Page 22 of The Plot Twist

Martin grinned. ‘Thought you might. Andyou’vegiven me some input on where I might be going wrong with Angie.’ He gave Allie a look as if to say that some of her input wasn’t altogether welcome. He sighed. ‘What if I start thinking about some “grand romantic gestures” I could make?’ – he said this as if describing some unspeakably unpleasant act – ‘and then you see if there’s a story there you can weave from?’

Allie could feel her creativity sparking back into life. Maybe this wasn’t a totally crazy idea. Maybe she just needed a writing partner? She looked across the table at Martin; on paper, and if she had full control over her situation, she wouldn’t have picked veteran thriller writer, Martin Clark. But maybe it could work? Their differences could only make each other stronger. Or some other life-affirming nonsense she might have heard on any one of the therapy podcasts she was always listening to.

‘Have you ever had a writing partner before?’ she asked.

‘No, but then I’ve never been this far behind on a deadline before. Or in so much potential trouble with my wife.’ He looked over at Allie. ‘So I’m in if you are?’

Allie paused. She should really think about this. Maybe discuss it with Jess before she committed to anything. At least run it past Verity … and then she remembered that Verity was no longer a part of her writing life. Taking a deep breath and throwing caution, and any kind of previous good sense to the wind, she said, ‘OK,’ with far more conviction than she actually felt.

Martin’s face lit up. ‘You’ll do it?’

‘No,wewill do it’ Allie emphasised. ‘I’m not just handing you my brilliant serial killer plot, I need something in return. You have to win Angie back, relight that fire, remember?’

‘That sounded like something straight out of one of your books.’

‘Youreadone of my books?’ Allie felt her face flush. ‘Wow, Martin,’ she gushed. ‘I mean googling me is one thing. But actually parting with cold hard cash to read one of my books? Now I’m flattered.’

‘Don’t get too full of yourself,’ he frowned. ‘I got it from the library.’

‘Of course you did.’ Allie couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

‘So now you’ve prised my shameful secret from me…’

‘Not shameful, Martin. I will not have that. Be a proud reader of romance. My books will provide you with excellent research material,’ Allie quipped.

‘Alright,’ he growled, ‘moving on. How about we meet back here once a week? You can share some thoughts on my plot. I can give you some anecdotes from my life for yours. And then we give each other writing prompts to go away and work with before the next week? What’s wrong?’ he asked, seeing the look on Allie’s face.

‘Could we agreenotto meet here?’ Allie gesticulated to the office block over the road. ‘I would rather not run the risk of seeing Jake Matthews each and every week unless I really have to.’

‘Good point,’ agreed Martin. ‘And, actually, maybe we should make it a different place each week? We take it in turns to pick. Somewhere we think might be useful for one of us in terms of writing? Somewhere inspirational?’

‘Great idea,’ Allie said enthusiastically. ‘We can scout out locations for your grand romantic gestures!’

‘Steady on,’ grumbled Martin. ‘I was thinking more a bunch of roses and maybe a new scarf from John Lewis.’

Allie rolled her eyes. ‘Roses and scarves are neither going to save your marriage nor me from the clutches of Jake Matthews. Bigger, Martin, you need to think bigger!’

Allie’s phone sprung into life and she grabbed it from the table, still hoping it might be Verity telling her it was all a big joke, or that Jake had made a mistake and that Verity was still going to be Allie’s editor at Brinkman’s. Or even better that Jake had met with a nasty accident and that…

‘Shit,’ she declared, seeing the alert. Martin raised an eyebrow. ‘My sister,’ Allie explained, ‘I’m supposed to be meeting her and if I don’t get going I’ll be late. Martha doesn’tdolate.’

‘Are you going to tell her what’s happened?’

Allie thought for a moment. ‘I think I’ll explain about Verity leaving,’ she paused, ‘but I don’t think I’ll tell her aboutus.’

Martin raised his eyebrow.

‘Ugh, Jesus, Martin. You know what I mean.’

‘I do,’ he said, laughing. ‘It’s OK, I’ve never managed to do the sleazy older man thing, or wanted to, I should clarify.’

‘Good,’ Allie said decisively, ‘because it’s wrong and disgusting and simply plays into the power dynamics of the patriarchy.’

‘Oh that’s a good line,’ Martin declared, obviously impressed. ‘Can you make sure I can use that in my plot? I’m imagining a DI who has clawed her way up the rungs of the Met, despite the inherent and systemic sexist attitudes. And who is now determined to crack the case that none of her cisgender, white, male, overweight, insert many other stereotypes, colleagues have managed to.’

Allie clapped her hands in delight, ‘Martin this is excellent, see how far you’ve come in just one session?’

‘Alright, no need to patronise me.’

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