Paparazzi Princess (5 page)

Five minutes later, Charlie and I set off to catch the bus to Gran’s.

‘I’m really looking forward to Christmas now,’ I said as we made our way out of the staff entrance.

‘Good girl,’ said Charlie. ‘Me too. As Mum always said, life is what you make of it.’

‘I know. Christmas Day at Gran’s with all our old family traditions,’ I said. ‘No one does Christmas dinner like Gran: big turkey, all the trimmings, it’s going to be fab. A few movies, chilling on the sofa, bliss. We’ll have a good time.’

Charlie nodded. ‘For Mum.’

‘For Mum,’ I agreed.

‘You know Dad has to work on the twenty-fifth, don’t you, Jess?’ asked Charlie.

I nodded. ‘But we’ll be back home on Boxing Day and can spoil him then.’

As we were waiting at the bus-stop, I saw the Lewises’ limo draw up outside the front of Porchester Park. Jefferson Lewis got out and the paparazzi went into a frenzy of taking pictures as he went inside. He looked every inch the A-lister he was and even though he was wearing dark glasses, he exuded charisma, like he had an extra shine on him that the rest of us don’t have. JJ got out after him and spotted Charlie and me at the bus stop. He waved, called something to his dad then came over to join us. JJ stood out just like his dad. He is well fit, tall with broad shoulders, handsome with great cheekbones and always impeccably dressed. Today he was wearing a knee-length overcoat that looked like cashmere and a red-and-blue striped scarf. He and Tom are so different. Tom always looks like he’s just got out of bed and thrown yesterday’s clothes on. JJ always looks neat, his clothes newly laundered and pressed. I quickly buttoned my coat right up so he wouldn’t see my jumper.

‘Just going to get some gum,’ said Charlie as JJ got closer. Typical Charlie. He knew that I had a crush on JJ so was giving me some space to be with him.

I saw the paparazzi watching us but they didn’t take any photos. Son of celeb talks to one of the staff was clearly not newsworthy, plus Henry had told me that Mr Lewis had told the paparazzi that he would agree to have his picture taken occasionally in return for them leaving his children alone.

‘Hey, Jess,’ said JJ. He even smelt expensive, a subtle scent of lime aftershave. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Good. Getting ready for Christmas. You?’

JJ gave me one of his mega watt smiles. ‘Yeah,’ he leant forward. ‘Actually, I’m hoping to spend it with someone special—’

‘JJ,’ called Jefferson Lewis from the courtyard.

JJ acknowledged his dad and moved back a step. ‘Later, hey?’ he said. ‘Catch you when you come up to see Alisha.’

‘Later.’ I felt my knees go weak. By the way he’d lowered his voice and leant towards me, I was sure he meant me when he’d said someone special. It had to be me.
Tom Robertson, who needs you?
I thought as I watched JJ make his way back over to Porchester Park.

When we arrived at Gran’s, she had hot apple juice with cinnamon and mince pies waiting for us. Yum scrum. As we curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, I thought about how to decorate and whether my purple ribbons would work – the tree at Gran’s would be totally different to the one at Porchester Park. Gran had a box of decorations that she’d had for years and rather than there being a theme, it was more like throwing whatever was in the box onto the branches: red, gold, purple, silver, white, loads of tinsel, angels, old wooden trains, chocolate coins, it didn’t matter and it still managed to look good.

Each decoration told a story, like the ‘angels’ that I’d made in junior school in art class – they looked more like worms with wings but Gran had never minded. She liked the sentimentality of them. Various other angels that had been added over the years: a punk one that Charlie had made in art class, a rag doll cherub that Mum had seen in Liberty’s and hadn’t been able to resist, plus a collection of stars in different sizes and styles.

We didn’t choose one for the top of the tree, we usually put them all on. Less is more was never an attitude that Mum believed in at Christmas. I liked both approaches, the posh and elegant at Porchester and the funky chaos at Gran’s. My purple ribbons would be just fine on there along with everything else.

‘So, where’s the tree, Gran?’ I asked.

