‘Oh good.’
This was an unexpected response; the first thing he usually did when he came over was seek his granddaughter out for a hug. Something must be wrong.
‘So what’s up?’ she asked again as they sat down in the kitchen. ‘Is Mum OK?’
‘She’s fine. Well, she’s the same as ever,’ he said with a slight grin. ‘It’s nothing like that.’
‘No?’
‘No. Actually I wanted to talk about Anna. I couldn’t sleep, so …’
‘Anna?’
‘Yes. I hope you don’t mind me saying. But she didn’t quite seem herself when she came over the other night. Quiet. Your mother said she was probably tired, and that you oughtn’t let her watch that awful soap where everyone’s blond, but I think it might be more than that.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. I mean, I could be wrong. And she won’t talk to me about anything, of course. But I woke up early and just didn’t feel right not mentioning it.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.
‘That’s all right, it’s what I’m here for.’ He looked around. ‘Dave not here?’
‘Er, no. We’re going to move in after … after the wedding.’
‘Very traditional,’ he nodded his approval. ‘But, hang on, I thought he already lived here?
‘Um, well, kind of,’ she felt her cheeks flush. Without mentioning the break-up, it was hard to explain. But this was her dad! He’d accept her whatever, so why was she lying? ‘We just thought, you know, it would be romantic.’
‘Right.’ He nodded again, a bit more uncertainly this time. ‘And you’re OK still?’
‘Yes, of course! Why?’
‘I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know the chap as well as you do. But all I’ve ever heard him talk about is food, the gym and the different muscle groups. I’ve probably seen more of his naked body than I have of your mother’s recently.’
‘Oh!’
‘Sorry. Sorry. That was too much. I mean – good for him. It’s a different world. It’s just, well, his outburst at the art thing. Stuart said he’d been … quite aggressive, and well, mean.’
‘I know he seemed that way, Dad,’ she said, almost bursting with the desire to confide in him, but keeping her feelings inside. How would she even start to explain? ‘He’s not, he’s a good bloke – honest.’
When Dad had left, trapping a bit of his coat into the car door that flapped wildly as he drove off, Jessica sat stirring the remainder of her coffee and listening to Anna padding about upstairs.
Was something wrong with her daughter? Two people had now mentioned her seeming down, but Jessica hadn’t noticed anything unusual. She resolved to find out the truth.
DAILY NEWS ONLINE
SOMETHING FOR THE LADIES!
All the latest celebrity gossip, fashion talk and beauty buzz – because that’s what women love best!
KEEPING LOVE ALIVE
We speak to three loved-up couples about what makes their relationship tick.
WE FIT TOGETHER
Jessica Bradley, 36, from St Albans, believes shared gym sessions with muscle-bound Dave Brown, 37, is what helps to keep their love alive.
When I first met Dave, I was beginning a new fitness regime. He’d been going to the gym for four years and offered to show me the ropes.
Since then, we’ve bonded over our shared love of fitness – and Dave’s been inspirational in helping me to achieve physical perfection.
Evenings together involve a two-hour workout, followed by a healthy shake at the gym café. And when we’re not working out, we’re snuggling on the sofa watching Rocky movies or planning recipes for the week.
Having a shared interest is what binds us together – without the gym we’d really have very little in common.
Dave says:
Jessica was overweight when we met, but I’ve helped to get her on the right track. She’s put on a bit of weight again recently, but we’re determined to tackle the problem together.
COMMENTS
Misty74
Wow – look at his pecs! Almost worth going to the gym to meet a gorgeous guy like that.
Newshound
Seems like a lot of work to me – and she doesn’t exactly look as fit as she seems to think she is.
Misty74
Oh and I suppose you’re so fit yourself.
Newshound
No, but then I don’t parade myself in Lycra in a revealing photo shoot.
Misty74
Well, I think she looks great.
Green Goddess
I love this couple! You go guys!
Sal
Seems like a lot of work to me – and do they really have anything in common?
Caren1
That’s what I was thinking. And I’d hate a guy to tell me I needed to lose weight – what a cheek!
Sal
I know – and does anyone really watch Rocky these days?
Caren1
I know! What is this? 1990! :D :D :D
Dave1
This comment has been removed by moderators.
Chapter Forty-Three
Lunch with my #BFF Heathy meals. #Fitat30 #stayingconnected
The restaurant was buzzing with life, but Jessica headed to the back where things were quieter. Things at work had been manic – they’d lost a client and Candice had convinced her to take the ‘honest’ post off her blog. ‘People don’t want to see the person they rely on for inspiration losing faith in things,’ she’d said. ‘Anyway, I don’t believe you ever eat chips, really, do you?’
Dave still wouldn’t answer her calls. Anna had been moody and silent that morning, but wouldn’t say why. Jessica suspected that the fact the Proximity article had gained traction on Twitter probably wasn’t helping.
At least Proximity had described her as having a son called Arthur rather than a daughter called Anna. Hopefully that would minimise the number of people who would make the connection at school next week.
Jessica was ten minutes early for once, so ordered a small white wine and took a tentative sip. It was bitter and cold from the fridge, but hit the back of her throat in exactly the way she needed it to.
