Page 27 of So Thrilled For You

She laughs and I feel the tension between us drop its arms. We steer out of town, around some tricky roundabouts, Lauren concentrating too hard to talk much. Then her phone chants ‘Follow this road for ten miles,’ and I prop it up in an empty cup holder and turn to smile at Woody.

‘He’s so cute, Lauren.’

She smiles and lets go of the steering wheel to fluff her hair. ‘He is. Nine months is proper nappy-advert age. What you imagine a baby to look like, right? Rather than a deformed alien frog twitching on the floor uselessly.’

‘I can’t believe how big he’s gotten since I last saw him. I’ve missed you, Lauren, it’s been ages.’

She nods. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been a useless pathetic waste of a human since Woody was born.’

I wince at how she’s just described herself and reach over to pat her arm. ‘You’re a new parent, Lauren. Be kind to yourself.’

She lets out a bark of a laugh. ‘I think that’s an excuse for about six weeks max. One of the NCT lot has taken their baby on four long-haul holidays already.’

‘Well, it’s different for everyone.’

I’m not sure what else to say. I always feel like any advice I give my parent friends is unlikely to be listened to since I don’t have the experiential element to back it. I’ve seen enough of my friends go from happy to mess to know they’re not alone (and to remind myself being childfree is such a valid choice) but you can’t really say, ‘if it helps any, everyone I know who’s had a baby seems to have ruined their lives?’ That’s my judgement anyway. They always game face and tell me determinedly how ‘worth it’ it is.

This car journey’s quite the fall to earth after such a surreal morning. I can’t keep my hands still, they twirl like a combine harvester in my lap, and coffee wasn’t a good plan. I’m DYING to tell Lauren about what’s happening – especially as she works in publishing so gets what it all means. But I want her to bring it up in case I seem self-obsessed.

Theres a thunk behind us as Woody drops one toy down the gap. Another thunk as the other toy joins it. I twist around to see him beaming, like gravity is the best thing ever. And, when I turn back, Lauren’s face is more hers again. She glances over.

‘I’ve just realised, you’re submitting that book this week, aren’t you? To start your agency with. Oh my God, how’s it going? Sorry I’ve not asked sooner.’

‘Oh, no worries.’ My hands start pat-a-caking with joy as speaking it out loud makes it even more real. ‘It’s going really well actually. I had two offers come in from UK publishers overnight.’

Woody lets out a shriek, and I twist, unable to tell from his face if it’s a happy one or not.

‘Ignore him. Oh my God, Steffi. That’s brilliant. Offers on a Saturday! That’s huge. Wow. So, you’re thinking auction on Monday, right? Or do you think a pre-empt is going to come in. How do you . . .’ Woody starts bawling. Zero to 70. ‘Oh Woody, what’s wrong? What’s wrong baby? Have you lost your toy?’ He screams and starts banging the window, his whole face red. ‘Steffi, do you mind trying to get his toy? Can you reach?’

‘Err. Sure.’ I contort myself to try and grab a plastic giraffe ear I can see poking out from behind the seat but can’t reach it. Woody smacks my hands away as I try, screaming louder. ‘Hang on. I’ll unbuckle.’

‘So, you must be delighted?’ Lauren attempts, as I risk death by leaning through the middle partition. I sigh in relief as I clasp the giraffe, pass it to Woody, and expect some respite, but he just grabs it and throws it to one side, screaming louder at the audacity that I thought it would help. ‘Ohh.’

‘Ignore him, honestly. He’ll calm down in a sec.’

‘Umm OK.’ I buckle up again, trying not to pull a face at how jarringly horrible the sound of his screaming is.

‘So, auction, yes?’ Lauren yells to be heard as we hurtle past rolling fields, sheep lying uncomfortably in their wool coats under the trees.

‘Yes, unless I get a seven-figure pre-empt. Which I might, because . . .’ I really wanted to share this news without my eardrums being violated but saying it out loud will still feel amazing. Just like ringing Rosa on the platform felt amazing. She dropped the phone and started crying and couldn’t get the words out to tell her housemate what was going on. It tooka while to convince her thatBlood Moonisn’t only getting published, it’s going to be a global phenomenon.

Those calls are the reason I do the job. When I feel like a Fairy Godmother. Everything I do is so I can make calls like that. People say publishing is a fixed game, andit’s not what you know but who you know, etc. And, to some degree that’s true. Everyone went to similar boarding schools before alighting the English Lit train at Oxbridge station. Loads of novels get published because they’re written byso and so’sgranddaughter, or because they’ve got a podcast, or a certain number of Instagram followers. God knows I represent some of those authors myself, because I know where the bread is buttered, and it’s nepotism side up. But there are moments of true meritocracy. Where a regular civilian quietly writes an incredible, game-changing novel, not realising how good it is, or they are, and is only dreaming of maybe a tiny publishing deal, and the chance to have a launch party, and to see their book in the shop. Making that dream come true but multiplying it by a million and getting to be the one who tells them . . . Well you can’t beat that feeling. People think I’m unmaternal because I never want to have kids but if they knew how I feel about my clients. Howthey’remy children in that their joy is my joy, their hardships my hardships. I will do anything in my power to make life better and easier for them and want the world to know just how special they are . . . If people understood that maybe I’d be dumped less by men who think I’m uncaring . . . fuckingJeremy.

‘Seven figures?’ Lauren asks, though she’s distracted by the back mirror, watching Woody squirm about in his car seat. ‘Wow, that would set your agency up so well.’

‘I hope so. It would be such a relief.’

‘Oh, Steffi. If only your mum was here. She’d be so proud.I’mso proud.’

‘Stop it or I’ll cry.’ This was what I needed. Lauren getting it. Being able to tell her in person. I really have missed her.

‘So, what next? Have you . . . Woody?Woody!It’s OK. It’s just the car. It’s OK.’

Her baby throws his whole body back, face red.

I try and carry on as usual. ‘Yeah, well, you’ll never believe it, but Nina Baldwin herself literally just emailed this morning. She wants to option, with Nina playing the main part.’

‘Fuck!’

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