Chapter 30

I get into the office early because I've lots of emails to answer and calls to make. I'm always happiest when I'm working, when I'm doing good deals for my authors and spreading the news of their achievements as far and wide as I can. Today I'm thrilled to tell Penny Blackwater that I've got a great offer for her next book from a really prestigious US publisher, and I'm just as excited as her when she shrieks with joy down the phone. Penny's news puts me in a great mood for the rest of the morning, and I've been working for four hours without a break when my phone rings. It's Josh Carmody. We haven't spoken since I dropped him home in a cab, although he did text the following day to apologise for drinking too much.

He's brisk and businesslike as he talks about a glitch in the accounts programme that has been sorted, and says that even though I didn't really need to know about it, he likes to keep me in the loop. I thank him for that and ask how things are going with Paula. He says he's got a solicitor, and I laugh when he tells me the name, as it's the same woman I've got looking after my own divorce.

‘Sheedy is great,' says Josh. ‘So smart.'

‘Efficient for sure,' I agree. ‘In our case, most of the work is already done. It's getting it over the final hurdle that matters.'

‘Don't you find it difficult while you're still working with Charles?'

‘No, because we've been amicable about everything.'

‘I wish Paula and I were amicable,' he says.

‘You're not?'

‘She's looking for so much, and I don't . . . Oh, feck it, Ariel. Maybe I'm so angry with her that I'm making it more difficult than it needs to be.'

‘Charles and I worked out the finances very quickly,' I told him. ‘If you tell yourself you're paying for a peaceful life rather than giving her something for nothing, it's easier to deal with.'

‘You got a good deal out of him,' Josh points out.

‘That's because I'm a good negotiator.'

‘Would you be available to meet for lunch again?' he asks. ‘Perhaps point me in the right direction?'

‘I'm sure Sheedy is already doing that,' I say.

‘All the same, it'd be nice to get another viewpoint,' he says. ‘Also, I promise to stick to water. I'm mortified that I drank too much the last time we met.'

‘Oh, don't worry about it,' I say. ‘We're all entitled to drown our sorrows from time to time. Let me check my diary and I'll send you some dates.'

‘Perfect,' says Josh. ‘Looking forward to seeing you, Ariel.'

I realise as I put my phone away that I'm looking forward to seeing him too. Josh is a decent guy and I want to help him if I can.

I make myself a coffee. The sky is bright and the rectangle of lawn is lush and green. I step outside with the hot Americano, revelling in the weak warmth of the sun and thinking that although it's technically winter, the last few days have held the promise of spring. Spring, when the leaves begin to unfurl and the evenings grow lighter, is my favourite time of year. It's full of promise for the months ahead, and I tell myself that it's full of promise for the agency too.

I glance up at the main house and Charles's writing room. I wonder if he's sitting at his desk working on his edits. He's still complaining about Sydney's continuous amendments and suggestions, and I decide to give her another call and ask if she isn't micromanaging him too much. If some of the changes she wants to make aren't simply for the sake of it.

Before I get the chance, my mobile buzzes again.

‘Ellis,' I say in surprise. ‘How are things?'

‘Fine, fine,' she replies. ‘I'm in town today and thought you might like to meet up.'

I mentally run through my to-do list.

‘Later this afternoon?' I suggest. ‘Are you planning on seeing Charles? Do you want to come here?'

‘I texted him, but he hasn't answered.'

‘He's editing,' I explain.

‘In that case, yes, I'll drop by your office after I've finished my shopping and call up to him afterwards. He's not going to be shut away all day, is he?'

‘Who knows,' I reply. ‘But if he's been working all morning, he'll probably be up for a break by the afternoon.'

‘Great,' she says. ‘I'll see you around four.'

I walk back into the office and put my cup in the slimline dishwasher. Charles freaked out when I said I was buying a dishwasher. He wanted to know why a sink wasn't good enough for me.

‘Because I can hide cups and plates in a dishwasher,' I explained, and he shook his head and told me I was ruining him. I gave him a dark look, and he backtracked and said that if I wanted to throw good money away on a dishwasher, that was entirely up to me.

I return to my emails.

A short time later, my phone buzzes with a text message.

Fed up with editing. Syd is a slave driver. I've had to completely rewrite Chapter 20 now. I'm going out for a sandwich. Want to join me?

I can't. Expecting a call. Need to be here

Will bring one back for you if you like

That'd be great, thanks

OK, see you later

Charles hardly ever goes out to get sandwiches. I need to take advantage of it when he does. Meanwhile I get in touch with Sydney and ask about the amount of rewriting Charles is having to do. She concedes that she's been very demanding, but insists it's only because she wants the very best for him. We chat about holding off on any more suggestions for the time being, and I end the call pleased with myself for fixing something else for him.

It's much later by the time he comes back with a rather sad-looking wrap that he tells me he picked up in the petrol station.

‘Sorry,' he says. ‘Iseult called and I got distracted, and then there was a huge queue at the deli and I couldn't be bothered to wait, so I popped into the pub and had a quick toastie.'

I briefly think about murdering him, but I take the wrap (chicken Caesar; where would fast-food outlets be without bloody chicken Caesar) and put on the kettle.

‘Do you want a cup of tea?' I ask.

‘Coffee,' says Charles.

‘Make it yourself so,' I say. ‘The machine is on.'

He busies himself with the machine while I make myself tea and tear open the wrap. It's actually not as bad as it looks, though the mysterious dressing drips onto my desk and forms an unappetising puddle.

‘How's things?' Charles flops into one of the armchairs as I wipe it away.

I tell him I've been talking to Sydney and she hasn't seen any more major changes to be made in his novel.

