Jojo's French Escape

by Lorraine Wilson

  Everyone knows that things said during sex can’t really be relied on. Don’t they?

  Aargh. Great, so now I’m feeling needy as well as selfish for wanting to put myself before what’s best for my friend/maybe, probably boyfriend.

  ‘It’s fine, honestly it is. It’ll be good for the book.’ I force a smile. ‘Just … you know, try to keep me out of it, if that’s okay? I really don’t want to have anything to do with the show or anyone associated with it, ever again.’

  ‘Except for me, I hope?’ Cal replies lightly.

  ‘Yes, of course, except for you.’ I roll my eyes and lightly swat his arm.

  ‘Phew.’ He exaggeratedly wipes his brow, but I swear I see a momentary micro-expression of real relief. I feel some genuine relief myself. The fact he even offered to give it up suggests my deepest paranoid fears of an evil conspiracy are completely unfounded. Then I think about Cal meeting Aiden, and Aiden and Sally staying in the area, and any feelings of relief slip through my fingers like wispy dandelion seeds blowing away in the wind.

  ‘You know, there is another way to deal with all this.’ Cal says.

  ‘What?’ I sink back down onto the bed and ask warily, my internal antenna clicking into action. Is this where I get to see Cal’s endgame, his casual but very convenient suggestion of a plan that benefits him?

  Stop it, JoJo, I scold myself. Cal offering to give it up wasn’t a bluff.

  ‘Confront Aiden and Sally, have it out with them, stand up for yourself instead of rolling over and playing dead.’

  ‘You think that’s what I’m doing here? Just rolling over and playing dead?’ I narrow my eyes at him.

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No,’ I retort angrily. Cal says nothing and the silence irritates me into self-justification. ‘Creating distance from my old life isn’t the same as giving in.’

  ‘If you say so.’ He pulls a face and anger flares into life inside me.

  ‘You don’t know what it was like, you don’t know. I had to get away.’ I don’t move away from Cal again, but my limbs are rigid and my jaw tight.

  ‘Yes, you needed some distance, some time and privacy to heal, I get that.’ Cal’s tone is gentler now.

  ‘But?’

  ‘You’ve had that time. Now do you want to spend the rest of your life unhappy and hiding?’ His gaze pierces me and his words sting.

  ‘Of course I don’t want to have to hide and I don’t want to be unhappy,’ I reply with irritation. ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘Do you have to hide? I get that you needed to for a while but how long for? Will you still be hiding in the kitchen in a year’s time? Five years’ time? Ten years’? How long are you planning to stay a victim?’

  ‘I … I don’t know. I’m not.’ I shake my head, totally furious, not sure why I was obsessing over whether Cal loves me or what I mean to him. Right now, I hate him. Hate him for asking these questions. Hate him for talking as though I have a choice. ‘It’s really not that simple.’

  I get what he’s doing. He’s calling me a victim to annoy me, to annoy me into proving him wrong.

  ‘It’s your choice.’ Cal shrugs. ‘You can stay hidden and never risk being hurt again. Good luck with that, by the way. I’m not sure life really works like that and there’ll be a price you pay for hiding.’

  Reluctantly I nod mutely. I know that’s true. The price of loneliness, of disconnection from my family and friends and losing a sense of my place in the world, losing my sense of myself … they’re all part of the price tag I’ve needed to pay to stay safe.

  ‘Or do you face this head-on, now that it’s not so raw?’

  Not so raw? When he just rubbed salt in my wounds himself and saw me flinch?

  But … I suppose it’s sort of, a little bit true. Maybe. I’m not as devastated as I was even six months ago. I’m stronger than I was.

  ‘Why does it matter? Why do you even care what I do?’ The snake inside me is still spoiling for a fight.

  ‘You matter, JoJo,’ Cal says calmly, refusing to rise to the bait. ‘You’re important.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Of course I don’t matter. There are billions of humans. What does it matter if I decide to spend the rest of my life in hiding, under a rock? Or under a duvet, preferably. I’m insignificant.’

  He pauses, regarding me thoughtfully.

