Ashford’s Version
Jemma bursts into the relaxation room, but she looks shocked when she sees me.
“I have the feeling that you did not expect to find me here,” I observe.
“I was looking for an escape route. I have to organise the charity fashion show and your mother is driving me crazy! Is this a house or a madhouse?”
“Tell me about it! Jemma, I can’t stand my mother either, but I think we’ve been through this quite often, now. I came to terms with this situation long ago, after years of therapy.”
Jemma looks at me wide eyed, in disbelief. “Therapy? You have a shrink, like lunatics?”
“In this environment, having a psychotherapist is pretty normal. And a rite of passage to adulthood: you get a driving license, the right to vote and you arrange your first psychotherapy session,” I say, ironically.
“Like a Bar Mitzvah!” Jemma says, then she pats my shoulder. “We had so much fun at Moshe’s Bar Mitzvah! He’s my neighbours, the Abramovitz, son. We sang and danced Hava Nagila in a circle… wait a second, or was that his brother Shmuel’s wedding?” Jemma has gone off on a tangent, as usual.
I’ve learned that trying to stop her is useless, so I let her finish. I know it may seem incredible but she needs to breathe sometimes, like everyone else.
At last, she stops talking; when she gets in front of the stereo, she adjusts the volume carefully and focuses. “You’re listening to Botticelli’s Spring?”
“It’s Vivaldi, but I appreciate your effort…” I say, then I feel the impulse to ask her a question. “So, you’re really into Pride and Prejudice, aren’t you?”
She blushes, as if I had embarrassed her.
“What’s the matter? You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just asking out of curiosity,” I say, trying to put her at ease. She would probably be less embarrassed if I told her that I found a vibrator in her drawer.
Jemma blushes again, as if she were making a confession. “You know, I’m a romantic person…”
“I didn’t think you liked reading.” I don’t give up.
“I’m not an avid reader, but it depends on the story. It all started when my knee was injured. I was stuck in bed and I turned on the tv to escape boredom. The remote control had low batteries and I was forced to watch what was on the first channel. It was a film starring Keira Knightley, an actress I like a lot, and Matthew Macfadyen… God, he’s so hot.” There she goes, getting excited while she’s caught in her thoughts. “It’s a nice story, you know? There’s this girl, Lizzie, she’s one of five sisters and their mother wants them all married. She meets Darcy, Matthew Macfadyen, a pompous aristocrat who’s as pleasant as using recycled toilet paper – trust me, I know what I’m talking about, my parents used that stuff!” She takes a short break to make sure she has my attention. “He’s a snob and doesn’t want to make friends with anyone who’s not as noble and rich as he is. Jane, Lizzie’s older sister, and Darcy’s best friend fall in love, but Darcy separates them because her family isn’t noble enough. Later on, he realises that he’s in love with Lizzie and asks her to marry him, but, given that he’s not able to pay anyone compliments, he just ends up offending her. Then, Lizzie goes on holiday with her uncles and they go and visit a super-castle which she discovers is Darcy’s. He’s there when they arrive and he’s strangely nice and kind to Lizzie, so that she no longer knows how to treat him. While she’s there on holiday, her younger sister runs away with an army officer, one who had flirted with Lizzie earlier. To save her family’s honour, they must find the couple and make them get married. Darcy joins the search and, without telling Lizzie, he finds them and makes them marry at his expense. Eventually, Lizzie realises that Darcy may be arrogant and proud, but he’s good hearted and loves her, and she decides to marry him because he’s the only one who knows how to stand up to her,” Jemma explains; her eyes sparkle and she’s so enthusiastic.
I enjoy her satisfied air for a moment, before admitting: “Don’t take offence, but I already knew the story.”
“Well, I would have told you anyway.”
“How did you get to the book?” I ask; I’m really intrigued this time.
“I found out that the bbc had based a tv series on the novel, and I wanted to know more of the story! I remembered that Pride and Prejudice was one of the books they wanted us to read at school, but I’d never been interested. Well, until a few weeks ago at least, so I asked Lance if we had it in the library.”
“You could have asked me.”
“Don’t be silly. You would have just made fun of me.”
I shake my head and raise my hands. “Touché.”
“Well, I liked it so much that I wanted to read all the other books by Jane Austen, as well. And then, of course, I wanted to see the film versions, too! So I ordered the dvds on Amazon.” Jemma jumps up and walks towards the bookshelf, mumbling: “Lance should have put them in here, somewhere.”
Then, she takes the boxes and proudly waves them in front of my face. “Persuasion, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, and… Girls in Beverly Hills?” I ask, doubtfully.
“Oops, sorry, that’s the modern version of this one,” she says, showing me the dvd of Emma.
Jemma is so wild, I have to admit it. But in a good way.
A light knocking on the door interrupts us.
“Oh my God! It must be your mother!” Jemma whimpers.
“No, my mother never knocks, she just breaks through doors like a sub-commandant of special forces.”
In fact, Lance comes in. “Lady Jemma, the Marquise Cécile Loxley is waiting for you in the entrance hall. Shall I show her in?”
“You always have to be surrounded by weirdoes, don’t you?” I ask, as she walks out of the door.
She just mumbles: “Arschloch.”
“I heard you!” I yell at her, but she’s already in the hallway. I can’t hold back an amused smile.