Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

A Good Woman does not indulge in intercourse until after the wedding ring is on her finger. After all, why should he buy the cow when he can get the milk for free?

Matilda Beam’s Guide to Love and Romance, 1955

Following my ill-timed funeral comment, the rest of lunch is stilted and awkward. We eat our food in silence, and as soon as we return home Grandma hurries off to her room for her afternoon nap. Peach is dispatched to town for various project supplies, and I’m given instructions to read the first two chapters of Matilda Beam’s Guide to Love and Romance, paying extra special attention to a chapter entitled ‘Making a New Male Acquaintance’. I go upstairs to my bedroom, drag the tub chair out onto my balcony and sit in the sun with the first of the guides, flicking forward a few pages to the correct chapter. I skim over the text, snorting at some of the more ridiculous suggestions.

Catch a Good Man’s attention by ‘accidentally’ dropping your glove and allowing him to retrieve it for you.

Never talk about clothes with a Good Man – he is not interested in your new dress. Find out about what he is interested in and only talk about that.

Speak to your chap in soft, soothing tones, almost as if you’re keeping a delicious secret.

I can’t decide whether to laugh or throw the book at the wall in rage. What a lot of bollocks. May as well just remember to ‘act like a wimp’ and be done with it. I cast the guide aside and turn my face up to the sun, letting my eyes flutter closed. I try hard to keep it out of my head, but I can’t help but think back to Grandma’s reason for not coming to Mum’s funeral. I might have been so drunk on tequila that I barely remember any of it and Summer might have had to drag me there, but I went. You don’t miss a funeral. Not for a chest infection anyway. I can’t help but think Grandma is hiding something. She was so cagey and cross afterwards. But why would she hide anything? And why, come to think of it, if she’s so pleased to see me now, has she never tried to get in touch before? And why − while we’re in a suspicious mood − does she think it’s a reasonable choice to keep porcelain dolls at her age?

I make a mental note to ask her. Not in a blurty way like I did at the cafe – that was awkward and she closed up like a clam − but maybe just in a subtle, casual way when the mood is right. Even though the very thought of those kinds of deep conversations makes my brain itch to the max, I find that my curiosity about Mum and Grandma has been well and truly piqued.

I take off my glasses and prop my feet up on the rail of the balcony. I’ll get back to revising that silly chapter in just a second. But for now, the sun feels damn good. I could almost be abroad. If only …

* * *

‘Jessica? Are you all right? Jessica?’

I come to with a start. I was having a lovely, almost hypnotic daydream about possible exotic travel options when all this shit here is done. I open my eyes to see Peach’s anxious round head blocking out the sun. I wipe some drool from the corner of my mouth.

‘Hey, Peach,’ I say blearily. ‘How’s it going?’

‘I got you contact lenses, like you asked,’ she says, handing me a Specsavers bag.

‘Awesome, thank you. I think I dozed off. What time is it?’

‘Four.’

‘Is it? You were in town for ages!’

‘Matilda had a long list.’

She follows as I drag the chair back into the bedroom. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust from the glare of the sun outside. I plop back down in the chair with a sleepy sigh. Peach points to the end of the bed. ‘May I sit down?’

‘Course − you don’t need to ask. S’up?’

Peach stares down at her T-shirt and fiddles with the hem. ‘I’ve been thinking.’

‘OK.’

‘I’ve been thinking that since you are here, and you said that your friends had abandoned you, and I never had many friends in Alabama and I can’t seem to find any here – I’m a little shy, you see—’

‘No kidding.’

‘I was hoping that … ’

‘What?’

‘Well, I reckoned that m-maybe we could be friends?’

‘Oh.’ I nod. ‘Sure. Good idea. We are now friends.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, why not? Friends. It’s official.’

Peach’s cheeks turn blotchy pink as she stands back up from the chair and wanders off to the door. ‘That’s great. I’m right pleased. Don’t worry about a thing, Jess, I’ll organize it all.’

She dives off out of the room in a flurry of excitement.

