by Paige Toon
‘I’m in Year Eleven,’ I say.
‘Aah.’ She smiles at Tom and he rolls his eyes, but she doesn’t make another cheeky comment about me being younger.
Becky stays and chats for a bit until I’ve relaxed a little in her company. But only a little. She seems like a big personality and she is four years older than me. Daunting.
‘Anyway,’ she says, getting to her feet, ‘Mum said dinner will be ready soon, so come down.’
‘Will do,’ Tom replies with a smile. He’s clearly very fond of her.
Dinner is surprisingly relaxed, with Caroline relaying occasional amusing anecdotes about Tom and Becky’s childhood. She doesn’t ask about my family situation, and I’m guessing Tom filled her in about my mum, so I’m thankful for that.
Eventually it’s time for us to call it a night.
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ Tom asks me at the doorway while Stu waits in the car. ‘I’m playing footie in Grenfell Park if you want to swing by?’
I give him a wry look.
‘Not to sit on the sidelines like one of my groupies,’ he remembers with a grin. ‘We could hang out afterwards.’
‘Haven’t you had enough of me?’ I ask, smiling.
He reaches down and takes my hand, his thumb skimming across my wrist. ‘Not nearly enough,’ he says with meaning, his face close to mine. He doesn’t kiss me, though, not with Stuart in view.
‘OK.’ I nod. ‘What time?’
‘Two-ish?’
‘I’ll see you there.’
He grins and gives me a quick peck on my lips before I break away from him.
‘Good day?’ Stu asks drily, as I climb into the car.
‘Mmm,’ I reply, looking dreamily out of the window, the feeling of Tom’s lips still buzzing against mine. ‘Very good.’
Chapter 10
By the end of the following week, everyone at school knows that To m and I are a couple. Seeing him every day, I feel like we’ve been together for a lot longer than we actually have. We even talk to each other at night before we fall asleep.
Now it’s Saturday and I’m going over to his house for dinner. I think I’m going to come clean about my dad tonight. Johnny said that I could tell people that I trust. And I trust Tom. Definitely.
Johnny stuck to his word and asked Stu about Tom, which made me feel oddly giddy. It’s surreal to know that my father’s a superstar who’s concerned for my welfare. I don’t think he – or Stu – would be too thrilled to hear that Tom’s mum is out tonight, though, so I’ve kept this information to myself. The thought of being alone with Tom in his room without having to worry about the door being open makes me feel jumpy. In fact, we’ll have the whole house to ourselves because Becky’s not there, either.
‘Hey,’ Tom says with a warm smile when he opens the front door. He looks past me to wave at Stu and I do the same, before watching him drive off down the road. Luckily Stu didn’t insist on saying hi to Caroline.
‘Has your mum left already?’ I ask, as I step into the hall.
‘Just,’ he replies, closing the door behind me. ‘She was late leaving.’
‘Did she know I was coming over?’
‘She helped me cook you dinner,’ he admits with a shy grin, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.
‘You’ve cooked me dinner?’ I grin, as I slip off my jacket and hang it over the banister. ‘I thought we were getting takeaway?’
‘Changed my mind.’ He holds his arms out to me and I step into them, tilting my face up to his. He kisses me gently.
I’m relieved to hear that his mum knows I’m going to be here. I didn’t really relish the thought of going behind her back. But if her date goes badly and she comes home early… Damn, I hope she doesn’t.
‘What have you cooked?’ I ask, pulling away and sniffing the air. There’s something distinctly delicious-smelling coming from the direction of the kitchen.
‘You’ll see.’ He leads me through to the living room where The X Factor is on the telly.
We sit together on the sofa and Tom puts his arms round me, practically pulling me onto his lap. I giggle and snuggle closer to him, turning my face towards the telly.
‘Oi,’ he gently chastises, tilting my chin back in his direction. We kiss, gently at first, while Simon Cowell drones on at someone. Tom fumbles around and the sound cuts off, making me giggle. There goes this week’s viewing.
‘Let me put some music on,’ he says, tapping my thigh so I edge off him.
