Page 67 of Loving Jemima
Jem thought back to the last few hours with Ellie, to the feel of her body and the taste of her lips and the sense of not being alone, just for a while. She nodded. “I think that makes it worse though. I’ve ruined her life as much as my own.”
“No, you’ve ruined her career, and not even quite that,” Rolly said. She’d filled him in in the car. “The two of you will have to work things out. That’s how it works. And if she’s important enough to you, you’ll do anything for her.”
Jem nodded again. “I know that. I…” She thought about Ellie again, felt her heart slow slightly, felt her breathing come a little easier. “I’d do anything she needed me to do.”
“In that case, you need to go in,” said Rolly. “Because it sounds like Ellie needs you to be your authentic self before she can be with you.”
“Right, right.”
He pulled her into a rough hug. “You can do this, Jem. After all, what’s the worst that can happen? Your father is hardly likely to murder you with his assistants sitting right outside the door, is he?”
“S’pose not,” Jem mumbled, wondering if she could stay in Rolly’s warm hug for the rest of the morning and just pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“Your brother is a bit of a bastard.”
“I know,” Jem said. But at the back of her mind she could still see Jasper sitting in that hospital, sick with worry about Rosie. She could still see that little glimpse of humanity in him, the spark that had made her tell him.
What an idiot she’d been to think that Jasper could be anything other than the complete arsehole he obviously was. She sniffed and pushed Rolly gently away.
“I’d better get in there then. If I’m late it’ll just make things even worse.”
“Shall I wait here?” His kind eyes looked down at her.
“Don’t you have better things to do?”
He grinned. “David’s at work, so not really.”
“David? He has a name,” Jem teased. “It must be getting serious.”
Rolly blushed. “Perhaps.”
“No, you go,” said Jem. “I don’t know how long this’ll take. I’ll ring when I’m done, just as proof of life.”
“Whatever you say, Ms. Puddleduck.”
“Don’t call me that,” Jem said, but she was smiling anyway. Rolly had always been able to cheer her up, even if only momentarily.
“Go on then. Once more into the breach and all that,” said Rolly. “Head high, heart full, courage flowing through your veins, let’s face the monster.” He paused. “Not that Alistair is a monster.”
“Not that he’s not,” Jem said. She was already steeling herself, readying herself to walk through the door and get this done.
And once she was decided, she walked into the building without looking back.
THE SMELL OF her father’s office had always reminded her of the stables at home. Something to do with the massive amounts of leather, she supposed. She was sweating so much she couldn’t cross her legs, her thighs slippery. Her hands clasped the arms of the chair she was sitting on.
It was deliberate, she knew that.
Her father had been sitting in his chair when she was shown into the office. She’d sat down, and for the last three minutes he’d simply been staring at her. It felt like an hour had passed.
He’d done this when they were children, when he thought they’d done something wrong and should admit to it.
But she didn’t think there was anything to say now. Jasper must have said it all for her.
“I’m disappointed.”
The two words echoed around the room and Jem didn’t respond to them. She thought she might be sick and she eyed the bin close to the desk.
“You lied, Jemima. You lied and you’ve been lying for years. Straight to my face. What is the one thing that was practically beaten into you?”