Jemima J. (46 page)

I open my suitcase and dig through the pile of clothes. It’s not there. I open the drawer I’m using for my underwear. It’s not there. I look in the bathroom, the bedroom, and the kitchen. I look under the sofa, over the sofa, and behind the sofa. It’s not there.

“Oh shit.” With a sinking feeling, I realize I know exactly where it is. It’s hanging behind Brad’s bedroom door.

“Have you lost it?” Lauren walks in from the bedroom.

“No. The bloody thing’s at Brad’s.”

“Don’t worry.” Lauren’s face falls. “I don’t really need it.”

“Never mind about you! That’s my favorite scarf.”

“Do you want me to call him?”

“Oh my God, you’re such an angel. Would you?”

Even knowing that Lauren’s going to be talking to him makes me feel slightly sick, and as I watch her walking over to the phone I start shaking. She has a brief cool conversation
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with him in which he says he does have the scarf and he’ll leave it at the gym for her. I hear her say, “Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay. I’ll tell her. Bye.”

“What did he say? What did he say?”

Lauren has a huge smile on her face. “Jemima Jones, this must be your lucky day.”

“Why?” I’m still shaking.

“You’ve had a message, you’ve had a message,” Lauren starts singing, getting up and dancing round the living room in time with her odd little tune.

“Who from?”

Lauren stops and pauses for dramatic effect before announcing in her best Johnny Carson impersonation, “From . . . Ben WILLIAMS.”

My mouth drops open.

“And not just that. HE’S IN LOS ANGELES! And not just that, HE’S AT SHUTTERS ON THE BEACH!”

“I knew it,” I scream. “I bloody knew it. I’d know that haircut and that back anywhere. He’s here. He’s round the corner. Give me that phone. NOW!”

The shakes, if anything, have got worse, but Ben’s here! My Ben! My love! I wait for the hotel to put me through, praying that he’s still there, that he won’t have gone back home, because I have never wanted anything more in my life than I want to see Ben Williams right this second.

And the phone rings, and rings, and rings. And just as I’m about to give up hope the receiver’s picked up and a breathless voice, a voice I used to know as well as my own, says, “Hello?”

I swallow, feeling my heart pounding, wondering why I’m so out of breath when I haven’t been anywhere, and I try to speak slowly, calmly.

“Ben? It’s Jemima.”

“Jemima! You’re still here!” And is it my imagination or does he truly sound delighted to hear from me?

“I can’t believe you’re here!” I say, for want of something better.

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“I can’t believe I haven’t spoken to you for so long,” he says, for want of something better.

And then we both start talking at once, I’m so excited, he’s here! He’s here! He’s round the corner.

“What are you
doing
here?” we both say in unison, before stopping and laughing.

“I’m not telling you on the phone,” says Ben. “Look, are you around this afternoon?”

“Yes.” I’m around for you anytime, Ben.

“How about meeting up?”

“I’d love to.”

“How about meeting up now? We could spend the rest of the day together.”

“I’d love to.”

“Where shall we meet?”

I think for a minute, then suggest
[“suggests”]
a café round the corner from his hotel. “See you there in fifteen minutes?” I say.

“Done.”

Oh my God, I’m whirling round Lauren’s tiny apartment like a dervish. What to wear, what to wear? I pull on some skintight black trousers, a crisp white linen shirt, and a pair of white sneakers. I loop a crocodile belt around my waist and tip my head upside down to give my hair that sexy, tousled, just-got-out-of-bed look.

“I’m seeing Ben!” I keep shrieking to Lauren, who seems to have caught my enthusiasm, and at this very second is bouncing up and down on the bed and clapping her hands.

“Has he seen you like this?” Lauren suddenly says, while I apply the finishing touches of lipstick.

“Like what?”

“Thin.”

No. Oh God. He has no idea. I’m so nervous, what will he think, what will he say? I just shake my head.

“He’ll be speechless,” she laughs. “I’ll drop you off. Come on. You’ll be fine. Remember, it’s only Ben, he’s your friend.”

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“Exactly. It’s Ben!”

We jump in the car and Lauren puts her foot down, and three minutes later I climb out of the car, seriously worried that the butterflies in my stomach are making me feel nearly as sick as my binge the other night.

