I Knew You Were Trouble: A Jessie Jefferson Novel (6 page)

Her face falls. ‘I don’t know if that’s such a good—’

‘Come on, Meggie,’ Brian interrupts her jovially. ‘Do this old man a favour. Isn’t there a nice restaurant on the river where we could sit and watch the world go by?
I’ve been bored out of my brains and I’m finally feeling perky again.’

‘Sure, Dad, we can go out,’ Johnny interjects casually, wrapping his arm round Meg’s neck.

‘Johnny…’ Her voice trails off.

He glances down at her. ‘What’s the problem, babe?’

Her eyes dart towards me, and it finally dawns on me that she’s not worried about Brian’s health: she’s worried about my cover being blown.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Johnny says in a low voice, flashing me an apologetic smile. ‘I’ll let Eddie know.’ He claps me on the back as he begins to walk towards the
house. ‘You need to get ready?’ he asks.

‘I might change,’ I reply.

‘Cool.’

I don’t dare look back at Meg as I follow him inside.

I get ready quickly, swapping my shorts for a pair of blue jeans. It’s a sunny day, but it might get cold later. I choose a cream lace top and touch up my make-up, then head out of my
room, stuffing my phone into my handbag. I still haven’t replied to Tom. I need to check out what films are on first. I feel jumpy at the thought of sitting next to him in the dark.

‘You want me to make a booking?’ I hear Meg ask when I’m halfway down the stairs. She and Johnny are waiting at the bottom, a few metres away from Samuel, who appears to be
standing sentry just inside the front door. He normally spends his time in the guardhouse by the gates, so I’m guessing he’s driving us.

‘No, don’t call ahead,’ Johnny decides. ‘Let’s go incognito.’

‘Sir,’ Samuel says. It sounds like a warning.

‘S’alright, Sam, you can wait in the car.’

‘Johnny…’ Meg says.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Johnny reassures her, glancing at me as I reach them. ‘Dad?’ he calls down the hall. Brian is with the boys in the playroom. ‘You
ready?’

‘Coming!’ Brian calls back.

Johnny grabs a baseball cap from one of the coat hooks and pulls it on.

‘That’s doesn’t help,’ Meg comments wryly.

‘Fffff-udge it,’ he says, stopping short of swearing. He rips the cap off and tosses it on the hallstand as Brian appears with his grandsons in tow. ‘Let’s go,’
Johnny says.

As we walk out into the warm air, I notice that he’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt, and I’m guessing he’s trying to keep his telltale tattoos hidden. I’m pretty sure
that his attempts to disguise his identity will be futile, though. His celebrity aura radiates from him like expensive aftershave. You barely have to glance at him to know that he’s
famous.

We should look like any other family. But Johnny doesn’t look like any other dad. He’s a little over six foot tall, with chin-length dark-blond hair. He has stubble at the moment,
but he’s often clean-shaven, and his eyes are an intense green, not unlike my own, or so I’ve been told.

The waitress leads us out onto a terrace overlooking the River Thames. The people at the next table start whispering before I’ve even pulled out my chair.

‘Maybe I’m the one who should have gone in disguise,’ I murmur when I see two teenage girls gawking at me from a couple of tables away.

‘Put these on, just in case anyone starts taking pictures,’ Meg says in a low voice, handing me the sunnies from her handbag.

‘It’s OK, I’ve got my own,’ I reply, pulling them out and sliding them onto my nose.

Luckily it’s sunny, otherwise I’d look like a right twat.

I notice Brian frowning at Meg. ‘What’s the big deal?’ he finally asks. ‘So what if they find out who she is?’

‘She’ll be harassed,’ Meg explains irritably.

‘
I
don’t get harassed,’ he says with a casual shrug. ‘And I’m his father.’

‘Yeah, you do, Dad,’ Johnny chips in wearily.

‘Not as much as I’d like,’ Brian replies with a cheeky grin.

Johnny raises his eyes to the sky.

‘Alright, girls?’ Brian says to the two middle-aged women drinking glasses of white wine at the next table. They titter their replies.

I order a lemonade and lime and plaster a smile on my face, but I can’t relax.

Later that night, when I’m on my way back to my bedroom from the guest bathroom, I hear hushed but irate-sounding voices coming from the downstairs living room. Last time
I heard Johnny and Meg arguing, it was about me. I’m guessing nothing’s changed. My heart sinks as I pause at the top of the stairs to listen.

