Page 33 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘I haven’t had sex with anyone since Steve. I haven’t wanted to have sex with anyone since Steve,’ I say. ‘But I so wanted to with Charles Miller.’

‘Wow.’

‘And I realise that he’s an older man, but he doesn’t seem older when I’m with him.’

‘Izzy! You don’t seriously fancy him, do you?’

‘Physically he’s amazing,’ I say. ‘And he was nice to talk to. And his murder mystery book was great.’

‘I never thought you’d rebound like this,’ says Celeste.

‘I’m not rebounding. I’m . . . well . . . I’m interested in someone. As a holiday romance,’ I add quickly. ‘Nothing more than that.’

‘In Charles Miller.’

‘It’s not like he’s Timothée Chalamet,’ I tell her. ‘He’s a writer, not a celeb.’

‘And yet we recognised him.’

‘Anyhow, it’s irrelevant.’ I lie back on my pillow. ‘He thinks it’s inappropriate.’

‘Do you?’

‘Honestly?’ I pause. ‘I haven’t a clue.’

Chapter 9

Ariel

Books are mirrors. You only see in them what you already have inside you.

Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Already this winter is being likened to some of the big freezes over the past decades, and there’s an appreciable accumulation of snow outside the patio doors of the mews. Fortunately the boiler has been fixed and I have the heat up high, but it’s still chilly. At the other end of the garden, the solitary light in the big house is glowing gently. It comes on at sunset, and sunset in December is at four o’clock in the afternoon, although the bank of grey clouds in the sky is making it feel as though it’s almost midnight.

I can’t concentrate. It’s been a horrible few weeks and I don’t know if that’s because Charles has been away for so long and I’m panicked about what he might be working on (if he’s working at all) or because, along with my failure to sign Francesca Clooney, I also missed out on a young writer who I thought had great potential after reading his short story in a magazine. But when I made contact with Bernard Loughlin, he told me that he didn’t want the pressure of having an agent and being tied to a publisher and that he was going to do it for himself. I then discovered that he’d signed with Martin Hellman at my old agency. And not that Martin isn’t a good agent, but he used to be my effing assistant when I worked in London, and it’s annoying to be thrown over for your assistant. Also, my current assistant, Shelley, dropped in earlier to let me know she’ll be heading off to Naples in the summer, where she hopes to get a job, as she speaks fluent Italian.

‘I’ll be sorry to lose you,’ I said.

She flicked her dark curls back and smiled at me.

‘I’ve really enjoyed working for you, Ariel. It’s been so interesting. But it’s time for me to do something different. I don’t want to stagnate.’

I can understand that. I felt the same way when I was her age. I was grasping life with both hands when I went to London. I wanted to make a name for myself and be a roaring success. And I am successful, I remind myself. I’m good at my job, I love my authors, and over the years I’ve had some great offers from other agencies to join them. But I like the freedom of working for myself, even if, right now, I’m in a bit of a slump. Terrifying though they may be, I can deal with slumps. They’ve happened before and I’ve always bounced back.

I finish the email I was composing and print off a few spreadsheets. Then I close my laptop, pull on my wellies and take a bottle of red wine from the walnut sideboard that runs along the wall behind me. I put on my jacket, heave a couple of bags over my shoulder and let myself out of the office, locking the door behind me, before trudging up the thirty-foot garden to the house.

A blast of warm air hits me when I let myself in, and I almost purr with satisfaction. It’s been incredibly difficult not to come up here to work over the past six weeks, but I would have had to change the programming on the central heating for that to happen, and I’ve never been good at programming the central heating. I’m glad today’s pre-set has worked perfectly.

I remove my boots and take my stretchy jeans and a pair of Skechers from one of my bags. I change into them, then walk through the kitchen to the storage room beyond. Hauling out two large cardboard boxes, I carry them upstairs, leaving one in the front reception room and the other in the living room. Then I return to the reception room, where I open the box and look at the Christmas decorations.

Charles and I have always decorated two trees for Christmas. One for the front bay window, mainly to impress the neighbours, and the other for the living room at the back at the house, strictly for us. Even since we split up, I decorate the trees. I don’t want people to think Charles is a Christmas Grinch, but I know if I leave it to him, he won’t bother.

I listen to an audiobook while I work on the bay window tree. The decorating is reasonably quick, because each year when I take down the decorations I place them neatly in individual boxes within the main storage box and I know exactly which decoration goes where. When I’m finished, I switch on the fairy lights and smile with satisfaction. I’m pleased with the effect, which like every year is cool and sophisticated. The theme here is silver and blue, which goes with the pale greys and blues of the reception room.

In the living room, things are a little different. It’s always been a wonderful place to relax – south-west-facing so it gets whatever sun might be available through the painstakingly restored windows, and with heavy drapes to keep out the chill. The high ceilings allow for an impressive chandelier (which is hardly ever switched on, because the side lamps are more restful) and the decor of reds and golds is very inviting.

It’s a grown-up room in a grown-up house that’s full of atmosphere and the hidden lives of the people who’ve gone before. Though, being honest, I rarely think of the people who’ve gone before. I’m more interested in the here and now. Which is what I get in my own apartment, a modern build about three kilometres away that overlooks the Dodder river. Walking distance from here in the summer. Not quite as inviting on days like today.

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