Ben’s not there. I sit at a corner table for a while and look at my watch, putting my sunglasses on to hide the nerves, to stop Ben seeing right through to the churning emotions inside, and eventually, after I’m bored of sitting with nothing to do, I walk over to the counter to order a cappuccino. I’m standing there as I hear the creak of the door opening and I turn my head slowly to see who it is and it’s him. It’s Ben. And my heart turns over.

Is it possible that Ben has got better looking? That television has groomed him, given him an air of confidence that he was missing before? For one tiny moment at Lauren’s flat I thought that perhaps, once I’d actually seen him in the flesh, perhaps I wouldn’t feel the same way, perhaps I’d just look at him, admit he’s good-looking but not have it affect me, but no, no, no. I feel exactly the same way as I did six months ago, and all of a sudden I know I’m going to act like a lovestruck teenager. I’m not going to know what to say, how to be.

And I can’t go over to say hello, my feet are rooted to the spot, so I just watch Ben looking round the café, ignoring the guy behind the counter who’s trying to hand me my cappuccino, which I can’t take because I can’t bloody move!

And then finally, finally, Ben sees me, and when he does he starts to smile.

He knows me, he’s recognized me! I start to walk towards him, the sunglasses still shielding my eyes, not breaking his gaze for a second, and I forget everything around me except for Ben, my love. Then suddenly he’s standing right in front of me and we’re both smiling. I don’t say anything. I don’t have to.

“I never usually do this,” says Ben, as confusion crosses my face. “But I saw you last night in Schatzi on Main, and again today in the bookstore. I’m meeting a friend here in a few min
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utes, but I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever seen.”

Is this a joke? What is he talking about? What’s going on?

Ben blushes. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” and with a shrug and a smile he turns away and sits at the table I was going to sit at, and I don’t know what to do, how to tell him it’s me.

“Excuse me? Excuse me? Your cappuccino?” The words float over my head, and I know that I can’t go over there, not after what he’s just said, I can’t just say, actually it’s me, Jemima Jones, and as soon as I realize this I also know that I have to leave, except my legs are still shaking, and Ben’s buried his head in a newspaper and I have to leave.

And eventually, on autopilot, I walk slowly out the door and go home.

“What happened?” Lauren asks. “What are you doing back here?” And I tell her.

“Go back, you’ve got to go back there.”

“I can’t,” I moan. “What would I say?”

“Are you completely nuts?” Lauren’s shaking her head in disbelief. “The man you were completely in love with, you’re still completely in love with, has just told you he thinks you’re the most amazing woman he’s ever seen and you didn’t have the balls to tell him it was you? This is unreal. Get your ass back there.”

I point to my watch. “He won’t still be there.”

“You are going to see him and, more to the bloody point, talk to him, if it kills me.”

Lauren paces up and down for the next hour, and then she picks up the phone and hands it to me. “The poor guy will be back at his hotel now, wondering why you didn’t turn up. Get on this phone NOW, and arrange to meet him for dinner.”

“What will I say?”

“Tell him you had an emergency and you tried to get through and you couldn’t. And for God’s sake apologize. Profusely.”

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Please don’t be there, I pray as I dial Shutters on the Beach, but he picks up the phone in his room after the first ring.

“Jemima?”

“Ben, I’m so sorry.” I tell him the story Lauren came up with and wait for him to say something.

“Don’t worry,” he says finally. “I understand. These things happen. Anyway, I’m leaving town tomorrow so I probably won’t get a chance to see you. It would have been nice, that’s all.”

“What about tonight,” I say quickly, as Lauren gives me a very sharp nudge in the ribs. “I could definitely see you tonight. We could have dinner.”

“You really want to?”

“I really want to.”

“And you won’t stand me up?”

“I swear on my life, Ben. I won’t stand you up.”

The rest of the afternoon seems to pass in slow motion, every second making the anticipation stronger and stronger. Lauren insists I do some serious beauty treatments “just in case,” and she rushes around helping me look the most beautiful I’ve ever looked in my life.

