Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

The most important step a Good Woman can take in seeking enduring love is to first love and accept herself, with kindness, respect and honesty.

Matilda Beam’s Facebook status, August 2014.

Grandma and Peach – Mr Belding snuggled in her arms – are waiting for me on the doorstep of the Victorian terrace in Dulwich, grinning like fools and looking, for all the world, like family. I pay the cab driver, grab my stuff and race inside, where I’m immediately presented with tea and given a tour of the house. Grandma is right – this place is no Bonham Square, but in the world of normal, not mega-rich people like me, it’s spacious and airy and full of lovely cosy period features. The pair of them lead me up two flights of stairs to my room − a huge attic space with big open windows at either end and ramshackle oak beams across the ceiling.

‘What do you think?’ Grandma asks, pink-cheeked and expectant.

I plonk onto the old bed, breathe in the fresh air sailing in from outside and smile.

‘It feels good to be home,’ I say simply.

‘Ooh, Jess!’ Peach squeals, coming to sit beside me on the bed. ‘I almost forgot to tell you, I finally thought of a nickname for you!’

Oh God.

‘Go on?’

‘I hope you like it, I really think it’s the right choice, but just tell me if you don’t and we can think of something el—’

‘Just tell me, Peach!’

‘OK, the nickname I have chosen for you is − ’ she expands her arms and grins a mad, buck-toothed grin − ‘Lady … J! What do you think? Do you love it?’

Brilliant. Fucking brilliant.

* * *

Over the next month or so, my life settles into a lovely routine − something I’ve never really had or wanted before, but something I find brings me a sort of peaceful feeling inside. I get myself a part-time job at a small second-hand bookshop in Dulwich, where I serve customers every weekday afternoon from midday to five – it’s ace; the patrons are sweet and chilled and I get to read all the books whenever the shop is quiet.

When I’m not working, and when Grandma is not studying for the Finance Management course she recently signed up for, we write our new blog, Matilda and Jess, together. Yup. We’ve started a blog of our own all about the Good Woman guides. It’s not just from the angle of meeting a man, though, but all about our opposing views on what it means to be a Good Woman, with lots of stuff about fashion, feminism, lifestyle and career. We’ve had a fair few clashes in opinion, and Grandma insists that she controls the entire Facebook page, but other than that it’s going really well and we’re building a steady, loyal audience of readers.

I still spend a lot of time partying with Peach (who, sadly, ended things with Gavin. Once he started actually talking to her, she realized he didn’t exactly set her lady business alight, so she’s still looking for the right first person to have sex with), but the difference these days is that, while I have a shit-ton of fun, I don’t get quite so messy that it affects everything else good in my life. It feels great to finally be taking control of what I’m up to, to not be the fuck-up in every room, to be working towards being a writer in my own way. I think that maybe I’m starting to figure out who I want to be, outside all the crap in my past. And I really like the way that feels.

As busy as things are, I still find the time to check my emails a gazillion times a day, hoping that Leo has responded to my letter or is even back in the country. But there’s not a peep from him, not even on his social media pages, and I slowly start to get to grips with the fact that it really is over and I should probably start moving on.

I’m sure the ache in my chest at missing him will go away soon.

It has to at some point, right?

* * *

It’s a hot, rainy afternoon in August and I’m lounging on my bed in the attic, working on posts for Matilda and Jess, when my mobile rings.

‘Hello?’ I say.

‘Jessica? Kitten-paw? Is that you?’

It’s Valentina. What does she want?

‘It’s me,’ I answer.

‘Did you get the envelope I had biked over to you?’

‘Oh, I’m not in Bonham Square now, I’m in Dulwich.

‘I know, duckling. Matilda sent a delightful notecard with the new address. It should be with you now.’

‘What’s going on?’ I frown as I make my way downstairs.’What have you sent over?’

‘Well, Jess, about an hour ago I got a letter from Leo Frost.’

I pause on the stairs. ‘What?’ My stomach dives to my knees.

‘And you are not going to believe what it was.’

‘What? What was it?’ I hurry down the rest of the stairs and to the front door, where I rifle through the post pile. There it is. A white A4 envelope addressed to me. Peach must have signed for it on her way out to the shops.

‘Have you found it?’ Valentina asks impatiently.

‘I’m just opening it!’ I say, my hands shaking.

I carefully peel open the top of the envelope and pull out a small stack of papers. The top sheet of paper is a photocopy of a release form. It’s signed by Leo and it states that he’s giving us permission to use his name in How to Catch a Man Like It’s 1955.

My heart starts to beat even faster.

‘Oh,’ I whisper into the phone.

And then I look at the other pieces of paper, and what’s on them makes me drop the phone on the floor, where it lands with a thud. Because on each new piece of paper is a detailed, delicate line drawing. The first drawing is of me and Leo in a dodgem car. The next is of me in that weird, tufty hat, on stage at Little Joe’s Java poetry night. There’s one of Leo and me in the Da Vinci room in front of The Virgin on the Rocks. The sketches are intricate and breathtaking.