  ‘You’ve heard of the Butterfly Effect, yes?’

  ‘What?’ I frown. ‘Yes, I think so. Something about if a butterfly flaps its wings it can affect weather systems on the other side of the world? Cause hurricanes and that sort of thing?’

  ‘Pretty much. So, if a butterfly can have an impact rippling out to potentially affect world weather systems then what makes you think what you do doesn’t cause ripples that matter too?’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’

  ‘What you do causes ripples, whether you realise it or not. You can hide under a duvet for the rest of your life if that’s what you really want, JoJo, but that has a ripple effect all of its own. Everyone matters. You matter. You matter to me.’

  ‘I don’t know if …’ The words wither on my lips and I press my mouth and eyes shut, trying to hold the wave of emotion at bay. His words affect me, they stir and they shake me. And closed lips and eyelids are no barrier. I don’t know about it not being raw. This feels pretty bloody raw to me. But Cal does have a point. I’ve been putting not just my phone but my whole life on mute for so long, and it has been taking its toll. I haven’t felt like myself for so long.

  ‘What don’t you know?’

  ‘I don’t know if I can do it,’ I reply bleakly, feeling wretched.

  ‘What’s the worst that can happen? Hasn’t the worst already happened?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Well, I can’t decide for you. It’s your choice.’ Cal sighs and reaches out for me. ‘I just want you to be free, not living in fear and hiding as though you’ve got something to be ashamed of. Them coming here … well, maybe it’s a sign it’s time to do something, you know?’

  I feel like I’m disappointing him but this … this is huge and it’s not a decision I can make lightly. I can’t do this just to please Cal.

  If I do it for anyone, I’ll be doing it for myself.

  It’s not like I’m heartbroken any more. Aiden isn’t even in the same league as Cal, but I can’t shake the feeling that the new life and new love I’ve been nurturing will be tainted somehow by Aiden and Sally. That they’ll reach out through Cal to crush it and snatch me back into the dark vortex of their influence. They’ve sucked so much life out of me already. I very nearly lost myself. I might have … if Poppy hadn’t taken me in.

  ‘I don’t want them ruining my life here.’ I sigh into his chest. ‘I feel like I’m just starting to get back on my feet again and they’re swooping over me like the bloodsucking life-force vultures they really are.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is you’re on the fence about how you feel about them?’ Cal laughs and I join in, glad that some of the heavier tension dissipates with our laughter. I want to get back to the earlier intimacy of the evening. I want to make the most of our time.

  ‘You know, I’m still not sure exactly why you do TV cookery shows,’ I say, still trying to quell my earlier doubts about the convenient timing of everything.

  ‘Because I love it. It’s my passion.’

  ‘TV?’ I frown. He’s never struck me as someone who wants to be famous for its own sake.

  ‘No, the cooking.’ He sighs. ‘I must admit I’d hoped the TV deal would give me a platform to share that passion, get people inspired to use good ingredients, buying locally. Everything we’re trying to do at The Barn, basically. The concepts I hope will come across in the book.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘It’s too much about appearances, the glamour of it, getting to know the “right” people.’ He shrugs. ‘I’m not so good at that side of it.’

  ‘You’re great at talking to people.’
>
  ‘I’m not great at talking bullshit. I don’t know. I want to get this book out, that’s my goal at the moment and I want to see it through. But who knows what I’ll do after that.’ He strokes the side of my face tenderly. ‘Maybe it might be nice to spend more time here. Cook at The Barn, keep it small and simple, live the French dream.’

  My breath hitches. ‘With me? You want to be with me or is this nothing to do with me?’ The question hammers in my skull but I don’t dare voice it. ‘Maybe’ is an awfully equivocal word. The moment is poignant, heavy with meaning, yet I still can’t open my mouth and ask. I’m too afraid I’m being delusional, making too much of this.

  Like before.

  Like with Aiden.

  Instead I rest my head on his chest.

  ‘Sounds good,’ is all I can say, my heart thumping so fiercely I’m afraid he might notice.

