I Knew You Were Trouble: A Jessie Jefferson Novel (31 page)

It happens so quickly that I don’t know if he fell or moved on purpose, but suddenly he’s kneeling in front of me, his face in his hands in a gesture of absolute despair.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whimper. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He drags his hands away from his face and stares at me, his warm brown eyes glinting with tears, his face pale, his mouth stretched into a straight line. He looks a mess. I’ve done this to
him.

He shakes his head at me, speechless.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I say again.

‘Are you in love with him?’ he asks.

‘I—’ I start to speak, but shut my mouth abruptly. I shake my head, but I can’t honestly answer with a no.

Suddenly he’s on his feet again, pacing the room. ‘I knew it!’ he says heatedly, pointing at me. ‘I knew it!’ He knocks his knuckles against his head, then comes to
a sudden standstill, glaring down at me.

‘You know this is it, don’t you?’ he asks angrily. ‘This. Is. It.’

I nod miserably. ‘I know,’ I mumble. ‘I know you don’t go back. You don’t forgive. I know.’

‘You’re not even asking for my forgiveness,’ he says bitterly. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ he erupts. ‘First Isla, now you. Don’t I deserve to
have a girl
not
cheat on me?’

I leap to my feet. ‘Tom, of course you do! I’m so sorry! I love you, I do. I don’t know how it happened. I wasn’t thinking—’ I realise I’m standing in
front of him with my hand on his chest and he’s not moving away. A distant part of me asks what I’m doing. Am I trying to win him back? Do I want to be with him? With him and not
Jack?

Jack is unreliable. Tom is on the other side of the world.

Unless I stay here.

I don’t have to go back to LA. I have to move out of my home, anyway, so I could stay here and live in England – even in Johnny’s house, until Stu and I find a home of our own.
I could get used to having Sam or another bodyguard watching over me. It’s not so bad. I could still see my friends, I could probably convince Johnny to let me continue going to the same
school. I don’t have to go to private school, but even if I did it wouldn’t be so different to going to school with Agnes. I’d still have to make new friends.

Or I could stick with my plan. Pack up my things, pack up my life. Say goodbye to my friends and see them occasionally on holidays. Go back to LA. Live with my dad and Meg, my two little
brothers.

‘
I’ll see you guys soon, OK?
’

That’s what I said to Barney and Phoenix.

‘When will you be home?’ Barney asked, his little face crumpling.

‘In a week,’ I said.

‘You promise?’ he asked.

‘I promise.’

Home… Really?

I let my hand drop from Tom’s chest and take a step backwards.

He stares down at me. ‘So that’s it?’ he asks flatly. ‘Are we done?’

I bite my lip until I draw blood, and then I nod.

He doesn’t say another word as he walks out of the door.

To say it’s been a shit holiday is an understatement. I’ve been absolutely miserable for days. I’ve been dismal company for all of my friends. Stu is sick of
seeing my moping face and I went to see Gramps yesterday and even he told me to cheer the hell up.

Now it’s Christmas day and I couldn’t feel worse.

It’s our first Christmas without Mum, and Stu and I sit at the table together, eating a turkey cooked by Johnny’s lovely parttime cook who popped by last night with instructions on
how to heat it up.

We’re in Johnny’s large formal dining room. Expensive art hangs from the panelled, polished wooden walls and I couldn’t feel further from home and the silly, small, so-called
dining room that we rarely ate meals in.

The roast in front of me looks delicious, but my taste buds are dead and I can barely eat a thing. Stu seems just as glum. We couldn’t even be bothered to pull our crackers earlier.

I should’ve let him go to see his parents. I should’ve stayed in LA. I imagine he’ll be glad to see the back of me.

‘This is ridiculous,’ he snaps finally, picking up his plate. ‘Let’s at least go and eat in front of the telly.’

I smile weakly and take my plate, following him into the living room. He switches on the telly and we sit there next to each other on the sofa with our dinners balancing on our knees.

‘Don’t be too down, Jess,’ he says after a while. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash.’

I told him Tom and I had broken up. And we have. There’s no going back. I haven’t heard from him and I haven’t tried contacting him, either. It’s over. I just want to go
back to LA again and be surrounded by warmth and family and shiny new friends.

No.
I’ve been there before, kicking out the old and replacing it with the new because it was less painful to think about what I’d lost. I have to be stronger this time. I have
to think it through, not just run away.

