Page 50 of Jessica Beam is a Hot Mess
‘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 itall.’
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 ofPretty Woman.’
‘Stop listing everything to do with balconies.’
