Everything is Fine: The funny, feel-good and uplifting page-turner you won't be able to put down!

by Gillian Harvey

  ‘Oh my God, Anna, do not get on a train, OK? I’m coming right now.’

  Sending a quick text to Grahame to tell him Anna was safe, and asking him to ring the school, Jessica raced to her car to pick up her daughter.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  ‘Do you know how worried we were!’ Grahame said, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa.

  ‘Grahame, she’s here. She’s OK,’ said Jessica, putting her arm around her daughter. ‘Let’s calm down a bit.’

  ‘But you could have been—’

  ‘So?’ Anna said suddenly. ‘None of you would have missed me, so it doesn’t matter, does it?’

  ‘What?’ they said, almost in unison.

  ‘Well, you’ve got your perfect family,’ she said, gesturing towards Grahame. ‘And now Mum getting married, or whatever.’

  ‘I don’t think …’ Jessica began, thinking back to last night and feeling her cheeks flush. ‘We’re not exactly …’

  ‘But you always make up!’ Anna said. ‘You row, then you make up. And the whole time I have to watch you, and you don’t notice me at all.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘And it’s OK, I know you just want to be happy or whatever. But I just don’t fit anywhere.’

  ‘Oh, Anna!’ Jessica pulled her daughter to her. ‘Don’t be silly. Neither of us … you can’t really think we’d …’

  ‘Anna,’ Grahame said, his voice softer now. ‘Anna, you’re just as important to me as the boys, you must know that.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m not part of your family, not really,’ she replied. ‘And then Mum will have a new family – or a new husband or whatever. And I won’t really belong with them either.’

  ‘Of course you do … you always will …’

  ‘Jenny said,’ Anna said, with a shrug. ‘Her mum got married again, then had a baby. Then it was all about the new kid – their kid. And she was just … extra.’

  ‘That sounds horrible for Jenny … but it doesn’t mean—’

  ‘And then, you know. You’re so busy already. And if Dave comes to live here again, you’ll be at the gym all the time. Dad’ll be with his new family. I’ll just be nowhere. No one’s.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like that,’ Jessica said, her mind racing back to the times recently when she’d cut Anna short or not listened. ‘But that’s something we’re going to have to work on, because believe me, darling, my life – our lives – without you just wouldn’t work.’

  ‘And you won’t let me go on WhatsApp!’ her daughter added.

  ‘What?’ it seemed a complete change of subject. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Jessica blurted out.

  ‘I knew you’d say that! You just don’t understand what it’s like!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Grahame asked. ‘Your mum is all over the internet – she knows exactly what it’s like. That’s why she makes the rules she does.’

  It was nice to be stood up for, for once.

  ‘Yes, but you don’t get it, Mum. Not what it’s like for me.’

  ‘OK,’ Jessica said, sitting down and trying to sound understanding. ‘What is it like, Anna?’

  ‘All my friends, they’re all on WhatsApp. They have a group. And they chat together – all evening, weekends. They make arrangements. Then they forget to ask me, because it’s a whole other thing – a text or an email. And they make jokes I don’t understand. They … I just don’t feel part of things there either. Me and Jenny – we’re like outcasts.’

  ‘Oh Anna.’ Jessica thought back to her own school days. How her mother hadn’t understood that unless she watched Neighbours she’d be left out of pretty much every conversation in the playground. ‘You just don’t get it, Mum!’ she’d yelled.

  For them it had been a different world. And now Anna was living in a new kind of ‘different world’.

  Later, when Anna had gone to her room for an enforced rest, Jessica and Grahame sat together on the sofa, wired from the shock of it all. ‘We’re going to have to get better at this,’ Jessica said.

  ‘You’re right there. Maybe … maybe we need to do more things together. We get on OK, right? Maybe I could come round sometimes, so she’s got us both? Maybe … maybe talk more often, to each other, I mean. Once a week or something?’

  ‘That sounds good.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a good job,’ Grahame said, getting to his feet. ‘I, well, Tabitha and me just about cope and there’s two of us there all the time … I can’t imagine.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s true.’

  ‘We’d better find a way of helping her with this WhatsApp thing. I don’t really like it, but …’

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  They smiled at each other.

  ‘Did you ever think,’ he said. ‘All this could be so complicated?’

  ‘Not in a million years.’

  After watching him drive off, Jessica did something that she hadn’t done for several years. She switched off her mobile phone.

  Instantly, she was hit by a surge of anxiety – what if she missed something important? What if something happened at work? What if Dave finally ended the silence and contacted her after last night?

  She couldn’t think of yesterday evening without her cheeks feeling warm. Had she really stuffed the top tier of a wedding cake into her mouth? She’d woken in the morning sticky and ashamed, her hair spattered with icing, crumbs on her pillow.

  Stirring her coffee, she watched the light reflecting from its black surface and inhaled its comforting aroma. Despite her overconsumption of the drink, she wasn’t that keen on the taste. But the smell took her back to breakfasts at home with her father – he’d always knocked back a couple of strong ones before a day at the office. Back to a time when she’d felt safe and lived in a world where grown-ups had all the answers, and nothing was a mystery.

