Now Is Our Time (21 page)

“Look,” Miriam started jumping up and down, finally on her feet, pointing at the television. “Did you see Mummy?”

Anthony
did
see Mummy and he was so not expecting it that his eyes nearly pinged out of their sockets. Bloody hell, what was Claire doing on American TV? It was implausible, impossible and inconceivable. Had Jonah Kennedy pulled some strings? The Presenter was called Chad Black. His name flashed up on screen as he started introducing the show, which had a studio audience and a set designed like a kitchen, with two separate work stations. The concept of the programme was to put American food under the microscope by comparing it to international cuisine. He introduced Claire. The name Claire Jackson, with the word Nutritionist written underneath it came up on screen. It was strange for Anthony to see her using her maiden name. For most of his life he’d known her as Claire de Klerk. She smiled, she was calm, she was confident. Goddamn it, she was bloody radiant.

Claire
:
Thanks Chad. Right, today we’re going to look at hot breakfasts and we’re going to pitch the American breakfast against the good old traditional British version and see which one is healthier. Do you have an opinion which one you think is better nutritionally, Chad?

Chad
:
I think I might do, but it’s not for me to say. It’s for viewers at home to decide and of course our studio audience. Studio audience, do you have your buzzers at the ready?

Studio Audience:
Yes
.

The camera panned from a group of obese women towards a couple of stick-thin twenty-something girls. All of them were smiling broadly and had clearly been well ‘warmed-up’ prior to filming.

Chad
:
Behind me is our health ‘o’ metre. Audience I want you to press your buzzers now, before we get cooking, to tell us which country you think makes the healthier cooked breakfast. Is it the US or the UK? You may vote now.

A clock ticked for ten seconds whilst the camera focused on the health ‘o’ metre graph’s two bars, one labelled US, the other UK. The green line on the bars eventually settled at a 70% to 30% vote in favour of America.

Chad
:
Ok, that’s the audience’s first impression but, now, to help them properly make up their minds we’re going to see how the dishes are prepared and to do that we’ve got two very special chefs. For the US team please welcome Mr. Benny from Benny’s Diner.

Studio audience
: Big cheer and enthusiastic clapping as Mr. Benny enters stage left.

Claire
:
And for the UK team please welcome none other than Mr. Gordon Ramsey
.

Gordon entered stage right. The audience didn’t cheer for him, they positively roared. Gordon gave Claire a kiss on each cheek as he greeted her and took his place behind his cooking station. Miriam fell onto her knees and crawled right up close to the screen, just so she didn’t miss anything. “Wow, I can’t believe Mummy’s with Gordon Ramsey,” she said. Anthony’s view was now partially blocked but perhaps that was just as well. The range of emotions coursing through his veins was making him feel more multiple schizoid than bipolar. He was jealous. He was angry. He was scared. He was impressed. He was belittled. He was even a little in love. He was bloody, fucking confused. For the next half hour they watched Mr. Benny cook pancakes, apple sauce, syrup, waffles, cream, a couple of sausages and a couple of eggs, sunny side up. Claire and Chad asked him questions as he cooked and after he finished loading up a large oval plate with the goodies, scattering a few token blueberries on top, Claire looked into the camera, holding out her hands, smiled and said voila!  Gordon Ramsay was up next. He prepared a feast of scrambled eggs, mushrooms, baked beans, bacon, sausages and black pudding. It all looked so good, it was making Anthony hungry. 

“For those who don’t know, what
is
black pudding?” Claire asked Gordon.

“It’s a sausage which contains pork, dried pigs blood and suet. It’s the dried blood which gives it its colouring.”

“May I?” asked Claire, brandishing a fork.

The camera cut to someone in the audience pulling a disgusted face as Claire put a slice of sausage in her mouth.

“That’s truly delicious,” said Claire. “Anyone in the audience want to try?”

Chad went over to the studio audience brandishing a plate of small pieces of black pudding and a microphone, offering a morsel to anyone game enough to try and then asking what they thought of it. For the next half hour there were discussions about the nutritional content of the two breakfasts. The only remotely healthy thing on Mr Benny’s plate was the few blueberries, and Claire spoke about how this was a super-food full of anti-oxidants which should be eaten plentifully. The apple sauce was apparently not even remotely healthy, despite the fact that its name sounded promising. No, it contained far too much high glucose corn syrup. By contrast, the British fry-up was packed with natural goodness in the mushrooms, baked beans and grilled tomatoes. 

All in all, though it pained Anthony to admit it, it was a highly enjoyable show. If he’d been channel-hopping and had stumbled upon it, he would have stayed tuned in, if not just to watch Claire. She was irritatingly pleasing on the eye and lit up the screen. Who would have thought she had it in her? The end credits started to roll.

“I think your mummy was excellent, darling,” Ali said to Miriam. “Don’t you, Anthony?”

Begrudgingly Anthony nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Damn it, damn it, damn it. He rubbed the flat of a palm up and down over his forehead and right eye repeatedly, like a nervous tick. He wasn’t quite sure how to process everything. It was all becoming a little bit too much. He could only hope that the rest of America thought
The Taste of the Place
was ridiculous.

