‘Again,’ said Georgina, ‘a somewhat aggressive one.’
The session continued in this vein, with Jason trying to conform, then bursting out with some or other little act of provocation when it all became too wearing.
Jenna was not sure the experiment was a complete success but, after all, these skills were best learned in the practice and she could hardly expect him to go from snippy to suave in the space of two hours. It would all come in time.
Leaving the building with her nerves slightly frayed, Jenna descended the steps in front of Jason, trying not to be the one to speak first. If she did, she would only sound patronising, or frustrated with him.
She waited instead for him to offer the first word.
‘Well, that was charming,’ he sneered, at pavement level, while Jenna looked vaguely up the road in search of the chauffeured car they had hired for the day.
‘Yes, Georgina is one of the best in her field,’ she replied levelly, ignoring the sarcasm.
‘And what a field it is. Turning people into smooth bullshitters.’
‘Oh, Jason, that isn’t it. Stop being so defensive. I’m only trying . . .’
She gave up, climbing into the car as it pulled into the kerb beside them.
Jason got into the back seat beside her.
‘Trying to what? Make me into something I’m not?’
‘No. Making you into the best you can be. You’re going to need to stop taking everything so personally, if you want to succeed. Good manners are just a bit of oil for the wheels, that’s all. You can apply it as necessary, and be your horrible self all the rest of the time.’
That elicited a reluctant smile.
‘I like being my horrible self,’ he said. ‘It’s me.’
Jenna squeezed his knee.
‘I wouldn’t want you any other way. I just want to make life easier for you, if this all comes off. Fame can be very disorientating, especially if it’s overnight. I want you to be prepared; to have a little stash of PR weapons at your disposal.’
‘Oh, well, if it’s weapons, I want a samurai sword.’
‘Think of it that way,’ said Jenna with a smile. ‘Think of these little phrases and mannerisms as your armoury. They keep people from hurting you.’
‘Talking of hurting . . .’ said Jason, leaning suddenly forward and instructing the chauffeur to drive them to an address south of the river.
‘Oh . . .’ said Jenna, remembering.
Jason smiled his first genuine smile since arriving at the charm school.
‘You’ve had me performing like a show pony all morning,’ he said. ‘Now it’s my turn.’
‘Oh God, you aren’t going to . . .?’
‘A deal’s a deal. I take a hit from you, you take a hit from me. And this one is going to be very artistic.’
The car dropped them off by Borough Market, where they went in search of lunch before the fateful appointment.
Jenna was all for hiding inside one of the plethora of upmarket restaurants in the area, but Jason baulked, drawn in by the fascinating sights and smells of the market. They ended up buying a bag of some kind of Balkan delicacy Jenna had never tasted before – spinach and feta pastry parcels served with a poached egg and beetroot hummus – and took them to a bench by the river to eat al fresco.
‘Nobody’s recognised you,’ Jason teased, opening the paper bag. ‘You’re disappointed, aren’t you?’
‘Not at all. And I’m pretty sure I was recognised. It’s just that people around here are too cool to make a fuss about celebs. The Market’s often crawling with them.’
Jason took a bite from his pastry, looking over the river to the dome of St Paul’s.