‘It was a bad idea,’ I can just make out Meg saying. ‘I know what it’s like. Being well-known is
hard
. I’d take anonymity any day of the week.’ Pause.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she continues. ‘You know I wouldn’t change my life with you for a second. But Jessie is only fifteen.’

‘The boys cope well enough with it,’ I hear Johnny reply in his deep voice.

‘They were born into it,’ Meg replies reasonably. ‘They don’t know any different. But I remember what it was like to be fifteen. Going on dates, meeting
boys…’

‘Do I really need to hear this?’ he asks.

‘Oh, shut up,’ she snaps good-naturedly. ‘The point is, being ordinary is underrated. Jessie deserves to have a bit of normality before her whole life is turned upside
down.’

‘Alright, kiddo?’ Brian says, making me jump. He’s peering up at me from the bottom of the stairs. He proffers the glass of water he’s holding. ‘You want
one?’ he asks.

‘Er, no, it’s OK, thanks, er…’

‘Call me Gramps,’ he says, starting up the stairs.

I try to smile at him, but my face is frozen.

He cocks his ear towards the living-room door, then tuts. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he says, as he arrives at the top of the stairs, panting slightly. He puts his hand on my arm
and guides me back towards my room. ‘It’ll all come out in the wash. Night, kiddo.’

‘Night, er—’

‘Gramps,’ he confirms with a grin.

‘Gramps,’ I say, finally able to offer him a shaky smile.

I return to my room and sit disconsolately on my bed.

Johnny warned me that my life would change once my identity’s out in the open. He told me I’d have to have a bodyguard accompanying me to school, out on dates,
everywhere
, and
I wouldn’t be able to live in my house any more because it wouldn’t be easy to secure it against intruders. I can’t really believe that such precautions are necessary, but I
suppose that whenever you see the Beckhams, or Brangelina and their brood, there’s always a horde of bodyguards with them. Johnny knows both families, and is easily as famous as they are.

This is all so crazy. The thought of having to move house makes a lump swell in my throat. You wouldn’t have thought I’d be so attached to such a crappy pile of bricks, but I am. It
was Mum’s home. I can still feel her in it. I’m not leaving, even if it is ‘unsafe’.

A big part of me wants everyone to know that I’m Johnny’s daughter, but, at this moment, I hope that Meg’s fears are unfounded. I’m not quite ready to be stared at
yet.

I pull back the covers and climb into bed, then remember Tom’s text. I quickly look up the film times on the iPhone Johnny gave me back in LA before replying. Lou can make it, and Tom
texts me back to say that Chris can, too, so we arrange to meet in the foyer at six o’clock. His last text reads:

He signed off with a kiss. I wonder if he’ll kiss me for real tomorrow. Feeling all jittery, I slide further down under my bedcovers and try to think about him instead of the niggling
feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m not sure if I feel uneasy about the possibility of my identity being blown, or the fact that I’m going on a date with Tom instead of Jack.

‘Go on, just say it,’ I hear Johnny snap the following morning.

‘I’m not saying anything,’ Meg replies unhappily. They’re in the kitchen and I’m about to round the corner.

‘Go on, it’s easy,’ he says. ‘“I told you so.”’

‘Don’t get shitty with me, Johnny,’ Meg replies sharply.

‘What is it?’ I ask worriedly, walking into the room in time to see Johnny drag his hand across his mouth in a despairing gesture.

They both start at the sight of me. The kids are nowhere to be seen, but I knew that already as they don’t swear in front of them.

Johnny casts Meg a wary look, but before he can answer I lean past him and pick up the iPad on the table.

I’m suddenly short of breath. The headline on the website for a local newspaper screams out at me:

My heart skips a beat and I hear Johnny sigh heavily. He resignedly walks over to me and puts his hand on my back as I stare at the article.

There are three grainy pictures of me sitting at the restaurant table last night with Johnny and his family. One is of me grinning as I help to feed Phoenix, another is of me straightening my
ponytail, and the last features Johnny and I smiling across the table at each other.

Words and sentences swim in front of my face:

Blonde like her father…

Had an English accent…

Didn’t remove her sunglasses…

Staying with the Jeffersons…

Already part of the family…

Who is she?

If you have any information, contact…

I gasp, staring up at Johnny in shock as I read this last part. My eyes dart towards Meg.

‘It’s OK,’ she says calmly. ‘You were wearing sunnies.’