And finally it’s 6:45, just fifteen minutes to go before we’re due to meet, and I can’t stop pacing up and down, and Lauren keeps telling me off because I keep rubbing my damp palms on my dress and she’s right, I might stain it, but I don’t know what else to do with my hands so I just pace around, wringing them constantly.

“Well?” I say, for about the hundredth time. “How do I look?”

“You look fucking incredible,” says Lauren, and, although I would never describe myself as incredible, I do know I look good in my red halter top sundress, tightly fitting at the top, then flaring out at the hips into a short, swinging skirt. It sets off my tan, and I no longer need all the makeup that Geraldine taught me how to expertly apply, just the merest hint of mas
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cara and lip gloss. I look healthy, happy, confident and, most of all, I look like a true Californian. To be honest I’m not surprised that Ben didn’t know me because looking in the mirror I don’t even know myself.

But, because I’ve had all afternoon to prepare for this, I don’t feel that nervous anymore. In a weird sort of way I feel more in control, I’ve already faced him, I know what I’m up against, and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I still love him.

And that knowledge has sort of given me a power, a power I never thought I had, and I know I can face him this time, I won’t run away, and, although of course I’m still nervous, I’m excited now too.

This time I’m a few minutes late. I don’t want to be waiting for Ben to arrive, I want to walk in when he’s there, feeling strong, powerful, beautiful.

And she does walk in, and he’s there, and she does feel all of the above, and she also feels brave, which is, it has to be said, a completely new feeling for her. Once again he stares at her, thinking that this must be fate, that it is ridiculous how he keeps seeing his perfect woman, how she keeps turning up wherever he is, but he looks away after a few seconds because he made a fool of himself earlier on today, and he doesn’t want to do it again. But God, is she beautiful. No, he buries his head in a book. He’s not going to talk to her again. He’s just going to immerse himself in the book and wait for Jemima.

And as he looks at the words, for he can’t possibly read when he knows this vision of loveliness is in the room, he sees a pair of taut, tanned legs standing just in front of him, and he looks up at her, and sees that this time she is giving him a warm smile, and he curses the fact that he’s meeting Jemima, because right now he wants to spend the rest of his life basking in this woman’s smile.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he says softly, frowning slightly as I smile.

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“Yes, it’s me,” and Ben frowns, and he keeps frowning as I lean down and give him an awkward kiss on the cheek, before pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“What are you doing here?” he says, looking confused.

“What do you mean, Ben? We arranged to meet,” I tease in an American accent, because I know what this is about and I’m finally starting to enjoy it.

Ben looks at me and says slowly, “How do you know my name?”

“Ben!” I burst out laughing. “It’s me, you dumbass. Jemima Jones.” And as I watch I see it register on his face, see the confusion replaced by sheer and utter amazement, and I’m loving this, I’m loving every single second.

Ben tries to speak, but no words come out. He just stares at me, and I can see what’s happened slowly dawning on him. That I’m not fat anymore, that I’ve turned into the amazing woman he keeps seeing around, and through his shock and confusion I can slowly see admiration starting to emerge, and this is the best bloody feeling in the whole world.

“Jemima,” he whispers, as the smile leaves my face, and then, without planning it, thinking about it, we both stand up at exactly the same time and fall into one another’s arms.

Let this moment carry on forever, let the whole world disappear, leaving just me and Ben. Ben and me. I want to remember this for the rest of my life, the feel of his chest, his arms wrapped around me, his heartbeat against my cheek. I close my eyes and just cling on to him. Let me stay here forever and ever and ever.

But forever only lasts about a minute, and then, reluctantly, I pull away and sit down.

“How?” Ben starts, looking at me in amazement. “I mean, when?” He can’t take his eyes off me. “It’s . . .”

I laugh. “How did I get like this?”

Ben nods.

“It was after you left. I lost the weight and Geraldine made me over, as she would say.”

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“Oh God,” Ben groans. “I made such a fool of myself today. No wonder you walked out.”

“You didn’t make a fool of yourself. It was lovely to hear.”

“But I
knew
there was something familiar about you, I just never dreamed, never thought . . .” He tails off again, still staring at me. “You just look so beautiful. I mean, you look nothing like
you.
I’m sorry,” he continues, stammering, “I didn’t mean . . .”