Chapter 20.

Jess was saved further scrutiny by the front door opening and the tall figure of her father ducking into the house. He pulled off his woolly hat and ruffled his greying fair hair and beamed at her.

“Hello love,” he said, his Yorkshire accent intact after all these years in the Midlands.

“Dad!”

Jess leapt up and crossed the small kitchen in a couple of strides and threw her arms around his shoulders.

“Steady on there,” he said, chuckling. “When did you get so strong?”

Jess laughed and squeezed him a little more.

He leant out of their embrace. “Jack’s going to be livid. He’s still not as tall as you and I doubt he’d beat you in an arm wrestle too.”

“Is he here?” she asked, excitement bubbling inside at seeing her little, probably not that small, brother. He would definitely have changed.

Her Dad’s face dropped and he peered down at his hat that he rolled in his hands. “No, he, um. Well, we were almost at his friend’s so… He’s been looking forward to it and all, staying over like, so um…”

“Oh,” Jess said, unable to hide the disappointment that had sunk like lead in her stomach. “OK.”

“That boy’s not coming home to see his sister?” Nan shrieked. “The one day we get to see our Jess in two years and he can’t be bothered with coming home?!”

“It’s all right, Nan.” Jess tried to placate. “I didn’t give you fair warning. I don’t want to spoil his plans.”

“Rubbish!” she shouted. “You’re a busy woman and we’re glad to have you home. That boy needs to learn some respect and priorities. Family first.” She slapped the table with her hand.

“He’s….” Dad sheepishly tried to catch Jess's eye.

“He’s got another thing coming!” Nan shrieked some more.

“It’s all right, really,” Jess said, feeling doubly bad that her brother didn’t want to see her and that, in his absence, she was landing him in a whole load of trouble.

“Trisha.” Nan pointed at Mom. This was always a bad sign. “You need to have a talk with that boy, before he turns out all disrespectful. I see the people he hangs around with.”

“What?” Mom engaged. “Fred? The doctor’s kid?”

“Him and those other ones.”

Dad tugged on Jess's arm. “Shall we go out back?” and he nodded towards the sitting room.

Jess nodded, the disappointment lingered in a knot inside.

“You all right?” Dad asked.

She was gutted. He could probably tell.

He gave her a squeeze and they ambled through the kitchen, leaving Mom and Nan to bicker.

He shrugged off his coat and sat on the sofa by the window. It had turned darker outside, the heavy clouds threatening rain and the wind toying with leaves on the lawn, the wind chimes on Nan’s annexe at the end of the garden tinkling.

“Come sit down, love,” he said shuffling to get comfortable. “Oh,” he said, once she’d joined him. “Thanks for the Broken Earth trilogy.” He lifted the three books that she’d ordered for him a few weeks ago from a bookshelf. “Not got far yet, but really enjoying them.” He stroked the cover of The Fifth Season reverentially.

He wasn’t the most talkative of men, but Jess and he could always rely on their shared love of reading for conversation. He’d introduced her to Tolkien as a child then Ursula Le Guin and Anne McCaffrey as a young teen. Now she returned the favour with NK Jemisin.

“And thanks for the offer of more,” he said, still looking at the books.

“I wish you’d accept some money,” she said, knowing exactly what he was being coy about.

“We don’t need it love.”

“Wouldn’t you like to retire early?” she said. “I can help with that.”

While Mom appeared as vital as ever, especially with her new haircut, her dad’s older age was showing. He’d always stooped a little, aware of his height, but it seemed accentuated with age.

“Oh aye, I’d love that, but…” He pawed at the book as an outlet for his awkwardness. “It doesn’t feel right and, besides, we’ve paid off the mortgage and your Nan keeps us on a tight budget.” He grinned, and they both peeked up at the bickering parent and child in the kitchen.

“Think about it though,” Jess said. “And you can always ask if anything comes up.”

“You’ll need it, pet.” He squeezed her knee. “You never know when work will dry up in that line of business, I’m sure. You might need what you’ve got for decades yet.”

“I’m twenty-four, Dad. I’ll find a way to earn money if I’m never offered another role.”

“You might be right there,” he said, giving her a fond smile.

Jess stared out of the window, hesitating at her next offer, because of the return to the subject of her brother.

“What about a college fund for Jack?”

“Well…” Her dad gave her sheepish look. “Honestly, we’re struggling to put money aside for that. I mean, we had a small pot saved up towards university for you. So there’s that. But,” he drew in breath between his teeth, “by heck it’s expensive. And I don’t want the lad burdened with all that debt for the rest of his life just to get a decent education.”

