Chapter 27

Fiction is the truth inside the lie.

Stephen King

The next time I visit Riverside Lodge, Charles and I FaceTime my parents. It was his idea, after I told him that they'd shortly be going on their Asian cruise. We do it early one morning after a cosy night spent eating pizza in front of the TV.

Charles is charming towards Mum while being relaxed and friendly with Dad. He jokes that it's important for him to get on the right side of the prospective in-laws and hopes that they'll appreciate how much he loves me and how well he's going to look after me. He takes them on a virtual tour of the house, and they're impressed by the beautiful living room and library, the stunning entrance hall and enormous kitchen.

‘What I wouldn't give for a kitchen like that,' says Mum, and Charles tells her – as he told Celeste – that she can use it any time. It deserves the love of someone who knows how to cook, he says, and I see Mum fall for him a little more.

He then assures them both that his divorce is his main priority. I know Mum wishes it was done and dusted already, but Charles tells her that he hopes it'll all be sorted very soon, and is so amiable and charismatic that both my parents hang on his every word.

‘I know I might not have been your first choice for Izzy,' he says. ‘But I assure you that nobody could love her more than I do.'

‘There won't be any nonsense about changing your mind so?' Dad's face fills the screen.

‘Not a chance.' Charles holds the phone away from him, as though doing that will make Dad back off.

‘Are you planning a big wedding?' It's Mum who takes over the screen now.

‘We haven't decided on that yet,' I say.

‘Whatever Iseult wants she gets,' says Charles.

‘Ah here.' Dad laughs. ‘Don't make yourself a hostage to fortune.'

We end the conversation with promises to meet up as soon as they're home.

‘You could sweet-talk for Ireland,' I tell Charles when they've gone.

‘As a rule, only on paper.' He grins. ‘But nothing I said to them is untrue. Especially that part about loving and protecting you for ever.'

I kiss him.

‘To that end,' he says as he makes coffee, ‘what d'you think about moving in with me now?'

‘I'd love to, but not yet.'

‘Why?'

‘Partly because I don't want to leave the house in Marino empty while Mum and Dad are away, and partly because . . . because I think we should make some changes to Riverside Lodge before I move in.'

‘What sort of changes?' He frowns.

‘I want to redecorate. I love this house, I really do, but the style is yours and Ariel's, and I'd like to make it a bit more mine. Nothing drastic,' I add quickly. ‘Just a bit of refreshing. I won't go near your study or the library.'

‘If that's all you want, it's fine.' He sounds relieved. ‘I'm happy to let you loose on it. I remember having never-ending discussions on shades of green when we were first renovating, and it did my head in.'

‘I promise not to have colour conversations with you,' I assure him.

‘Does it all have to be finished before you'll even consider moving in?'

‘No.' I shake my head. ‘As long as you agree to do it, I'll move once Mum and Dad are back.'

‘I can't wait,' he says as he pulls me close to him.

I glance over his shoulder towards the mews. I suppose Ariel is there already, doing whatever it is literary agents do.

She's always there. That's going to have to change too.

The sun has come out by the time I arrive at the port, the breeze is light and the salty tang of the sea hasn't yet been overpowered by the stench of diesel from the trucks. I'm on form-filling duty, although I keep getting distracted by the spectacular view over the bay, where the sun is glinting off the waves while the seabirds wheel and shriek against the blue sky. I'm betting that if Charles had a view like this he'd find it inspiring. All the same, it doesn't inspire me to fill in the forms any quicker. When I eventually finish, I check the screen to see if the ferry due in is on schedule. It's about to dock, so Natasha and I drive to the terminal, where we take up our positions and wait for the cars and trucks to roll off.

It's routine. There's a lorry with inadequate paperwork and an overladen minivan, both of which I send to be checked, but there's nothing that needs to be scanned and nothing to set our spidey senses on edge. I return to the office and some more form-filling, and await the next arrival, a cargo vessel from Rotterdam, which might be a little more challenging.

