‘I think that would be acceptable,’ he says, nodding and moving in closer.
Chapter Forty-TwoJEMMA
‘God, Clara’ – I roll my eyes affectionately – ‘you’re on Instagramagain? Don’t you get bored of looking at the same five profiles the algorithm shows you over and over?’
‘Never.’ She shakes her head vehemently. ‘I love it.’ She pauses. ‘I get so excited when I see a green story on Instagram Stories. Like I’m part of the in-crowd and it’s totally going to be something exclusive and exciting, just for the chosen few. I’m like, “Ooh, I can’t belieeeeeeeve I’m in the inner circle – the shortlist of cool people!” – and then it’salwaysmore pictures of people’s boring babies.’ She rolls her eyes, and Harry – whose lap she’s sitting on – laughs and squeezes her.
These two are already irritating the fuck out of everyone with their non-stop love-in.
Obviously I’m incredibly happy for them, but yeughhhh.
‘Anyone for brownies?’ Angela calls, entering the living room with a large plate of cakes. She adds reproachfully, ‘Since you ate every single one the other night…’
‘Over here!’ Buffy shouts, throwing herself onto the sofa and reaching for a brownie and the TV remote control.
The wedding is tomorrow and we’re having a big old sleepover as a sort of hen night stand-in. Because literally nobody was up for a hen do. Especially not me, Clara and Harry who are still jetlagged to buggery from our flying visit to the States.
So no penis straws, no creepy stripper and no booze. Just the core gang of us – Mum, Angela, Buffy, me, Clara, Harry and Salma – eating loads of lovely food and falling asleep in front of the TV, where we’ve just watched the final episode ofBook Boyfriendon catch-up. Not that I have any idea what’s going on, having watched so little of it. And it’s so different from my novel.
I can’t tell you what a joyful moment it was, turning up on Mum’s doorstep with Clara in tow. Mum cried absolute buckets. And even more so when we revealed she and Harry were dating. Though – after that fake engagement thingy a few months ago – she’s taken some convincing that it’s legit. Seeing them spend the last three hours with their tongues down each other’s throats has probably helped.
‘I’ve just spent £150 to avoid a £2.99 delivery charge,’ Salma announces, looking up from her phone. ‘Someone take this device away from me.’
‘Can someone take mine, too?’ Clara begs, holding her phone in the air. ‘Amanda won’t stop sending weepy voice notes about me being back.’
I collect both, throwing the phones into the pot pourri on the coffee table.
‘They’re going to smell great when you get them back,’ I tell Salma and Clara, who grin at me and then each other.
‘Shall we watch a film?’ Mum suggests, arriving in the doorway holding bowls of crisps this time.
‘How aboutDie Hard 2?’ says Harry innocently, as Clara squeals a protest.
‘Nothing scary,’ I shout over the din. ‘I can never sleep after all that adrenaline.’
‘I thought you’d love horror movies,’ Angela says from the sofa, sounding confused. I blink at her and she continues, ‘You’re a ghostwriter, aren’t you? You write ghost stories.’
Clara snorts and Buffy moans with embarrassment. ‘Er,’ I begin as nicely as I can, ‘that’s not actually what a ghostwriter is, Angela.’ I sigh. ‘And technically I’m not even a ghostwriter – I assist.’
‘You could be, though,’ Clara says, bouncing slightly on Harry’s right leg as he winces. ‘Why don’t you pitch directly to the publisher or get your own agent? You must’ve made some contacts by now!’
I blush, feeling self-conscious as the room turns to me. ‘Maybe one day.’
Clara raises a finger importantly. ‘Now is the time for risk taking and chasing the big dreams, dude!’
I smile shyly. ‘I have been thinking about it actually. I’vegot a proposal I’ve been quietly working on and I think it’s ready to submit to some agents.’ I sit up straighter. ‘You’re right, it’s time. I’m going to bite the bullet and send it out.’
‘Oh Jemma, that’s brilliant!’ Clara claps her hands excitedly as Salma regards me proudly.
‘You can call me Jim-Jems if you want,’ I tell my sister, shrugging like I couldn’t care less. But I do actually. I’ve decided I quite like being Jim-Jems.
Clara smiles at me, a little misty-eyed. ‘OK, you got it, Jim-Jems. I can’t wait to read your first solo author venture in the near future.’
I grin at her. ‘Speaking of reading and jobs—’
‘Ugh, don’t remind me!’ she wails, burying her face into Harry’s shoulder.
‘What about the library?’ I ask innocently, and she looks up, pouting.