‘Ah. Yes. That. I have something to tell you,’ said Gran. She looked nervous and Gran was usually Queen of Calm. She didn’t look her seventy years of age. She always dressed beautifully in layers of colourful bohemian clothes and devore scarves and her white hair was cut into an immaculate bob. Today, though, even her hair looked dishevelled.

‘Has something happened?’ I asked. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Sit down both of you,’ she said.

I felt a flutter of anxiety. In the past, the words, ‘sit down both of you,’ had always come before bad news.

‘What is it, Gran?’ asked Charlie, who looked as worried as I was.

‘Nothing bad,’ said Gran. ‘Not at all. No. It’s just I’ve . . . I’ve had an invite, or at least not an invite, someone has dropped out, a bunch from my art class are going, only five days and now there’s a place but—’

‘What, Gran? Dropped out of what?’ I asked.

‘Sorry,’ said Gran. ‘I’m rambling, aren’t I? Florence. I’m talking about Florence, in Italy. Remember my friend Lily?’

Charlie and I nodded.

‘Well, she was going to Florence on an art trip over Christmas. A bunch of them have booked an apartment in a palazzo. I could show you on the Net, fabulous and the views out of the window, well . . . Anyway, there’s to be a workshop at the Uffizi gallery. Life drawing. They’d asked if I wanted to go but I couldn’t afford that kind of money. Anyway, Lily’s had to drop out. Her husband’s not well and she’s offered me the place. It’s all been paid for and she won’t take anything – just doesn’t want to see it go to waste. Christmas present, she said. I won’t go if you two don’t want me to. I said I had to talk to you first.’

‘You must go, Gran,’ said Charlie immediately. ‘Of course you must.’

‘Over Christmas?’ I asked.

Gran nodded and looked for my reaction. I swallowed, then smiled and nodded. ‘Course you must.’ I knew how much it would mean to her. Apart from her family, painting is her life. She’s good at it too. She does watercolours and some portraiture in pastels. She’s had exhibitions. People buy her work. A chance to go and study at the Uffizi would be a dream come true for her.

She came and sat on the sofa between Charlie and me and put her arms around both of us. She smelt of baking and roses. ‘Are you sure? I’ve been agonising about it, I mean it’s Christmas and . . .’

She didn’t need to say any more. She was asking us to do Christmas without her as well as Mum. I couldn’t help it but the idea filled me with dread. Granddad had died a few years ago so Gran hadn’t just lost a daughter recently, she’d lost her husband too. I knew I should do anything to make her happy – just like I knew she’d do for me.

My hopes for Christmas were once again disappearing in front of my eyes but I was determined not to let Gran know. If she got the slightest inkling that I was unhappy about the trip, she’d refuse to go.

‘Actually, Gran, it’s a bit of a relief because Charlie and I felt bad about deserting Dad. He has to work but I think he’d like it if we were there so at least he could pop in on his breaks and be with us some of the time. It’s our first Christmas with him and we felt bad about leaving him, didn’t we, Chaz? We can make the mews house look amazing. No. I think it’s worked out for the best all around.’

Over Gran’s shoulder, Charlie winked at me. That was me, good girl, brave girl, only inside, I felt the opposite. I felt raw. Yet again, life wasn’t working out how I imagined it should. I’d like to have cuddled up to Gran and her safe, familiar scent and held on to her like a five-year-old but I also knew that I mustn’t let her know that. I didn’t want to spoil her special trip by acting like a baby.

At least there’s some time with JJ to look forward to
, I told myself as I felt a dark cloud descending.
I mustn’t give in to doom and gloom.
Mum always said that, in life, it’s not what happens to you that makes your experience of it, it’s how you respond and react to events that determines whether a time is good or bad. You can choose.
I
will
be happy
, I decided
. I
choose
to be happy. I do.

Knickers
, followed another thought.

I am soooooo not happy
, agreed another part of me.

Not listening, not listening
, I told myself.

‘Are you OK, Jess?’ asked Gran.

I nodded and smiled. ‘Just remembering something Mum used to say,’ I said.

‘And what was that?’ asked Gran.

‘Oh, something about choosing, um, choosing to be happy . . . which is why you must go, Gran. I think if Mum was here now, she’d say go for it. I know she would.’

Gran nodded. ‘I think she would too. She was always a game girl, my Eleanor. Always up for an adventure.’