‘Would you consider coming with me?’ I ask Stu, in a tiny, tentative voice.

He gives me a startled sideways look. ‘What, to LA?’

I nod hopefully, but his brow furrows with regret and he shakes his head as he speaks. ‘Oh, no, Jess, no, I couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’ I murmur.

‘This is my home,’ he says sadly, putting his plate down on the floor and swivelling to face me. ‘I wouldn’t feel right living over there, starting anew. And my parents
are here. They’re getting old. They need me right now. You’ve got a brand-new family now. You don’t need me.’

‘I
do
,’ I state vehemently, hot tears pricking my eyes. ‘I’ll always need you.’

‘And I’ll always be here. You know that, right?’

I nod, my vision turning blurry.

‘If it doesn’t work out,’ he says kindly, ‘or if you just change your mind, you can always come back. You will always have a place with me.’

A few tears roll down my cheeks and I nod, brushing them away. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.

‘Come here,’ he says, taking my plate away and putting his arms round me. We hug each other tightly.

‘You’ll be OK,’ he says after a while.

I take a deep breath and pull back to look at him. ‘Stu,’ I say.

‘Yeah?’

My bottom lip starts to wobble. ‘I want to go home.’

His face falls. ‘Oh, Jessie, no. Not today. Not on Christmas Day. We can deal with it later.’

‘Stu, all her stuff has been sitting there for almost a whole year. I want to be with her. I want to go home. There’s never going to be a good time. And, let’s face it,
today’s been pretty shitty, anyway.’

He rubs at his eyes and sighs before glancing at me and nodding reluctantly.

Our home is dark and quiet. There are no Christmas lights on in the front window, no merry chatter coming from inside like our neighbours’ houses. Stu unlocks the door.
Sam is waiting in the car, having already spent most of today in the guardhouse, clearly choosing British telly over our company. Can’t say I blame him. The familiar smell overwhelms me
again. The living room is dark, but there’s no Christmas tree in the corner. For a moment, I can picture one, a small, spindly pine tree covered with tinsel, and my mum kneeling in front of
it, her dark, wavy hair spilling down her back as she hooks another gaudy decoration onto the branches. She looks over her shoulder and smiles at me.

I choke back a sob as I run up the stairs and burst into the spare room.

Stu lets me go.

Her clothes are everywhere, still piled up exactly as I left them across all the surfaces. I go to the dressing table and open up a shoebox to discover it’s full of her jewellery. I lift
out a chunky gold necklace and my brain shows me a memory of her holding it against her neck in Topshop, asking my opinion. I told her to get it, knowing I’d borrow it later. I still
haven’t.

I open another shoebox and find her make-up. I lift out her perfume and press the nozzle to my nose, breathing it in. Tears spring up in my eyes and I can’t hold back. I start to sob.

‘Hey,’ Stu says, appearing at the door, his own eyes red from crying. ‘Come on.’

He opens up his arms to me and I crash into them. He holds me while I sob whole-body-wracking sobs, and then, unable to hold back, he begins to cry, too.

‘Let’s do this together,’ he says in a croaky voice, once we’ve cried ourselves out. ‘It’ll be easier.’

I sniff and nod.

He goes to the bed and lifts up a red dress.

‘Do you remember when she wore this to that awful school nativity the Year Eights put on? Mr Hillman couldn’t stop staring at her legs.’

I laugh. The headmaster had definitely looked flustered.

I reach for another garment, a mustard-yellow dress. ‘What about this one? She wore this to Marilyn’s fortieth birthday.’ Marilyn is Libby’s mum. ‘I told her she
looked like a canary.’

Stu laughs. ‘She thought that was funny, you know. She never could wear yellow, but it was her favourite colour on you.’

A fresh wave of tears begins to cascade down my cheeks.

‘You should keep it,’ he says in a choked voice.

I nod quickly and take the dress, folding it up and putting it on the window sill.

We go on like this, laughing and crying, but eventually we get through the mountain of clothes that used to belong to Candy, a one-time rock chick and mother. Wife. Friend.

At the end of the day, the only things not in the black plastic bags for the charity shop are her wedding dress, some of her jewellery and a couple of dresses that I might want to wear someday.
I’m also keeping her perfume.

I turn to give Stu a hug when it’s all done. ‘Thank you,’ I say into his shoulder.

