by Paige Toon
‘Johnny saw a photo of Barney and put two and two together. That year was a mess. Christian and I broke up – as you’d expect – and Johnny was with this evil . . . Urgh!’ She grimaces. ‘This complete . . . urgh! Horrible, horrible girl . . .’
Wow, she must’ve been pretty awful to invoke that reaction.
‘But he and I sort of became friends again, although he was still seriously messed up . . . And eventually he sorted himself out, broke it off with the bitch from hell. Sorry.’ She flashes me an apologetic look, but I’m grinning. ‘And he and I got back together.’ She smiles. ‘So that’s it. You know the not-quite-fairy-tale story of our relationship.’
‘Sounds like a whirlwind,’ I comment.
‘Anyway, all I’m trying to say is that I understand why your mum might have felt that keeping the truth about Johnny from you was for the best.’
My insides contract. I didn’t know this is where we were headed and I’m not sure I’m ready to talk to Meg about it. Whatever she and Johnny went through, she doesn’t know anything about my mum.
‘She obviously thought she was doing the right thing—’
‘She was wrong,’ I interrupt. ‘Barney missed out on a year of his dad’s life, but at least he won’t remember that. Phoenix had him from the start. I’m fifteen . . . I shouldn’t have had to make do without a father.’
Bloody hell, I feel like crying again. Meg looks mortified.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I know it’s not your fault. You’re not my mum. But what I wouldn’t give for her to be here, right now, so I could have it out with her . . .’ My voice shakes as I say this, trailing off as the tears spill out of my eyes and run down my cheeks. I angrily brush them away.
‘I’m sorry,’ Meg whispers, rubbing my back. ‘I can’t imagine how you must be feeling, but I’m here for you if you need me. We all are.’
I nod, the lump in my throat too big to say thank you.
Chapter 22
‘Here’s your iPhone back,’ I say later that evening, handing it to Johnny. He’s lounging on the sofa reading The Sunday Times. He must’ve had it brought in especially. ‘Thanks for lending it to me, even if Davey did turn up sooner than expected,’ I add wryly.
He looks amused. ‘Keep it.’ He holds it back up to me.
‘What? Are you serious?’ An iPhone? I think I’m going to pass out with excitement!
‘Annie will help you switch over your contacts in the morning, if you like. She’s good at stuff like that.’
I stare with unbridled glee at the phone in my hands.
‘On the issue of Davey . . .’
I look down to see him regarding me with a serious expression as the newspaper rustles in his hands. ‘You’re fifteen. I don’t know what you get away with at home, but here you’ll stick to a curfew. One o’clock is late. Are we clear?’
I nod meekly, and it’s only afterwards that I realise I succumbed far more easily to Johnny than I ever have with Stu. What’s with that?
We’re all in a flurry the next morning with the packing. Meg won’t hear of Carly or Sharon packing any of the bags for her, and I’m with her on that. I want to make sure I have my very favourite things with me – most of them are the new clothes I’ve bought while I’ve been here. Annie comes to find me in my bedroom, just as I’m zipping up my bag.
‘Johnny says he’s given you the spare iPhone?’ She’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt and is dressed more casually than usual, but she still looks like a pixie with her short, dark hair and twinkling green eyes.
‘That’s right.’ I grab it from my bedside table and smile at her. I decided against calling Jack last night because I didn’t want to appear too desperate. It nearly killed me to resist.
‘Do you want me to change over your contacts while you’re away?’ she asks.
I frown. ‘While I’m away? Is there no chance we can do it now so I can take it with me?’
‘There’s no cellphone reception on the island,’ she says.
‘What?’ My face falls. But how am I going to text Jack? ‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ she tells me sympathetically.
‘What about email?’ His card had his email address.
She shakes her head. ‘Sorry. When Johnny and Meg want to get away, they really want to get away,’ she says.
‘But . . . What if there’s an emergency? What about calling my stepdad?’
‘There will be a satellite phone on the island for emergencies,’ she reassures me. ‘I’m sure you can call your stepdad on that.’