When Bea arrived, her curls escaping from a minuscule ponytail, make-up smudged, she was twenty minutes late. ‘Sorry,’ she said, giving Jessica a quick peck on the cheek. ‘I’m not making a point, honest. I overslept. We had a bit of an emergency in the delivery suite yesterday and I ended up working until 4 a.m.’
‘Gawd, what happened?’
‘Oh the usual. Not enough beds, too many babies. Not enough midwives. Just takes a crisis and everything goes to shite.’
‘Makes my whole PR crisis thing seem pretty inconsequential,’ Jessica said, taking another sip of her wine. She reached across the table and gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. ‘How are you coping being back at work?’
‘It’s all right,’ Bea grinned, starting to seem more like her usual self. ‘Besides, I know things are going to pot in my life, and with my work, but as soon as I walked in here all I could think about was the state of my bloody hair. How come yours is always so damned neat?’ She attempted, in vain, to smooth down her curls.
‘Is it really?’ Jessica persisted. ‘All right? Your life I mean.’
‘Yeah,’ Bea said, nodding. ‘I mean, it’ll take time. But work keeps me going.’
‘That’s good. And you’re great at it, you know!’
‘Thanks.’ Bea took a sip of her drink to mark the end of the conversation.
‘So how are your lot?’ Jessica continued.
‘Oh, don’t do that.’
‘What?’
‘No offence, but we both know you want to talk about your problem. I’ll fill you in on th
e boys’ exploits afterwards. Besides, you said it was a crisis, right?’ And you’re drinking wine at lunchtime, which is pretty worrying, even if it is Saturday.’
‘Thanks, Bea.’
‘That’s what friends are for. Is Anna at Grahame’s this weekend?’
‘No, she’s at home. We’re going out later, hopefully.’
‘Ah, OK. She’s doing all right?’
‘Yes. Yes, I think so.’
‘Good.’
‘It’s just,’ said Jessica, taking a gulp of her wine for good measure. ‘I know this sounds completely inconsequential when compared to everything you’ve been through, and I wouldn’t normally bother you … but it’s just …’
‘Just what?’
‘Just …’
‘Yes?’ Bea leaned forward, her brow furrowed. ‘Go on, you can tell me, Jess.’
‘I think my whole life might be a lie.’
‘So you’re telling me,’ Bea said, after listening intently for half an hour, not without a couple of giggles, ‘you’re being forced to go to the gym to live up to the ideals of the person on your blog, who used to be you but is no longer. You’re engaged to a man you’re not sure you want to marry, but equally aren’t sure he wants to marry you anyway. You have a client who has some sort of obsession with nudity and possibly enormous penises. And the reason your skin looks so damn good is you’ve had it massaged with bull semen. Am I up to speed?’
‘Yep.’ It would be funny, if it wasn’t her life. ‘I’ve no idea how I got here.’
‘No.’
‘Or how to get out of it.’
‘Oh, that part’s easy!’ Bea replied, putting her glass down on the table with a confident clink. ‘Just end the blog. Stop lying online, and your real friends will gradually realise you’re back to being a little more normal than you’ve seemed for a while.’
‘But—’
‘And with Dave, start out by deciding whether you want to marry him or not. And if not, break it to him gently in case he really thinks you’re heading down the aisle. And if you do want to go ahead, have a conversation with him. Because if you can’t be honest with each other …’
‘But—’
‘Seriously, I can sort of see where you’re coming from, but surely you’re just making life unnecessarily hard for yourself,’ her friend said in her matter-of-fact way. But Bea’s life existed here in the world of flesh and blood, not on the confusing world of Snapchat and snap judgements.
‘It’s not that easy, Bea. If I come clean online, I’ll lose like a zillion followers. Some of them are very critical as it is.’
‘So? I’ll never understand this obsession with followers. Who cares if some random person in cyberspace doesn’t want to copy your dinner?’
‘No, but the thing is I lost loads when I suggested that I might fancy chips once in a while. What would happen if I did this? Most of my clients came to me because I’m popular.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘At least some of them, yes.’
Bea was silent for a moment, contemplating the ice floating on top of her Diet Coke. ‘Sorry, Jess. But I still think you should come clean. Because what’s the alternative? Great business, but your whole life is a lie? What’s the point?’
Bea was right, Jessica thought as she waited for her Uber. But then Bea had what her mother called ‘a trade’. She was properly qualified. Besides experience, Jessica had nothing to back herself up. No qualifications, nothing. Then the blog had come along. And Instagram. Suddenly thousands of people were offering their approval – coming to her for advice. If she wasn’t ‘the’ Jessica Bradley, then who was she?
The house was quiet when she let herself in, although Anna was evidently home. ‘Anna!’ Jessica called up the stairs. ‘I’m back! Everything OK?’
‘Yeah,’ came a muffled voice from her daughter’s room. ‘Yeah, fine Mum.’
‘Want to come down for a cup of tea or something?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Did you eat the cookies I left for you?’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘OK.’
