caterpillar.
‘What's it going to be?’ I ask.
‘An asymmetric bodice,’ she says casually. ‘With a Möbius twist on the shoulder.’
‘Oh.’
What she means is a one-shouldered top where the fabric is half-twisted and joined back to front at the seam. (I SO sound like Edie.) For a girl who can hardly spell ‘chair’, Crow's not bad at speaking couture.
Once Jenny's had a chance to recover from her jetlag, it's time to get her to spill the beans about the Green-Eyed Sex God Mystery. I've been waiting for weeks for this moment, and I'm not going to let her escape. Since she got back I've heard every story about every A-lister she's encountered, except for one. There's a very obvious, drool-making absence from the list. I'm determined to find out why.
I'm about to invite her to the V&A café on Saturday for a chat, but instead she invites me. When she phones me up to make the date, I can hear a new tone of excitement in her voice. I want to know what it is, but she won't tell me until we're face to face. She insists we meet in theafternoon. I'm supposed to be going on a fun-run with Edie to raise money for cancer or mental illness or something, but cheap celebrity wins every time. I cancel the fun-run and I'm at my usual table at the café ten minutes before the meeting time, smoothie at the ready.
Jenny shows up in what she likes to think of as her ‘don't recognise me’ outfit. Since Kid Code went global, she gets strange looks and requests for autographs and pictures wherever she goes. However, her idea of incognito includes Tom Ford sunglasses, an enormous Louis Vuitton scarf up to her nose and one of Crow's knitted berets, complete with coloured beads. She might as well put up a neon sign saying ‘I'm a celebrity, accost me.’
Sure enough, before she can sit down she has to smile for two camera-phones and autograph a paper napkin and a map of the V&A.
‘At least I can still go out,’ she says, joining me. ‘The others can't even get past their front doors without security and an evacuation plan.’
I try and pity Hollywood's Hottest Couple and the New Teenage Sex God, but it's not working.
‘So. Tell,’ I command.
‘OK.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘We've been nominated for the National Movie Awards.’ She sits back expectantly, waiting for my awestruck reaction.
‘What are the National Movie Awards?’
She droops slightly. ‘You know. They're voted for by the public. They ask people in cinemas to vote for theirfavourites. They were on TV last year. Didn't you see them?’
I rack my brains, but I can't remember. She looks distinctly disappointed. Then it hits me.
‘Does this mean you're going to be on TV?’
She nods. ‘In September.’
‘Wow! Are you nominated? For best kid or something?’
Jenny scoffs. ‘Of course not. But Joe is. And our leading lady. And the film itself – for Best Action Adventure.’
She grins. Even though she was miserable making the film, she's still very proud of it for everyone else's sake and thinks of them all a bit like family. Weird, crazy family, but family nevertheless.
‘So are they all coming over?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘No. They're all filming. Except for Joe.’
She stops and goes strawberry. I say nothing, but give her a quizzical stare. She goes more strawberry – actually approaching raspberry by now – and tries to drink her smoothie, forgetting she's already drunk most of it and is reduced to loud gurgling noises through the straw.
I maintain my quizzical stare. Eventually she looks at me defensively.
‘What? You mean Joe? What about Joe?’
‘Exactly. What about him? He seemed to be avoiding you in London. You go a funny colour whenever hisname is mentioned. Including by you.’
‘I don't!’ she protests, going totally fruits of the forest. ‘And he wasn't avoiding me. You know those premieres. Everyone's busy.’
‘Then why did you care so much?’
‘I didn't care! I don't care! I was too busy thinking
‘What's it going to be?’ I ask.
‘An asymmetric bodice,’ she says casually. ‘With a Möbius twist on the shoulder.’
‘Oh.’
What she means is a one-shouldered top where the fabric is half-twisted and joined back to front at the seam. (I SO sound like Edie.) For a girl who can hardly spell ‘chair’, Crow's not bad at speaking couture.
Once Jenny's had a chance to recover from her jetlag, it's time to get her to spill the beans about the Green-Eyed Sex God Mystery. I've been waiting for weeks for this moment, and I'm not going to let her escape. Since she got back I've heard every story about every A-lister she's encountered, except for one. There's a very obvious, drool-making absence from the list. I'm determined to find out why.
I'm about to invite her to the V&A café on Saturday for a chat, but instead she invites me. When she phones me up to make the date, I can hear a new tone of excitement in her voice. I want to know what it is, but she won't tell me until we're face to face. She insists we meet in theafternoon. I'm supposed to be going on a fun-run with Edie to raise money for cancer or mental illness or something, but cheap celebrity wins every time. I cancel the fun-run and I'm at my usual table at the café ten minutes before the meeting time, smoothie at the ready.
Jenny shows up in what she likes to think of as her ‘don't recognise me’ outfit. Since Kid Code went global, she gets strange looks and requests for autographs and pictures wherever she goes. However, her idea of incognito includes Tom Ford sunglasses, an enormous Louis Vuitton scarf up to her nose and one of Crow's knitted berets, complete with coloured beads. She might as well put up a neon sign saying ‘I'm a celebrity, accost me.’
Sure enough, before she can sit down she has to smile for two camera-phones and autograph a paper napkin and a map of the V&A.
‘At least I can still go out,’ she says, joining me. ‘The others can't even get past their front doors without security and an evacuation plan.’
I try and pity Hollywood's Hottest Couple and the New Teenage Sex God, but it's not working.
‘So. Tell,’ I command.
‘OK.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘We've been nominated for the National Movie Awards.’ She sits back expectantly, waiting for my awestruck reaction.
‘What are the National Movie Awards?’
She droops slightly. ‘You know. They're voted for by the public. They ask people in cinemas to vote for theirfavourites. They were on TV last year. Didn't you see them?’
I rack my brains, but I can't remember. She looks distinctly disappointed. Then it hits me.
‘Does this mean you're going to be on TV?’
She nods. ‘In September.’
‘Wow! Are you nominated? For best kid or something?’
Jenny scoffs. ‘Of course not. But Joe is. And our leading lady. And the film itself – for Best Action Adventure.’
She grins. Even though she was miserable making the film, she's still very proud of it for everyone else's sake and thinks of them all a bit like family. Weird, crazy family, but family nevertheless.
‘So are they all coming over?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘No. They're all filming. Except for Joe.’
She stops and goes strawberry. I say nothing, but give her a quizzical stare. She goes more strawberry – actually approaching raspberry by now – and tries to drink her smoothie, forgetting she's already drunk most of it and is reduced to loud gurgling noises through the straw.
I maintain my quizzical stare. Eventually she looks at me defensively.
‘What? You mean Joe? What about Joe?’
‘Exactly. What about him? He seemed to be avoiding you in London. You go a funny colour whenever hisname is mentioned. Including by you.’
‘I don't!’ she protests, going totally fruits of the forest. ‘And he wasn't avoiding me. You know those premieres. Everyone's busy.’
‘Then why did you care so much?’
‘I didn't care! I don't care! I was too busy thinking
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