He lopes over to the speakers and delves into his pocket for his iPhone. I love his body: the boyish but defined biceps that protrude from the short-sleeved T-shirt he’s wearing. He’s so tall that he makes me feel smaller than my five foot six inches. His hair is falling down across his forehead and I want to brush it back from his face. As he sorts out the music and returns to the sofa, I remember that I can.
My fingers slide through his soft hair as The Temper Trap’s ‘Sweet Disposition’ kicks off in the background.
‘I love this song,’ I say.
‘Me too.’
We have pretty similar tastes in music, which I’m pleased about, but I think I respected Jack’s taste even more. There I go again. I wish I could stop comparing Tom to Jack, but, much as I try, the latter is never far from my mind. It’s so confusing. Maybe, when I see Jack at Christmas, I’ll realise that whatever we had is well and truly over.
Hopefully.
It’s not long before Tom’s lips find mine again, and my head is swimming with the reminder that we’re completely alone. His hands move to my waist and I shiver involuntarily as he slides them along my curves. My breathing quickens, but I don’t stop kissing him. Once more he manoeuvres me onto his lap and I wriggle to get comfortable. My legs end up straddling his and shivers rocket down my spine as he pulls me closer. He sighs, shakily, into my mouth, then draws away slightly, moving his hands up to run his fingers through my hair. He smiles crookedly at me and I gaze down at him.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs with a seriousness that makes my insides melt. This has gone past ‘like’ and Jack feels a million miles away.
I bend down to kiss him again, pressing my chest against his. He draws a sharp breath and then his hands are on my waist, edging me away from him. He flashes me a self-conscious smile and I realise as he glances down that, oh, God… I quickly slide off him.
‘Sorry,’ he mutters with embarrassment, adjusting his jeans.
I bite my lip and blush profusely, looking at him from underneath my lashes.
‘That look you’re giving me is not helping,’ he comments, not without humour. It breaks the ice and I laugh lightly and fiddle with my hair.
His head falls back onto the sofa cushion and he gazes sideways at me, his dark eyes burning into mine.
‘I’m going to ruin dinner,’ he whispers.
I look past him to the open-plan kitchen. A thin trail of smoke is coming out of the oven. ‘I think you already have.’
‘Bollocks!’ he exclaims, leaping up from the sofa and rushing over to pull the oven door open. I follow him in time to see more smoke spill out. ‘Argh!’ He looks around hopelessly so I hand him an oven mitt and he draws the dish out. Its contents are charred black on top.
‘We’ll just scrape the burnt bits off,’ I say, feeling sorry for him as he swears and places the dish down hurriedly on the hob. ‘Look, it’s not that bad.’
He peers dubiously at the blackened pieces of chicken as I hunt around for some cutlery to see if I can repair the damage.
We’re in good spirits again soon afterwards because, despite the overcooking, it tastes delicious. We sit at the kitchen table lit by candlelight and he pours me a glass of wine. I feel very grown-up, even though I don’t really like wine that much.
He catches me gazing at him and pauses for a moment.
‘Is it OK?’ he asks, nodding at my food.
‘It’s lovely,’ I reply. ‘Did you really cook this?’
�
�Well, I had quite a lot of help from Mum, but I did peel the carrots.’
‘Is that all?’ I laugh.
‘And the potatoes. I peeled the potatoes.’
‘Wow, that’s really something,’ I joke.
‘I also crumbled up a stock cube.’
‘Gordon Ramsay in the making.’
He laughs.
‘It was nice of your mum to do this,’ I say.
‘She likes you,’ he replies.
I wonder if she liked Isla more… Luckily, before I can even think about asking, he speaks again.
‘I hope I can meet your dad one day. Is he coming back to the UK any time soon?’
‘I don’t know. Not for a while,’ I say, chewing on my lip.
Now’s my chance.
‘What?’ he asks, seeing my expression.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ I say, as his face freezes. ‘About my dad,’ I add.
‘Jeez,’ he exclaims, slumping back in his chair. ‘I thought it was going to be something bad, then.’
‘Hey?’ I’m confused.
‘I thought you were going to tell me you’ve kissed someone else or something.’
