Chapter Seven Clara
Chapter Seven CLARA
‘Jemma! We’re in the living room. Get in here!’ I call out as the front door slams with my sister’s arrival home.
‘Ugh,’ comes the unenthused response floating through from the hallway. I start to reply but get distracted by someone’s daring leap on the telly.
‘Well, that’s totally dumb, for a start!’ I yell and catch Harry – across the room in the armchair – putting his head in his hands. Beside me, Salma stifles a laugh.
‘What are you guys up to?’ Jemma calls out.
‘We’re watching Die Hard ,’ Salma pronounces, as someone on screen spasms under a hail of gunfire.
I sit up straight as the on-screen hero throws himself across a lift shaft or something.
‘See? That would never happen, Haz! I’ve watched enough Floor Is Lava to know he would slide straight off that bit and into the lava.
’ I pause. ‘Or into the German trap or whatever.’ A small groan comes from the Harry corner and I give him a quizzical look.
I glance up as Jemma fills the doorway, still wearing her coat, backpack in hand.
We need a convo about that coat actually; it is hid-eeeeeee-ous.
After all, if you see something that doesn’t look right, see it, say it, sorted.
‘You OK?’ Salma asks Jem, as I turn back to the stupid movie.
‘Hey, Jim-Jems,’ I greet her. ‘I’ve never seen Die Hard before, so Harry insisted I watch it.’
‘Um,’ he says to Jemma from between his fingers, ‘I wouldn’t characterize it like that. I would say more, I was watching my favourite movie, and your sister insisted on joining me to ruin the whole thing.’
‘Potato, tomato,’ I say, waving my hand.
‘You’re all watching it without me?’ Jemma asks in a small voice, and I glance up at her. She’s not annoyed, is she? She can’t mind me hanging out with our housemates without her? I’m the one with no friends and no life, she can’t actually mind me spending time with these guys? I internally sigh.
Honestly, everything I do seems to upset her, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I can do to fix things.
‘Come join us, babe,’ Salma says encouragingly, patting the space beside her.
Jemma shakes her head sullenly. ‘I’m going to go read,’ she mumbles like a big old martyr, jabbing at her bag’s zip and pulling out a book. It’s that novel from the library again – Too Good to Be True . Oh! I jump up, the sofa squeaking under me.
‘Hey, Jemma, don’t go, wait!’ She cocks her head at me expectantly, crossing her arms defensively.
‘What’s up?’ Her voice sounds forced.
I hop from foot to foot excitedly. ‘ Book Boyfriend starts tonight!’ I check my watch, ignoring the notification telling me to do more exercise.
‘In fact, it’s on in, like, twenty-five minutes.
’ Jemma doesn’t say anything and I inch closer.
‘You remember, Jim-Jems? You said we could watch it together? Like a fun, group house thing.’ She still doesn’t say anything and I add desperately, ‘C’mon, Jemma!
Give it a chance. It’s based on your favourite book!
It’ll be fun! You never know, you might love it! ’
She takes a deep breath, glancing at the book in her hands.
I can see she is trying to find some enthusiasm.
‘Let me go take my coat off and grab some dinner,’ she says at last. ‘I’ll pop in and out, see if it’s worth watching.
’ She turns to go, pulling at her coat sleeve as she does and almost dropping her book in the process.
‘Whoops,’ she mutters, as she grabs at the shiny plastic cover and something slips from inside it. A piece of paper. No, not paper – the envelope I’ve noticed her using as a bookmark.
Salma jumps up from her chair to retrieve the bookmark as it flutters to the ground. She casually offers it up to Jemma, who does not immediately take it. Instead – bizarrely – my sister flushes a deep, dark colour and begins stuttering.
‘Oh, er, um, oh—’ She reaches to take the envelope as Salma frowns, whipping it away again. Jemma is making the least amount of eye contact possible. ‘Er, thanks, that’s just… it’s not anything… it’s my… er… it’s just…um…’
Salma narrows her eyes at Jemma, then examines the item. ‘What? Why are you being so fecking weird? What is this?’
