‘Of course it is,’ he says. ‘It’s a crime novel. Like you suggested.’
I nod. It’s crime, but not my sort of crime. I don’t know what to say.
‘Not as good as Janice Jermyn?’ He looks at me enquiringly.
‘Well . . .’ I put the pages on the table and take a sip of coffee. ‘It’s much . . . much wordier than her books.’
‘Of course. Because I’m creating characters and atmosphere.’
‘But we’re nowhere near the murder yet.’
‘It’s the first chapter. I’m setting the scene.’
‘Janice always has a murder in Chapter One.’
‘Janice hasn’t won the Booker.’
‘Janice sells a lot of books.’
‘What would you do differently?’ he asks.
‘I’m not the writer.’
‘But as the reader?’
‘You’ve read The Mystery of the Missing Mallet. I’d make it more like that.’
‘Then I’d be copying someone else.’
‘Not exactly the same,’ I say. ‘Just . . .’
‘More murders,’ he says.
‘One, anyhow.’
He laughs. Then he gets up and hands me some more printed sheets.
‘Try this.’
I read without stopping, and then I look up at him.
‘Did you write it?’
‘It’s the same story. The same characters. Of course I did.’
‘I love it. I love that they’re all going on holiday together. I love that everyone has a reason to hate the grandmother. I’ve no idea who the murderer might be.’
‘Oh good.’ He looks pleased. ‘I thought that was an essential part of the whole thing.’
‘It is.’
‘I’m glad you like it. The first chapter I gave you was how I started the rewrite. And then I realised that it was too wordy. You’re right about that. So I changed it.’
‘It’s great,’ I say. ‘Obviously you’ve a long way to go, but it’s a page-turner for sure.’
‘I think it’s good too,’ he says. ‘And I have to thank you for your advice. You know what you like and you speak your mind. I’m so used to people talking around me, speaking in code, not saying what they really mean. You’re refreshing.’
‘Thanks, I think.’