Chapter Twenty Jemma
Chapter Twenty JEMMA
God, I hate myself. Look at how disgusting I am. How hideous .
I turn to examine myself in the long mirror of the changing room.
What a monster I am! I hate me. I hate my sister, I hate my whole family.
I hate my house and my friends, I hate my bedroom and that chest of bloody drawers in my hallway.
What a miserable existence. I really thought by this point in my life, I’d have a husband, kids, my own house, a retirement pot.
I’ve got none of it. All I have is a thousand plastic bags in another plastic bag, and a favourite ring on the hob.
I hate, hate, hate—
Oh wait, what’s the date? Yep, OK, never mind, it’s just my period on its way.
I take a deep breath, trying to see myself through non-hormonal eyes. I try to be kind to myself. Maybe this dress isn’t— no, it’s still hideous.
‘Are you ready, sweetheart?’ Through the curtain, Mum’s voice floats over. She sounds excited. I paste on a rictus smile and pull back the curtain.
‘Here we go!’ I say with enthusiasm.
‘Oh Jemma!’ Mum says quietly, tears filling her eyes. ‘You look stunning .’
I internally groan. Seriously? This bridesmaid dress might be the rankest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s a mouldy, off-green-yellow with unflattering ruffles around my middle. Clara and Buffy emerge from the two neighbouring changing rooms, wearing matching dresses but very different expressions.
‘Oh my god, I look hot !’ Clara does a twirl, giggling as Buffy scowls. For a second I make eye contact with my twin and her face falls. We both look away.
We still haven’t spoken since our fight in the library a week ago.
Barely a word since I told her I didn’t want her living with me anymore.
Obviously she hasn’t moved out, but she is being much more considerate around the house.
In fact, I’ve hardly seen her. She’s taken on some agency waitressing work, so she’s been out most evenings doing events.
Which also means she’s been sleeping in most mornings.
The fucking chest of drawers is still in the hallway, along with the rest of the untouched upcycling crap littered all over the place.
‘You all look so beautiful,’ Mum gushes, blinking hard.
Beside her, Angela nods enthusiastically. ‘Those dresses really suit you. In 2013 there was a wedding in Sri Lanka with a hundred and twenty-six bridesmaids .’ She smiles at my mum. ‘I’m glad we only have three.’
‘This colour is disgusting,’ Buffy comments dryly. ‘I’m dressed like a swamp.’
Clara twirls again. ‘Actually, this colour is all the rage on TikTok right now. It’s everywhere!’
Buffy gives her a withering stare. ‘You are clearly looking at old people’s TikTok. Don’t act like you know what’s cool.’
‘Fair enough,’ Clara replies cheerfully.
‘Hellooo?’ Mum calls to the boutique owner. ‘Everyone loves the dresses, they all look beautiful. We’ll take them!’
We get changed and regroup by the till as Mum pays. Clara bounces excitedly. ‘I can’t believe you’re getting married in just a few weeks!’
Angela and Mum swap a loving look. They’re heading to the local registry office with a handful of friends, a few of the Great-Aunts, and – obvs – the three of us, for a small ceremony.
Neither of them wanted a long engagement or anything big, and somehow the whole thing seems way more romantic than some huge, expensive wedding ever could.
Beside me Clara coughs lightly. Awkwardly.
‘So, look,’ she begins carefully, ‘I’m going to this thing tonight.
It’s a food festival in East London. Milo Samuels – the actor from Book Boyfriend – is meant to be making a guest appearance!
’ She sounds excited as she turns to face me.
It’s our first proper eye contact in days.
‘I’m totally going to meet him and we’ll finally get to fall in love. Do you want to come?’
I shake my head in disbelief. ‘Do you seriously think he’s just going to see you and that’ll be it? He’ll magically fall for you?’
She frowns. ‘Yes! I know he’s The One, I feel it.
I’ve watched and read so many interviews with him now, I feel like I really know him.
I know the way he moves and I know his facial expressions.
I know how he laughs and the way his eyes crinkle.
I know his favourite kind of biscuit and that he loves cycling.
I know he can be super moody and hates having his photograph taken.
Even his scowling is perfect! He’s my soulmate and I’m falling for him.
I know he’ll feel the same once we actually meet. ’
‘That is… ridiculous!’ I can’t help it. She’s being insane! ‘It’s a parasocial relationship, Clara, totally one-sided. It’s just a fantasy of this person you don’t even know. It’s nonsense!’
Clara looks upset. ‘Hold on,’ she says, her voice wobbly.
‘Are you saying my TV boyfriend is somehow lesser than your note-writing boyfriend? You don’t know anything about him either, do you?
At least I know what my guy looks like. I know what his name is, his age and how he speaks. You don’t even have that much!’
My mouth opens to snap back that at least my weird relationship is reciprocated !
And then I realize she’s right. Mostly.
I’m being a pompous ass. What harm is she doing, fancying some random bloke off the TV?
We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Mine have mostly been fictional men in novels, but I’ve fallen for plenty of romantic heroes before.
They quite often seemed somehow more real – more flesh and blood – than the men I encountered out here in the world.
I sigh, feeling bad. I don’t want things to be like this between us. ‘You’re right,’ I say and she regards me suspiciously. ‘I’m sorry,’ I add, then as nicely as I can, ‘I like your jumper.’
Her eyes flick up to my face. ‘It’s not yours,’ she says quickly.
I roll my eyes. ‘I know! I’m just trying to…
I don’t know.’ I sigh again, then frown as I catch sight of her sleeve, covered in white, powdery stuff.
‘Jesus, Clara,’ I hiss, pulling her aside and slightly away from the family.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ I shake my head.
‘I thought you were working all these evenings, but you’ve been partying, haven’t you? Is it this new friend, Amanda?’
She shakes her head, looking confused. ‘What are you on about now?’
I grab her sleeve. ‘What is this? Drugs? Ricin?’
She barks a laugh. ‘Fucking hell, Ji— er, Jemma, it’s toothpaste . Dried toothpaste.’ She picks at it and flicks it in my direction. I catch a whiff of mint.
‘Oh.’ I feel silly.
‘And ricin ?’ She snorts again. ‘That’s a poison for fuck’s sake.’
‘I heard about it on Breaking Bad .’ She frowns.
‘Drugs? At my mum’s bridesmaid fitting? That’s what you think of me?’ she says quietly, shaking her head. ‘You always jump to the maddest conclusions.’
I shrug. ‘I don’t think it was that mad. It’s not like I know anything about your life before you moved back here, is it? You’ve been so secretive about what happened in the US, what am I supposed to think?’
She looks like she’s been slapped. ‘Er, excuse me, but you never showed any interest,’ she retorts. ‘Remind me, how many times did you visit in the five years I was over there? You barely ever even messaged.’
‘I—’ Before I can reply Mum joins us.
‘You all right, girls?’ She smiles encouragingly and we both nod, silently.
She continues, looking between us fondly, ‘I’m going to be such a mess at the wedding!
It’ll be so emotional having both my girls with me by my side on the happiest day of my life.
’ She wells up again as she takes each of our hands.
‘Having you back here in England, Clara, and having you girls living together again has brought me so much joy, I can’t tell you.
I’ve wanted this for so long, to have you close by and close to each other.
I know you didn’t always get along as kids, but I’m so glad it’s working out, with you two getting to know each other as grown-ups.
I’m sure living together isn’t always easy, but it’s obviously working out so well.
It’s all I want for you – for my baby girls – to be happy. ’
Beside me Clara swallows hard, pasting on a smile. After a second, I follow suit. Looks like we’ll be faking this a little bit longer. At least until after Mum and Angela’s wedding.