Page 47 of The Plot Twist

‘You did?’

‘Uh-huh. She’s pretty messed up by this whole thing but she seems to think we can come up with a plan to bring Jake down.’

Martin raised one of his eyebrows questioningly. ‘How?’

‘Tessa. His assistant. She’s supposed to be working on my book and Verity thinks she might have dirt she can spill on Jake.’

‘Don’t they all have dirt on that man?’

‘Yes, but this is weaponized, career-ending dirt.’ And so Allie told Martin everything that she and Verity had found out and Verity’s plan to end Jake Matthews once and for all, and Martin’s eyebrows got higher and higher as she went on.

‘Impressive,’ he said eventually. ‘Do you think Verity could work out my mess too?’

‘I thoughtIwas helping,’ Allie replied primly.

‘Sorry, yes you are, and you have, and I should go,’ he said, standing up. ‘I’m really not sure what I was thinking coming here. I can only apologise.’ And buttoned-up Martin was suddenly back, all business-like and tweed.

‘No need.’ She waved her hand at his apology as they walked back to her front door. ‘I’m glad you felt you could come and talk to me.’

‘Thank you,’ Martin said somewhat gruffly. ‘I do value your advice,’ he continued stiffly. ‘You know, you’re a damn good writer, Allie, and you should have more faith in your ability. Keep me updated with this plan of yours for Mr Matthews?’ With that and a wave of his hand, he was off, leaving Allie stood in her doorway, feeling emotional and watching him go through a film of tears.

She shook her head. ‘What on earth is going to happen next?’

ChapterThirteen

Allie didn’t have long to wait to find out. That evening Martin rang her again and despite thinking it would probably be best to let it ring through to voicemail, her lack of self-control meant she couldn’t. Evidently, Martin had confessed everything to Angie, including the writing relationship that he and Allie had devised. Allie considered having a go at him, reminding him that they had agreed to keep this a secret before she remembered that Martin had done one of the bravest things he could and that now wasn’t the time to be bringing up minor promises with which to beat him. And anyway, she’d already told Verity, so really she didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Martin told Allie that Angie had been furious at first, both with him and with Gigi, but had now calmed down and was actually keen to meet her.

‘Me?’ exclaimed Allie in consternation. ‘Why?’

‘Because, as I have now discovered, she’s read your books and is a fan and is trying to pretend not to be impressed by the fact I know you.’

Allie preened herself a little at Martin’s words.

‘And also, it might stop her thinking we’re having some kind of affair. So, will you come?’ he asked.

‘Come where?’

‘To our house, for dinner. Tomorrow night?’

And that was how Allie found herself on the doorstep of a beautiful white Regency villa the following evening, feeling foolish that she had presumed Martin lived in Hampstead, just because he was a rich, white literary male, but not quite as foolish as she felt agreeing to this dinner in the first place. And anyway, she thought to herself, this might just as well be Hampstead, given she was a stone’s throw from the heath that gave Blackheath its name, and that the house in front of her would probably set her back a few million. She took a deep breath, begged her imposter syndrome to take the night off and rang the doorbell.

The door swung slowly open giving Allie the chance to catch a glimpse of stunning black and white tiling and stairs sweeping off into the many other floors of the mansion.

‘You must be Allie.’ Angie was suddenly smiling at her as Allie tried not to gape. Angie was certifiably gorgeous, tall and curvy with dark luscious hair, which she had swept back from her face into a low chignon. Her skin glowed with a luminosity that came not just from what Allie would presume was an expensive skincare regime, but also from a genetic gift which left Allie feeling short-changed for herself and the rest of the average-looking sisterhood. She wore a dark blue, silk soft jumpsuit that clung to her in all the right places and Allie wondered just what alchemy was at work which led a mother of two in her sixties to look this good. And then behind her was Martin, bobbing around, looking just as uncomfortable as Allie felt.

‘Hi!’ Allie said and gave them both a little wave.

‘Come in.’ Angie swept the door wide open and went to hug Allie as she made her way across the threshold. Panicked by the sudden intimacy, Allie went stiff as a board before finally, gingerly succumbing to Angie’s embrace. And just as suddenly it was over and Allie was left wanting to inhale more of whatever the fragrance was that Angie was wearing.

‘Here,’ she said, thrusting the bottle of wine she had picked up on the way at Angie, ‘this is for you.’

‘You shouldn’t have,’ said Angie magnanimously and managing to sound as if she was truly touched by Allie’s gift. ‘But thank you. Martin, take Allie’s coat.’

‘Hi, Martin,’ Allie said, shrugging herself out of her coat and handing it to him.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he whispered. ‘I owe you one.’

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