Baby Be Mine

I take my phone upstairs to my bedroom.
    ‘Hey,’ he says upon answering.
    ‘Howdy, stranger,’ I reply jovially.
    Pause. ‘Sorry I didn’t call you yesterday.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it, we were a bit busy doing drugs, having threesomes and drinking each other under the table.’
    He chuckles. At least he has the same sense of humour.
    ‘You’ve read the papers, I presume?’
    ‘Afraid so.’
    I sigh. ‘It was going to happen, but I didn’t think they’d make it out to be quite so tawdry.’
    ‘That’s the tabloids for you.’
    ‘You’ll have to deal with it, too, when you’re a huge Hollywood A-lister.’
    He laughs. ‘I doubt that very much.’
    I don’t.
    ‘So,’ he says. ‘I guess you won’t be free for dinner anytime soon?’
    ‘Afraid not. Can I call you when it all blows over?’
    ‘Of course you can.’
    I know he’s smiling, and as I hang up I smile, too, but mine is tinged with sadness. If I’m honest with myself, I may never see Joseph again – face to face, at least. Not if we’re leaving. But I’ve got enough on my mind without dwelling on that as well. I’ll try not to think about it.
    I have to wait a few more hours, with the time difference, before I can tackle my European calls, and then it’s a question of who first: Mum and Dad or Susan? Urgh. I decide to get my sister out of the way.
    ‘About bloody time!’ she squawks before I even have a chance to say hello. ‘How do you think I felt reading about THAT in the papers?’
    I stifle any retort. She’s right: she deserved to know the truth from me. ‘Not great, I imagine. I’m sorry, Susan.’
    ‘Yeah, well, thankfully Mum had already told me.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘What did you expect? She said she’d asked you time and time again to fill me in – I’m your sister, Meg – and you didn’t.’
    True again. I can hardly blame my mum for doing what I should have done myself.
    ‘Alright,’ I sigh. ‘I’m glad you know the truth. I’d better go and call Mum and Dad.’
    ‘Oh, no, you don’t!’ she erupts. ‘I want to know everything. All of the details. How did you end up with Johnny Jefferson’s son?’
    An image comes to me of her sitting on the edge of her seat, pressing the phone eagerly to her ear. She’s such a gossip-monger. But I don’t have it in me to even care anymore so I fill her in, skimming over anything I don’t want to go into. At the end of it, she’s satiated. I hang up with barely enough energy to speak, let alone the strength to talk to my parents, but I know I have no choice. I keep our conversation as short and sweet as they’ll allow, but I reassure them that I don’t condone Johnny or Dana’s behaviour and that I’m going back to England as soon as we can sort everything out. They accept, with worry, that our lives are different now.
    ‘Why don’t you come to France?’ Dad presses.
    ‘I don’t know, Dad,’ I reply. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’
    We could go back to France – but staying with my parents? No. It’s long, long overdue, but I think it’s time I did this on my own.

 
  Chapter 43  
    True to Johnny’s promise, Dana doesn’t return to the house over the next few days. Bess and I spend our time watching movies, or, if we’re feeling brave, out by the pool, trying to ignore the sound of helicopters persistently buzzing like flies overhead. Sometimes Johnny joins us, and sometimes he takes Barney off to spend some time with him alone.
    I’ve heard Lena and Eddie muttering to each other about the state of things outside the gates. It’s hard for all the staff to get in or out with the hordes of paparazzi out there.
    The degrading stories about me being Johnny’s ‘second wife’ have kept coming throughout the week. I’ve stopped reading the papers now, and I’ve asked my parents to do the same. I know there’s no use in asking Susan to comply – she’s addicted to the tabloids.
    On Friday, Bess and I are sitting out by the pool. It’s an unusually warm day for November. I couldn’t be bothered to change out of my jeans when I realised how hot it was, but Bess is in her tankini and wearing the largest, darkest pair of shades I think I’ve ever seen.
    ‘I can’t stand this,’ I snap, out of the blue.
    ‘What can’t you stand?’ Bess asks me lazily.
    ‘This! Being stuck here! I feel like I’m marooned!’
    She lifts up her sunglasses and gazes at me. ‘There are worse places you could be, you know.’
    ‘I know.’ I