‘Oh god, nothing !’ Jemma replies, her voice high and strangled, eyes wild. ‘It’s just this silly… just a thing…’ She swipes for the envelope but finds only empty air. Salma is too quick for her.
I watch Jemma floundering with fascination. Whatever this envelope is, it’s… something ! I glance over at Harry, who’s sitting up straight in his chair, watching with keen interest.
‘Just tell us what it is, Jim-Jems?’ I say, faux-casually. ‘You can totally tell us anything. And it’s not good to keep secrets!’ I pause, feeling like a hypocrite, then add more forcefully than I can help, ‘ Just tell us! ’
My mind races with the many dramatic options: it’s a secret will from a long-lost relative.
It’s newly discovered adoption papers and we’re not really related.
It’s a million-pound offer letter from a publisher who wants Jemma to be the next…
er, hum. I literally can’t think of a single wealthy author.
Or any authors full stop, for that matter.
Lorraine Kelly writes novels, right? She must be rich.
Jemma sighs, looking a bit defeated as her colour returns halfway to normal. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you,’ she says, ‘but it’s all a bit odd, OK? So don’t judge me.’
I suppress an excited gasp as me, Harry and Salma all lean forward to listen.
Jemma pauses, and looks me dead in the eye. ‘It’s a letter.’ She takes a breath. ‘From a stranger. It’s a woman at the library. We leave each other notes in this copy of Too Good to Be True . We talk about books, mostly. She’s a big fan of The Very Hungry Caterpillar and—’
Salma holds up a hand, stopping Jemma in her tracks. ‘Wait, wait,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘Back up, babe. What the hell are you talking about? When did this start?’
I bounce on the spot, excited, even though this isn’t as good as a long-lost will.
‘Yeah, Jim-Jems, spill,’ I say, ‘we want details.’
Jemma laughs, then hesitates, glancing again at the novel in her hands. ‘OK, so it started about a month ago now. Someone left me a note. Here, in the inside cover of Too Good to Be True —’
I gasp with the thrill of it, then frown. ‘Wait, a nice one? Or like, give me a million pounds or I’ll kill your favourite book ?’
Salma sniggers at this and Harry looks horrified.
‘Do we need to call the police?’ he asks in a serious voice.
Bless him, he’s adorable. I think he must’ve lived in a palace growing up, without a TV or phones, and no one around that ever lied.
Apart from fun little lies about the Nazi origins of their family money.
Jemma opens the book cover to the library slip, where dates are listed – for returns, I guess?
! ‘No police required,’ she says. ‘It’s just Karen.
She’d left it here for me. She told me off for bending the book cover.
’ She looks up fiercely. ‘But I bloody didn’t!
That’s the point of the plastic anyway, isn’t it? ’
‘How would she even know it was you who bent it?’ Salma looks intrigued.
Jemma shrugs. ‘There’s only me and one other person who checks it out.
We take it in turns. I’ve tried to ask Anita the librarian about this mysterious other Too Good to Be True fan but she gets all GDPR-y on me.
There are other copies of the book available – especially now there’s this TV version coming out – but only me and one other person, Karen, check out this copy. ’
‘That’s so mysterious!’ I breathe out, enthralled.
Salma waves the envelope in the air. ‘And this is that very first note, is it? Can I have a read?’ Jemma nods and Salma pulls out an A5-sized sheet of paper. She scans the contents. ‘Hold on, why are you calling her Karen?’ she asks, glancing up. ‘There’s no name here. Did you do intros later?’
Jemma smiles shyly. ‘No, actually. We haven’t shared anything about our identities at all. I’ve just been calling her Karen in my head because she was so scoldy in that first message.’
I move closer to read over Salma’s shoulder.
Dear fellow reader of this brilliant book. Please don’t bend the front cover, it’s a cardinal sin. I could only be more outraged if you bent pages over or wrote notes in the margins.