‘Exactly,’ I said. I knew Gran was right. I could almost hear Mum saying, ‘Let her go, Jess.’ I’d just have to make my own adventure here in London without Gran.

‘Porchester Park’s like a blooming ghost town,’ said Pia as we got ready at my house to go up to Alisha’s. It was a couple of nights after Gran had told me her news.

‘I know. What’s happened to everyone?’ I asked. ‘I thought this was going to be the place to be when people started arriving back.’

‘All off to their holiday homes – skiing in France, Switzerland, North America or catching some sun in the Caribbean, Thailand or India.’

‘Where do you think we should go, dwarlings?’ asked Flo. ‘Cabin in the snowy mountains, beach house by the sea—’

‘Or Primark down the mall?’ Meg interrupted.

‘I think one should stay in London this year. Jetting off is so last decade, don’t you think?’ Pia replied in her posh Queen’s voice.

‘Deffo,’ I said, copying her in my own posh voice as I attempted to straighten my hair with my GHDs. ‘It’s so common to travel when everyone else does, one thinks. But the Lewises will be here, won’t they? I bet they’ll make their apartment look fabbie and festive.’

‘Actually, I’ll be away,’ said Flo. ‘My family are going up to Scotland to see my grandparents.’

I sighed. ‘Cross another one off the list, Pia,’ I said. ‘I suppose you’ll be leaving us too, Meg?’

Meg looked sheepish. ‘Actually, we were supposed to be staying in London but my granddad’s not been well, so last night Mum said we’re all off to Cornwall.’

‘Blimey! I was joking!’ I looked over at Pia. ‘Please, please don’t you tell me you’re leaving.’

Pia grinned. ‘No getting rid of me, matey.’

‘Phew,’ I said, although part of me knew that Pia had already gone in one way. She’d be hanging out with Henry more than me. Still, at least there would be JJ and Alisha.

I was making a special effort with my appearance before going upstairs in case JJ was there. Last time I’d seen him outside, I was freezing with a red nose. Not my best look. The only other times he saw me were when we swam together in the spa but then I’d be in my cossie with my hair scraped back. Also not my best look. Staff and their families aren’t supposed to swim in the spa but I am allowed because when JJ had found out that I was a good swimmer, he had asked that I pace him. Permission had been granted straight away. What a resident wants, a resident gets in this place. Dad’s motto is ‘if a resident wants something and we haven’t got it, we’ll have it in twenty-four hours.’

‘Working the system,’ Charlie had commented when I told him. So far it had been great, apart from the fact that JJ never saw me dressed up. I wanted him to see me looking good.

‘Alisha said she’d had some feedback from her mates in the States for our boy study,’ I said as I applied a slick of lip gloss.

‘Yeah,’ said Pia. ‘She’s really got into it. When we first met her, I thought she was so confident and must have had loads of boyfriends and experience. It was nice to find out that she’s just like us.’

‘Me too,’ said Meg, who was sitting on my bed and had adopted the yoga Lotus position much to Dave’s bemusement. He kept trying to climb into her lap but couldn’t get comfortable because of her upturned feet. ‘Just shows you can’t assume anything by appearances, doesn’t it?’

‘We meet boys at school but she’s home-schooled so where
would
she meet anyone she fancies?’ said Pia. ‘She can’t go and hang out at the mall or the movies like we would. Everywhere she goes, her minder goes too. It must be hard for her.’

‘I’d swap,’ said Flo, as she fastened a silver Alice band in her hair. ‘Ready, everyone?’

I nodded. ‘JJ, prepare to fall under my spell,’ I said to my reflection.

Pia laughed, stood up and did a cheerleader type dance. ‘Go, Jess. Go, Jess. GO JESS, GO!’

I picked up my pillow and bopped her over the head with it. Violence is the only way to deal with Pia when she’s having a manic attack.

The reception area twinkled festively as we passed through. To the left, on the mantelpiece over the fireplace, was a lush white bower hung with crystal icicles and white snowflakes, to the right, in an enormous frosted vase, were silver branches and around the hearth were candles which smelt of amber, orange and cinnamon. Jo Malone. They always were at Number 1.