Page 113 of Mistaken Impression

Two weeks…

I know what that means.

It means, if there are any consequences to what happened in Vermont, she’ll find out about them any day now. I’ve wondered whether to call her, but how can I? It’ll seem like I’m only interested in the baby… assuming there is one. She doubted me at the time, and because of that, I have to wait.

I have to trust her.

That’s not easy, when I know she’s already betrayed me once, but if she’s pregnant, she’ll call. She’ll tell me. I know she will. She wouldn’t keep something like that from me. Ella couldn’t do that.

Of course, if there is a baby, we’ll have to work out what we’re going to do about it. I told her I’d stick around, no matter what, and I haven’t done that. I’ve flown three thousand miles, just to get away from the memory of her.

Not that it’s helping.

She’s everywhere. Even here, she’s in everything I do, and say, and think.

But if she calls, I’ll go back, in the blink of an eye. Not for the baby, but for her. It won’t be easy – for either of us – but if I get the chance to try again, I’ll take it, and I’ll make it work. I’ll make my love enough for her… for both of us.

For all three of us, I guess.

I think about that for a moment… about becoming a father… about having a child with Ella, and I feel a warm glow in my chest.

I tap on my phone, going to my contacts and finding her name. My finger hovers over the ‘phone’ symbol, but I can’t do it, and I sit back, staring at the screen.

“Call me… please.” My voice cracks and I turn, staring out into the courtyard, the view blurring as my eyes sting with unshed tears.

I don’t just want her to phone because she’s pregnant. I want her to phone because she needs me, and misses me, and loves me, like I love her.

If only…

It took me a while – and a cup of coffee – before I could focus on my laptop again, but when I did, I knuckled down and got on with re-writing my book.

I’ve been working on it every day since I got back, having discovered that there were, in fact, a few female doctors in the nineteen-twenties. I was relieved by that because it made it viable to change my central character from a man to a woman.At least I didn’t have to change course yet again, and although it’s taken a lot of work, as the grey daylight turns to dusk and then to darkness, my screen providing the only light in the room, I finally get to the end.

I liked my version, with Jonathan Hawkes, the male surgeon and part-time sleuth, but this new one is so much better. It now features Evelyn Harper, who prefers to be called Evie. She’s very much a bright young thing, whose older brother was killed in the Great War, spurring her to follow in his footsteps and study medicine at university, defying tradition, and her father’s wishes. I’ve moved the setting to the home counties and created both back and side stories to defy description, including a tentative love interest for Evie, in the form of the detective inspector who eventually arrives at the country house, just in time to arrest the villain. I wasn’t in the mood for taking that too far, and because of the nature of the story, I didn’t have to.

The good thing is, I think I might be able to write a sequel, pairing Evie and her detective inspector in another murder investigation. I’ve even got a few ideas for where to set it.

And it’s all thanks to Ella…

I stand, stretching my arms above my head, and take a deep breath.

The question is, what to do with my novel now?

I could self-publish it, but I’m not sure I’ve got the know-how for that.

I could try to find another agent, although that’s a notoriously long and laborious process, as I know from bitter experience.

Or I could swallow my pride and send it to Delilah.

I sit down again, clenching my fists a few times to relieve some of the stiffness from all the typing I’ve been doing, and then I go to my mail app…

‘Hi Delilah,

I hope you’re keeping well.

I’m not sure if you’re still willing to represent me, but on the off-chance that you are, I’m attaching a revised version of my manuscript.

I’ve re-written it, in the hope it’s now more to your liking.

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