The Accidental Life of Jessie Jefferson by Paige Toon

extricating my hand and letting it lie across my stomach. I love her to bits, but I’m not really comfortable lying here holding my mum’s hand at my age.
    ‘You have good taste,’ she tells me and I smirk. Fancy my mum telling me I have good taste. Of course I bloody do. But I’m content so I don’t make a sarky comment. I lean my head against hers and can see her dark hair out of the corner of my right eye, up close and out of focus. Her hair is long and wavy, and looks even more so next to my straight blonde locks. She has caramel-coloured eyes; mine are green. We’re different in some ways, but similar in so many others. I’ve got her slight build and she’d like to think that we have the same taste in clothes as well as in music. But while I can just about handle her downloading my songs, I draw the line when it comes to her raiding my wardrobe. She kicks one slim leg up in the air and I stare at her toenails, painted cherry red.
    ‘Is that my nail polish?’ I ask accusatorily. She giggles and puts her foot down. I smack her knee and lift my own leg up and she mirrors me. It’s exactly the same shade.
    ‘Mum!’ I squawk as she puts her leg down but continues to laugh. Suddenly she freezes and falls silent.
    ‘What?’ I ask.
    ‘Nothing.’ She brushes me off. ‘Not so keen on this song.’
    ‘What? Why not?’ I ask with surprise. It’s ‘Locked’ by Johnny Jefferson. It should be right up her street. I sing along: ‘I’m locked inside us and I can’t find the key, it was under the plant pot that you nicked from me . . .’
    Abruptly she gets up and presses skip on my iPod.
    ‘What did you do that for?’ I glare at her.
    ‘Sorry.’ She flashes me a small smile.
    ‘That’s really annoying!’ I berate her, getting down from the bed and stubbornly pressing the back button.
    ‘Fine,’ she says curtly. ‘I’d better crack on with dinner anyway.’ She walks out of the room and I stand there, listening to the strains of Johnny Jefferson’s deep, soulful voice as I wonder what the hell that was all about . . .
    Now I understand why she reacted that way. My heart aches because I can’t ask her about him, and I have so many questions. So many questions that will never be answered. I miss her so much. I roll on to my side, knowing that I could wish on every dandelion in the world, but she’ll never lie next to me again.
    Stuart asks me to keep the news to myself for the time being, until he’s managed to contact Johnny’s people. I don’t mind, actually. You would have thought that, having found out that my long lost dad is a global megastar, I’d be wanting to shout about it from the rooftops. But I feel strangely private about Stu’s revelation, like I want to protect this secret, nurture it, hold on to it while I can. Besides, who would I really tell? Libby would understand, but we’re no longer close. I feel sudden regret at the loss of my best friend, but I try to harden up – what’s done is done. As for Natalie, she’d be excited, sure, but I doubt that she would take it very seriously.
    My head is still spinning. I don’t know how this is going to turn out. Maybe Johnny will want nothing to do with me. I know I’m going to be a big chink in the armour of his happy little family. He’s married with two kids now, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out that I’m probably not going to be very welcome.
    Well, tough. I didn’t ask him to shag my mum and get her pregnant. His actions have consequences and he’s going to have to face up to them.
    I feel a flurry of nerves. That’s bravado talking. Deep down I feel like a scared little girl.
    I’m in a daze the next day at school. I decide to spend lunchtime in the library, so I don’t have to talk to anyone. I walk in and am surprised to find Libby quietly reading a book in the corner. I almost turn and walk out again, but she looks up and sees me.
    ‘Hi!’ She sounds surprised.
    ‘Hi,’ I reply, reluctantly dumping my