Jessica’s second day in The Bradley Mackintosh Show office continued in much the same vein as day one. That is to say, it was scary, nerve-racking and a struggle to keep up with what was going on as she tried to acclimatize to her workmates’ way of doing things. Making head or tail of their quick-fire banter required all her concentration and that, coupled with having to be on guard about everything she said, meant that by lunchtime she felt like she needed a holiday.
As a result, when everybody set off for the canteen Jessica decided to hang back for a minute so that she could email Dulcie, gather her thoughts and take a literal deep breath.
Had she known that by doing so she was providing her workmates with the perfect opportunity to have a good gossip about her, she might not have bothered.
‘There’s something about her that doesn’t quite ring true,’ Natasha was saying to the group.
‘What are you on about?’ said Vanessa in her thick Scouse accent. ‘You just don’t like her because she’s an attractive girl and you don’t like the competition.’
‘It’s not that,’ insisted Natasha. ‘She’s not all that anyway. Or at least she wouldn’t be if she wasn’t so … shiny.’
‘What?’ said Kerry. ‘Jessica’s got great skin; it’s not shiny at all.’
‘I’m not talking about her skin,’ said Natasha, struggling to find the words to express what she did mean. ‘I’m talking about her overall persona, I suppose. She just looks a bit too fresh to me, sort of “done” in the same way that certain celebs do, but only because you know they have a team of people whose jobs it is to make that person look and feel their absolute best. In the same way Jennifer Aniston looks like she wouldn’t be capable of having BO no matter how hard she exercised. Or have greasy hair. I mean, has anyone else noticed how expensive her clothes are?’
‘They aren’t that flashy,’ interjected Luke, who was more engrossed in flicking bits of rice salad up Kerry’s sleeve.
‘I know she’s not “flashy”, but her T-shirts aren’t exactly Top Shop’s finest and I know for a fact her jeans cost well over a hundred quid.’
Vanessa rolled her eyes.
‘What?’ said Natasha indignantly.
‘Even if you are right, and she’s got a bit of money, why should it bother you? I reckon you’re just pissed off because our Paul told Luke she’s got a nice arse.’
‘Bollocks,’ snapped Natasha before clamming up, because just then she’d spotted Jessica herself waving over to the group as she entered the canteen. Natasha at least had the good grace to wave back, albeit unenthusiastically, before turning back to Vanessa to say something else.
Over the other side of the room, Jessica sighed. She got the distinct impression she was being discussed, but knew how desperately important it was to ingratiate herself with these people in order to survive. She armed herself with a plastic tray. She felt like she was back in high school, the only difference being that back then she was the one people wanted to impress, not the other way round.
As she stood in line she noticed Paul Fletcher strolling casually into the canteen, hands in pockets. She smiled across at him, but her smile soon faded when she realized that, unlike everyone else, he wasn’t intending to get to the back of the line (or ‘queue’ as the Brits liked to call it). Instead he bypassed the long, slow-moving line completely, grabbed a sandwich, a drink and a packet of crisps from the section near the till and barged ahead, seemingly unconcerned that people were tutting at him. Only as he was paying did he spot Jessica.
‘All right?’ he called over to her. ‘What are you having?’
‘Not sure,’ she answered truthfully, having completely lost her appetite. Of all her workmates, he was the one who made her nerves most jittery.
‘Oh, well, come and sit with us anyway,’ offered Paul magnanimously, in a way that made her feel rather patronized.
Feeling about as clunky and inept as she ever had in her life, Jessica nodded feebly while wondering what to do. In the end she gave up on lunch altogether, deposited her tray back where she’d found it and followed him across the room.
There wasn’t much space round the table, but Paul squashed in next to Kerry. ‘Budge up, fatty,’ he said playfully.
‘Fuck off,’ said Kerry, her mouth full of lamb curry. ‘I need comfort food after the date I had last night. I’m only just about getting over the stress of it.’
Jessica had reached the table by this point, but there was no room and she felt too shy to ask anyone to move up, so ended up hovering in the background, hoping that someone would eventually notice and let her in.
‘Thought you’d given up on dating,’ said Luke.
‘A girl can change her mind,’ she said, giving him a ridiculously over the top wink.
‘Tell Paul what he was wearing,’ said Natasha, who had spotted Jessica but didn’t feel particularly inclined to include her, so didn’t.
‘What?’ said Paul. ‘What could the poor bastard possibly have been wearing that was quite so terrible?’
Having already been regaled with the facts, Natasha, Vanessa and Isy giggled in anticipation.
Kerry swallowed her mouthful of curry before announcing: ‘Cufflinks in the shape of wine bottles.’
The group all laughed and Jessica wondered how to react given that she was standing awkwardly on the outskirts of their conversation. Joining in felt absurd, but not as ridiculous as standing there like a self-conscious lemon. Thankfully at that moment Luke noticed her.
‘Oi, girls, let Jess in,’ he said. ‘She hasn’t got a seat.’
‘Oh, sorry, babe,’ said Kerry immediately. ‘Here, squeeze in next to me. Vanessa, move your ruddy great big bag out the way.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jessica, grateful to them both. When Vanessa flashed her a warm smile she felt borderline tearful. She hated feeling so pathetic but when you’re used to being in the inner circle, becoming the outsider was an alien experience that was tough to get used to and frightening to boot.
‘So is the line-up still the same for this week?’ asked Paul, slurping back his drink.
‘For a change, yes,’ replied Kerry. ‘I think it’s going to be a good show, actually, and with Mike away there won’t be anyone breathing down my neck either.’
‘Thank God,’ said Paul with feeling.