“Is he interested?” Jess said, still looking out of the window.

“Aye, he’s a bright lad.” Dad tried to catch her eye. “Get him in a quiet moment, and he’ll admit that he wants to be doctor.”

“Really?” Jess said.

“Despite what your gran says, the lad works hard. And, yes, he loves his XBox and he and Fred probably won’t sleep tonight, playing all hours, but he’s a good boy. She just worries he’ll need to work twice as hard as some of his mates. You know.”

Jess nodded and averted her gaze, the disappointment sinking her belly again at her brother’s absence.

“Would he accept money from me?” she said, quietly.

“We’d not tell him,” her father chuckled. “Not until he stops being a stubborn arse.”

Jess opened her mouth in surprise. Her father didn’t usually come anywhere in the district of a swear word.

“Oh, he is though.” Dad laughed. “I remember being that age. He’s so full of hormones and wanting to prove he doesn’t need us anymore, least of all a big superstar sister.”

Jess tried to smile.

“Be patient with him. He has it hard sometimes. Every time one of your films comes out it’s all he ever hears about at school, people wanting to know if he’s been to the premiere or met some of the stars. And of course,” Dad looked at her sadly, “you’re never home to see him, so he has nothing to tell them.”

Oh.

Jess felt several tonnes of guilt. “It’s difficult. I’m rarely in the UK.”

“I know you’re busy, love. You won’t get complaints from me. But please see it from his point of view too. He feels a fool when he knows less about you than what some of them read in the papers.”

Jess nodded. “I will try.” She sighed. “Can’t see where he gets that stubbornness from though,” she said pointedly. “Can you?” and she bent round in front of her father and stared accusingly at him with wide eyes.

“Bugger off,” he said, chuckling.

She found herself thinking of Anna then, wishing for her company to soothe away the guilt. That wouldn’t be an option soon, how soon depending on what her manager had lined up for her on Monday. Was it all worth it?

She sat back, arm round her Dad’s shoulders, gazing fondly at her Nan and mother who’d found several other topics to bicker about while actually agreeing with the essence of what each other said.

“Did I make a mistake, Dad?”

“What, love?”

“Leaving school for that film? Missing out on uni. Not seeing Jack. Doing something normal.”

“Now don’t talk rubbish. All you ever wanted to do when you were little was be in a story. Do you remember how many days you spent playing in the woods with Maisie and Sandeep? You three came up some with incredible games. Whole worlds. A cast of amazing characters. Then you’d come home for your tea and write comics. We’ve got them stored somewhere.”

“That was playing, Dad. Kid’s stuff.”

“It’s what’s made you a great actor.”

Jess blushed and hoped it didn’t show.

“Honestly, it is you know. It’s like you’re completely immersed in the story and you embody those characters. I don’t see you on the screen, and I’m your Dad. You’re that convincing when you’re playing Kalemdra. Even when you were the Bond girl, I couldn’t believe it was you.”

“I still love that part of it – making a story come to life,” Jess admitted. “That’ll never change. In fact it’s magic.” She gave her Dad a smile. “But…what’s the point of it all?”

“The point?” he said with exaggerated consternation. “You of all people are asking me about the point of stories?” He looked horrified. “Escapism if nothing else; you know that, love. But stories help us make sense of our worst fears and the terrors that life can throw at us. In fact, cataclysmic films like Atlassia establish new folk tales and narratives that frame the dangers of the climate change era and greedy corrupt governments.”

Jess opened her mouth. “You…What…?” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you read that somewhere?”

“Yes,” Dad grinned. “Dead proud I remembered it too.”

Jess laughed. “I do know, but…” She sighed.

“Being famous?”

“Yeah. That.”

“An introvert’s nightmare?” he suggested, his eyebrows raised.

Jess opened her mouth, to disagree with her Dad’s categorisation. She’d always needed her quiet time to recharge like her mother said, but also hated being alone. She loved nothing better than raving about films with Matt, best mate and producer of Atlassia, or cheeky flirtation with Anna. But a large group? In fact a large crowd, screaming at her for attention at a premiere? Yes, it was exhilarating but it would leave her depleted for days. And there were no quiet moments when everyone recognised you in the street.

But it was more than that.

“Yes,” she said at last. “That covers some of it.”