Wait. Organize it all? What’s she talking about?

‘Organize what?’ I call after her, but there’s no answer. ‘Peach? . . . Peach? . . . Peach?’

Nope. She’s gone.

Why is everyone always so weird?

* * *

That evening at dinner, Peach keeps giving me bizarre, excited, conspiratorial looks, which I return with non-committal smiles. Grandma seems to be in a much better mood after her nap and is regaling us with really long and winding tales of her younger years: her debut into New York society, the dances she went to and the clothes she wore, and how every man who ever set eyes on her wanted to marry her and was totally in love with her, and how much I need to learn if I’m ever going to be anywhere near as amazing as the amazing Matilda Beam. Honestly. I thought Summer was big-headed, but Grandma is something else. She’s tearfully gushing about the time she renewed her vows with Grandpa Jack, and it’s all very odd as I know none of the people she’s talking about, even though some of them are apparently my family. I try my best to pay attention, but I end up zoning out a bit, and when the front-door buzzer goes, I quickly grasp the opportunity for respite and jump up from my chair.

‘I’ll get it!’

I hurry down the hall to the front door to find Doctor Jamie from last night (and again this morning – heh) standing there, hands in his white coat pocket, shuffling his feet.

‘Hullo there,’ he says, trilling the ‘r’ in his Scots burr. ‘I said I’d call for you. So here I am. Calling for you.’

I smile. He’s cuter than I remember him being. But maybe that’s because of last night and the whole making me come three times thing. Hmmm. I wouldn’t mind doing that again, actually − it’s not like I’ve got any other plans for tonight besides hanging out with the fun twins in there.

‘Can we go downstairs to the clinic again?’ I ask without preamble.

‘Fraid not’ he replies, running a hand over his stubble. ‘Doctor Qureshi is still there. He’s working late tonight. I was thinking we could, ah, go for a bite to eat. I know a great Greek place not far from here.’

I pull a face. That’s a bit date-y. I don’t do dates. Dates lead to relationships and relationships lead to love and, as my mum always said, love leads to bitter hearts, and I don’t plan on getting me one of those.

‘I’ve just eaten.’ I shrug.

‘A walk then?’ he asks with a smile. ‘Kensington Square?’

‘Tell you what … ’ I lower my voice. ‘You go to the shop and get us some booze – Grandma only has sherry in and I think it’s out of date. It’s gross, either way − and then meet me at the balcony. Not the big balcony, because that one goes into the drawing room. The one above and to the left. That one’s the one into my bedroom.’

‘How will I get up there?’

‘I dunno. Climb? It’s not far. The one to the left, OK?’

‘Sounds dangerous. Can’t I just come in via the normal front door means?’

‘Do you know my Grandma, Doc?’

‘Um, not really. We occasionally say hello when we pass each other in the hallway.’

‘All right, based on those brief interactions, does she strike you as the kind of woman who would let a bloke into her house for the purposes of making out with her granddaughter?’

‘She does seem a bit old-fashioned … ’

I snort at the understatement.

Jamie looks unsure. ‘Even so, climbing up that high still seems a little—’

‘Don’t be such a loser. It’ll be like Rapunzel. Or the end of Pretty Woman.’

‘Stop listing everything to do with balconies.’

‘Or Romeo and Juliet … ’

‘Fine. And then what will we do?’

I wiggle my eyebrows in what I think is a sexy way.

He nods once. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes.’

* * *

I hurry back to the dining room and make my excuses to the dinner table.

‘Boy, am I full!’ I say, patting my tummy. ‘And really sleepy. Super tired after all of today’s … excitement. I think I’ll go to bed now.’

‘But it’s only eight,’ Peach says, her sandy eyebrows dipping. ‘I thought we could … hang out. I… I hoped we could have iced tea in my room.’

‘Can we do it tomorrow? I’m worn out.’

‘Oh. Sure. All right,’ she murmurs, looking back down at the table.

‘Who was at the door?’ Grandma says, putting her knife and fork together on her plate and staring at me through narrowed eyes.