Jessica stood at the foot of the stairs, wondering whether she ought to go up and check on her daughter, but her visit wouldn’t be welcomed. Anna had been working on some sort of project recently; she was always hunched over her laptop. Somehow both laptop and phone had quietly made it into Anna’s bedroom despite Jessica’s rule. Jessica decided against calling her out on it. She’d take her shopping later, maybe. Have a chat. Something mum-and-daughter-ish.
Half an hour later, there was a creak on the stairs followed by the sound of a tap running in the kitchen. She got up and poked her head around the door. ‘OK, Anna?’
‘Yep.’ Anna’s back was to her as she filled a glass with water at the sink, her light brown hair – when had it got so long? – hanging softly against her back.
Something about the way she was standing didn’t look quite right. Jessica padded up behind her in her sock-clad feet and slipped an arm around her daughter’s waist. ‘Are you sure?’
When she finally saw Anna’s face, her heart did a somersault. It was red from crying, eyes pink and swollen, a streak of mascara on her unmarked skin.
A million ghastly scenarios rushed through her head. ‘Anna, what’s happened? What’s wrong?’ she said.
A shrug. ‘Nothing.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, look at you!’ she turned her daughter gently to face her. ‘You look like you’ve been crying for hours! Is it because I was out again? Am I leaving you alone too much?’
‘No, it’s all right.’ Anna’s eyes didn’t meet hers.
‘Well, is it the engagement? You’re not comfortable with it?’
‘No, it’s nothing.’
‘Something at school?’
‘No!’
‘You don’t feel well? You’re worried about, erm, changes to your body?’
‘Mum! No!’ Anna’s face reddened as it always did when Jessica tried to talk about puberty or periods. ‘If you must know, it’s because I’m totally unpopular! No one likes me. OK?’
Jessica held her daughter to her, before leaning away and looking into her eyes. ‘If that’s true – which I doubt – then there’s something wrong with those so-called friends of yours. If they can’t see what a wonderful—’
‘No, I don’t mean at school, Mum!’ Anna replied with exasperation. ‘I’ve got “schoolfriends”!’ she held her fingers up, framing the word in an air quote, as if her real life friends were ridiculously unimportant. ‘It’s my blog, OK?’
‘Your what?’
‘I started a blog, OK? A kind of diary thing.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yeah. So. You’re not the only one who knows about the internet, OK? I’m not copying you or anything!’ Anna flushed again; this time with indignation.
‘Anna, I wouldn’t care if you were!’
‘Well, I’m not!’
‘Right. So what’s the problem?’
‘I’ve got like … like … twenty followers! And most of them are just my friends.’
‘But that’s really good! It’s great to be writing and—’
‘You would say that. What have you got, thirty thousand or something?’
‘But that stuff doesn’t matter, Anna! They’re just … just cyber-people, not real people. It’s real people who are important. Real people who matter.’ This is what Bea must have felt like earlier, she realised, as she gathered her poor, confused daughter into her arms.
But once she’d calmed Anna, who’d disappeared upstairs after promising she was OK, Jessica noticed that her followers had grown again by fifty or so. And try as she might, she couldn’t help feeling a little bit pleased about that.
Then, thinking of Anna’s tear-stained face, she felt a familiar feeling of nausea. Sh
e’d told Anna it wasn’t important; that it didn’t matter. Was she lying to Anna now, too?
The electronic ting of a text message interrupted her. It was from Dave.
‘Sorry,’ it read. ‘Just a shock seeing you like that. Forgiven?’
‘OK.’ It wasn’t really though, was it? But what else could she say? That he’d embarrassed her in front of everyone? That his concern with her weight over the nakedness in the picture was insulting? It would be easier to just let it go.
‘My place tomorrow? Seven-ish?’
‘OK, see you then.’
#DateNight
Chapter Forty-Four
Robert was late, and when he rushed into the café he looked a little red-faced.
Jessica got up and waved – the high-street location had seemed like a good idea, but the place was rammed with customers and she’d only just managed to find a table, closer to the door of the toilets than she’d prefer.
‘Hi, I’m so sorry,’ he said once he’d made his way between tables, almost tripping over someone’s shopping. ‘I was walking Hamish.’
‘Hamish?’
‘Labrador. Me and Susie – the ex – share custody and it was my turn this week. I wanted to give him a quick run in the park before handing him back.’
‘Aw. Sorry. I hope I didn’t cut your time short?’ Jessica had never had a pet, but she imagined the pain of handing a loved animal back to be similar to waving Anna off when she went to stay at Grahame’s. That horrible ache and sense of guilt that she couldn’t have created a better home.
‘No, no,’ he said, plonking himself down in the seat and removing his jacket. ‘It was my fault. I had a quick sit on the swing and Hamish ran off into the lake and began trying to chase the ducks.’
‘What is it with you and swings?’ Jessica grinned.
‘I know.’
‘And water?’ she said, checking his trousers.
‘Dry as a bone this time,’ he said. ‘I called him and he lolloped out. He knew he was in the wrong.’
‘Bless.’
They sat there awkwardly for a moment. ‘Shall I grab you something?’ Jessica asked. ‘Tea?’
‘Tea would be lovely,’ he said. ‘Not green.’
Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down! Page 26