Phew. But what about Jack?
‘So shall I change over your contacts from your old cell so you have your new iPhone ready when you get back? You’ll have to leave them both with me.’ She holds out her hand, but I hesitate. There’s no way I can go for two weeks without letting Jack know that I’m still here.
‘Can I bring them down to you in a minute?’
‘Sure. But don’t be long. I’ll send Davey up for your bag,’ she says, turning to leave.
‘OK,’ I reply, distracted. I’m wondering where I packed Jack’s card. I upzip my bag again and dig around in a panic, upending all of my neatly-folded clothes. My head is swimming and I have no idea where it is. Shit, damn, bollocks! Where the hell is it? Oh God, what an idiot! It’s in my purse. Dur!
Davey knocks on my door and I ask him to hang on while I zip my bag back up. He comes in and takes it, while I hunt out the card in my purse. My heart is beating fast and I make four mistakes as I type the number into a new text message. Johnny calls out to me and I shout that I’m coming. I wish I had more time to think about what to write, but I settle on:
It’s Jessie. This is my new number. I’m still here! I didn’t go home. I’m off on holiday and out of contact for two weeks but then I’ll be back. Hope to see you???
I press send and go out of the room, clutching the phone in my hand. How long before we get to the airport? Argh! I’ve just remembered Annie wants me to hand over my phones now! I can’t! She comes out of the office as I’m walking down the stairs.
‘So, you want to give them to me?’ She nods at the iPhone I’m still holding.
‘Can I take this one with me?’ I ask desperately.
‘There’s no phone recep—’
‘I know,’ I interrupt. ‘But what if someone calls me between here and the airport?’
She regards me with amusement. ‘I can swap your contacts over when you get home, if you like?’
‘That would be great!’ I exclaim, wanting to hug her.
Barney comes awkwardly down the stairs, carrying a Playmobil fire engine.
‘Come on, buddy, you can’t take that,’ Johnny chides. ‘Who’s going to carry it for you?’
‘I will,’ I offer, and Barney flashes me such a cute grin that I forget about the text message I’ve just sent. For all of five seconds. Then it’s on my mind again.
It’s on my mind the entire way to the airport.
‘Waiting for someone to call?’ Johnny asks wryly.
I nod, staring down at the phone. Come on, Jack. Text me back. I’m so preoccupied that I barely take in my surroundings as we climb up the few stairs to the small silver aeroplane in the private airfield half an hour out of the city.
‘You’re going to have to switch that off now,’ Meg says gently as I take a seat in a cream-coloured leather armchair.
Ping! My heart jumps as a message comes in and I scramble to read it.
Wow. Cool. Call me when you get back. Jack.
That’s it? I don’t really know what I expected, but no kisses? Not even an explanation mark?
What am I thinking? He’s not that sort of guy. I know that. I send a quick one back. Will do.
Then I switch off my phone, knowing that I’m going to spend the next two weeks worrying that I shouldn’t have replied to him so quickly.
The beach huts we’re staying in are quite small, but by no means basic. I have one all to myself and it has a large raised b
athtub behind the bed so I can soak myself in bubbles and look out of the front doors to the still ocean beyond. There are a few staff on hand – although Meg tells me there are probably four times as many behind the scenes – but we wake up each morning to fresh fruit and a massage on the beach, followed by snorkelling. I even learn to scuba dive, which opens up an incredible new underwater world.
Our afternoons are spent walking through lush vegetation, chilling out on the beach with one of the many books on the bookshelves in my hut, or going on boat rides around the neighbouring islands. We have dinner on the beach, watching the sun set over the ocean, and eating fresh fish and things like lobster, which I’ve never tried before but have discovered I really, really like.
I feel guilty about Stu, at home in our little house, missing out on a summer holiday and no doubt missing my mum, and probably even me.