‘Praise the Lord,' he says.

‘No. Praise me.'

He grins.

‘D'you think it would be naff to have my wedding in the garden?' he asks suddenly.

‘Charles, I really don't want to discuss your wedding.'

‘Why not?' He looks surprised ‘I thought you'd be interested. And pleased to get me off your hands.'

‘You're not on my hands any more,' I say. ‘At least, not in the personal sense.'

‘D'you think there's a chance we could make a drama series out of A Caribbean Calypso?' He veers from the personal to the professional again.

‘I'm not sure it lends itself to an entire series.'

‘They could use the main character in other settings, though. It'd be fantastic. I'm sure you could sell it if you try hard enough.'

I think again about murdering him, and wonder how Janice Jermyn would plot it.

‘Iseult's mum is anxious for her to set a date.' Charles returns to the subject of his wedding. ‘She and her husband will be back from their cruise soon. I'll have to meet them.' He grins. ‘The future son-in-law meeting the parents-in-law. A great dramatic moment.'

‘I'm sure you'll get on fine,' I say.

‘We did on FaceTime.' He drains his coffee and then goes back to the machine to make another. ‘Are you in bad form?' he asks. ‘You seem snarky.'

‘I was a long time waiting for my sandwich,' I reply.

‘Sorry,' he says again, although without a hint of apology in his voice.

‘What's the situation with Iseult's ex-fiancé?' I wasn't going to bring it up, but I'm pissed off with Charles and want to annoy him. I'm perversely glad to see his face darken.

‘He's holed up in her house waiting for her to come home,' he replies. ‘She should've told him to eff off.'

‘I would've.'

‘I know. But Iseult is such a softie.'

‘Is she? I'm sure you don't get to be a customs officer by being soft.'

‘I presume she does her job well. But personally I think she was too soft in letting her ex stay with her,' he admits. ‘I don't like that he managed to persuade her just because he cracked a rib or something.'

‘You're jealous?'

‘A bit.'

‘It's not your best character trait.' I click on my computer screen. ‘Anything else?'

‘No.'

‘In that case, can you take a hike? I'm really busy.'

‘All right, all right. It was just . . .'

‘What?'

‘I need to be friends with you, Ariel. I know I've upset you with Iseult, but you and I . . . Well, you'll always be important to me.'

‘And for as long as you're writing your bestsellers, you'll always be important to me,' I tell him without looking up from the screen.

‘You're being very hard on me today.'

He leaves the office and walks up to the house. I see the light go on in his study.

I'm glad he's working.

I go back to work myself.

I'm absorbed in the finer details of a new contract for Lucy Conway (who, despite being violently ill in the early stages of her pregnancy, has almost finished her current work-in-progress and has already sent me a synopsis for the next) when there's a tap on the door and Ellis walks in.

I'd forgotten she was calling by.

‘Am I interrupting?' she asks. ‘You look very fierce.'

‘Busy.' I push my chair back from the desk and lead her upstairs to the library area. ‘How are you?'

‘Not bad,' she says. ‘Getting quite a lot of overseas orders for my stuff, which is great.'

‘Fantastic. I'm delighted for you.'

I make us both coffee, though I really shouldn't have any more caffeine. I'm jumpy enough as it is today.

She chats away about her work and her designs, and when she's finished her cappuccino, she asks for an update.

‘On what?'

‘The divorce. The wedding. Everything.'

‘Ask Charles.' Even I can hear how abrupt my tone is.

‘Are you OK, Ariel?'

‘I'm fine. Just fed up with all the drama around him. It's distracting me from real life.'

‘Oh dear. What's the latest drama?'

I tell her about Iseult and her ex and that Charles was in my office earlier looking for reassurance.

‘He's probably madly jealous. And suspicious,' says Ellis.

‘His jealousy's not endearing,' I remark. ‘It never was. Though if the ex is too badly injured to look after himself, he's too badly injured to make a play for Iseult.'

‘Oh, but you know how women are with helpless men. Fluttering around them and fulfilling their every wish.'

I laugh.

‘Charles is still a feckin' eejit for breaking up with you,' says Ellis.

‘We broke up with each other,' I correct her.

‘Even so. I bet you'd have stayed with him if he'd been better behaved.'

‘Depends on what you mean,' I say. ‘He never really got over me having other clients in the agency. I think he thought it was strictly for him only.'

‘That was part of it. But that whole thing with your other author . . .'

‘It wouldn't have mattered if we'd been in a good place ourselves at the time.'

‘Huh,' she says. ‘As far as I'm concerned, Charles was being a selfish pig. You had a little flirty thing that didn't come to anything. He should have cut you some slack.'

‘I'm not sure I would have cut him any in the same circumstances.'

‘Of course you would. Anyhow, regardless of the past, when it comes to the present you need to remember that you're an independent woman. Like me. We deserve to work hard, enjoy our triumphs and be supported. And that support should come not just when Charles or some other man has time for it, but always.'

‘Goodness,' I say. ‘You're totally embracing your inner feminist today.'

‘Possibly.' She smiles. ‘And you're possibly better off without my brother, even if I'm not so sure he's better off without you.'

‘Who knows?' I shrug, then glance up at the study window of Riverside Lodge. The light is still glowing. I tell Ellis that I hope he's working right now.

‘I texted him a short time ago,' she says. ‘He's expecting me. I have to warn you, Ariel. We're going to meet her. The fiancée.'

‘You and Charles? Now?'

‘No. Me and Mum. On Saturday night. He's invited us to dinner.'

‘I hope your mother likes her better than she liked me.'

‘Mum respected you,' Ellis tells me. ‘That's far more important than liking you.'

She might be right about that.