Page 77 of The Plot Twist

‘Yeah, well, it will only get worse when you leave London.’ Allie couldn’t resist the dig. ‘Bet they don’t even have a proper phone signal down there yet.’

Jess fixed her a stare over the top of her phone. ‘First thing I checked actually,’ she said primly. ‘Anyway, I better go. Tom wants to discuss house-buying strategies for our trip down there this weekend and if I drink any more, that sex shed you’ll be writing in will end up being a swimming pool.’

‘I’d quite like a swimming pool.’

‘Tough, can’t afford it. You can make do with the sex shed.’

Allie shrugged and picked up her bag. ‘I should go too. Maybe half a bottle of wine is just the right amount to consume before writing. Don’t want to tip over the edge into maudlin and depressed.’

Jess put her phone away and looked at Allie seriously. ‘I am sorry, Allie, about Will. Don’t give up. Please? Give him some time. And that grand romantic gesture? Just remember you’re amazing at writing them, I believe you can pull one off in real life.’

Allie hugged Jess and said a muffled ‘thanks’ into her shiny hair, hoping that even just a smidgeon of her friend’s belief in her might transfer through hair to skin contact.

‘Keep me posted on those houses?’

‘Of course.’ Jess turned to leave.

‘And Jess? Don’t forget me, will you?’ Allie was half joking, but there was a note of sentimentality in her voice that she knew Jess could hear.

‘Never!’ Jess insisted adamantly. ‘This won’t change a thing.’

Allie followed her friend out onto the street, where Jess turned to go one way and Allie turned to go the other, leaving her realising that this might just be the metaphor for the turning point in their lives. Jess was adamant nothing would change, whereas Allie saw, quite clearly and with acceptance, that no matter how much Jess insisted, itwouldchange,theywould change, and surprisingly, Allie didn’t feel abject despair at the idea. It would hurt, and she would be lonely at times, but life was about change, and you couldn’t sit still for too long or it would pass you by. Her phone buzzed with a message from Martin, interrupting her philosophical deep dive.

We should talk.

Allie tipped her head back and stared up at the cloudy London sky. She took a deep breath. She was OK. She would be OK.

ChapterTwenty-Three

For once, Allie was glad that the London weather was doing what it did best: raining. Not pouring rain, that would be too dramatic, just the usual, run-of-the-mill grey drizzle which messed with your hair and your mood and mysteriously managed to creep into the most waterproof of footwear. Allie’s plan to hide in the cafe over the road from Brinkman’s and observe the unfolding of events from there had been thwarted by the CLOSED sign she had found on the door when she had arrived about twenty minutes earlier.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ she had growled to herself and mentally blamed Jess for putting this stupid idea into her head in the first place. What did she really expect to see? Of course, she was hoping for something theatrical: Jake being physically ejected from the building by two burly security guards, the police leading him out in handcuffs or a group of Brinkman’s employees hurling rotten vegetables at him as he scurried out of the office, seeking shelter from their wrath. Instead, right now, she was staring at the nondescript red brick building from the doorway of the closed cafe, the rain giving her a measure of anonymity as she huddled under her umbrella. The worst thing would be to be spotted here, embarrassingly stalking her editorial nemesis.

‘Morning, I see you had the same idea.’

Allie winced at the sound of the familiar voice and came face to face with a black umbrella. It tipped back slightly, revealing Martin who at least was smiling at her, which she hadn’t expected, given the manner in which she had left things with Will after she had dropped her revelation. And the fact she hadn’t yet had the guts to reply to Martin’s message.

‘Oh, hi,’ Allie said somewhat warily. ‘Yeah, guessing you’re here to see if Jake gets kicked out?’

‘I am. I’m hoping it won’t take too long, given this…’ Martin indicated towards the sky.

‘How did you hear about it?’ Allie asked, hoping to delay the inevitable conversation about books and writing, and writing of said books and where the inspiration for certain plot lines came from.

‘Production director gave me the nod, said there had been a lot of closed doors and it wasn’t looking good for Mr Matthews. Thought I’d come down here and see if it was worth watching. Great minds, hey?’ He gave Allie a sideways look, which she met, smiled again somewhat sheepishly and looked down at her feet. ‘Did you get my message?’ he asked.

She nodded and decided to bite the bullet. ‘I’m guessing you’ve spoken to Will?’

‘I have, we had an interesting conversation.’

Allie grimaced and waited to see what he would say next.

‘Look, Allie, I can imagine how awkward that whole meeting must have been for you, and what a surprise it must have been to have realised that myself and Will are related.’

Allie opened her mouth to put Martin straight and tell him that she had known, before that awkward meeting, that he and Will were related, but then she paused as she realised something. Will hadn’t told Martin that Allie knew beforehand that Will was his son. He hadn’t told him that she had done nothing about the situation, or confessed to either of them that she knew. Which must count for something? Surely if Will was irreparably angry with her, then he wouldn’t have bothered keeping something like this from his dad? She felt a surge of hope inside her and then realised that it was her job, not Will’s, to set Martin straight. Because if there was a chance that she might be able to put things right with Will, it was going to start with being as honest with Martin as she could be.

‘I knew,’ she said plainly, ‘before the other night. I knew Will was your son, I realised when I saw the photo at your house. And I didn’t admit it to either of you.’ She allowed the silence to hang in the damp air between them, giving Martin the time to realise what she was admitting to.

‘Oh. Well, I see.’

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