Chapter Six Jemma
Chapter Six JEMMA
Clara is covered in paint splodges. Pink paint. And she’s wearing my jumper.
‘What have you been doing?!’ My voice comes out much higher than I’d intended. ‘You know we rent this place, Clara? We’re not allowed to paint or touch anything. Anything. The estate agents are absolutely gagging for an excuse to have a go at us and steal our deposit. You need to—’
Clara raises a hand and I shut up. ‘I’m not painting the walls!’ she laughs, and I feel silly until she adds, ‘I have been upcycling.’
I narrow my eyes. ‘What do you mean?’
She bounces across the room, excitedly waving a paintbrush in my face. ‘Upcycling is when you take some ugly old bit of furniture and make it modern and cool! I watched a whole bunch of videos about it and got inspired.’
I sigh. ‘I know what upcycling is, Clara. I also exist in this world. I meant what exactly have you done?’ I don’t add instead of looking for a job.
‘You had a rank old mirror in your bedroom that I have rescued and painted a gorgeous hot pink.’ She raises her eyebrows, grinning. ‘I just tripled its value – at least. And you’re welcome.’
I feel myself pale and then get hot. My lovely, antique, wooden mirror that I got at a charity shop a few years ago?
It’s now… pink? I swallow hard, staring at her.
She smiles widely, waiting for a delighted reaction.
It doesn’t even occur to her that… oh my god she’s so…
how could she think… RAAHHHHHH I AM SO ANGRY I CAN’T COME UP WITH WHOLE SENTENCES.
‘You’ve ruined my mirror?’ My voice is loud but I’m not shouting.
I am not a shouter. I will not be reduced to being a shouter.
Clara will not turn me into an awful, shouting person.
‘YOU’VE RUINED MY LOVELY, LOVELY MIRROR AND MY JUMPER?
’ I shout, gesturing wildly at my favourite Vinted find, smeared with pink paint.
Sure, I actually only bought it to wear around Salma because she disapproves of my Asos premium subscription and says I need to wear more second-hand – but that’s not the point.
Clara frowns. ‘Ruined your mirror? No, I’ve upcycled it.
I’ve made it amazing! I promise, Jim-Jems. I shared a TikTok of the whole thing and my thirty-four followers said it totally rocked.
’ She pauses. ‘Well, obviously not all thirty-four of them, because my engagement is currently quite low. But that’s to be expected, and the two people who did comment both said it was awesome.
’ She looks excited. ‘I’m thinking this could actually be my new career, Jem – making shit, old furniture totally cool and then selling it on for thousands. ’
‘WHAT ABOUT MY JUMPER?!’ I yell, trying to bring her back to the issue at hand.
She glances down, looking surprised. ‘Oh!’ She picks at the stains. ‘It’s just a bit of paint, it’ll come off in the wash, I’m sure.’ She looks up sheepishly. ‘Actually, are you putting a wash on at all because I am completely out of stuff.’ She laughs. ‘That’s why I had to borrow this.’
I feel my rosacea flaring up, hot and uncomfortable, and she cocks her head, looking mildly confused. ‘Why are you annoyed, Jim-Jems? We always used to share clothes.’
‘Yes, because we had to!’ I explode. ‘Because we were broke! And I hated it! I just wanted my own stuff. I hated sharing clothes. I hated getting joint birthday cards and joint birthday presents. I mean, how do you share a Tamagotchi anyway? Especially when you hogged it ninety per cent of the time and killed it over and over!’
‘How can you say that?’ Clara trembles. ‘I loved our little Hikotchi and I did the very best I could for him.’
I sigh, trying to bring my volume down. ‘Just… just don’t take my stuff, OK, Clara? It’s bad enough that everyone else thinks we’re basically one person just because we’re twins, but you should know better.’
She puts both hands up in surrender. ‘OK! Jeez! No problem, I won’t take your stuff. But trust me, you’re going to love what I’ve done with the mirror.’
I turn back to the washing up, trying to steady my emotions. I have been trying really, really, really hard not to get wound up by Clara in the week since she’s been living here.
I have not succeeded.
It’s like she has been designed by the universe to annoy me.
It’s like someone genetically engineered her to have all the traits that would most get under my skin.
And I know it’s just me, because Salma and Harry seem to find her delightful .
They think she’s hilarious and cool. Which obviously makes it all ten times more infuriating.
I steady my breath, adopting a friendly tone. ‘I can show you how to use the washing machine, if you like?’ I offer as nicely as possible. ‘You said you’ve run out of stuff?’
‘Oh yes, totally!’ Clara sounds relieved at the overture. ‘I’ll go get my washing.’
She runs out of the room and I check the time.
I have a meeting at the library in half an hour.
It’s with the sexy mountaineer, Aarav, whose memoir my boss and I are currently ghostwriting.
I do all the interviews with Aarav, make notes, write them up, come up with sample outlines and chapters, but my boss does the actual writing.
The finessing. He’s the one who has the agent and publishers who love him.
They throw more jobs at him than he can handle, which is why he needs me.
It’s really fun and interesting, but I wish I could do more of the actual writing.