‘Oh, er … Jehovah’s Witnesses.’

‘At this hour?’ She peers up at the dining-room grandfather clock – the only working one in the house from what I can tell.

‘Time of day doesn’t matter when there are millions of souls to be saved.’ I say solemnly.

‘Deary me. Rest up, then, Jessica. Beauty sleep is most integral in the life of a Good Woman!’

‘Of course, definitely, I totally agree!’ I say cheerily. ‘Bye!’

* * *

I open the bedroom balcony doors for Doctor Jamie and can’t help but laugh when I hear him heave-hoing up the side of the wall. I wander out into the fiery evening sunshine and watch with amusement as he clambers over the rails of the balcony, a stripy plastic carrier bag dangling from his wrist and a look of genuine terror on his beardy face.

‘Oh, bugger,’ he pants as he finally gets his leg over the bar and tumbles onto the balcony with a thump.

‘Smooth. Real smooth,’ I tease.

‘That was highly dangerous,’ he huffs, red-faced. ‘I’m wearing brogues. A bloke is not supposed to climb in brogues.’

‘I’m not sure a bloke is supposed be doing anything in brogues.’

‘Hey, lay off my brogues. Are you going to let me in?’

‘Come on in then, little Joey Potter,’ I chuckle, leading him through the balcony door and into the bedroom.

He brushes off his cords and hands me the carrier bag. ‘Here you go, Dawson. Hello, cat.’ He crouches down to where Mr Belding is smooshing his furry body up against Jamie’s legs and gives him a soft behind-the-ear tickle.

I climb up onto the bed and dive into the bag, emerging with a bottle of red wine, which I proceed to open with the mini corkscrew Stanley knife thing Doctor Jamie has attached to his keys.

He unties his shoelaces, kicks off his brogues and joins me on the bed, shuddering as he notices the porcelain dolls. ‘Christ Almighty, it’s like a Point Horror book in here.’

‘Creepy, right?’ I take a swig from the bottle.

‘There are so many of them. They’re … they’re looking at me.’

‘They are. Hatching evil plans, I reckon.’

Turning his back on the dolls, Jamie pulls out his phone and fiddles with it until some horrible tinny-sounding muzak starts to seep out.

I frown. ‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s a “Sounds of The Saxaphone” playlist on Spotify,’ he smiles. ‘Just setting the mood.’

‘What do you think this is, Red Shoe Diaries?’

He shrugs and tugs at the collar of his T-shirt. ‘I like it.’

‘Fine, fine. Just turn it down a little.’ My eyes dart towards the door. ‘My Grandma really can’t know you’re here. We’re working on this kind of secret project together and I’m supposed to be in here getting my “beauty sleep”. If she hears us, the proverbial shit will hit the fan.’

‘A secret project?’ He lifts a dark eyebrow. ‘Intriguing.’

Hmm. Should I tell him about it? Can I trust him? What if he tells someone?

Oh, what am I worried about? He’s just a nerdy doctor geek boy who is obsessed with hearts and wears brogues. Who is he going to tell, really?

‘All right, I’ll tell you.’

And so I tell him about the project, about Valentina Smith and the guides, and about Leo Frost and how Grandma reckons her romance tips will make him fall in love with me.

When I’m done, Jamie pulls a face.

‘It’s a daft idea, isn’t it?’ I chuckle. ‘Ridiculous, really.’

‘Yeah, it’s kind of insane. Seems a bit callous on the guy. Frost.’ His tone is disapproving.

‘Oh, don’t worry about him.’ I wave away any notion of concern for Leo Frost. ‘He’s a massive twat. He deserves everything that’s coming to him, trust me.’

‘Hmm.’ Jamie ponders, taking the wine from me and drinking some. ‘But what if he actually, you know, falls in love with you? Surely it would destroy him to discover that you weren’t who you said you were. That it was all some cynical experiment for a dating book. It seems a little heartless.’

