Page 1 of The Plot Twist

Prologue

‘So, without further ado, will you all please join me in congratulating Allie Edwards on the publication of her seventh novel,The Wishlist.’

Verity Montagu-Forbes put her hands together in applause and stepped off the small stage which had been erected in the bookstore. She grinned at Allie, her star author, and then wrapped her arms around her in a hug. Verity whispered in her ear, ‘This one is going to be your best seller so far, and I’m already excited about the next book.’

Allie breathed in Verity’s words, she was excited, too. She was on a roll, six bestsellers in a row and it looked like this new one might smash them all out of the park. She took a deep breath, tucked a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear and listened to the applause, savouring the moment and trying to block out the whooping she could hear from the back of the bookstore which was almost certainly coming from her friends Tom and Jess, who somehow didn’t know, or more likely didn’t care that whooping at a book launch was frowned upon by the publishing elite.

Luckily, the publishing elite were not in attendance at Daunt’s on Marylebone High Street on a rainy Tuesday evening in September, and so the whooping didn’t matter. While Allie was a bestseller for Brinkman’s, her publishing house, she was neither literary nor highbrow. And therefore her book launch party was attended by friends and family, her longstanding editor Verity, and the sales and marketing team at Brinkman’s who were honestly indifferent as to Allie’s genre of writing, but they did love her sales figures. And the free wine.

Allie walked the couple of steps up onto the stage, and turned to look out at the small crowd of people who had come to celebrate her. She waved at the sales manager who had been the person to call her and tell her that pre-orders of this, her seventh novel, were higher than the last two combined. And she grinned at Jess, her best friend, who she could see standing at the back, next to her husband Tom, clutching not one but two free glasses of wine. Allie felt a warm sensation inside her, something akin to happiness, which she decided to focus on, rather than focusing on the person who was missing, the person who should have been at the front of the crowd supporting her, her personal romantic hero, her very own leading man, her boyfriend Dominic. But she didn’t want to think about Dominic, certainly not tonight, and often in recent weeks, hardly ever. She wanted to enjoy the moment of celebration which sometimes felt so far off when she was in the thick of writing; during those moments when she was failing to untangle a plot thread, or had forgotten the name of her latest main character, she couldn’t believe she had got to where she was currently standing, which was a bookstore in London where a publishing house,herpublishing house, was throwing a party to celebrate her seventh book. And then at other moments, like this one, when she caught the eye of her sister Martha in the audience and it looked like she might be on the verge of tears or saw Verity raising a glass of – albeit slightly warm – chardonnay to toast her, she absolutely bloody could believe it and she loved it.

‘Thank you,’ she said, at the same time pointing her finger warningly at Tom, who had now put his fingers to his mouth as if he was about to start wolf whistling at her. He lowered his hands and looked sheepish, which made her smile. Allie was not a natural public speaker, but she knew the drill. By now she could remember the people she needed to thank and the praise she needed to heap on her publishers and the booksellers present. And she also knew to keep it brief; despite what they might say, people were here for the free wine and canapés, not to hear her rabbiting on.

‘Thank you,’ she said again as the room went quiet, waiting for her to speak. ‘If you’d told me eight years ago that I was about to sell a book to that wonderful woman over there…’ She pointed at Verity, who smiled shyly. ‘I wouldn’t have believed you. I was twenty-five and earning rubbish money writing copy for an advertising agency. I’d always dreamed of writing romances, as my sister Martha will attest to, Martha, apologies for all those terrible love stories I made you sit and listen to.’ Martha smiled indulgently and the tops of her ears went slightly pink. ‘But I didn’t know it was something I could really do, and also how many people and how much belief and support it takes to make it happen. And now I’m about to publish my seventh romance and I finally feel confident enough to answer the question “so what do you do?” with the answer, “I’m a romance writer.”’ There was a small smattering of applause and an audible ‘YES’ from the marketing assistant who Allie knew had aspirations of her own in this area. Allie grinned at her and made a mental note to seek her out later and ask her how her own writing was coming along. ‘Firstly I want to thank Verity, who I just mentioned. Your editorial wisdom has made every one of my novels so much stronger than they would have been without you. I can’t imagine having a different editor, so please don’t ever leave me!’ Verity smiled and blushed again, and everyone laughed at Allie’s warm words.

‘I want to thank my mum, who is in Spain and who told me that as she had been to every other one of my book launches, she knew exactly what to expect and that she was sure I would speak more confidently than I did at my first launch – so thanks Mum.’

More laughter rang out and Allie looked quickly at Martha, hoping that she had got the tone right and that it didn’t sound too much like she was hating on their mum for not being there. Allie didn’t mention their dad, she never did at these events. It was almost twenty years since he had died, and Allie still didn’t trust herself to talk about him in front of a crowd, worrying that she would break down and not be able to continue, leaving her audience shuffling awkwardly and wondering if they were at a book launch or a grief group. Martha knew. Martha understood, she felt the same, Allie caught her eye and smiled, feeling grateful for the solidarity of sisterhood, however fleeting those moments were.