But maybe I’d be no good. I’d probably be no good.
Either way, I’m really enjoying this project. Aarav is so impressive and hot. He was born in Nepal but has lived in the UK most of his life. He’s broken all kinds of records with his climbing, and is just back from K2, where he and his team lost four toes between them.
I’ve been resisting the urge to tell him I’d scale his peaks any day.
I also need to return my library book – complete with a new reply for my pen pal Karen.
I feel a small thrill at my silly little secret.
How long will we keep this up, I wonder, this fun, long-hand conversation?
I hope at least a little longer. Yesterday, I bought a beautiful new letter writing set specially for our correspondence.
It includes this elaborate blue hardback notebook with a floral border around the pages.
I want to impress my bookish friend – but I also just bloody love stationery.
‘Here we go!’ Clara’s muffled voice is back, this time under a swaying pile of dirty clothing that reaches almost to the ceiling. Even Aarav would struggle to find the top.
‘Bloody hell,’ I mutter, before clearing my throat. ‘Right, er, OK, let’s do this.’
I lead her to the machine, pointing out dials and drawers, but I can already tell Clara’s not really listening.
‘Oh, Harry! In here!’ she cries as our housemate slams the front door, shouting out a greeting. ‘We’re adulting!’ She sounds thrilled with herself, even though – so far – her contribution has mostly been staring out the window.
‘Goodness me, Jemma.’ He enters the room, gawping bug-eyed at the giant pile of clothes I’m kneeling beside. ‘Got a bit behind with your washing, have you?’
‘It’s not m—’ I begin to protest, but Clara is already talking over me, bouncing excitedly.
‘Oh my god, Haz! Jem! I’ve just remembered!
They’ve made a TV series of that book!’ She sounds excited and I stop loading stinky washing into the drum to listen.
‘The one you’re always reading from the library?
I saw an advert for it earlier,’ she continues happily.
‘ Too Good to Be True , right? They’ve renamed the TV series Book Boyfriend , which is a bit of a relief because that name…
ugh, right? So dated!’ She laughs and I make a mental note to lose at least half of her dirty socks.
‘They said the show is based on the cult classic book – they even flashed up the cover – and is going to be airing soon.’ I stare at her blankly.
‘We can watch it together?’ she suggests, then turns to Harry.
‘All of us! It can be a house activity, every week, watching it together.’
Harry nods enthusiastically. ‘Sounds like fun!’
‘Are you serious?’ I breathe out, horror dawning on me. ‘They haven’t!’
She frowns. ‘I thought you’d be excited?’
I swallow hard. Too Good to Be True means so much to me… How dare they rename it?! What else are they going to change?
I hold my breath.
‘They usually ruin books, don’t they, when they turn it into a TV show? What if they’ve ruined it? I don’t want to watch it.’
Clara scoffs. ‘Don’t be mad. TV is sooo much better than books! Books just go on forever and are really boring.’
I glare at her so hard, it feels like fire will shoot out and burn her all up. I want it to.
‘What are we talking about?’ Salma bounds into the kitchen, stopping short when she senses the energy.
‘Uh-oh, are we arguing? I can’t have negative energy around me, I took my first micro-dose of mushrooms this morning and my emotions are way too raw and surface level.
’ She pauses, wide-eyed as she looks between me and Clara.
‘I think I took too much actually. Unless Angela Lansbury is really in here with the magic bed from Bedknobs and Broomsticks ?’
Clara shrieks with delight. ‘I wish!’ she says happily. ‘And we’re not fighting actually; we were just talking about watching a TV series together. It’s based on Jim-Jems’ fave book and starts next week. You’re in, right, Salma?’
‘I haven’t agreed to anything,’ I say quickly as Salma starts fiddling with the buttons on the half-loaded washing machine.
‘Don’t do that,’ I scold her and she regards me with confusion.
‘I’m just fiddling with the magic knob to make the bed fly,’ she tells me and I gently guide her away from the sports setting.
‘I have to leave in a minute,’ I hiss at the other two. ‘So Clara, please keep an eye on Salma today until this Bedknobs and Broomsticks phase wears off?’
I catch Harry mutter, ‘What even is a bedknob?’ as Clara smirks.
‘I’ll look after her, but only if you agree to watch the Book Boyfriend show with me!’ She says this with a flourish, knowing I’m cornered. ‘The first episode airs next week, OK? It’ll be our new house show. And it’ll be way, way better than the book, I guarantee it!’
Harry clocks my fury and clears his throat, stepping between us and helping a giggly Salma into a chair.
‘Sounds like a plan!’ he says cheerfully, regarding the half-dealt-with piles of laundry.
‘Um, I actually need to do some washing, too.’ He smiles helpfully between us.
‘I can get this on for you guys, if you like?’
‘Oh my god.’ Clara is breathless. ‘You lifesaver, Haz!’ She skips out of the room and I pick up my rucksack angrily, heading for the front door. I have to get to the library for this meeting. Clara, her stupidity, and this news about Too Good to Be True the TV show can wait.
I turn back at the last moment. ‘Oh actually, Harry, I’ve got a bunch of washing, too, if you’re doing it?’