Page 71 of The Plot Twist

‘And then it went from confusion to … well, if I was going to put a sentiment on it I’d go for sadness. And if I was allowed a second sentiment, I’d pick betrayal.’

‘Oh god, sad betrayal. The worst.’

‘I know, right?’

‘Couldn’t he at least be angry at you?’

‘Well, he may well be at the angry stage by now. It was a few hours ago.’ Allie shook her head sadly. ‘Although, to be honest, I was hoping he’d skip the angry stage and just decide he liked me enough to overlook my massive error of judgement.’

‘Oh Allie. You really like him, don’t you?’

‘Yup.’ Allie bit back a sob which had been slowly creeping its way up inside her ever since she had left Will’s flat that morning, and which she had, with ever decreasing success, been trying to suppress by telling herself that everything was fine and of course Will would understand.

‘He’s not going to skip over it, is he?’

Verity sighed. ‘Babe, I honestly don’t know. You’ll have a better read on it than I will. But if I were you, I’d go apologise again. Or, I don’t know, make one of those grand romantic gestures you put in all your novels.’

Allie smiled wanly. ‘Not sure that’s going to cut it this time. Didn’t I tell you I’ve stopped believing in happy-ever-afters? I so should have seen this coming.’

‘Hey, you don’t know it’s over till he tells you. Come on, you’ve got to fight for this. And by the way, while you’re busy planning whatever grand romantic gesture is going to win him over, maybe you could also write a novel about it? If I do get my job back we’re going to be on a serious deadline to get your next one published on time. But if you’re going to do that,ask him first,’ she said firmly.

Allie wiped her eyes with one hand. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I’ve stopped believing in romance. Can’t I go and write that serial killer thriller?’

‘No,’ Verity steadfastly replied.

‘Why not?’ whined Allie.

‘Because in case you’ve forgotten, you gave that idea to Martin. So, unless you want to go explain to him that you want your idea back and in return you can swap him the story of his marriage, which you stealth wrote, you’re going to need to go back to the romance drawing board.’

‘But I can’t!’ protested Allie.

‘You can. Just write what you know.’

Allie stared daggers at her phone, feeling unheard and dismissed.

‘Right. Well look, let’s look on the bright side.’ This positivity was what made Verity such a good editor and such a good person, but right now it was also about to get her slapped by Allie who was just grateful that they were not having this conversation in person and so she didn’t have to add ‘buy editor some flowers to apologise for the slapping’ to her crowded schedule.

‘This is a kind of good news/bad news situation here. So, I need to go work on the good news part, and you need to go fix the bad news. Oh, and by the way, something else you should know … Tessa said you’re the person who inspired her to go public.’

‘She did?’

‘Yes. Apparently your speech about doing the right thing hit a nerve with her. So, Allie? Don’t let me down, and don’t let Tessa down. Just write the damn book, and do the right thing. I believe in you.’

The line went dead and Allie wrinkled her nose in frustration. Verity was right, she needed to do the right thing and write this damn book and it was always best to write what you knew. But Allie wasn’t sure what she knew anymore, other than that writing Martin and Angie’s story without prior permission was definitely not the right thing. She stared morosely out into her garden and caught the eye of a judgemental robin which was out there terrorising the worms. He cocked his head at her and she tried to look away. It was bad enough being called out by Verity, she didn’t need half the wildlife of west London jumping on the bandwagon. She leaned forward and banged on the window repeatedly. The robin startled and flew off, which, surprisingly, didn’t make Allie feel any better about the situation she found herself in. Grand romantic gestures … write what you know. She stood and paced the kitchen, stopping to put the kettle back onto boil and dumping yet another tea bag in her mug. She ran through her conversation with Will once again, the look in his eyes when he had realised what she had done, the feelings she got when she understood she might have ruined it all. The empty space she felt yawning open when she thought about not seeing him again. By the time the kettle had boiled, the tea had brewed and Allie was sat back at her laptop, she felt the beginnings of an idea starting to percolate through her brain.

ChapterTwenty-Two

The last time Allie had written like this was the infamous time of her writer’s block on book two, when she had spent two months staring at a blank computer screen trying to make the plot work, gone for an afternoon nap and woken up with it entirely mapped out in her head. It had been pretty epic and she had managed to lose ten pounds at the same time, having been so engrossed in getting her story onto the page she had almost completely forgotten to stop for food. Sadly, by the time publication came around she had put all the weight back on and had to return the dress she’d optimistically bought the afternoon she finally delivered her manuscript. But this time it was different – although she was focused on her writing, she still had half an eye on her phone, and every time it lit up and it wasn’t Will, she tamped down her sadness with a few squares of Dairy Milk. By day three, Allie had written a third of her new draft and was, by her estimation, at least sixty percent chocolate.

And she was feeling better than she really had any right to. Despite the fact she missed Will, in every humanly horny way possible, and despite the fact she kept wanting to ask Martin what he thought of a paragraph she had drafted, and despite the fact she knew she had completely and royally fucked everything up, she was beginning to see the woods for the trees. Ever since she had realised who Will was, she had been treading on eggshells, so afraid of him discovering her secret that she hadn’t really been enjoying the excitement of the early days of a new relationship. All the time she had been wondering how long it might last and knowing she should tell him the truth. Now, with the idea for her new book unfolding on her laptop in front of her she took a deep breath and clicked minimise. Right behind her new draft document was the original one. The one she now knew she had essentially stolen from Martin and Angie. She swallowed and began to read.

Allie didn’t stop reading till she had read the whole thing, and when she stopped she once again had tears in her eyes, partly because it was, without blowing her own trumpet, really rather moving, but mainly, and she wouldn’t want to admit this to anyone but herself, because she knew that she could never publish it. She pushed her laptop away from her and stared out into the garden, wondering where the robin was and whether he would ever forgive her or whether he was destined for the same fate as Will and Martin – someone she once knew who, because of her bad choices would never feel comfortable in allowing her back into their lives. She brushed her hands fiercely under her eyes and swore to herself she was moved by her predicament, not by the departure of some bird she had anthropomorphised because she seemed to be suffering from a distinct lack of actual real-life people in her world right now.

Allie pulled her laptop back towards her, hands hovering over the keyboard, focused on the final words she had written of Martin’s story. She tipped her head to one side, flexed her fingers, made a decision and began to type. Because while she knew she couldn’t publish this thing, she did think there might be one way she might atone for her mistakes, and if she was to embark on that journey, she would need to finish not one, but two books in the next couple of weeks.

* * *

‘Have you seen this?’ Jess’s voice barked down the line.

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