He's After Me

Chapter EIGHT



On my way home from college that evening I bump into Jude, of all people, clip-clopping along the street in suit and high heels, hair scraped back in work mode, briefcase under her arm. It’s her voice I hear first, on the phone – to my dad, presumably.

‘Honestly, you would not believe the day I’ve had …’

It’s so distinctive. She has this habit of emphasizing one particular word in each sentence. When she catches sight of me, her face stretches into a fixed, professional smile. ‘Ring you back,’ she says and slips her phone into her bag.

‘Anna! How are you?’

‘Fine.’

‘How’s Livi?’

‘Fine.’

‘Your mum?’

I don’t deign to reply. Jude is used to firing questions at people and getting answers, but fortunately I don’t happen to be one of her clients. She’s a lawyer who spends her life defending petty criminals and little toe-rags who’ve broken the terms of their ASBOs.

Most people are in awe of her, my mother included, for having such a high-profile career by the age of twenty-six, but I reckon it sounds more glamorous than it is. It stands to reason she must spend most of her working week mixing with losers and perverts. Shame.

‘Your dad was so pleased to have you to stay – it’s been ages …’ she gushes. ‘You and Livi must come over again.’

Condescending cow! Who does she think she is? I don’t need an invitation to see my own father. ‘I’m busy at the moment,’ I say, my voice cold as ice, but she nods sympathetically.

‘A levels, hey? I remember it well.’

You should do, it wasn’t exactly that long ago. Her tone, dripping with solicitude, infuriates me. How dare she assume that the only thing in my life is exams?

‘Actually, I’m seeing someone.’

Why did I tell her that? It’s none of her business.

I know why. To make myself feel better. To show her I have a life beyond grumpy-stepdaughter-who-came-with-the-guy mode. Jude always lumps Livi and me together and reduces me to Truculent Teenager With Attitude.

‘Are you? That’s great! What’s his name?’

‘Jem.’

‘James?’ she says, mishearing. ‘Is he at college with you?’

‘No, he’s at uni.’

‘A student!’ she enthuses. ‘How lovely. Where? What does he study?’

Jude went to Bristol to study Law. ‘One of the hardest degrees at one of the top universities in the country,’ Dad informed us once. Photography at some obscure London college of higher education doesn’t begin to compete with that.

‘Oxford. He’s reading Medicine.’ Where did that come from? Flying out of my mouth before my brain was in gear. If I wanted to impress her, it worked. Jude’s eyes open wide in surprise.

‘Really? You must bring him round for dinner one night, Anna. We’d love to meet him.’

I bet you would! ‘Right,’ I say unenthusiastically.

‘I mean it. He sounds so interesting.’

‘He is.’ Actually, he’s far, far more interesting than you think. He has a split personality. Jem is studying Photography in London while working as a kitchen porter down here, while James is studying Medicine at Oxford. At the same time.

I groan inwardly. How the hell did I get myself into this? It’s all Jude’s fault, with her incessant questions. And now it’s too late to take it back.

At this point I make a firm resolution to keep my boyfriend as far away from her as possible.





On her own today, the boyfriend must be working.

It made him sick to think of them, what they must get up to when they were alone together.