The longer evenings are becoming very noticeable now, and although it's dark by the time my shift is over, I don't feel as though the day is completely done. Because I spent the night with Charles, I drove Dad's car to Terenure and into work today. I'll definitely need to consider my transport options when I'm living in Riverside Lodge because the cross city traffic is always a nightmare, but at least next week is an early shift so if I stay with Charles, there won't be any problem getting in to the port for 5 a.m. The commuters will still be in bed.

As it turns out, I don't stay with Charles the following week. He's deep into his edits and rewrites, and as he likes to work at night, it wouldn't be convenient for either of us for me to be there. But he asks me to come to his on Friday afternoon and stay for the weekend. I'm finished at lunchtime, so I pick up a takeaway sandwich and eat it at home, then have a shower and change into my comfy jeans and a sweatshirt. I think about using Dad's car again, but the council is doing its best to discourage cross-city traffic, and every route across the river is horrible, so I get the bus instead. It's definitely not any quicker, but I put my earbuds in and listen to music, so I'm quite chilled by the time I get to Riverside Lodge.

It takes Charles ages to answer the door, and he apologises, saying that he's in the middle of a Zoom call with Sydney and telling me to make myself at home. I lug my overnight bag to the bedroom, and then go back downstairs again to make coffee for both of us.

I tap on his study door and he looks around in surprise. As I leave the mug beside him, I can see and hear Sydney talking about Ursula, who's the grandmother and the final corpse in Charles's manuscript. She's suggesting that Ursula be a little less hateful, but I really liked her as a horrible character, and I'll say that to him later. Sydney might be his editor, but I'm his beta reader and his fiancée, which surely counts for something! Charles thanks me for the coffee, then waves me away. I leave him to it.

As I walk into the living room, my eye is caught by movement in the garden, and I see Ariel stepping out of the mews. My fingers tighten around the mug as I watch her talking on her mobile while also looking up at the house. She's probably putting a deal together for one of her authors. Or maybe even finalising that TV series for Charles. I step back a little from the window so she can't see me. We haven't spoken since the time she came to the house to talk to him about his edits, and I've no desire to speak to her now. I appreciate that she works very hard for him, but she's still his agent-slash-ex, and not as ex as she should be. I wish she wasn't working from Charles's back garden, but I've no idea how to change that. At least, not yet.

I finish my coffee, then stretch out on the comfortable sofa. I put my earbuds in my ears, and despite the fact that I've ingested a mug of caffeine, Adele lulls me to sleep within minutes.

I wake up with a start when I sense there's someone in the room, watching me.

‘I'm sorry,' says Ariel. ‘I did say your name when I came in, but there was no answer. I didn't mean to wake you.'

‘Were you looking for something?' I sit up and slide the buds from my ears.

‘Friday wine moment.' She raises the bottle of red she's holding. ‘Freedom Friday is a bit of a tradition between me and Charles. And now you, of course.'

‘I'm not sure we'll be having wine moments every Friday.'

‘It's nice to unwind after a long week,' she says. ‘I'm sure you feel the same. You were asleep after all.'

‘Because I started work at five o'clock this morning.'

‘Poor you.' She gives me a sympathetic look as she goes to the sideboard and unerringly finds a silver corkscrew. ‘You could definitely do with a glass in that case.'

I'm about to say no, but she's already opening the bottle.

‘I bet you're hungry too,' she says as she hands me the glass. ‘Stay there. I brought some cheese. It's in the kitchen.'

Before I have the chance to say anything, I'm alone again. I'm not pleased that I've allowed Ariel to go downstairs to the kitchen and fetch the cheese as though I was her guest. I should have told her I'd get it myself.

I'm properly alert by the time she returns with three varieties of cheese, neatly arranged on a large plate, alongside a selection of crackers and some grapes.

‘Thanks,' I say as she sits opposite me.

‘So how's it been going?' she asks.

‘Work? Very busy.' I wilfully misinterpret her question.

‘You and Charles,' she says. ‘It's all very exciting.'

‘It will be when we set a date,' I say. ‘And that depends on your divorce.'

‘Now that the solicitors are on the case, I'm sure it'll happen pretty soon. Then time will whizz by to your wedding. As soon as you start planning, it comes at you like an express train. Oh, but you know that already!' She covers her mouth with her hand. ‘I'm sorry, I forgot. You called off your own wedding. It must have been a difficult time,' she adds.

