‘It sounds good.’
‘Oh, do you really think so?’ His uncertainty was quite charming.
‘Yes, yes I do. And more importantly,’ she leaned forward, ‘I think it might really appeal to readers.’
He blushed then, as if he’d never considered that someone might actually read his book. She started to form a press release in her head – the magazine editors she could send it to, perhaps something on TV. Celebrity endorsement?
‘Yes. I definitely think I can help with this,’ she said, reaching into her bag for a contract.
As he put out his hand to grab it, their fingers touched and she felt a sudden rush of heat to her cheeks. Talk about embracing your inner child, she thought wryly. I’m embracing all the worst elements of teenage embarrassment.
‘Sorry,’ he said, for no reason at all.
Why the blush? Sure, he was a good-looking bloke but it wasn’t as if he’d made a move. And she wasn’t on the market for anyone. Not when there was a chance of winning Dave back. Plus, she found herself thinking, Robert wasn’t boyfriend material – not really photogenic enough to go on the blog.
‘Are you OK?’ Robert’s voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘You look a bit, well … red.’
‘Yeah. Yeah.’ She straightened in her chair and tried to smile. ‘Miles away for a minute … Thinking of strategies, how to get you out there – you know!’
‘God, I don’t know how you do all that.’
‘All what?’
‘That social-media stuff. I mean I get how it works – I’ve put pictures online, tweets – that kind of thing. But getting things noticed – going viral, or whatever – I wouldn’t know where to start.’
‘Well, I …’
‘That’s why I chose you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, it was your blog I came across first when I googled “PR in St Albans”. Imagine that – all those PR agencies touting for business online, and probably paying for a better place on the Google rankings or however it works, and your blog beat them all. So, I thought you must know what you’re doing when it comes to online promotion.’
‘Oh. Yes.’ The blog’s ranking had been a recent boon, based on the fact she’d had several mentions in the press lately with backlinks to her site. (Plus, the fact she now put so many keywords and hashtags in her blog posts they sounded as if they’d been written by a SEO bot).
‘Anyway, so I started to read the blog – it’s hard not to sometimes, isn’t it, when you come across something interesting. And it was great. I really admire all that “healthy eating” stuff.’ He patted his barely existent belly. ‘Hence the green tea today – I’m usually a builder’s tea with milk and two lumps,’ he grinned, self-consciously.
‘Well …’ she was going to tell him that, actually, she quite often indulged in a nice strong cuppa herself these days but something made her stop.
‘And that’s what I want. Discipline, commitment. Your blog really sold you to me, and so I looked up your agency and bingo! Here we are!’
So it was the blog again, she thought grimly. Commitment. The fact she looked as if she had all the answers when online. She held her stomach in, aware that it had started to droop slightly. Bloody gravity.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘Well, I’m really pleased that you found me. And really sure I can do a good job for you. If you could take a look at the contract and sign it if everything looks OK, then we can get moving.’
‘OK – and I’ll keep reading that blog of yours,’ he said, reaching out his hand for another shake as she got to her feet. ‘Cheering you on at the gym and all that.’ He slipped his glasses back on and smiled – Clark Kent once more.
‘Great. That’s … great.’
‘Say hi to Dave for me!’
As their hands connected again, she felt herself shiver. ‘I will. I’ll see him later, you know. At the gym,’ she added, unnecessarily, pulling her cardigan a little more tightly around her.
And that was it. The web of her deceit tightened a little more. Because she’d sold a false persona to this man and he’d employed her on the back of it. And she’d blown her chance to come clean.
Chapter Seven
She’d barely poured her first coffee of the morning when the phone rang and her mum’s number flashed up.
‘Hi, Mum.’ Jessica tried to smile. Mum could always tell when she wasn’t smiling.
‘So, I just wanted to ring quickly to ask whether you want me to bring anything on Saturday?’
‘Saturday?’
‘Yes, you know. For dinner. And what’s the matter, dear, you sound absolutely miserable!’
The dinner party had been arranged weeks ago at a time when she’d been confident her life was on a settled track.
‘No, Mum. I’m fine. But …’ Jessica stretched her lips into a wider grimace, hoping it would make her voice sound more upbeat.
‘Lovely. I’ll just bring along a few profiteroles, shall I?’
‘No, honestly, Mum. I can manage, but I need to—’
‘Oh, of course. I know you’re going to do some lovely ice-cream. And, well, one of your delicious sugar-free recipes that we’re all just so enthusiastic about. But your father really enjoys profiteroles at the moment. And I’ve found a lovely recipe … And you know,’ her mum lowered her voice as if revealing a state secret, ‘desserts aren’t really your strong point, are they. Remember the plum crumble?’
Jessica wondered briefly if there was a statute of limitations on pointed anecdotes. She’d made that crumble when she was seventeen. Yes, it had been burnt. Yes, the plum filling had been a little dry. But surely, twenty years later, it was time to move on. ‘Well, I was going to …’ She thought about the cooking she’d been planning and suddenly felt drained.
