Page 41 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
Chapter Twelve
A Good Woman is always poised. She must display a calm and graceful temperament, even when her temper is ruffled.
Matilda Beam’sGood Woman Guide, 1959
‘I cannot believe it. I justcannotbelieve it,’ Valentina is saying. ‘I heard that beautiful voice and thought, could it be? Could sweet Jessica Beam of all people be here? And itisyou!’
We’ve drifted into the drawing room and are now sitting round Grandma’s teal silk ottoman, which holds a pewter tray full of fancy tea-making paraphernalia. Valentina confidently pours out tea into cups, as if this is her house and we are her guests. It occurs to me that Valentina Smith is the publishing big gun Peach mentioned was coming to visit Grandma today about her guides. The Southbank Press. Of course. Like Summer said, they publish everyone.
Except bloody me.
I nod my hello politely but don’t return Valentina’s smile. This woman made out like Summer and I were going to get a book deal and then backed out because I insulted her ex. All right,accidentallythrew champagne over her ex. But still. She was so into the whole idea, and to just drop it because of the party, well, I think that’s quite fickle.
‘I’m afraid I do not understand,’ Grandma sniffs, her liquid blue eyes flicking from me to Valentina and back again. ‘You are acquaintances?’
‘Oh, Matil, Jess and I are old friends.’ Valentina tosses her perfectly tinted locks back with a warm laugh. ‘Such a shame I can’t stay much longer, because this − ’ she points one finger at me and one at Grandma − ‘really is just the most amazing moment. Grandmother and granddaughter! Jessica, you dark horse. You never mentioned your esteemed bookish heritage. Beam.Of course. I should have known! Both writers, both extraordinarily talented. Matil, can you believe that Jessica turned the Southbank Press down? I don’t think I’ve ever been turned down before. I was awfully disappointed. I kicked my office fridge because I was so disappointed. Now it’s broken. Just like my heart.’
Turned down?Wait, what?
‘I didn’t turn you down,’ I say, outraged. ‘You turnedusdown!’
Valentina’s brows draw together. ‘I told you at the party! It was damn near as good as a done deal. Of course, Iwasa little tipsy, but where books are concerned I never say anything I can’t back up. When Summer said you’d decided to go in another direction, TV of all things, I was heartbroken. I thought we had a connection, you and I! No need to be embarrassed, Jess. I can’t win them all, although,’ she muses, ‘I usually do … ’
I don’t believe it. Summer really did screw me over. Wewereoffered the book deal forSummer in the City, but she turned it down because some glossy American TV producer was interested and she didn’t need me for that. Shewouldhave needed me for a book. What the hell? Disappointment claws at my empty stomach. What makes the whole thing worse is that there’s not a bloody thing I can do about it.
‘Jessica, you are a writer?’ Grandma asks, leaning forward in her chair.
‘I was almost a published one,’ I mutter darkly. Bloody Summer.
‘Jessica is a wonderful writer,’ Valentina says cheerfully, and then pauses. ‘Wait. Why did you not know that, Matilda? You’re her grandmother.’
‘It’s a long story,’ Grandma and I say at exactly the same time.
‘I do love a good long story. What a shame I have to dash off. Perhaps you can tell me over a gin and tonic sometime, Jess? Ping me an email, we’ll pencil it in.’ She turns to Grandma. ‘And once again, Matilda, I’m so sorry not to be able to make you a reprint offer.’
Grandma rises from her chair, worriedly kneading one thin hand into the other. ‘Miss Smith, Iimploreyou to reconsider. Women today really could learn a great deal from my books, from my years of expertise. The way they behave nowadays. No grace! No manners! No skills for the home! How on earth are they supposed to find a good man … ’ She trails off and eyes the hot pink Wonderbra wrapped around my wrist. I unravel it and stuff it underneath my bum.
‘Oh, Jess, do help me to explain this to dear old Matilda,’ Valentina pleads, glancing discreetly up at the grandfather clock. ‘Perhaps she’ll listen to you. The Southbank Press can’t republish her 1950sGood Womanguides because they simply would not sell in the year 2014. My hands are tied.’
Grandma’s huge eyes are shining with tears behind her red-winged glasses. She looks so desperate. I feel quite bad for her. But Valentina is right.
‘Sorry Matild –Grandma. I’m afraid no young woman I know would take notice of old self-help tips in this day and age,’ I say gently. ‘They’re irrelevant. I mean, it’s just not what we’re thinking about any more.’
Grandma sighs, throwing her hands up in exasperation. ‘You, my dear, are a woman of almost thirty and without a husband! The whole thing is unfathomable. It is …sad.’
‘Oi, I’m not sad!’ I stand up from the sofa, indignant. ‘I’m not “almost thirty” either. I’m twenty-eight. And aside from marriage being a generally daft idea, being single is mychoice. I like the way I live. That’s who I am. Young, single and ready to tingle. I’m a feminist and an independent woman and I love it. I work hard, I play hard, I party hard and do any bloody thing I want to, OK? That’s the opposite of sad.’
‘Bravo, Jessica!’ Valentina claps. ‘Bravo!’
‘Oh dear me. Dear me.’ Grandma presses both wrinkly palms to her cheeks. ‘You mean to tell me that youchooseto live this way? I thought this was just part of … a terrible breakdown. Goodness. Does this mean that the colour of your hair is a considered decision andnota cry for help?’
I gasp. Beneath the teary eyes and worried glances, Matilda Beam has got an attitude and a half. And she’s not finished yet. ‘You have no job, Jessica. You have no home. You come to me for money, dear. Living the way you are living doesn’t seem to be making you very happy at all.’
‘Gosh,’ Valentina says, thoroughly enjoying herself now. ‘Gosh.’
‘Leave my lovely platinum blonde hair alone!’ I complain. ‘I’m not super happy right now, admittedly. Things are quite shit, actually. Butin generalI am! I have more freedom and equality than you ever had. That’s awesome. And it’s not like you’re in great shape now, either, is it? You’re totally skint, you hoard all of your shitandyou have a room full of porcelain dolls. I’m pretty sure that life tips from you would just not fly with the cool, fierce young women of today.’
Grandma gasps, two blotches of pink colouring her cheeks.
