s biological daughter.
On Friday night, Johnny fills me in on the meeting Wendel had with her earlier that day in London.
‘She wants to meet me.’
Surprise, surprise.
‘You can’t blame her,’ he says, seeing the look on my face.
‘No, I know.’ I shake my head, feeling bad for letting my bitterness seep through to the surface again. ‘When?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. The sooner the better, don’t you think?’
‘Isn’t she at school? Oh, I suppose she’s breaking up for the holidays soon.’ I answer my own question. ‘But what about our holiday?’
We had planned on going to a private island at the end of July, a sort of reward for all of the time Johnny’s been spending in the studio.
‘She can come afterwards,’ Johnny suggests.
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘What about before? Just for a week?’
‘Really?’ He sounds hesitant. That would mean her coming out next week. ‘Are you sure?’
‘God no, I’m anything but. But I don’t want this hanging over us all summer.’
‘Fair point,’ he says quietly.
‘Sorry, that sounded very selfish,’ I apologise, remembering that there’s a young woman’s feelings to consider, not just mine and my immediate family’s. ‘I imagine she’d rather meet you sooner rather than later, too,’ I add.
‘I’ll ask Wendel to speak to her on Monday.’
‘Okay.’ I think for a moment. ‘I presume he got her to sign a confidentiality clause?’
‘He asked her to keep quiet about it.’
‘Johnny!’ I exclaim. ‘She’s a teenage girl! How is she going to keep quiet about the fact that her dad is a famous rock star?’
‘I don’t know, Meg,’ he replies with frustration. ‘But I don’t feel we can throw legal shit at her when she’s only just found out about me! She is my daughter. It’s not fair.’
My mouth abruptly closes. Johnny has a teenage daughter. The reality of our situation has belatedly sunk in, and its impact feels like a slap across the face.
The next day is Phoenix’s first birthday, and I’ve never felt less like celebrating. I’ve gone from feeling angry and tearful to just tearful. I feel like there’s a perpetual lump in my throat which won’t go away. I would give anything to be back in Henley, living in our own little world in our beautiful old house surrounded by my friends and their children. I returned to LA knowing that I would miss my mummy pals and our playdates, but I told myself that I’d make new friends, go to new play-groups. So far I’ve been too busy settling back into the house and researching schools and nurseries for Barney. Johnny is out all day, and right now I need him more than ever, yet when we’re together, despite the front I’m putting on of being strong, all I feel is distance.
And so we have a little birthday celebration, just the four of us, and I’ve never felt so lonely. I’m fighting back tears when we sing happy birthday, overcome with emotion about this big milestone in my baby boy’s life. I wish we were back home, surrounded by children and babies and our extended family, and blissfully ignorant of a one-time groupie called Candy.
Two days later, Jessica’s flight is booked. She’s coming to LA on Sunday. I nod when Johnny tells me that night. I’ve now gone to feeling strangely detached about the whole thing.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks warily. His fingers are fidgeting and I know he wants to smoke, but he’s trying not to start up again.
‘Did you ever manage to get hold of Santiago?’ He was our pool boy and sometime gardener, and Johnny once went mental when I nicked a cigarette from him.
Johnny frowns. ‘Why are you asking about Santiago now?’
‘We’ve managed to bring back Samuel and Lewis, but what about him? I want him back. I liked him. He was a friend and I don’t have many in this fucking
country!’
My fury hits me like a wall. I’m up and down like a roller-coaster at the moment.
Johnny’s jaw twitches. ‘I managed to get hold of his mum. He’s on a year out travelling.’
I go back to feeling surreally detached again. ‘Maybe we’ll be able to re-hire him when he gets back,’ I say in a monotone voice.
‘Maybe.’ He looks away from me, down at the city lights twinkling in the distance. We’re sitting at the bench table, side by side, with our backs resting against the hard concrete. The baby monitors are glowing green on the table behind us, our sons fast asleep inside the house. The sun is just setting and the sky is orange, but there are no stars, yet. I can hear a far-off police car whizzing through the hills with its siren blazing. We stay silent for a long time, then I feel his eyes on me once more. ‘Are we going to be alright?’
I feel the tension radiating from him as I stare down at the view and ponder this question for a little too long.
I turn to look at him and feel physical pain at the sight of the apprehension in his eyes. I brush my thumb across his warm face. His stubble is prickly under my touch. He hasn’t shaved for days.
‘We’ve been through much worse than this,’ I say, smiling through the sudden onslaught of tears. He exhales in a rush and I realise he was holding his breath, and then he’s crushing my breath out of me as he holds me tightly.
‘I love you,’ I say into his shoulder.
‘I love you, too.’ His deep voice is thick with emotion.
‘We’re going to be okay. Of course we’re going to be okay. I’ll always love you, Johnny. I always have and I always will.’
He hugs me even tighter, and then he’s kissing me as though his life depended on it. I passionately return his kiss and he pulls me to my feet, carrying me a few steps to the lawn sloping away from the house. He lays me down and covers my body with his, trapping me and keeping me exactly where he wants me.