I rustle through to the final piece of paper in the pile. It’s a drawing of me on the night of the London Advertising Association Awards ball. It seems Leo has remembered every detail of what I looked like that night, right down to the embroidering on the dress and the Ferris-wheel brooch. At the bottom of the drawing he has scrawled the words ‘For Jess’.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and pick the phone up off the floor with barely working hands.

‘Valentina, are you still there?’

‘I am.’ She sounds bemused.

‘I don’t understand,’ I whisper. ‘Why … ’

‘Not only has Leo agreed to publication of How to Catch a Man Like It’s 1955, but he’s offered to illustrate it too.’

I laugh out loud. What does this mean?

‘Perhaps he’s got a heart after all,’ Valentina says. ‘Shocking. I never thought it possible. I heard he left Woolf Frost. Perhaps agreeing to this is his way of sticking it to his father and the company? Either way, everyone here is thrilled, such a high-profile man as Leo wanting to be involved. We’re already talking about a sequel. Of course, I’ll need those words from you as soon as possible. We want to strike while—’

‘I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he did this.’

‘It looks like you’ve brought something special out in Leo, Jessica. Something I never had a hope of doing. But that’s OK. The heart wants what it wants, and I happen to have my eye on a delightful British actor I’ve seen at lots of parties lately. He’s very famous, so I can’t share anything more right now, but let’s just say that thegame is afoot. Shall we make plans for lunch? I’ll tell you all about it then and we can—’

‘So Leo’s back in the country,’ I blurt, not able to concentrate on anything Valentina’s saying because my heart is pounding so loudly in my ears.

‘Seems so!’ she says.

He’s back.

‘Valentina, do you mind if I call you back in a bit?’ I say, feeling a bubble of laughter rise in my throat.

She chuckles. ‘Of course. Go to him, sweet Jessica. Go to him.’

And so I do.

* * *

I arrive at Leo’s apartment block in the Docklands sweaty and breathless, my cheeks red, my hair clinging to my forehead, my purple vest absolutely soaked through. I knock on his door, clutching the photocopied drawings in my hands. I look down at them for the gazillionth time and bounce with pleasure.

The door opens, and there Leo is. He’s dressed down in a plain white T-shirt and jeans, his ginger hair wet from the shower.

My whole body twinkles at seeing him.

‘Hi,’ I say, panting heavily after running here from the Tube station.

Leo looks at me evenly, betraying no emotion.

I take a deep breath and lift my chin.

‘So, the thing is, Leo . . . I’m a woman who likes to go out to nightclubs and rock concerts. I eat Pot Noodles any chance I get, and I don’t always change my socks. I’ve slept with lots of people, I’m not ashamed of it and I don’t think I should be either. I really didn’t like your Drive Alive advert − I’m sorry, but it is shit. I love wearing a nice comfy onesie and I don’t really wear quirky hats and gloves. My mum did die.’ My voice wobbles a bit. I clear my throat and soldier on. ‘And it’s the worst thing that ever happened to me. I’m still trying to get over it, and I don’t know if I ever will, but I’ll keep trying. I don’t know much about poetry and art, but I’m open to learning about it. I swear a lot. A fucking, fucking lot. My grandma is a bit crazy. I really do love your drawings.’ I clasp the drawings I have to my chest. ‘And I think it’s awesome and bold that you left your job to become an artist. I have some fairly hefty commitment issues, but I’m working on them. And I’ve never been sorrier about anything in my life than what I did to you . . . So, well, that’s me in a nutshell, pretty much. Oh wait, there’s one more thing … I love you, Leo. I fucking love you.’

I look up into his extraordinary eyes. The eyes I know so well, but don’t really know at all yet. They crinkle at the corners as his face breaks out into a huge grin.

Leo holds out his hand, his eyes travelling over my face as if he’s trying to imprint it onto his brain.

‘Hello, Jess,’ he says. ‘I’m Leo Frost. I am really, really pleased to meet you. I’ve heard great things.’

I laugh out loud, smiling so much that I think I might pull a muscle in my face.

‘I’m Jessica Beam. Jess.’ I take his hand and shake it.

‘It’s good to finally meet you, Jess,’ he says softly, his voice breaking with emotion as he utters my real name.

He pulls me inside his apartment, weaves his hands up into my hair and kisses me in the way that makes every single part of me glow. And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this, right here,is what love feels like.

‘Would you like a drink?’ Leo asks when we eventually pull apart.

‘Yes please,’ I reply, as I go with him into the kitchen, a massive dopey smile on my face. ‘You got any pear cider?’

THE END

Dear Reader,

Hello!

Thanks so much for reading Jessica Beam’s adventure. It took me a while to get this book exactly how I wanted it to be and I’m really proud of the result. I hope it made you laugh and that it took you away from your worries for a little while.

Reader reviews are massively helpful to an author. These reviews help to bring attention (and sales, of course!) to my books, but also help other readers to figure out whether they might enjoy what I write!

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Thank you very much, and until the next book!

Kirsty x

YOU CAN READ MORE KIRSTY GREENWOOD BOOKS (and they’re all available in Kindle Unlimited too).

Yours Truly

Big Sexy Love

It Happened on Christmas Eve

He Will Be Mine

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