Page 142 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
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, Ifinallythought 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 forMatilda 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.’
