The Accidental Life of Jessie Jefferson by Paige Toon Page B

pulling them on. I’ll sort out footwear later, but for now I just want to relax. Ha. As if. I wonder how far away we are.
    I lean over and press the intercom button. ‘Hi, Davey?’
    ‘Hello, Miss Pickerill,’ he replies warmly. ‘I thought you might have fallen asleep.’
    ‘No, but I’m dressed now if you want to put the screen back down?’
    ‘As you wish.’ The screen glides down and he glances at me in his wing mirror, a twinkle in his brown eyes. ‘All set?’
    ‘Pretty much,’ I reply with a nervous smile. ‘Have we got far to go?’
    ‘Ten minutes. We’re just coming into Bel Air now,’ he says, and I look out of the window in time to see us pass through a large, wrought iron gate. Now this is more like it. Mansions line the pristine streets, landscaped gardens burst with colour, and sprinklers whirr round and round, drenching neatly mown lawns with fat drops of sparkling water. I grin and put my sunglasses back on as the road starts to wind upwards and the ever more enormous mansions begin to retreat behind high walls and impressive security gates.
    I’m finding it hard to breathe again and it has nothing to do with the atmosphere.
    ‘Almost there,’ Davey calls back to me.
    God! Really? I could do with a cigarette right now. I quickly zip up my suitcase and sit with a racing pulse. I won’t need my jacket on, will I? Suddenly I’m not sure about the dress. What was I thinking? It’s too flashy, too much, too . . . late !
    ‘Here’s home,’ Davey says as we start to pass through tall gates with security cameras pointing down from tall posts on either side. Davey puts his window down and waves at a man in a small office as we pass. If he could see me through the darkened limo glass, he’d think that I look like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Oh no, what about my shoes?
    We start to drive down a long driveway. Leafy green trees, rich from the summer sun, partly obscure the house. I look around with panic and realise that I have no choice but to pull my chunky ankle boots back on – never mind, it’s ‘a look’ and I can carry it off. I try to imbue myself with some of the confidence that I normally feel.
    The house comes into view: a long, two-storey, white, rectangular building punctuated with large windows. Davey pulls up outside the big wooden front door and gets out of the car. I feel like I can’t move. I’m glued to my seat. This is, without a doubt, the most scared I’ve been in all my life.
    Davey opens the door. ‘Miss Pickerill?’
    I don’t know why I haven’t already told him to call me Jessie, but now I can barely breathe, let alone speak, so I move to the door and hold on to it for support as I step one chunky boot out. Here I go.

Chapter 10
    My feet crunch on the gravel as I climb out of the car and straighten up to see that the front door has now opened and a woman is standing there. She appears to be about thirty and is slim and pretty with straight, blonde hair which just brushes her shoulders.
    ‘Hi!’ she calls, coming out of the door. ‘I’m Meg, Johnny’s wife.’
    Now, I recognise her from the papers. I open my mouth to return her greeting, but sensing that my voice is going to come out croaky and quiet, I ramp the volume up a notch and end up sounding louder and more confident than I usually do. ‘Hello!’
    She comes towards me with an extended hand. She’s wearing white shorts and a navy blue top. ‘And you must be Jessica,’ she says.
    ‘Jessie,’ I reply, shaking her hand.
    ‘How was your trip?’ She smiles and I think she’s trying to sound friendly, but she looks a little stressed.
    ‘It was fun,’ I reply, as Davey pulls my suitcase out of the car behind me.
    ‘Shall I take this up to the White Room?’ he asks her.
    ‘Yes, thanks, Davey,’ she replies with genuine warmth.
    I’m curious to see the White Room, whatever it is.
    Meg turns back to me and nods towards the door, ushering me inside. ‘I’m afraid Johnny’s not