 

–

 

Jess would have kicked herself, but she would have fallen flat on her face on the muddy track. She’d dug out her old trainers and clothes from the box room that had been Jack’s old bedroom and left the cottage to run off the frustration before the autumn light faded. Besides, with her training regime she became twitchy if she didn’t exercise most days, her limbs filled with a nagging energy that needed to be burned away.

She’d run across the green, through the copse of old oaks, around the churchyard and into the woods beyond. The path curled through silver birches and bushes of holly that gave way the further Jess ran to more ancient woodland. Beech trees and gnarled oaks, with trunks wider than Jess's arm span, towered above, cutting out the light to the forest floor. Dusk was falling and the golden leaves glowed eerily in the twilight, the floor a bronze carpet of old beech leaves.

“Stupid,” she panted as she ran, her feet stamping on the trail and rustling the brittle leaves “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

What did she expect? She’d left home at seventeen, leaving her seven-year-old brother behind. And how many times had she made it home in the last handful of years? Her mind closed, not wanting to admit the answer to herself, and the odd video call had hardly made up for it.

She remembered waving goodbye to Jack when she’d left to film the first Atlassia movie, his face grinning and waving his arm in that goofy and enthusiastic way he had as a younger boy, excited that his sister was going to play the character in the graphic novels everyone talked about.

Then every time she returned he was a little bit bigger and a little more sullen. Then he didn’t wave goodbye anymore.

She had to stop. She’d run faster and faster into the woods, as if avoiding the memories, and a stitch stabbed her side as the several slices of ginger cake made themselves known.

Jess bent over breathing hard. “Shit.”

She took great lungfuls of air, trying to stretch the pain beneath her ribs away, standing up to let her lungs expand. She’d run further than she’d thought and found herself in a spot that was particularly familiar. She stepped over brambles away from the path and through the trees. If she was right, a fallen oak hollow with rot should lie a few trees further in. Twigs snapped beneath her feet, sharp and loud in the still air, and a disturbed blackbird flitted through the trees chattering with alarm.

She was right. The great tree slumbered here, not much changed in the last decade. She knelt down and peered through its hollow stem. Could she still fit through? She put her hands forward, tentatively, and crawled in. The wood was soft and spongy beneath her fingers and little woodlice scuttled away on all sides. The musty, earthy smell filled her head and she closed her eyes. She could imagine the shuffling footsteps of Maisie and Sandeep running around the fallen oak. Their shouts and cries rang in her ears.

How many days, weeks, months even, had they played here? Her chest filled with sudden longing to go back. This was the place that had changed everything.

Jess crawled through the tunnel and sank onto the forest floor on the other side, her back and head slumped against the trunk.

This is where they’d filmed their version of Atlassia, all three of the teens obsessed with the new series of graphic novels that had become a youth hit and threatened to spill out into mainstream consciousness.

Jess had dressed in head-to-toe black Lycra to resemble the prodigal Kalemdra coming home to save her arboreal lands from the threat of destruction, a character she related to so strongly and resembled so completely that kids at school ribbed her for it.

She’d stuck up her hair into the iconic style with cheap gel Maisie had nicked from her mother and Sandeep had filmed them on an old mobile phone. They uploaded their clip, in all its variable focus glory to YouTube, and played it over and over on their parents’ computers, buzzing with excitement.

Then Maisie had shared it. And it snowballed.

Soon Jess's athletic leaps and dashes though the local woods had been viewed thousands of times and it didn’t stop there.

The first she heard of an independent studio making a modest-budget version of Atlassia was the phone call to her parents from Matt the producer. Jess's dad had taken her to London to see him and she was thrilled when she met the young wife and husband team who dreamed up the story and illustrated her favourite epic.

Jess and Dad had walked into the hotel meeting room: Matt, all little and lithe in his skinny jeans and Converse, Kuniko who was tiny next to her colossal husband Jacob who looked as if he could carry the other two in his arms. They’d all stood when she’d entered, their eyes wide. It was Matt who stepped forward, his hand reaching out.

“Good god,” he said. “You are Kalemdra.”

And here she sat, three films later, each a bigger budget version than the last. She was now such an integral part of the story that Kuniko and Jacob wrote further volumes of their originally conceived arc to encompass Jess's age and growth. The enormous pressure of just that was overwhelming. And to think, if Sandeep had never shot that little film, if Maisie hadn’t stolen her mother’s gel and made Jess resemble Kalemdra so perfectly, if she’d never shared the link and let the clip silently lay there, everything would have been different.

Jess stood up and started walking back, kicking through the leaves that shushed with every step. Her thoughts swirled through her head and she wished she could escape to Anna’s flat and pretend none of it existed.