As he put Miriam to bed, he consoled himself. This was just a one-off pilot, according to his daughter. It might never be commissioned as a proper series. And even if it were commissioned, there were ways and means that Anthony could prevent Claire from ever being part of it. Yes, he mustn’t worry. At least now he had a better picture of the enemy, and that was all that mattered.

CLAIRE

Claire had always considered herself to be an excellent keeper of secrets. She despised gossip and if she was ever told to keep a piece of information close to her chest, then that is what she would do. A promise was a promise. As far as she could recollect, she had never divulged a secret and Georgia often told her that this was what elevated her from being not just a good friend, but a
great
friend. “I’ve always trusted you unconditionally,” she once told her, “and I’m not sure that there’s anyone else I would rely on more than you. Not even my mother.”

The secret that Claire was guarding, however, was proving much harder to keep. She and Jonah had decided to wait at least another month before telling anyone about the twins. Jonah warned Claire that he had a meeting with his agent that morning and left first thing. Before departing he brought her a cup of hot water with lemon in bed and, after she heard the front door close, she sat up against the headboard and turned on her laptop to check emails. The silence in the house without either of the girls around took some getting used to but, although she felt guilty admitting it, there was something nice about it being just the two of them at the moment. It felt like the old days and she knew that these were moments to treasure. She laid a hand on her stomach. They might as well enjoy the peace whilst it lasted. In seven months time it would be mayhem. 

She managed to read one email before Orlando Goodman video-called her on Skype.  She was relieved to see that he looked vastly improved. Whilst she valued the power of nutrition when it came to health, she also knew it had its limitations. It would not and could not cure pancreatic cancer, much as she wished it were otherwise. And so she’d had another idea. Orlando might have eschewed conventional treatments for his illness but she’d heard good reports about an alternative therapy which involved the injection of mistletoe extracts. Again, this wouldn’t be a cure, but she’d researched this plant and it seemed that it could vastly improve one’s quality and length of life. Orlando had investigated further and had flown to Aberdeen in Scotland, one of the UK’s leading mistletoe therapy centres, to commence treatment.

“I’ve got so much more energy,” he told her, “and I’m sleeping far better. I feel like a new man. Thank you so much for suggesting it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she said. “And I’m delighted it seems to be helping.”

There was more colour in his face, his eyes were alive. Gone was his sickly, grey pallor. It offered hope. Perhaps miracles could come true.

“Enough of me,” he said, “tell me about you. It looks like you’re having a fabulous time out there from what I’ve seen on
Morning Cuppa.
And the California air clearly suits you. You’re not going to want to come back. You’re looking radiant dahling. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

She hadn’t meant to tell him, but withholding the information from him felt wrong. “I’m pregnant,” she squealed unprofessionally, “with twins! But please don’t say anything. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone yet.” He was delighted for her and promised faithfully that her secret was safe with him. The problem was, however, that the moment she hung up on that call, another came in. This time it was her mother. Claire was finding it hard to concentrate. Dolores was filling her in on news about Claire’s father and some grievance they were having with rowdy neighbours and all the time that Claire was politely nodding and interjecting with a smorgasbord of “oh no’s” and “I can’t believe it” she was thinking to herself: shall I tell my Mum?

She was desperate to. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she heard the news and was itching to share her excitement. Telling her would be the most natural thing in the world. Should she? Would Jonah care? 

“Darling, are you actually listening to me?” asked Dolores.  

The sharp tone in her mother’s voice snapped Claire away from her musings.

“Of course I am. Why?”

“Because I just asked you three times to remind me what date you are coming home and you replied ‘I can’t believe it’.”

Claire giggled, although it wasn’t actually that funny. Without meaning it to be, her ‘I can’t believe it’ response was a fair representation of how she was feeling. She couldn’t believe she was going to have to go home. She didn’t want to go home. It felt wrong to go home now. She didn’t want to think about the fact that in three weeks she would be back in London.

“Sorry,” Claire apologised, “but I’ve got a lot on my mind.” 

“Is everything ok there dear?”

“Yes…….no…….yes…..I mean-

Claire burst out crying.

“I’m sorry,” Claire found herself apologising again, laughing through the tears. “I’m not even sad. I’m actually really happy.”

“You don’t look so happy,” said Dolores uncertainly.

Claire couldn’t hold it in a second longer.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted.

Just telling her mother instantly made her feel better. She wiped her eyes and beamed. Dolores shrieked so loudly that Claire covered her ears with her hands.

“That’s wonderful news,” squealed Dolores, once she’d finally calmed down. “When’s it due?”

“
It
?” asked Claire, teasingly.

“Yes,
it
,” replied Dolores. And then, thinking she’d understood why Claire was teasing, she added, “By
it
I mean the baby.”

“That’s the thing,” said Claire, pausing for dramatic effect. “It’s not just one baby, it’s two. We’re having twins.”