  I wake from a nightmare drenched in sweat, heart pounding, feeling utterly overwhelmed. It takes a few minutes for my pulse to slow to a reasonable rate and for me to remember that the nightmare isn’t really happening. Aiden was in the dream, filming me with Cal and saying how the footage was going to make me famous again. Then there were loads of reporters and paparazzi all shoving their way into my bedroom, jostling to get the best shot of me. And I was naked, of course …

  It felt so real. So gut-wrenchingly, achingly real. All the emotions I experienced when I found out about the sex tape come flooding back.

  Fuck.

  I get up quietly so as not to wake Cal, go to the bathroom and splash cold water over my face. I can’t do this. No way can I willingly put myself into the spotlight again. Maybe I’ll have to keep my distance from Cal if I want to avoid being dragged into the media circus again.

  Back in the bedroom my heart contracts as I look at Cal still asleep in bed. How can I bear to keep my distance from him? He’s given me hope of a different future, a life in which I might actually be happy and confident enough to hold my head up high.

  But … the emotions of the nightmare linger. I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure I can be brave enough to face this head on, head up …

  I crawl into bed next to him. I’ll tell him in the morning that I really need time to think about things, to work out if I can even still do this with him. For one more night I can pretend that everything is normal. That the bubbles of hope I’ve been experiencing recently haven’t been burst, bumping me back down to earth. I’m still feeling a bit shaky from the nightmare but as I snuggle into Callum’s side, resting my head on his chest, I feel my heartbeat gradually go back to normal. I can’t sleep though. My mind is racing.

  Would staying away from Cal mean I’d have to stay away from Les Coquelicots as well? After the video footage anyone can track me down to Mirepoix and after that it’s no distance to St Quentin. The thought of losing my new life makes me feel sick. Where would Flump and I go?

  But it’s the thought of losing Cal that really twists my stomach. I don’t want to give him up, I don’t. I can’t, but … The memories of the awfulness of those months after the media storm broke are still so painfully raw. I can’t face that again either.

  I just can’t do it.

  So … what do I do now? Neither choice feels palatable or possible. There’s got to be another way. There must be. I toss and turn for the rest of the night and eventually watch the pale grey light of pre-dawn cast shadows in the room and lie awake until I feel Cal stirring next to me.

  Eager to avoid any more difficult questions I slip out of bed to get my phone from where I’d left it charging. When I turn the ‘do not disturb’ off I find I’ve got six missed calls and a text from Annabel.

  Sorry JoJo it’s bad news – Gran had a heart attack last night and died before the ambulance could get her to hospital. When do you think you can get home?

  xx

  Chapter 14

  ‘Where you grew up becomes a big part of who you are for the rest of your life. You can’t run away from that. Well, sometimes the running away from it is what makes you who you are’

  Helen Mirren

  Lying in my old bedroom at Mum and Dad’s the night before Gran’s funeral I’m ashamed because I should be mourning her but instead I’m numb. Somehow it hasn’t really hit me yet, it doesn’t feel real. Instead all I can think about is Cal and how I could never give him up. And then about how I can’t stay with him, simply can’t face the attention again.

  It’s late but I text Cal anyway.

  How’s Flump? Did you get him to eat anything in the end?

  A reply comes back almost instantly.

  He’s fine, asleep on my chest at the moment … I’m still awake because I had to roast a chicken for the little sod! I swear he’s the most fussy customer I’ve cooked for! Are you okay? How’s things at home?

  I smile, thinking about Flump holding out for roast chicken. I think it’s really sweet that Cal stayed up to roast him one; I think he’s really getting quite fond of him. I’m sure the other dogs all stayed up and claimed severe hunger pangs too, despite having actually eaten their dinners.

  Thanks so much for doing the chicken for him, I can stop fussing about him now. I’m okay-ish I suppose. I know I should be focusing on Gran but it’s hard, I’m worrying about seeing everyone again. Or rather everyone seeing me.

  I bite my lip as I cradle my phone, waiting for my lifeline to flash into action again. Just how did Cal come to mean so much to me in such a short space of time? It’s a scary kind of wonderful. My phone beeps and I look at the screen.

  You know people only have the power to hurt you if you give it to them.