‘Thank you to my sister Martha, for being my family here tonight and for reminding me that most people have proper jobs and don’t just sit around in a cafe all day dreaming up adorable meet-cutes.’

‘I never said that!’ Martha protested and immediately looked panicked that she had drawn even more attention to herself.

Allie smiled, enjoying the reaction she was getting. ‘I want to thank everyone at Brinkman’s for getting me to this position, I know how hard you all work and I am well aware that I would not be here if it wasn’t for all of you, so thank you!’ Allie raised her glass to the back of the room where a cheer went up amongst the Brinkman’s staff in attendance.

‘Thank you to Daunt’s as well for letting us use your space, and, of course, for selling my books. I think this is the fourth launch of mine we’ve had here, so I guess my mum has a point and I should probably think about doing something different for the next one.’

Allie shot a look at the bookstore manager who winced at her words. ‘Simon, I’m kidding. I wouldn’t want to hold a launch anywhere else. And I’ll be back here next year if you’ll have me,’ she said confidently.

‘Finally, I want to thank my boyfriend Dominic, who also can’t be here tonight. Not because he’s living it up in Spain, but because he is closing some deal and his boss has him working late.’ Allie paused to let some boos for the mean boss ring out. ‘People always ask me where I get my inspiration from, it’s the million-dollar question for a writer. I like to maintain some mystery,’ she gave a knowing smile to the crowd, ‘so I’m not saying that Dominicismy inspiration, but I’m not saying heisn’teither…’ Tom let out the wolf whistle he had so obviously been dying to emit since the start of her speech. ‘I mean, how can one write about romance when you don’t know about romance? So, thank you to Dominic, and no thanks to his boss.’

There was laughter and cheers and Allie bit her lip waiting for both the cheers to subside, and her tiny pangs of guilt too. Because she was not being a hundred per cent honest, and if she caught Jess’s eye she knew Jess would have an eyebrow raised at Allie’s words and that her cover would be blown, everyone would see it written all over her face, just as clearly as her words on the page; so yes, she did draw inspiration from Dominic, but it wasn’t inspired by his actions, but rather what she hoped hewoulddo, what she had always imagined the love of her life to be like. But no one wanted to hear that, did they? Who would want to buy a book by a romance author who didn’t have any romance in her life? Allie felt the familiar whorl of simmering disappointment pulsate inside her but she pushed it to the side, along with those suspicions as to why Dominic hadn’t shown up for her, yet again. She pasted on her smile, thanked everyone once more for coming and urged those who had not yet bought the book to support Daunt’s (and her) by buying a copy.

‘Nice speech,’ Verity said, moving swiftly to Allie’s side as she walked off the stage and handed her a glass of wine. ‘Definitely an improvement on book one.’

Allie rolled her eyes, making Verity grin. For her first book launch Brinkman’s had invited Allie into their offices for a drinks reception. She wasn’t at the stage of inviting booksellers or journalists yet and even her friends and family had to wait to meet her in the pub afterwards. Verity and the then publisher had congratulated Allie on the publication of her first novel and then offered her the microphone – which she had proceeded to splutter and stutter into until some kind soul in international sales had taken it from her hand and replaced it with a glass of wine.

‘Are you ok?’ Verity then asked, causing Allie to look at her sharply. ‘I mean, I always feel for you when you talk about your mum and Martha and not your dad…’

Allie shook her head tightly and said, ‘It’s fine. One day maybe, maybe at the next book launch? But I didn’t feel like mentioning him tonight.’

Verity nodded. ‘Look, there’s a new sales director I want to introduce you to.’ Verity put her hand to Allie’s arm and began to lead her towards the front of the store. ‘But before I do, can I just ask about the next one?’

‘Next what? Sales director? You lot get through them fast.’

Verity frowned away Allie’s attempt at diversion. ‘Your next book?’

Allie laughed and tried to shrug off Verity’s hand. ‘Verity,The Wishlistis only publishing tomorrow, can’t we just enjoy that for tonight?’

Verity stopped by the table of handpicked-by-the-staff hardbacks and raised her eyebrows at Allie. ‘Yes, it’s just that you said you’d get me a plot outline this week and you haven’t. And normally you’re bursting to tell me the idea for your next book as soon as you’ve delivered the first draft of the current one.’

Allie picked up a copy of a book by an author she had never heard of and flipped it over to read the biog line. She then held it up to show Verity.

‘Says here she was fifty-six when she published her first novel.’ Allie pointed at the back flap. ‘Which means I’m doing OK, don’t you think?’

‘Allie,’ Verity said firmly in her clipped tones, ‘you’re doing marvellously. I just wanted to check that there wasn’t anything wrong.’

‘Wrong?’ Allie snapped. ‘What could be wrong?’

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