Worse, of course, there was the issue of the elephant in the room, or in this case, the tight-pants-wearing, muscle-bound, slightly deluded Adonis who would most definitely not be in the room. Or even the house.
Mum was the last person she’d want to find out. Before Dave had come along, she’d been so desperate for Jessica to get herself ‘off the shelf’ that she’d spent half her time arranging blind dates for her. Post Dave, she’d backed off and given her some breathing space. (OK, now she mentioned marriage, engagements or babies at least once a week, but this was far preferable to pimping her out to her friends’ eligible sons.)
‘Actually, Mum—’
‘And shall we bring a bottle? Red or white?’
‘Honestly, we’ve got lots of wine, Mum!’
‘Oh, of course! And you do so well, don’t you, to find such bargains at the supermarket. It’s just, well, me and your father, we’re a bit set in our ways. We prefer more traditional wine, I suppose. Silly really.’ Her mother tittered.
‘Actually, we won’t be able to do this weekend,’ Jessica interjected – quick and to the point – ripping off the plaster to expose the wound.
There was a silence in which Jessica could imagine her mother’s hurt expression. She could just make out the sound of her mum’s indignant, huffy breath on the line.
She guiltily scrabbled around for a suitable excuse that didn’t involve admitting she was now, to all intents and purposes, single. ‘It’s just we’ve been a bit poorly this week and I think … I think Dave is probably coming down with it. You know, a tummy bug.’
‘Really? Poor Dave. You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s all that protein stuff he’s drinking. Protein! Whatever next? We never had protein in my day, I’m sure.’
‘Well, no, It’s—’
‘I told your father. If that man keeps drinking all those funny milkshakes, he’ll give himself a runny tummy. And now look!’ her mother paused dramatically, ostensibly to give Jessica the chance to imagine Dave sitting on the lav. ‘It doesn’t do to drink all that rubbish, I’m sur
e.’
‘Well, maybe not.’ Actually, Jessica agreed. She’d never been convinced about the Man Up! Powershakes Dave seemed addicted to. And wasn’t particularly keen on the idea of sticking up for him now.
‘Tell him,’ her mother lowered her voice conspiratorially, ‘tell him to drink some mint tea.’
‘I would, but—’
‘Yes, I know, I know!’ her mother put on a voice, clearly meant to be an imitation of her daughter. ‘It’s a bit “new age” – but Carmella – you know, that lovely girl that helps out at the club? – swears by it. And I thought, well, why not! Although your dad won’t go anywhere near it. He says—’
‘Mum!’
The silence was almost tangible.
‘Mum,’ Jessica continued, more quietly. ‘I really don’t think it’s the protein shakes. There’s a lot of it going about. Tons of kids off in Anna’s class.’
‘In that case, it’s even more important that we come!’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, you’ll be exhausted looking after Dave. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be right as rain by Saturday night – big strong boy like that.’
‘I just thought that – you know. Germs.’ Jessica played her trump card. Mum was terrified of picking up a bug.
‘Oh, don’t worry. Your father and I have been taking some special vitamins.’ Jessica heard the rattle of a pill bottle being picked up. ‘“Supports a healthy immune system.” There, you see! We’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t think—’
‘Perhaps I should bring a few over for Dave? I thought he was looking a bit peaky in his last photo.’
Has Mum joined Instagram now? Jess shuddered at the thought of her mother seeing the thong. ‘I guess—’
‘So, that’s settled then. Shall we say seven?’
‘Well—’
Her mother hung up without waiting for a reply.
Would it have been so difficult to tell the truth?
But it wasn’t telling the truth that would have been disastrous. It was what would happen afterwards. Now that Jessica was, according to her mother, on the highway to menopause (‘it’s a slippery slope after thirty-five, Jessica!’) her constant desire to fix her broken daughter’s life would go into overdrive if she found out about the split.
And the (slightly stagnant) pool of young men that Mum had rounded up in hope of sourcing herself a future son-in-law had already been fished dry.
Before Jessica could work out what to do, the phone rang again and a hunk in trunks appeared on the screen. All thoughts of looming dinner disasters vanished.
Dave.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked as soon as she answered.
‘What?’
‘That photo thing online. What are you trying to say?’
She’d forgotten about the coffee/crumbs. But where was the harm? ‘I just thought … I mean – you know, the blog.’
‘But what about me? My life?’
‘Your life? How could a picture of a cup of coffee affect your life?’
‘The crumbs,’ he said simply. ‘I have an image to maintain, you know? Biscuits! I haven’t eaten a biscuit since 2012.’
‘That’s what you’re worried about?’
‘Yeah. You’re not the only one with followers!’
‘Oh. But you were the one who said to keep things going online. That it was OK to fake things a bit … until … until …’ she felt almost teary. Was this really happening?
‘Well, yes. But that was when … when you first began to … When you stopped going to the gym, you know? Not when I … when we …’
‘When you left, you mean?’
