Page 103 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘You’re such a lovely person to talk to, but all the time I can see the wheels spinning inside your brain. Working out what’ll work and what won’t. Working out how to shape things to the best advantage.’

‘I don’t know whether to be flattered or not,’ I say.

‘Oh, be flattered.’ She grins at me. ‘I couldn’t have a better agent.’

‘That’s good to know.’

And it is. In a year where things haven’t always gone exactly to plan, it’s nice to hear that my bestselling crime novelist appreciates me.

I feel equally appreciated when I meet Josh that evening for the drink we eventually managed to schedule. When I arrive at the Cellar Bar at the Merrion Hotel, he’s already there, a pint of Guinness in front of him. I sit down opposite and apologise for being ten minutes late.

‘No worries.’ He signals to the barman and I order a gin and tonic.

‘How are you doing?’ I ask when we clink our glasses together. ‘Any progress on . . . well, whatever you’re going to do.’

‘Divorce,’ says Josh. ‘There’s no chance of a reconciliation. She’s mad about Ivan.’ He almost spits the name out.

‘Are you sure it isn’t . . . Sorry, Josh, I hesitate to say this because I hate the term and always edit it out of a manuscript, but are you sure it isn’t some kind of midlife crisis for her?’

‘Even if it is, she can’t throw me out and expect me to come back whenever she feels like it.’

‘Do you think she might?’

‘I doubt it.’ He sighs. ‘Apparently this Ivan guy is bringing her to arty events and theatre and stuff like that, and she says it’s enriching her life immeasurably. We used to go to the pub and maybe occasionally a blockbuster movie with popcorn. Mostly we stayed in and binge-watched TV dramas. She said she couldn’t be arsed to go out. Now I gather she never wants to stay in.’

‘What about the kids?’ They have two, a boy and a girl.

‘They’re at home with her, of course,’ says Josh. ‘It’s not like I could have a twelve-year-old and an eight-year-old in the flat above the office, is it?’

‘I guess not.’

‘I thought we were building a good life together,’ he says. ‘She never said there was anything wrong. She seemed happy. I suppose I’m totally clueless for not realising that she wasn’t.’

‘How serious is it between her and Book Club Man?’ I ask.

‘Apparently he understands her in a way I never will.’ He makes a face. ‘I swear to God, Ariel, I feel like I’m a character in a romance novel myself. A minor character. One that gets forgotten after Chapter One.’

‘Oh, Josh.’ I reach out and catch him by the hand. ‘The overlooked characters in Chapter One sometimes make a triumphant return at the end.’

He laughs.

‘Have you got a good solicitor?’ I release his hand.

‘If nothing else, I know lots of good solicitors,’ he says. ‘How about you and the Big House? Now that he has someone else, I presume you’ve got that in motion yourself.’

‘Working on it,’ I reply. ‘It should be fine. Everything’s already agreed.’

He orders another drink, and when he’s finished it, he says he’d better get home as he had a couple before I arrived and is now feeling the effects. He apologises for being a boring old drunk. I tell him he’s certainly not boring or old, even if he is a little drunk. He tells me I’m kind. I order a cab and we share it as far as his office.

‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’ he asks, and then immediately says, ‘No, don’t, sorry. That’s such a cliché. Besides, we’re both still married to other people, and anyway, you’re my client, Ariel. A good client. I don’t want to mess that up. I’m sorry.’

I make soothing noises and ease him out of the cab while the driver pretends he’s not listening to us. I wait until I’m sure he’s safely inside before telling the driver to carry on. But I’m thinking about Josh’s remark about us both still being married to other people.

We won’t be married to other people for much longer. Yet as much as I’m Josh’s client, Charles is still mine. And that complicates things in ways that, at this hour of the night, I can’t really get my head around.

I’m on a Zoom with Shelley when the door to the mews opens and Charles walks in. I look up in surprise, because he rarely comes to my office.

‘Why haven’t you returned those signed documents?’ he asks.

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