‘No!’ I cry, horrified and then amused.
He visibly relaxes. ‘So what about your dad?’ he asks, and then it’s my turn to feel tense again.
I’ve been here before and it didn’t go down well on either occasion. Neither Libby nor Natalie believed me when I told them about Johnny.
‘Actually,’ I say, a brainwave coming to me, ‘it might be easier if I show you.’
‘Show me what?’
‘Who he is,’ I reply, getting up to retrieve my phone from my bag in the hall.
‘Who he is?’ he calls after me like a parrot.
I type some very familiar words into the search engine of my phone. The story about me being a local girl comes up, complete with pictures of me in my sunglasses at the riverside restaurant in Henley.
Nervously, I show Tom the pictures. ‘That’s me,’ I say quietly. He takes the phone from me and scrutinises it, then his eyes widen. He’s completely and utterly lost for words.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,’ I say, but he’s still speechless. ‘I haven’t been able to tell anyone,’ I almost whisper. ‘Libby and Natalie know, but they’ve been sworn to secrecy. I haven’t even told Lou yet,’ I add, to deafening silence. ‘Are you going to say anything?’ I ask finally.
‘I— He— What?’ he splutters. ‘What? How? How?’ he repeats.
‘My mum went out with Johnny before I was born.’ My face warms. ‘She fell pregnant, he went off to become a world-famous rock star,’ I say a touch sarkily, ‘and she didn’t tell me because she didn’t want me to run off and go to live with him.’
‘You’re Johnny Jefferson’s daughter?’ Tom says in not much more than a whisper himself.
‘Yes.’
‘You’re not kidding about this, are you?’ he checks.
‘I swear on my mother’s grave,’ I say solemnly.
‘Bloody hell,’ he exclaims, but my surge of relief is soon replaced with uncertainty.
The way he’s looking at me… It’s different. It’s almost like he doesn’t know me any more.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,’ I say in a small voice. ‘But it’s all been so confusing. Such a strange summer.’
‘Come and sit down,’ he says suddenly, nodding at the sofa.
‘What about dinner?’ I ask.
‘I’ll heat it up later.’ He takes my hand as we fall onto the sofa beside each other.
I tell him everything. How I found out, how I met Johnny’s solicitor, how I went to LA to stay with the Jeffersons for a while. I tell him the truth about my half-brothers and their real names. I tell him about Brian. He listens to every single word, asking questions where appropriate, and I feel a heavy weight that I didn’t even know I’d been carrying lift from my shoulders. I’m so glad he knows everything.
‘Johnny wants to meet you,’ I say finally, and his face freezes comically.
‘He knows about me?’ he asks, flabbergasted.
‘Of course he knows about you,’ I reply.
‘Johnny Jefferson knows who I am?’ he says again, more slowly, as though still not quite believing it. ‘I can’t believe you’re Johnny Jefferson’s daughter,’ he says, unable to take his eyes from mine.
‘Believe it,’ I reply.
He shakes his head with astonishment. ‘You really do look like him, you know.’
I shrug slightly.
‘God!’ he erupts. ‘Weren’t Nina and her friends teasing you about this?’
‘Yes!’
He laughs suddenly, a slightly crazed laugh that I can’t help but join in with. ‘Jesus Christ, what did Mr Taylor say?’
We carry on talking until, to our surprise, we hear the sound of a key in the lock. I realise with dismay that Caroline is home already.
‘Hello!’ she says brightly, appearing at the doorway, her eyes darting between us. She probably thinks we’ve been sitting here, making out.
‘How was it?’ Tom asks her.
‘Great!’ she exclaims, coming into the room.
‘You’re home early.’ He sounds almost accusatory, as though he doesn’t believe her when she says she had a good time.
‘It’s eleven thirty,’ she replies.
‘Is it?’ To m and I both say at once.
‘You didn’t eat your dinner!’ she exclaims, spying the leftovers of our food still laid out on the table.
‘I burnt it,’ Tom replies apologetically, quickly getting to his feet. ‘Sorry, Mum,’ he adds.