He holds me tightly, but this time he doesn’t cry and, after a few shaky breaths, I realise I’m not going to, either.

‘I love you, Stu,’ I blurt out.

‘I love you, too, Jessie. Always will.’

‘Will you come to visit us in LA soon?’ I ask, pulling away.

‘Of course,’ he replies. ‘Hey, how about you arrange your next gig for half-term so I can come and watch it?’ He looks down at me expectantly.

My thoughts dart to Jack and All Hype, and I wish I knew how everything was going to pan out. But I don’t. All I can do is go with the flow and pray that there are no more natural
disasters to worry about, I think with a rueful grin.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I promise.

‘You have to come!’ Agnes begs. ‘It’s LOTTIE’S NEW YEAR’S EVE PARTY!’ she practically shouts down the phone.

‘I don’t feel like celebrating. I’m sorry.’

‘I know you’ve only just got back and you’re jet-lagged, but YOU CAN SLEEP TOMORROW!’

‘Agnes, keep it down! You’re hurting my ear!’

‘Jack’s going,’ she says significantly.

‘I know. He told me.’

‘Did he call?’ she asks with surprise.

‘No, he texted. I said I’d see him soon. When I’m ready,’ I add.

‘Oh, come on!’ she begs.

‘I’ll see you next week,’ I promise, ending the call and returning to the kitchen where my family is eating dinner.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to go?’ Meg asks carefully. ‘We’re finished here and the boys will be in bed soon.’

‘Awww!’ Barney moans. ‘Can’t we stay up?’

‘You’re already up later than normal,’ she chides. ‘Phee is falling asleep in his chair.’

I glance at my littlest brother in time to see his eyes close and his head jerk forward.

‘Oh, God, that is so cute,’ I can’t help squealing and he jerks his head backwards again and looks around with confusion.

‘Please, Daddy?’ Barney asks, hopping down from the table.

‘No, sorry, buddy. Bedtime.’

Barney moans again and grabs Johnny’s leg, sliding down it to sit on his foot. Johnny kicks his leg up and Bee giggles hysterically. This wakes Phoenix up good and proper and his eyes
light up.

‘Da, da, da!’ he says, holding his chubby little arms out.

I laugh and lift him out of his chair – he’s grown so heavy! – and then Johnny takes turns with his sons on his feet while Meg rolls her eyes good-naturedly and moans about
‘never getting them to sleep now’.

She reaches for the bottle of champagne in the ice bucket and pours me another glass. I sit back down and we chink glasses.

‘Happy New Year,’ she says. ‘It’s good to have you home.’

I take a sip, feeling surreal that she just said ‘home’.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asks quietly, but still loudly enough for me to hear her over the mayhem in the background.

‘About where home is,’ I reply.

‘I hope that this starts to feel like it,’ she says gently. ‘We should get your room sorted out. I can help you if you like, when all your things arrive. But we should also go
shopping for a few more items of furniture, inject some colour into the White Room.’

I smile at her. ‘That would be really nice.’

She reaches across and squeezes my hand. ‘And of course you’ve got your birthday coming up.’

Her eyes are sympathetic and kind. She knows it’s the anniversary of Mum’s death.

‘I doubt I’ll feel like celebrating,’ I say.

‘That’s exactly why you should celebrate,’ she replies steadily.

‘Celebrate what?’ Johnny asks, pausing in his playing to look over at us.

‘Jessie’s sixteenth birthday,’ Meg replies.

‘Aah, sixteen,’ he says gruffly. ‘Sweet sixteen.’ He grins at me. ‘I suppose you’ll be wanting a car?’

I sit up straight in my chair, my eyes lighting up. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘Here we go,’ Meg jokes. ‘Any excuse to go car shopping.’

‘What sort would you like?’ Johnny asks me.

I shake my head, totally distracted from all dark thoughts. ‘I have no idea.’

‘GTI? Audi A3? Both good starter cars,’ he muses.

Jack has an Audi
…

Both the boys are clambering around Johnny’s feet, but when he tells them to cut it out they start to cry.

‘Right, that’s it, time for bed,’ Meg says resolutely, standing up.

‘I’ll go,’ Johnny says. ‘You stay there.’

‘Ooh, OK,’ Meg replies, raising her eyebrows at me and reaching for her glass of fizz.

I take another sip of my drink, the bubbles going straight to my head.

‘It’s not too late, you know,’ Meg says. ‘You could still go out.’