‘It wasn't what I expected,' I admit. ‘But subsequently it became a relief.'

‘All the same . . .'

‘And if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met Charles, so there's a silver lining,' I continue. ‘Anyway, like everyone says, better to call it off before than have it go wrong after, like you.'

Her eyes narrow.

‘It's amazing, really, that you're such good friends,' I add. ‘Steve – my ex – wanted us to be friends, but quite honestly, once it's over, it's over, don't you think? Otherwise it becomes a bit controlling.'

‘I suppose it depends on how mature you are about it.' She places a sliver of cheese on a cracker. ‘And given our professional relationship, Charles and I have to be mature about it.'

‘I guess so.'

‘After all, we talk almost every day.'

I say nothing.

‘It's good that we all get on.' She smiles.

They might. We don't. And we don't have to. There's nothing that says I'm obliged to like her, or speak to her, or have her in my home. I'm aware of a charge between us, a crackling tension that seems entirely about who has the greater claim on Charles. I'm annoyed at myself for feeling it, because nobody should have a claim on anybody. But I definitely feel like Ariel is staking out some kind of territorial advantage here.

‘I can see you might think it a bit awkward that I'm in such close contact with him,' she says. ‘But it's only while he's working on his book. After that, you'll hardly see me.'

That's good. I don't want to see her.

‘So Freedom Friday ends once it's done?'

‘Well, we do tend to have a glass or two in the summer,' she admits. ‘It's nice to sit on the patio and crack open a bottle of bubbly. He's always thrilled when I sign a new client, and we like to celebrate our mutual successes. But it'll be even more fun with you there too. You'll be good for him, I know. Charles can get very self-obsessed sometimes. Oh, by the way . . .' She reaches into the enormous bag she left beside the sofa. ‘As promised, that signed Janice Jermyn. And a proof copy of her new one too.'

‘Oh.' Despite myself, I feel my eyes light up. A signed copy is lovely to have. And a proof of the new one is a real treat. I see from the cover that it isn't out until the summer, and I feel privileged.

‘Thank you,' I say, and mean it.

‘You're more than welcome. If there are any other books by my authors that you'd like, just say the word.'

‘I don't want to impose on you.'

‘Next time you're here, drop down to the mews,' she says. ‘It's a bit damp outside to go there now, but you can take anything you want.'

‘You're very kind.'

‘Not at all.' She smiles at me, then lifts her glass. ‘We're friends, right?'

‘Friends,' I say, although I wonder how true that is.

It's nearly an hour before Charles joins us. We've made quite a dent in the bottle of wine, although Ariel has drunk more than me. She's been telling me stories of her life in London and giving me titbits of gossip about celebrities she's met. She's a good storyteller and she knows quite a few famous people who've written books. Or had them ghostwritten, she says. It's a bit of a thing for celebs now. Some have done very well. Many, she confides, have sunk without trace.

‘Which is why it's important to nurture an exceptional talent like Charles,' she says as she fills a glass for him. ‘He's the real deal, you know.'

‘Thank you.' Charles sits beside me on the sofa. At least Ariel wasn't able to claim it this time, what with me having been asleep on it earlier. I move a little closer to him.

‘Are you going to the Seán óg launch next Thursday?' Ariel asks him. ‘It's in the National Library.'

‘Another tome about the Famine?' Charles groans.

‘It's very good,' she says. ‘So I've been told.'

‘That man loves exploiting misery. I suppose I should turn up, though. I'm guessing all the usual suspects will be there.' He looks at me. ‘You'll come?'

‘I'm working from eleven till seven next week,' I say.

‘That's a shame,' says Ariel. ‘It starts at six thirty.'

‘Get a cab,' says Charles. ‘There'll be at least half an hour's schmoozing before Seán says anything. Besides, he'll go on for ages and then read from his book. If you're unlucky you'll catch the end. Please come.'

‘OK.' I don't really want to, but at the same time I have to support Charles. Besides, I don't want him there with Ariel by his side.

‘I'm glad you can make it,' she says.

#Friends #Enemies #Frenemies