Claire remembered breaking the pregnancy news about Miriam. Telling people you’re going to have a baby is exciting stuff, but somehow telling people you’re having
twins
feels even more special. Dolores shrieked again, so loud and long that Claire didn’t hear Jonah entering the room. She started when he put a hand on her arm.

“Oh my God,” she said, turning her attention temporarily away from her mother. “You’re back. Hello.”

“Yes I’m back,” Jonah smiled at Dolores on the screen. “Hello Mrs J. What’s with all the screaming ladies? Have I interrupted something?”

“I’m sorry Jonah,” Claire admitted, “I’ve just told my mum.”

“I hear congratulations are in order,” said Dolores.

“Thank you,” said Jonah, sitting down next to Claire and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “You’re the first to know other than ourselves. We’re very excited.”

“Twins,” said Dolores, shaking her head, “I can’t believe it.”

“Yep,” he grinned, “a ready made doubles tennis team.”

“Oh my God,” said Dolores, clapping a hand over her mouth and going straight for the jugular with her questioning. Like mother, like daughter, the same concerns floated round their heads. “But where are you two going to live? Does that mean I’m going to have to fly to America?”

                                   -------------

“Bring a sweater with you,” said Jonah an hour later, after Claire had eaten breakfast and taken a shower. “We’re going out.”

“But it’s baking hot,” Claire objected. “What will I need a sweater for?”

“It might be a bit cooler where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

Claire loved Jonah’s spontaneity and the fact he liked to surprise her. Anthony had rarely done anything on a whim. In fact, it was always she who made the plans and he just fell in with whatever she’d organised. It made a pleasant change to have someone else taking charge of her social diary. Although with Jonah, she didn’t much mind about social arrangements. She could stay at home with him all day every day and it would be heavenly.

“We’re going to the mountains.”

“The
mountains
– do I need to pack?”

In all the times that Claire had been to San Diego Jonah had never taken her to the mountains. She wasn’t even sure where they were.

“No,” Jonah chuckled, “it’s only an hour away.”

Claire’s black cardigan was draped over the back of one of the dining room chairs. She pulled it off and followed Jonah to the front door.

“Why are we going there?”

“I thought the air would do you good. And getting away from here will at least stop you from telling any
more
people about our secret,” he reprimanded, kissing the tip of her nose.

“Sorry,” she apologised again, as he closed the front door behind them.  

“It really doesn’t matter,” he said, pointing the car key at the Porsche Cayenne and clicking it. “I actually don’t care who knows. It was you who minded. And look how much happiness it gave your mother.”

Claire sat back and relaxed in the car as Jonah drove them along the scenic twists of the Sunrise Highway.  The narrow, gentle road somehow mirrored Claire’s mood. She was feeling calmer about the pregnancy now, even excited. Jonah was right. They would and could work it all out. And the fact that it was two babies and not just one somehow seemed to make up for the past. It all felt like it was meant to be. Claire stroked the back of his neck as they wound through forests which eventually thinned out into desert down on her right. Pharrell Williams’
Happy
started playing on the radio. Claire was about to say that despite how much she loved the song, she thought the radio station was playing it too much when her phone rang.

“Don’t answer,” said Jonah. “Today is now about you and me.”

Claire looked down at the screen. 

“It’s Will Ryan from ABC,” she said.

“That call you
answer
woman,” he barked, smiling. “Quick. And whatever you do,
don’t
tell him you’re pregnant.”

                                 --------------------

Welcome to Julian. That’s what the sign said as they approached a remote and achingly pretty mountain village. Parking up outside the Café and Bakery, which resembled a Western-style saloon with a wooden clapboard façade, Claire finally ended the call to Will Ryan. She turned to Jonah, eyes wide and took a deep breath.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

“Good news, huh?” he grinned.

“It’s been commissioned. The powers that be loved
Taste of the Place
and they’ve ordered a series of twelve hour-long shows with me in it and, apparently, Gordon Ramsey is going to feature in each episode too. They love the whole British vibe thing going on. I’m in shock.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Jonah leaned across to kiss her, planting a hand on her abdomen as he did so. “I’m so proud of all of you.”

“Filming starts at the beginning of October. I’ll definitely be showing by then, perhaps even earlier because its twins but you told me not to tell them I was pregnant. Don’t you think I should call back and come clean?”

“I think,” said Jonah, moving to get out the car, “that we should go for a walk and think about it and then we can discuss it over lunch. Good plan?”

“Good plan,” she agreed, standing up and slamming the car door behind her. “Mm, something here smells delicious.”

“This bakery is famous for its apple pie. In fact, the whole of Julian is famous for its apples as well as its pies.”

“Is that why you’ve brought me here?”

“No,” Jonah smirked, “I just fancied a change of scenery.”

He linked her hand in his and they started ambling towards a mountain lake. The narrow lanes and rickety shops felt like they were from a bygone era. Some horses and carriages even trotted by. They swung their clasped hands and breathed in the pure air.

“I didn’t see my agent this morning by the way,” Jonah started, “I met with an attorney.”