‘Oh, dear,’ she says with regret. ‘Are you still hungry? Do you want me to make you something else?’ She looks at me.
‘No, no, I’m fine, thank you,’ I reply, getting up also and feeling bad that we haven’t even cleared the table. ‘I didn’t realise how late it was.’
‘Time flies when you’re having fun,’ she says with a smile, picking up our plates. I quickly grab what I can and take it through to the kitchen.
‘I’ll do this,’ Tom says hastily, taking the items from me. ‘Mum, leave it,’ he adds, as I stand there awkwardly while they fuss between themselves about who’s going to clear up. ‘Can I give Jessie a lift home?’ he asks eventually.
‘What, in the car?’ His mum sounds alarmed.
‘Yeah, with you in the passenger seat,’ he replies. He only had half a glass of wine, and that was hours ago now.
‘Oh, I see! Yes, I don’t see why not. Are you ready now?’
I nod, thrilled at the thought of seeing Tom drive. If he gets his licence soon, we’ll be able to go anywhere together.
I sit in the middle at the back, watching his toned arm in the darkness as he changes gear. I can see the goosebumps on his forearm. It’s cold out, but he shrugged off his mother’s suggestion of a jacket. The journey is smooth and easy, and Caroline doesn’t have to say anything about his driving. My heart is bursting with pride by the time we pull up outside my close, and then I feel a sudden spike of humiliation as I realise his mum is peering out of the window at my shabby house.
It’s my mum’s house, I think defensively. If Caroline doesn’t like it, tough.
Tom hops out of the car and opens my door, taking my hand as I step out. We walk hand in hand to the front door.
‘Sorry my mum came home like that. I feel like there’s still so much to talk about,’ he murmurs, his face close to mine in the darkness. ‘Shall I – shall I call you when I get back home?’ he asks tentatively.
My face breaks out into a smile and I nod. He kisses me quickly with his mum watching and walks away with a spring in his step. I go inside to wait for his call.
Chapter 11
By the end of the weekend, I feel so close to Tom. He cancels football on Sunday and we spend the day together, and that night we talk on the phone for an hour.
Stu thinks it’s a bit ridiculous, but I know he�
�s not really annoyed. He likes Tom, and I can tell he knows that Tom doesn’t mess girls around. He’d still be with Isla if she hadn’t cheated on him. I feel uneasy as that thought occurs to me.
We’re even more tactile than usual that week at school and I’m not oblivious to the occasional snigger.
I only realise just how far the gossip about us has gone when Libby corners me in the corridor outside the library.
‘What is it?’ I stutter, as she pulls me into the thankfully deserted space.
‘I just—’ She looks uncomfortable.
‘Spit it out,’ I say, not unkindly.
‘It’s just that I heard… Have you and Tom…?’
‘What?’
‘You know,’ she says, as the blood drains from my face. ‘Have you…’
‘No!’ I exclaim. I can’t believe she’s even asking me. We’ve only been together a few weeks!
‘I just heard—’
‘What?’ I demand to know. ‘What have you heard?’
‘That you two have done it.’
‘Jesus!’ I erupt. ‘No! We’re just closer than we were! I’ve told him… I’ve told him everything,’ I say significantly, and her hazel eyes open wide with surprise.
‘About your dad?’ she asks.
‘Yes!’
‘Do you trust him?’
‘Yes!’ I say even more firmly.
‘Well, I just… I thought you’d want to know,’ she says quietly.
‘Thanks for telling me,’ I force myself to say, trying not to shoot the messenger.
She nods abruptly and we walk out of the library together.
Tom, Lou, Chris and I go to a party at Natalie’s house that night. She called earlier in the week to tell me about it. Her parents are away this weekend and, when that happens, she and her older brother Mike tend to make the most of it. Her parents are massively laid-back, so I don’t think they mind. Perhaps they don’t even care, although Natalie doesn’t say a lot about her mum and dad, neither negative nor positive. We don’t really talk about personal stuff, which is partly why I like her. She’s all about having fun.
Initially, Tom and I were supposed to be going to the movies tonight, but Natalie was having none of it.