  Really? Great. He keeps coming out with all this life advice and I’m sure it’s true but God, he makes it sound so easy. Like I can just decide not to care about all the vile things people have said.

  You make it sound so easy!

  I just about manage not to add an eye-rolling emoji.

  I never said it was easy. Shame I can’t be there with you for moral support.

  My heart surges, a flare of warmth in response to his words. Though his presence would inevitably lead to more drama I still appreciate the thought. Is he really as okay about being linked to a disgraced reality star and her tawdry baggage as he seems?

  I wish you were here too. But Flump needs his personal chef in attendance so my needs must come second! Night night xx

  His reply is quick again.

  Haha re my new job title.

  Btw here are a couple of photos of Flump trying to hitch a ride on Maxi’s blanket. Maxi was dragging it across the floor and Flump decided to jump on. Oh, and one of Pickwick with his dinosaur toy, staring up at me in that pleading, cute way he has of making you do exactly what he wants. Hope they make you smile!

  Night xx

  I send back a smiling emoji and a heart emoji.

  I do have a daft smile on my face in real life too. Cal is so sweet with the dogs. With the text conversation over I’m missing him already, which is just ridiculous. I want him so much it hurts. I keep getting flashes of memory accompanied by sharp erotic charges – his fingers stroking my skin, tangled in my hair, in between my legs … Then remembering how it felt to have him inside me, on top of me, under me … holding me in his arms after sex … The longing the memories stir in me is so visceral I can scarcely breathe.

  I’ve never loved like this before, I didn’t even know it was possible, and it’s freaking me out. I’m vulnerable again, in spite of my best efforts. I’m at Cal’s mercy. Maybe there is no true love, no intimacy without real vulnerability. That’s how it is, and I just have to deal.

  My mind turns again to my favourite of the memories, to lying in bed with Cal after sex. I would never have had him down as a cuddler but I’ve become addicted to those post-sex cuddles. The memories are so vivid I can practically feel Cal lying next to me in bed, our legs entwined and my soft curves curled snugly around his firmer body. The peace of those moments floods me as I recall them. Nothing bad can happen in this pe
aceful post-sex space. There is only Cal and I in this bubble; no one can hurt me, and I’m flooded with a deep contentment. If only I could stay there forever, never break the spell.

  I can’t give up Cal. I just can’t.

  I won’t.

  I stare at my old bookshelves, still piled with my childhood books, even though this room is now used as a guestroom. I don’t want Cal to be relegated to just another piece of my past. I try to imagine a future without him, and … I can’t bear it. Something inside me threatens to curl up and die if I take the no-Cal option.

  I never knew it could be like this. That a wide smile could make me light up inside, whatever my mood. That love would make everything brighter, sharper, more joyful as it injected colour into my landscape. That its potential withdrawal threatens to drain the colour to grey, to dim the brightness and damp down joy.

  I’m not sure that thinking this through is doing me any good. It hasn’t got me anywhere. I can’t be with Cal because his celebrity lifestyle comes with a price I can’t bear to pay and I can’t be without him either because, well, frankly I’d rather die.

  In vain I struggle to find another, third option. There has to be one. There must be.

  I lie awake, unable to get to sleep, staring out of the window at the sky above the neighbours’ rooftops. It’s nothing like the deep black of the night sky back home in rural France. If I close my eyes, I can picture the myriad stars of that night sky, both brighter and so much more plentiful than I’ve ever seen before. There the only constant night light source is the moon but here in the London commuter belt the sky is tinged by the faint orangey glow from lampposts and other light pollution.

  Home. That’s odd. I wonder at what point England stopped being ‘home’ for me. I know for sure that France and Les Coquelicots feel like home for me now. And Poppy and Leo feel like family, not to forget all the animals. Leo’s parents, Madame and Monsieur Dubois, were so kind to me when the reporters came sniffing around last summer and they let me stay with them in their vast and scarily elegant château until it all blew over. I dare say if you grow up with it it’s not intimidating but for a girl who grew up in a suburban semi in a road of identical houses it was pretty daunting. The Dubois put me at ease though and were so kind.