I speak to him a couple of times – just quickly, to touch base. The satellite is a great big bulky thing that doesn’t exactly make conversations easy, but it does the job. He tells me that Natalie has been calling for me and that he told her I’m staying with my biological father. She was shocked, he said, but there has been no mention of Johnny Jefferson between them. I’m sure she still thinks I’m pulling her leg about that. I miss her, regardless, and I’m glad she’s been calling for me.
As for Jack, well, I think about him a lot, too. To be honest, the first few days I obsess. But then I start to calm down. I’ll have just over two more weeks left in LA before I go home for the next school term, so what will be, will be. I’ve been through too much with my mum to have to endure any sort of heartache over a boy. I won’t let that happen.
Towards the end of our holiday, I’m lying on the soft sand staring up at the stars. They’re so bright. Brighter than I’ve ever seen. I’m waiting for a falling star. I’ve seen three since I’ve been here, and I know that if I watch and wait for long enough, I’ll see another one.
I hear footsteps pad across the sand and look over to see Johnny approaching.
‘Hey, girl,’ he says, sitting down on the sand next to me. ‘You alright?’
‘I’m good,’ I reply, glancing up at his pale face in the moonlight. He lies back on the sand beside me and we stare up at the stars.
‘I’m trying to spot a falling one.’
He says nothing for a long time, and I’m surprised to hear how choked he sounds when he speaks.
‘Do you ever think your mum is up there, looking down at you?’
Tears automatically spring into my eyes and the requisite lump forms in my throat.
‘I’d like to think so.’ My voice is shaky. ‘But I don’t know.’
‘I still miss my mum,’ he says, and I hear him swallow, trying to compose himself. ‘But it does get easier.’
‘She died when you were a bit younger than me, right?’
‘I was thirteen,’ he reveals. ‘She had cancer, so she was sick for a couple of years before that.’
‘That’s so sad.’
‘I had time to get used to it—’ He stops himself. ‘No,’ he says sharply. ‘There still wasn’t time to get used to it.’ He speaks more gently. ‘It was still a shock when she died. I can’t imagine how you must have felt losing your mum so suddenly.’
I really want to cry now, but the need to talk is stronger so I try to hold back my tears. ‘Were you there when she died?’ I ask, turning my head to look at him. He continues to stare upwards at the bright night sky, but he nods.
‘Yeah, I was there. She was asleep. Or out on drugs,’ he reveals. ‘The nurses had tried to get me to go back to Christian’s house – we were friends, even back then. I was staying with him and his family when she was really ill.’
‘Not with your dad?’
‘No, he came to collect me after the funeral. I had to go down to London to live with him, but I hardly knew him.’ He glances across at me. ‘So I guess I know a little bit about what you’re going through.’
I nod quickly and turn my head upwards again. ‘I wish I’d been there when Mum died,’ I manage to say.
‘Hey.’ He reaches over and takes my hand, but I’m gone. I can’t hold back my tears so I sit up on the sand and clutch my hand to my swollen throat and try to speak through my tears as Johnny sits up beside me. ‘Stu had to go and identify her body,’ I tell him. ‘I didn’t see her again. The casket was closed. I wanted to say goodbye, but Stu wouldn’t let me. She was too . . .’
I can’t speak. I can’t say it out loud. She was cut up. Her beautiful face was all cut up from the broken window falling out on her.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry,’ Johnny says as I cry. He wraps his arm around my neck and pulls me into him and I snot into his T-shirt.
‘I miss her so much,’ I sob. ‘I miss her. I wish she was here. I’m so sad she’s gone and I’ll never get to see her again. I was such a bitch to her!’ I cry.
‘No, you weren’t,’ Johnny says firmly.
‘I was!’ I exclaim. ‘I was always saying horrible things, pushing her away.’
‘You’re a teenager!’ he erupts. ‘That’s what teenagers do! She knew you loved her.’
‘But, what if she didn’t . . .’
‘Of course she did,’ he mutters with a voice wracked with emotion as he holds me tight. ‘She knew you loved her. Don’t you think we all have regrets? I could have been nicer to my mum. I was always going on at her about how she should have stayed with my dad, should have made things work. She even taught me how to cook when she was really sick and all I could do was moan about how I’d rather be playing video games.’ He breathes in deeply, his chest expanding and shaking as he exhales. I don’t need to look at him to know that he’s crying.