‘Now, that’s not quite—’
‘When you left and dumped me by Post-it? Should I write about that?’ she half sobbed.
He softened a bit. ‘It’s not … I mean, I understand … it’s just, couldn’t you have used like something healthy? At the very least avoided carbs!’
‘I … I suppose …’
‘And, you know. Well, you’re going to have to say something about us eventually.’
‘Can’t we … don’t you think we could talk about it? I mean properly?’
He was silent for a minute. ‘Maybe. Maybe. But, I don’t like lying to everyone.’
‘Well, I have to lie about everything!’ Jessica felt self-pitying tears prick at her eyes and wiped them crossly away. ‘My food … our … our relationship! Semen stains!’
He was quiet for a moment.
‘OK,’ he said, at last.
‘OK?’
‘OK, say what you want. For a little while,’ his voice was softer.
I miss him, she thought suddenly. ‘And you really can’t come home?!’
But he had already hung up.
#WinningatLife #LovemyBoyfriend #TrueLove
Feeling the need for a happiness boost, she placed the phone back in her handbag, picked up Remembering Rainbows and started to read.
REMEMBERING RAINBOWS
Are you smiling yet? If you’ve decided to read this book, chances are you will be soon! By purchasing Remembering Rainbows you’ve opened a gateway back to a happier, simpler time.
With the guidance of top psychologist Robert Haydn, Remembering Rainbows will take you through a programme of activities designed to help you embrace your inner child – that little boy or girl whose happiness is still entwined with your own.
And, by remembering the colour and excitement of childhood, you will find a more authentic, more personal route to happiness.
So what are you waiting for?
Chapter Eight
#MondayMotivation How do you spend your time when locked out of your own office? #buttcrunches @Fitat30 #fitnesscrazy
‘Seven, six, two, four,’ Jessica punched the numbers into the entrance keypad and waited for the door to buzz her in. It didn’t.
‘Seven, six, four, two?’
No response.
‘Six, seven, two four?’
Nothing.
The building was dark; half eight and nobody had arrived yet. Which was annoying in a way she’d got no comeback on at all. No one was contracted to start before nine. But still, what happened to enthusiasm? she thought, as she brushed some mud from the front step and sat down to wait. She pulled Robert’s book from her bag – at least she could use the time productively.
REMEMBERING RAINBOWS
A guarantee from the heart.
It’s so easy to let happiness pass us by. Or to chase dreams that we think will make us happy, only to find out that they don’t. But happiness isn’t something that we should have to chase. It’s something we already have – we just have to learn how to tap into it.
You were happy once; and you will be again.
That’s my promise to you.
Dr Robert Haydn
It was quite a promise to have on the opening page. She only hoped the activities and advice in the actual book lived up to it.
‘Sorry.’ Candice looked chastened, like a forlorn puppy when she finally turned up to work and let her boss into the office. ‘I just didn’t think; I’m so stupid. I just feel as if everyone knows that date.’
Which meant that Jessica had felt obliged to say that it didn’t matter; that it was no big deal. That it was by no means stupid to change the entry code to your birthday and forget to tell anyone else. ‘Don’t worry,’ she smiled. ‘We’ve all done things like that.’
She’d become preoccupied with lying recently. How truthful were other people? Not just on social media, where most people play a subtle passive-aggressive game of one-upmanship by posting carefully selected pictures and deleting anything off-message; but generally. How much lying is normal?
She could have hardly told Candice the truth – that being locked out of the office had meant sh
e’d had to sit on the work steps for over half an hour, which would mean racing around for the morning to try to catch up.
She felt guilty already after lying to Anna this morning when she’d asked why Dave hadn’t come back from the gym last night. She’d made something up about his being called into work.
Who on earth calls a sales team leader into work urgently?
‘Emergency, extra-large order coming in.’
‘But sir, we’ll never make it in time!’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got Dave on call.’
It was a little like the time Anna had started asking questions about Santa. ‘Will Santa die?’ ‘How old is Santa?’ ‘Can Santa see me in the bath?’ ‘Is Santa watching us right now?’
When does a bit of Christmas magic move from harmless fun to tangled deception?
After drinking a few sips of the herbal tea Candice had made as ‘a peace-offering’ (despite the fact that it was part of her job to make everyone in the office tea), Jessica logged into her emails.
To:[email protected]
From:[email protected]
Subject:Sculptures
Dear Jess,
I’ve been thinking about my change of direction, artistically speaking, and wondered if you could cancel my sculpture exhibition? I want to portray something softer in my work now, and the thought of Drowning Man on Fire or Proud Man being on public display seems wrong somehow. They are such raw pieces – so moving. And – to be honest – I’m not sure the public are ready.
Hope your Monday is proving inspirational!
Hugo
To:[email protected]
From:[email protected]
Subject:re: Drowning man on fire
Dear Hugo,
Thanks for your email. I’ll try to get the pieces taken down, although it might take a few days.
Best wishes
Jessica Bradley
CEO Star PR
To:[email protected]
Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down! Page 5