‘Anyway,’ said Kerry, ‘guess what I’ve got in my handbag, everybody?’
‘Two severed hands and wrists, complete with naff, wine-bottle-shaped cufflinks?’ asked Luke.
‘Better than that,’ she declared, bending down to rummage in her bag. ‘This week’s copy of Heat!’
The other girls all whooped with delight, flinging themselves across the table in order to get a better look with such enthusiasm that, for the first time that day, Jessica’s laugh was completely natural.
‘Ooh, fantastic, look at her,’ said Vanessa with relish, her hazel eyes dancing as she studied some unfortunate, vaguely famous person who’d been snapped looking pale and dishevelled. ‘Doesn’t she look a right bloody state?’
Jessica’s face fell ever so slightly as she tried to make head or tail of what Vanessa had just said, so strong was her accent.
‘To be fair,’ piped up Paul, ‘she has just walked out of hospital; I can’t say I’d appreciate a camera being shoved in my face straight after an operation.’
The girls ignored him. Bitching over the latest copy of Heat was a pastime you weren’t allowed to partake in half-heartedly.
‘She’s pretty,’ said Isy, pointing at a picture of a haughty but beautiful-looking young heiress stumbling out of a nightclub.
‘Pretty stupid,’ said Paul, getting into the spirit of things. ‘I’d love to see her doing a proper day’s work and see how special she thought she was then.’
‘Well said,’ agreed Vanessa. ‘Life’s bloody unfair, isn’t it?’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Kerry, laughing at how decisively Paul had dismissed the girl as being useless. ‘I know she’s had a jammy start in life, but it’s not her fault, is it? Just because her dad’s loaded doesn’t automatically make her a bad person.’
‘No, but I bet you it makes her a spoiled, stupid one,’ said Paul.
‘Well, that’s just such a knee-jerk reaction,’ said Jessica forcefully, before she’d had a chance to even register what was about to come out of her mouth. Everyone fell silent, looking to Paul to see how he would react.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said calmly, regarding her coolly.
Jessica blushed to her roots but felt compelled to push her point. ‘You don’t even know her, so all you’re basing your opinion on is what you know about her father.’
‘Her father who is a multi-millionaire,’ retorted Paul.
Jessica looked to Kerry, who was listening intently but clearly didn’t plan on getting involved. Everyone else was suddenly taking a keen interest in their food. Jessica swallowed.
‘But so what if her dad’s rich?’
‘So it doesn’t take a genius to work out that, judging by the way she’s staggering out of that club, she’s led a pretty pampered, cosseted existence. So I happen to think I can imagine exactly what she’s like, and while I would love to live in the idealistic world you clearly inhabit in Hampstead, I don’t. I live in the real one.’
‘Meaning what?’ Jessica asked hotly, outraged by how rude he was being.
‘Meaning that Helena Davies will undoubtedly have been spoiled by daddy so will have turned out a right horror, which might not be her fault but is just the way it is.’
‘You’re very judgemental, aren’t you? I mean, you haven’t even seen where I live in Hampstead.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘I’m staying with my aunt,’ Jessica continued, wondering why she cared quite so much what Paul thought anyway, ‘and as it happens her house is very ordinary; very nice, but ordinary.’
‘You don’t have to justify your existence to me,’ he replied.
Jessica opened her mouth to argue but something about the way Paul’s eyes were glittering prevented her from doing so.
‘Still, Helena Davies is wearing great shoes,’ added Isy, giving Jessica’s knee the slightest squeeze under the table.
‘Guys, it’s nearly two,’ said Natasha, who remained unmoved by the exchange. ‘We’d better get going.’
Reluctantly, the group began to clear up their debris and one by one got up and dragged themselves in the general direction of the lifts and The Bradley Mackintosh Show production office two floors above. Jessica hung back. She was still reeling from Paul’s outburst and felt humiliated and regretful about picking a fight. From now on she’d be avoiding him as much as possible, seeing as every time he opened his contemptuous mouth she ended up feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
‘Sorry about that,’ she apologized to Kerry, who was the last to gather up her things.
‘Don’t be silly,’ her new boss replied kindly. ‘You’re entitled to say whatever you like, and don’t worry about Paul, his bark’s worse than his bite. He’s actually a lovely guy when you get to know him.’
Jessica nodded, not at all convinced. From what she’d seen of him so far, he was a judgemental dick. Her stomach grumbled. She’d never make it through the day on an empty stomach so she’d have to risk salmonella and purchase one of the limp salads no one else had liked the look of. She trotted off to find one.
Meanwhile Kerry went to fold up her magazine and, as she did so, the small bit of writing that accompanied the photograph of the rich heiress caught her eye.
Helena Davies looking somewhat worse for wear after celebrating raising over half a million pounds for aid work in Namibia. Her father, property developer Damien Davies, has allegedly threatened to cut her off without a penny if she gives any more of her inheritance away to charity. Her leopard-skin shoes are Olivia Morris.
Kerry decided to find out if Helena Davies had an agent straight after the meeting. Ironically, she might just make a very good guest. As she packed away her magazine and followed her colleagues out of the canteen, Kerry gave a wry smile. She’d met enough celebrities to know by now that Paul was wrong. If you only took people at face value you were making a huge mistake. People were never how you expected them to be when you only had an impression of them via the media, and were only equipped with a handful of facts. Besides, in Helena’s case, she could hardly be blamed for who her parents were, surely one of the few things in life no one has any control over.
No, like Jessica she knew that you should never judge a celebrity, or indeed anyone else, by their cover. Unless their cover incorporated wine-bottle-shaped cufflinks, of course, in which case it was probably fair game.