  Jessica had never been one for making an exhibition of herself. Maybe once or twice when she was in her teens – a memorable traffic-cone-on-the-head incident at uni – but usually she liked to keep herself out of the limelight. Then the blog had come along and suddenly she’d been on show in a way she never could have imagined. But it was different, somehow, online. It didn’t really feel like her.

  Then the lies that she’d become trapped in. The build-up. It was inevitable that it had come to a head. It was just a shame that it had happened in the middle of a party. Where at least one of the guests had filmed the incident on their phone and uploaded it to the masses. Nothing was private any more.

  She resisted logging in to her laptop to see how many comments and retweets the footage had now. It could wait.

  A couple of hours later, when Anna was occupied with the Hollyoaks omnibus, Jessica finally gave in to the urge to switch her phone back on. As it leapt into life, flashing and beeping with missed messages and calls, her sense of panic returned.

  ‘You have two new messages,’ said the robotic voice of the answering service. ‘And twenty-six missed calls.’

  Twenty-six?

  ‘Message one,’ continued the robot, unaware of the effect it was having on her blood pressure.

  It was Hugo. ‘Jessica! I’ve just heard! I’ve been awarded the Bursary!’

  In spite of herself Jessica felt a warm glow that Hugo seemed finally have had his talent recognised (the art kind, rather than the penis kind).

  ‘Message two.’

  Candice. ‘Hi, Jess, are you OK? We’ve been sent something at work that you probably need to see. Could you call, when you have time?’ Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, as if talking to someone very vulnerable, old or borderline insane.

  No call from Dave, she realised, opening her messages folder. But two text messages from him she hadn’t noticed before. The first, sent last night:

/>   COME BACK? WHERE HAVE YOU GONE?

  The second, this morning.

  I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU EMBARRASSED ME IN FRONT OF ALL MY FRIENDS. WHAT ON EARTH GOT INTO YOU LAST NIGHT?

  Great.

  She began to reply, her thumb moving at lightning speed, then stopped. Because writing was what had got her into this mess in the first place. With her heart in her mouth, she dialled his number instead.

  ‘Jessica?’ he said, his tone unreadable.

  ‘Dave,’ she said. ‘About last night.’

  ‘Yes?’

  But she wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began.

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘No, wait,’ she continued. ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved, but, but I’m not sorry for feeling the way I do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it seems to me that you only love me if I fit a certain mould. A … a … cake-dodging mould,’ she said, feeling suddenly indignant. ‘It’s hardly unconditional love if it won’t allow for a couple more inches on my thighs!’

  He was silent for a moment. ‘Is that what you think?’ he asked at last.

  ‘What am I supposed to think? Your comments on that picture of me? Wanting me to get back on track? That whole “thick and thin” comment?!’

  ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I read everything you write, Jessica. You’re always on about fitness; some of our best nights out have been at the gym. I wanted to encourage you, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But you’re right in a way – I mean, “Gym Jessica”, she’s the girl I fell for. The woman I met, I mean. It’s like – it’s what we have in common, isn’t it? We’re driven; goal-orientated. We’re on the same page. And it’s a page without,’ he said, his voice suddenly trembling with emotion, ‘cake, carbs and … and … mashed potato!’

  What was this obsession with mashed potato?

  ‘I know, but that isn’t me. It was me for a while. It’s part of me. But it isn’t everything, Dave.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that now. You know after … the cake?’

  There was a silence.

  ‘So where do we go from here?’ he asked at last.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied.

  ‘Maybe we need to talk about it?’

  ‘OK. But not yet. I have to think …’

  They hung up shortly afterwards. Jessica looked at the ambiguous ring on her finger and removed it, putting it into a little dish where she kept her car keys, hairgrips and the odd stray earring. It might go back on. But only when she’d worked out who she was. And discovered whether that someone loved Dave. And whether Dave loved that someone back.

  On a roll, she dialled the office.

  ‘Hi, Candice,’ she said, as her PA answered. ‘You called?’ She tried to keep her tone light.

  ‘Yeah, it’s just there’s this … this … Someone’s tweeted some, er, footage to our feed and I thought you ought to know.’

  ‘Let me guess. Cake?’

  ‘Yep.’ There was a silence. ‘What shall I do? Emergency blog post? Tweet back?’

  ‘Take it down.’

  ‘The footage? It’s already been retweeted.’

  ‘No. The blog. The Twitter feed.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘No. I mean, just for now. Just until I’ve decided what to do going forward.’

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, feeling suddenly lighter. ‘Actually, everything is fine.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  ‘Darlings,’ her mum gushed, opening her arms and sweeping Anna into them. ‘How are you? How are you feeling?’

  ‘Mum,’ Jessica admonished, following her daughter into the house. ‘I said subtle.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ her mum replied, sounding anything but. ‘But honestly, Anna darling, what were you doing at the train station yesterday? Where were you going? You know you could always come here, don’t you? If you’re struggling!’

  Anna grunted and walked through to the living room, her cheeks bright red.

  ‘Mum,’ Jessica said, softly, in the hallway, ‘honestly, I think it’s better not to talk about it too much right now.’