‘Thank God you told me to,’ I murmur.

‘Why weren’t we informed this was going to break?’ Johnny is really worked up.

‘It’s just the website for a local rag,’ Meg says. ‘They think they can get away with anything.’

‘They’ll be running it in the paper tomorrow,’ he says. ‘And then the nationals will pick up on it, if they haven’t already.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Meg replies.

‘That’s not your job any more. Why hasn’t Annie been in touch?’ he snaps. Annie is his personal assistant in America.

‘It’s the middle of the night in LA,’ Meg says reasonably.

‘She should have come with us!’

Meg sighs, seemingly lost for words. She used to be Johnny’s PA – that’s how they met. She still helps him out, and obviously thought she could handle his business affairs
while they were in England, rather than uproot Annie for the sake of a few weeks.

The phone rings. Flashing Johnny a bleak look, Meg answers.

‘Hi, Stu,’ she says, her shoulders sagging as she glances at me. I notice that she’s still wearing her pyjamas. She must’ve rolled out of bed to this news. ‘You got
my text?’

I feel a wave of homesickness at the thought that my stepdad is on the other end of the line, worrying about me.

‘Yes, she’s right here. We were a bit slow on the uptake, I’m afraid, but I’m about to call Wendel.’ That’s Johnny’s solicitor. I met him when Stu first
told me Johnny was my dad. ‘Can I put Jessie on the line?’

She hands me the phone, flashes me a small smile of sympathy and leaves the room, presumably to head to the office and call Wendel.

Johnny stays in the kitchen, despondently pulling out a stool and sitting down, resting his jaw on his palm as he stares down at the iPad.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Hey.’ Stu’s warm voice comes travelling down the line. ‘You OK?’

‘Not really,’ I admit, wishing he were here in person.

‘Don’t worry about this too much,’ Stu says gently. ‘Your cover hasn’t been blown yet.’

‘Yeah, but it will be, won’t it?’ I say flatly, feeling Johnny’s piercing gaze directed at me.

‘You never know,’ Stu replies, trying to reassure me. ‘If you keep up appearances, keep doing what you normally do, you might be alright for a bit longer. You’ll just
have to be more careful, that’s all. When’s Johnny going back to LA?’

‘End of the week,’ I reply in a monotone.

‘That soon? Well, that might be a good thing,’ he says calmly. ‘Let things settle down a bit.’

‘Mmm. Maybe.’ I glance up to see that Johnny is still looking at me strangely. He holds his hand out for the phone. I nod at him.

‘Johnny wants to talk to you,’ I tell Stu.

‘OK,’ he replies. ‘I’m setting off after lunch so I should be with you mid-afternoon.’

‘OK,’ I say again. ‘See you then.’

I hand the phone to Johnny and slide the iPad back over, half skimming the article and half listening to Johnny’s one-way conversation.

‘I think it might be better if Sam brings her home,’ he says. Johnny’s the only one who calls Samuel ‘Sam’. ‘There could be paps outside the gate.’ I
feel startled at the thought of photographers with long-lens cameras hiding outside the property, trying to catch a glimpse of me. ‘He’ll be able to lose them,’ Johnny continues,
leaving the obvious out: that Stu won’t. I picture Stu appearing at the house in his little white Fiat, and me driving back out with him in the front seat, with reporters tailing us the whole
way home. Cover blown one hundred per cent.

I’m nervous at the prospect of leaving the house, even with Samuel. But I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. He’s used to dealing with stuff like this.

Johnny wraps up his conversation with my stepdad and ends the call, turning to look at me.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I should’ve listened to Meg.’

I stare at him with surprise. I wasn’t expecting an apology. I shake my head, wanting to make him feel better. ‘It’s OK,’ I say quickly, putting on a bright smile.
‘They still don’t know who I am. And anyway, like Meg said, it’s only a website for a local paper. If she can stop this from going to print—’

‘She won’t be able to,’ he says jadedly.

‘Well, Wendel, then. If Wendel can stop—’

‘The press are Rottweilers, Jess. The nationals are going to be pissed that a local paper’s got this. They’ll be going all out to get the scoop on your identity.’

‘But don’t we have any control over it? Won’t they protect my anonymity because I’m still young, still at school?’ I’m getting properly freaked out now.

‘Not now this is out there,’ he says, tapping the iPad. ‘
Now
your identity is anyone’s game. I know how it works. They won’t quit until they know
everything.’