Page 18 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘Sorry. I’m . . . Look, would you like to join me? I’m on my own too and it would be nice to resume our conversation of earlier.’

It was hardly a conversation; it was him being annoyed with me, and I’m really not in the mood for people being annoyed with me. However, I tell myself he’s being conciliatory and I should be nice about it. So I nod, then pick up my plate and follow him. A flurry of waiters and waitresses gather around to transport my wine, my book and my bag and set them down on Charles’s table. I’m amused when one of them calls him Charlie-boy.

‘Well,’ he says when we’re settled. ‘I think we got off on the wrong foot. And then I put the other one in it by implying that your cousin is a beauty queen and you’re average when actually you’re quite striking.’

I’ll take striking as a compliment today and say so.

‘In that case . . . we’re OK?’ He sounds relieved.

‘Of course.’ I take a sip of wine. ‘I suppose this could be the opening of your next book. A boy-meets-girl comedy? Although we’re obviously not a boy-meets-girl comedy. I’m sure you have a significant other in your life.’ I’m not going to let on I already know about him being part of one of London’s hottest couples.

‘Not any more.’ He frowns. ‘Also, I don’t write romantic comedies. Do you know anything about my books? I won the Booker Prize, even if it was a long time ago now.’

‘I know.’ I nod while taking on board the fact that his agent-slash-fiancée-slash-maybe-wife is now his agent-slash-ex. ‘They should give you a little badge you can wear to proclaim your brilliance. I got the impression earlier you weren’t writing much of anything, romantic or otherwise. Didn’t you say you were stuck?’

‘A badge would be nice.’ He gives me a wry smile. ‘Though I’d feel like a fraud wearing it at the moment.’

‘Have you got writer’s block?’

‘Norman Mailer says that writer’s block is a failure of the ego,’ he says. ‘My agent often tells me I have an enormous ego. Makes the failure even worse, I guess.’

I want to ask if that’s the same agent who discovered him and became his fiancée-slash-ex, but that’s a bit too personal. It could be a sensitive subject.

‘I wouldn’t know,’ I say. ‘I struggle to write a report, let alone anything longer, even when it’s nothing more than a list of procedures.’

‘I love writing lists of procedures,’ he says, and this time he’s wistful. ‘I used to do it all the time when I worked in an office.’

‘I’m sure writing novels is better fun than writing reports.’

‘So was I once.’ He shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I’m banging on about myself. Tell me about your job.’

I do my best to explain what it’s like to stand in the rain and stop a six-axle articulated lorry that’s been driven from Turkey to Ireland by an irritated driver who just wants to get the job done, and he listens with interest. He’s a really good listener.

‘And do you enjoy it?’ he asks.

‘Love it.’

‘It sounds confrontational.’

‘Part of the skill is not being confrontational,’ I tell him.

‘I could’ve done with that myself over the last years.’

‘What have you been confrontational about?’ I ask. ‘It doesn’t say in your bio.’

‘What bio?’ He looks startled.

‘Your Wiki bio, of course.’

‘I wasn’t aware I had one.’

‘Don’t you google yourself?’

‘No.’ He shudders. ‘I don’t. Nor do I look at my Amazon reviews or other stuff like that. I did at the start and it nearly killed me.’

‘Why? Weren’t they good?’

‘Lots were. But definitely not all of them. And I never remember any of the good ones, only the awful ones.’

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