  Yesterday, once Anna had had her fill of Hollyoaks, Jessica had made them both a late lunch – spag bol, one of Anna’s favourites – and they’d talked through how Anna had been feeling. How she’d enjoyed the time without Dave being there: ‘I don’t mind Dave,’ she’d said. ‘It’s just, well, I felt kind of on the outside sometimes, that’s all. Then when you said he was coming back forever, and Jenny told me that thing about her mum …’

  ‘I know, darling,’ Jessica had said, reaching and squeezing her daughter’s hand briefly. ‘I’ve been a bit … preoccupied, haven’t I? And Dave, well, I suppose we did spend a lot of time at the gym when he used to live here, right? I thought you quite liked the time at granny’s or Jenny’s.’

  ‘I did, I do,’ Anna had said. ‘But it was kind of nice, you know, when I didn’t have to do that any more.’

  ‘OK.’

  After extracting faithful promises that Anna would never run away again and always talk to her, and promising that next time Anna asked to talk she would make sure she listened – no matter who turned up on the doorstep with wet trousers – Jessica had rung Mum, who’d instantly invited them for what she called a ‘high tea’, her way of fixing almost any trauma. ‘I’ll do choc fudge cake,’ she’d said. ‘Anna’s favourite. You can come straight after school tomorrow.’

  ‘But are you OK? It must have been a shock,’ her mum said quietly once Anna was out of earshot.

  ‘To be honest, Mum, I’m not sure whether I’m coming or going. How could I have got it so wrong?’

  ‘Wrong?’

  ‘Yes, my daughter ran away. If I hadn’t got hold of her, who knows what might have happened? And I had no idea she was upset!’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ her mum said, wrapping an arm around Jessica’s back. ‘You’re a great mum! Don’t think your father and I always got it right, will you. Because you’d be wrong. Once you even packed your bags when you were about seven … moved out to the playhouse in the garden.’

  ‘Still, not the train station.’

  ‘Well, perhaps Anna’s just a bit more resourceful!’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Seriously, though,’ said her mum, lowering her voice even further in a rare moment of discretion. ‘As soon as I heard, I thought, Jessica is bound to be beating herself up about this.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes, you’ve always been such a perfectionist.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And you’ve got to realise, sweetheart, that being a mum is an impossible job. You try to do the right thing, but put your foot in it.’

  ‘You haven’t—’

  ‘Don’t be silly, I know I have. And it’s OK. Believe me, once Anna’s pushing thirty, you’ll realise that doing your best is all you’ve got. It doesn’t get any easier when they grow up, you know. If anything, it’s harder.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And with your wedding on the way, and who knows what else …’ her mum added, looking pointedly at Jessica’s womb area, ‘it doesn’t do to get too stressed.’

  ‘There’s not—’ she started.

  ‘Hello, love,’ she heard her dad say to Anna in the next room. ‘You daft thing.’

  ‘Granddad!’

  ‘Let me take your bag and coat,’ her mum said then, as if Jessica was a child herself. Something about the gesture made Jessica feel like crying.

  She passed over her bag, the zip open and overstuffed content exposed.

  As she went to hang it up, her mother glanced into its depths, and he
r expression changed. ‘Jessica,’ she said. ‘I’m, well, I’m speechless.’

  ‘What is it?’ said Jessica, confused.

  ‘Perhaps this isn’t the best time to bring it up. But does this mean? Well, you know!’

  ‘Mum?’

  Mum pulled Jessica’s dried clay work from the leather depths and brandishing it like a trophy. ‘Is this …?’

  ‘Oh God,’ Jessica said. Because the forgotten piece of clay had been dried and smoothed and pounded in the bottom of her bag and now, grasped in her mother’s firm grip, looked to all intents and purposes like a penis.

  What was it with her life and artificial penises? Was it the universe’s way of hinting she might as well give up on netting herself a real one with a decent man attached?

  ‘It’s not …’ she began.

  ‘Oh, Jessica. A fertility symbol!’ Her mum smiled, still brandishing the penis. ‘I suppose this means that congratulations are in order? Or soon will be?’

  ‘It’s not, um …’

  ‘Oh, you don’t have to tell me. When your father and I were trying, I became obsessed with phallic symbols.’ Her mother stroked the penis thoughtfully. ‘I’ve got quite a few in a drawer somewhere.’

  ‘It’s not – I mean – it’s just … I was trying to find true happiness!’ Jessica gabbled.

  ‘I completely understand,’ her mum replied, seriously, slipping the ‘penis’ back into her daughter’s bag and giving her an elaborate wink. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ her mum said a little later once they’d all been given their cups of overly milky tea and been forced to load their plates with scones and cake from an elaborate three-tier cake stand, ‘is why you didn’t talk to us, Anna?’

  ‘Mum, leave it,’ Jessica warned.

  ‘I don’t know, Gran,’ Anna said, sadly. ‘Maybe the whole engagement party thing …’

  ‘Engagement party?’

  ‘Don’t ask,’ said Jessica. ‘It wasn’t exactly the best experience of either of our lives.’

  ‘Yes, but why did your father and I not get an invite?’ her mum sniffed, setting her cup back into its saucer.