Sincerely, your TGTBT co-fan
‘So wait,’ I say slowly, ‘how come you’re assuming it’s a woman writing the notes?’
Salma nods at this. ‘Yeah, because there is definitely a flirty vibe to this thing.’ She wriggles her eyebrows at Jemma, who looks startled. ‘This whole message is so wink-wink. Even the cutesy note-in-a-book thing – it’s like the plot of a movie.’
‘Or indeed, a book,’ Harry points out dryly.
I loudly gasp for the fiftieth time. ‘Oh my god , Jim-Jems, imagine if this is some sexy man-stranger.’ I cover my mouth. ‘This would be the best meet-cute! Sooo much better than Tinder.’
Jemma rolls her eyes. ‘Let’s not get carried away here.
Of course it’s a woman! Only women read romance books, don’t they?
’ She glances reprovingly over at Harry.
‘Don’t pout, Harry!’ she cries. ‘When did you last read anything that wasn’t a boring war memoir or some motivational speaker nonsense from an Elon Musk wannabe?
’ She sighs. ‘It’s like men can’t admit they’d enjoy reading about romance or their masculinity would instantly shrivel up and die. ’
‘Some men read romance!’ Harry protests, his face pink. ‘You don’t know! This note could very easily be from a man. We… I… men are—’
‘Not All Men!’ Salma cackles and Harry shuts up.
Jemma rolls her eyes. ‘OK, well, if we’re saying it’s not necessarily a woman writing these, it might just as easily be a freaky teenage boy with anger issues.’
Salma scoffs dismissively, then leans forward. ‘What did you reply? Do you remember what you wrote?’
Jemma looks bashful again, before retrieving a notebook from her bag. ‘I actually made a copy – there’s a photocopier in the library – and I wanted to make sure I remembered what I’d written. All our messages are there.’
I leap forward, grabbing for the pile of notes in her hand and reading the first one out loud.
Hey, TGTBT co-fan,
Thanks for your note, though I’m outraged by your outrage.
How is it fair that I’m being accused of such heinous book crimes, without the chance to defend myself?
? Do you have any evidence of this so-called cover bending?
They say don’t judge a book by its cover, but that’s just what you’re doing.
Anyway, I’m an open book, so send in your lawyers, as long as they do things by the book.
Too many reading puns?
More importantly, get over yourself. Books are made to be enjoyed! This one more than most. If a cover or two gets sacrificed along the way, at least we know it was loved in the process. Take a page out of my book and relax.
Sincerely, the OG fan
I groan. ‘God, Jim-Jems, did you have to do so many book puns? How embarrassing!’
She reddens again, her nostrils flaring. ‘She – er, they – liked it, thank you!’
Before she can stop me, I read out the stranger’s reply.
It’s true, I’m judgemental. I always have been.
Especially when it comes to books. But I do agree that they are made to be loved, so I will forgive you any future book offences.
Especially since you’re so brilliant at book puns.
Have you always loved reading? What was your favourite book as a child?
I would say The Very Hungry Caterpillar was mine, but that was George W.
Bush’s favourite, wasn’t it? Which must’ve ruined a very lucrative income stream for that poor author.
‘ The Very Hungry Caterpillar! ’ I screech, and it is too much for Jemma. She yanks the batch of notes from mine and Salma’s grasp, then turns on her heel, heading in the direction of her room.
Salma, Harry and I regard each other excitedly.
‘Well, that was fun,’ Salma grins. ‘Shall we get back to Die Hard before Book Boyfriend starts?’ She waves at the frozen image of Bruce Willis on the screen.
I giggle. ‘Ugh, you mean Definitely Would’ve Died Very Hard In Multiple Ways Ten Minutes In ,’ I correct and then dive for the sofa. ‘Press play!’
I glance over at Harry as the action begins. He looks like he might cry and I suppress the urge to laugh at him again.