‘She knew you loved her,’ I say, muffled into his chest.
‘She did.’ He nods quickly. ‘And Candy did, too. I know you didn’t have time to prepare yourself for her death, but neither did she. And as far as I can tell, that’s a good thing. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt my mum to know that she was dying, to know that she was leaving me with a shitty excuse for a father. I didn’t know him. He was a stranger to me.’
He looks down at me. ‘I don’t want to be a stranger to you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, that I haven’t been here for you. But you probably would have hated me if we’d met years ago. I was screwed-up like my dad. Meg saved me. Meg, Barney and Phoenix saved me. I’m only the man I am now because of them. Thanks to them, I’m ready for this, ready to be here for you. I want to be here for you,’ he says fervently, then he hesitates and his voice is gentler. ‘I want to tell everyone you’re mine,’ he says.
My heart skips a beat.
‘Annie is drawing up a press release,’ he tells me quietly.
I swallow.
‘We’ll wait until we get back to LA before putting it out. OK?’ he asks.
‘Yes.’ My voice comes out as a whisper. Finally! I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Natalie, Em and Libby see the news. And Tom! What will he think?
Johnny reaches over and rubs my tears away. His fingers are rough, as always. ‘I know it’s going to change things for you. I know it’s going to be hard.’
He’s wrong, that’s not what’s going through my mind. I want the world to know he’s my dad. I’m sick of the pretence. I’m proud he’s my dad and I want to shout it through a megaphone.
‘But it’s ridiculous that people are going around thinking you’re my nanny,’ he continues darkly.
I smile at him. ‘I’m ready,’ I say. ‘Really. I want people to know. I hate pretending.’
He smiles and squeezes my shoulder. ‘Good.’
Chapter 23
It’s early August by the time I return to LA, relaxed and bonded with my new family. It’s been a blissful two weeks, having proper quality time together, and it’s exactly what I needed. I feel full of fight and determination and much more like my old self. If Jack isn’t interested, bollocks to him. If he was only into me because I was leaving,
like Lissa said, then I’ll find out soon enough. But I’m not going to let him get to me. I send him a text on the day we get back, keeping it casual.
I’m back in LA if you want to catch up sometime?
That’s not to say I don’t check my phone incessantly until he replies, nearly driving Annie mad when she finally nabs it to swap my contacts over from my old cheapo phone. He replies just as I’m going to sleep and trying not to get myself all worked up about him again. ‘Keep your cool’ is my new mantra.
I’ve got a gig Wednesday night. Come?
I think twice about replying so quickly, but I can’t be bothered to play games, so I type out another message.
Sounds good. Where and what time?
To my relief, he texts me back straight away with the venue and the time. He says he’ll leave a ticket on the door, but he doesn’t offer to come and collect me. I guess he’ll be busy setting up. Either that, or maybe Jack Mitchell has gone cold on me. But he still invited me to his gig and I’ve got nothing better to do for the next two weeks. Anyway, I can give as good as I get.
When I tell Meg and Johnny about my plans, they ask Annie to hold off putting out the press release about me until the end of the week, giving me a couple more days of anonymity so I can go to the gig without being harassed. I’m disappointed to have the news postponed, especially when it feels like I’ve waited an age for it to come out, but I guess it makes sense.
On Wednesday afternoon, while I’m trying to pass the time before I can sensibly start to get ready, I walk past the music studio and hear voices coming from inside. I tentatively push open the door and see Christian sitting at the control desk and Johnny behind the glass screen, hanging his guitar from a strap around his neck. He leans forward to talk into the microphone suspended from the ceiling in front of him.
‘Can you—’ he starts, then he looks past Christian to see me. ‘Jessie, you want to come in? I’m just about to show Christian something I’ve been working on.’
‘Yeah,’ I say enthusiastically, smiling brightly at Christian.
