Page 54 of The Plot Twist

‘I can’t!’ Tessa gasped. ‘I mean … what if … he might…’

Allie held her breath and prayed that this would be the confession she was after. Tessa would tell her all about Jake’s hold over her, the fact he used her to get his drugs, and presumably then threatened her with all sorts of legal and personal ramifications if she was to ever tell anyone. And once she had confessed it all, Allie could deal with the fallout; she would need to carefully handle a tearful Tessa, lots of reassurance and comfort, and then just at the right moment, when she had built Tessa back up, given her the confidence she so needed, she would go for the kill and persuade Tessa to blow the whistle on Jake, and bring his reign of terror to an end. Or something along those lines. The finer points definitely needed some work.

What actually happened was Tessa’s phone began to ring, interrupting whatever she may or may not have been about to divulge to Allie. She saw the name on the screen and vigorously wiped her teary eyes, taking a deep breath and visibly steeling herself before she answered.

‘Jake,’ she said so smoothly that you would never have imagined that literally thirty seconds before she was a shaking mess, about to confess all sorts of misdemeanours to Allie. ‘Absolutely,’ she confirmed. ‘I’m just finishing up. I’ll be with you in five.’

Tessa stood, picking up her notebook and phone. ‘Thanks for coming, Allie, I’ll email you with Jake’s decision soon. And keep up the writing.’

Allie watched Tessa, alarmed at how quickly and convincingly she had managed to switch characters, and left the meeting wondering which one was the real Tessa.

ChapterFifteen

Allie was missing Will and not just because she had reached a sticky point in her manuscript and was hoping a date with him might just unstick her. She actually really missed him. Like one might miss a boyfriend, not that Allie would know because she had never truly missed Dominic when he wasn’t around. Of course, when they first started dating, she was pleased when she saw him, enjoyed spending time with him. But she didn’t crave him in the alarming way she was beginning to crave Will. Or maybe she was really craving those words on the page that Will’s presence seemed to encourage because since he had been gone she had managed to write only a handful of words, and if she was being honest, most of these were filler.

She knew he was only away for a couple of weeks. It was something to do with work but she hadn’t pressed him for details. Ever since she had found out who he really was, she had avoided asking him anything about his catering and restaurant company, terrified that she might accidentally splurge out her true identity, or reveal she knewhistrue identity. Or in any case something incriminating which would make him think twice about the motivations of this girl he was seeing.

Not that they had discussed exactly what they were to each other. Were they dating? Was this casual? Will had suggested that he wasn’t seeing anyone else, and she certainly wasn’t, but they’d never defined this, never had the exclusivity conversation, let alone the boyfriend/girlfriend one. Allie hadn’t had either of these with Dominic, they had just sort of drifted into a relationship, which was probably where they had gone wrong. If Allie had had to meaningfully commit to Dominic, perhaps they wouldn’t have lasted beyond the first month. Allie sighed – thinking of Dominic always seemed to make her do that. And she remembered that she still hadn’t replied to his message asking if they could meet up. Yet another item for her list of things to feel slightly guilty about.

Allie leaned back in her chair and fiddled with her phone. She took it off do not disturb in the hope that Will might have messaged but he hadn’t. Neither had Jess, which was annoying because Allie was hoping Jess might have changed her mind and decided that Allie was one hundred per cent right in not telling Will about who she was and that she knew Martin. Not justknewMartin, but was workingwithMartin, helping him with his manuscript and in exchange mining the depths of Martin’s marriage with Angie for inspiration for her novel. She cringed at the thought. Emboldened by Tessa’s words she was beginning to sense that what she had written so far was good, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was really worth it. And what Will would say when he found out and whether she wanted to risk losing him just so she didn’t have to lose face (and cash) in front of Jake Matthews.

Ugh. Jake Matthews. Tessa had been remarkably quiet since their last meeting. Allie had been hoping that something might have shifted and she would wake up one morning to a long, heartfelt voice note from Tessa confessing all the evils that Jake had committed. But so far, all Allie had got was a curt email thanking her for coming in and asking when Tessa could expect the next part of her manuscript. And Allie couldn’t give her an answer, at least not a truthful one. So she had avoided responding , which was becoming a theme in her life.

Going back to her messages, she pulled the latest one up from Martin. It had been two days since he had last messaged her, and she still hadn’t replied. He’d asked when she wanted to meet that week, and as Allie hadn’t yet written anything worthwhile since the last time they saw each other she hadn’t felt like replying.

Her phone sprang into life with a new message from Martin.

Are you ignoring me?

Allie grimaced. She didn’t want to be honest, because that would involve telling Martin exactly what was going on. But she could go for a version of the truth.

Yes.

Oh. Should I be worried?

No, it’s my problem not yours.

And then she followed up with the confession.

I haven’t been able to write anything the last few days.

Allie sat and watched the three blue dots appear and disappear. She waited for Martin’s response, rocking her chair back and forth as she did so. She sat forward, nudged her phone again. The dots were still there. She picked up her tea from earlier on and took a sip. It was cold and fairly disgusting. She thought about putting the kettle back on. Still nothing from Martin; the dots were appearing and disappearing as before, so he must be writing half a novel in response. She hoped it might be something she could steal inspiration from for her own. She took a swig from her water bottle to wash out the taste of the tea and stared out into her garden. A robin on the table stared back at her judgementally. She looked away, knowing that it was not a logical response to believe the bird was shaming her for her lack of creativity and drive. Again, she picked up her phone, watching the dots appear and disappear. And then nothing; they disappeared and didn’t come back. Allie let out a stifled scream. Bloody Martin.

When she was supposed to be writing and couldn’t, Allie liked to pretend she found solace in walking, as it seemed like the kind of thing an author would do. She’d stick in her earbuds, put whatever was trending on Spotify, or a podcast she liked listening to, and walk. It normally didn’t last long, she’d run out of steam three roads over or she’d suddenly have an urgent thought that she felt compelled to hurry home and commit to paper before it disappeared entirely. She stared morosely out of the window where the rain was now falling steadily and decided she couldn’t face a walk in this weather. So she did the other thing that often worked, or at least gave her a break from the feelings of inadequacy; she went into her bedroom, lay down on her bed and took a nap.

* * *

When Allie woke she initially couldn’t work out whether she’d been asleep for a few minutes or a few hours. She groaned and rolled over on the bed to reach her phone, which was chirping away and had woken her. She looked at the time and was pleased to see that it was only mid afternoon, so she still had time in which to turn things around and not end the day feeling she had achieved nothing.

Martin’s name was flashing on her phone and she remembered that she had been waiting for his response to her earlier cry for help.

‘Allie?’ he asked as soon as she answered the call.

‘Yes?’ She couldn’t muster more enthusiasm than this and she wasn’t quite ready to forgive him for not replying sooner.

‘Are you OK? I got your message and I was typing out a reply, but our therapist told me I needed to turn my phone off and be more present if we were ever going to make any progress, or words to that effect.’

‘You’re in therapy?’ Allie tried and failed to hide the note of utter surprise in her voice. She couldn’t imagine Martin willingly signing up for therapy.

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