‘Jeez, he won’t fall in love with me!’ I laugh. ‘It’s not actually going to work, Doc. I only agreed to do it because I get two and a half thousand quid either way and I’m in no position to turn that down. He’s some kind of womanizing, eternal bachelor anyway. He’s the heartless one. Honestly, don’t worry about Leo Frost!’

Jamie shrugs stiffly. ‘If you say so.’

I feel a prickle of irritation. Pah. Why am I even explaining myself to a veritable stranger?

There’s a bit of an awkward silence. I don’t tend to mind awkward silences, but we haven’t really got a great deal of time here.

I take my top off as an icebreaker. It works. Jamie dives on me.

* * *

Life might be strange and rubbish in general right now, but I’m engaging in some truly good sex and I thank the heavens for that. Doctor Jamie has tied my hands to the huge bedpost with the belt from his corduroys and has propped one of my legs over his shoulder. It’s very effective indeed. So pleasant, in fact, that I can’t help the squeak of delight that pops out of my mouth.

‘Christ, Jess,’ Jamie utters gruffly, biting my inner thigh and moving with deep concentration. ‘Christ Almighty.’

He drops my leg, slides his hands underneath my bum, lifts me up slightly at the torso and goes deeper.

Oh my God!

I don’t intend to say that out loud. But I do. Very loudly. And to my complete horror the door to the bedroom opens and Grandma appears. She’s holding a tub of moisturizer in one hand, a glass of milk in the other, her mouth falling open in dismay. The worst, the most cringe-worthy thing of all, is that Jamie doesn’t notice she’s standing there. I wriggle about and try to clamber off the bed but my hands are literally tied. Jamie’s still going, he’s still going with the vigour of a bucking bronco! Grandma hurries backwards out of the room, slamming the door on us.

‘Jamie, get off!’

He stops thrusting and scrambles off me to the edge of the bed. ‘What is it? Are you OK? Am I … am I too … big?’

I give him my withering glance. ‘My Grandma just walked in on us. Untie me!’

He removes the belt restraint with fumbling hands. I jump off the bed and cover myself up with the duvet.

‘What? Old Lady Beam saw my arse?’

‘She saw everything! Balls, bums, boobs. All of the B words. Everything.’

‘Right. Oh, bugger.’

‘Shit.’ I bury my head in my hands. I didn’t think true, deep embarrassment was an emotion I had any capacity for – I’ve never really experienced it before. But then again I’ve never had a seventy-seven-year-old long-lost relative watch me engage in a little light bondage. It feels highly uncomfortable.

I hear a weird noise and remove my hands from my face.

The weird noise is coming from Jamie. He’s still naked, standing in front of the gigantic wardrobe, his face tomato red, his shoulders shaking up and down. He’s bloody laughing.

‘Stop laughing!’ I hiss. ‘You’re a doctor. You’re supposed to be sensible. I can’t believe she walked in. She was bringing me milk, as well. Oh God!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jamie splutters apologetically between blasts of laughter, picking up his grey cotton boxers from the floor and pulling them on as he guffaws noisily. ‘I – ha-ha-ha − I’m really sorry, but you can’t deny that this would all – ha-ha! − make an excellent “how we got together” anecdote one day. Ha-haa!’

Got together anecdote?

Er, what does Doctor Jamie think is occurring here? I thought I’d been putting out a strictly casual vibe … Have I not?

I glance up at him sharply.

‘Um, not to ruin the mood, but you do know that this thing with us is just a no strings deal, right?’

He gasps, pressing a hand to his mouth jokily. ‘You mean to tell me that … that y-you’re using me for my body?’

‘Well, pretty much, yes. Sexual convenience, stress release, etcetera. Nothing more. Not anything against you, of course, you seem perfectly lovely and I can’t deny that you have … skills. I’m just not interested in anything more … any emotional stuff, you know? I’m not that kind of girl. So you need to know that, if we’re going to, like, see each other again or whatever.’

‘I was joking, Jess,’ Jamie retorts, a small frown playing around his mouth. ‘I was just messing about. No strings, I get it.’

‘Good.’ I give a firm nod. ‘That’s all right then.’