‘Porn. The reason you fell into that was because you were probably sexualised far too young.’
My mother freezes, as do I. ‘I… I…’
‘I’m supposed to look at you and be impressed? I don’t want a path like that for my daughters or granddaughters. Are your children in porn too?’
‘Mr Cox, with much respect—’ Dr Sara intervenes, but Henry hasn’t finished.
‘I have a degree, a family, I am a well-respected member of the community and I was voted in because my opinion means something. What an absolute joke that I’ve been called in today to share a stage with a sex worker…’ he sneers, disgusted.
No. Simply, no. Is this another slow-motion moment? Because I don’t know how and why I emerge from the shadows, but there seems to be some magnetic pull that makes me walk closer and closer to the lights of the studios until I’m there, standing next to the sound stage.
‘So you’re saying that for her opinion to be valid, she needs a degree? I have a degree.’ I notice a camera turn to focus on me.
Henry Cox turns to my voice. He narrows his eyes as he recognises me.
‘Umm, who are you?’ the presenter asks, frantically looking through his notes.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Henry Cox says, shocked that I have re-entered his orbit.
‘I’m her daughter. My name is Josie.’
I’ve not come dressed for today. I’m in jeans and a sweatshirt and some Nike Air Max trainers. A shiny sheen to my face, my hair could probably do with a wash, but Henry Cox, you need to shut up now. I look over at my mother with tears in her eyes.
‘I see it now. It makes perfect sense that you two would be related. Are you here to make the teas?’ he asks.
Oh, I’ll make the tea. I can pour it over your lap if you like? You want biscuits with that?
‘Can I ask what your degree is in?’ I ask him calmly.
‘PPE from Cambridge,’ he answers pompously.
‘Oh, for a minute, I thought it was a first-class degree in being a misogynist, classist pig,’ I retort.
Dr Sara gasps in shocked delight. The presenter doesn’t quite know what to do, but I hear gabbled yelling in his earpiece.
‘You can’t talk to me like that,’ Henry says. ‘Who the hell are you to be coming here and interrupting this? Is there security?’
It’s notNewsnight, Henry.
I take a deep breath. ‘My name is Josie Jewell. I’m the MD of The Love Shack and last year we turned over annual profits of £8 million, all through a business that celebrates sex, that celebrates pleasure and people loving themselves and their bodies.’
He pauses, registering the fact that I lied, that I came into his house and lied to him. And his son.
‘And this is my mother. Both my parents were in porn and you know what? They raised me and my brother perfectly. They raised me to work hard, respect my roots and carry no shame in anything I do. I look at you and see none of that.’
‘How dare you, you hardly know me,’ he barks, his face taut with anger.
‘I know when I see someone who is a bully, whose opinions of the world have no bearing to what is actually happening, to how the world is evolving. Bullies like you deserve none of my respect.’ I keep talking because I like how my words are turning his face a completely different colour.
‘I refuse to be a part of this sort of discussion. I did not agree to this free-for-all,’ he snarls, standing up, trying to disentangle himself from the set.
I shake my head. ‘We’re not leaving here until you apologise to my mother…’
My mother stands up and puts an arm to mine.
‘When do you suddenly need to make apologies for having morals? You are all beneath me,’ Henry snaps.
‘Apologise to her…’
