Page 87 of The Plot Twist

‘Yes, but it’syourstory too,’ Angie said gently, ‘you’re the one who’s telling it.’

‘And I will,’ said Allie more decisively than she felt. ‘But I need to know you’re OK with me doing so. So, this is it.’ She pointed at the parcel of paper that Martin held. ‘I know I could have emailed it, but it felt more symbolic bringing it to you like this. And no one else is going to read it until both you and Martin have, and are happy for me to share.’

‘You haven’t sent this to Verity yet?’ Martin sounded incredulous.

Allie shook her head. ‘No. I’m not going to. Not unless and until you’re OK for me to do so.’

Angie stepped down towards Allie and gave her a big hug. ‘You sweet, sweet girl. I cannot wait to read it, and thank you for doing this.’

Allie could have stayed in Angie’s embrace for hours, but she had places to be, or more specifically, one place to be. Reluctantly she disentangled herself. ‘Complete honesty?’ she said, fixing both Angie and Martin with a stare.

‘Complete honesty,’ Angie agreed, while Martin held up his hand in something which probably approximated the Boy Scout salute back in 1955.

‘OK, well, let me know…’ Allie turned and walked back down the steps, down the path.

She was at the gate when Angie called, ‘Allie? What’s the other one for? The other manuscript you’ve got in your bag?’

Allie bit her lip and turned back. ‘That’s a different story. And it’s something I needed to do, to make amends. And, also, to remind myself that I still should have faith in happy-ever-afters.’ Angie looked at her and Allie felt that she knew exactly what that story was and where Allie was heading next. Martin simply looked bemused by this exchange and ushered Angie back inside muttering something about the bar opening and it being G&T time. Allie smiled to herself as she headed back out into the London street. One grand romantic gesture down, one to go.

* * *

Allie wasn’t feeling so romantic as she stood on the street outside Will’s flat, clutching the rucksack containing her hopes and dreams to her chest, waiting for him to answer the doorbell. She stood and waited, and waited some more. This one she had all worked out. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, she knew exactly what sheneededto say. And in the rucksack she was clutching, she had what she wanted to give to Will. It was all part of her grand romantic gesture, her plan for catching and keeping that happy-ever-after that had eluded her for so many years.

But because fate was a fickle thing and because the universe definitely was conspiring against her, it looked very much like Will wasn’t at home. Allie thought about waiting it out. Perhaps he had nipped to the shops? He might not be long. Wouldn’t it be romantic for him to come back and find her on his doorstep, not quite having run through the rain, but certainly having braved the weather for him? But as the minutes ticked past, Allie had to concede that expiring on Will’s doorstep might not be quite the romantic gesture she had been aiming for. Admitting defeat, she sighed and opened up her rucksack, carefully taking out the bound manuscript and placing it on the doorstep, arranging it in such a way as to be tucked under the lintel but still visible so that Will wouldn’t miss it when he finally got back from wherever he was. Allie took a deep inhale and stepped back, put her rucksack on and started to walk away before changing her mind. She should leave a note. She should definitely leave a note. She patted down her pockets looking for something to write on and came up with half a crumpled tissue. She scrunched her nose up. No matter how important she felt it was to leave a note, she couldn’t face Will thinking she’d left it on a used tissue. Searching through her bag she found a chewed biro, but no paper. Looking back down at the manuscript, she sighed and picked it up. Ideally she wouldn’t deface the cover of her carefully bound love letter to Will but realising that it was probably fitting to dedicate it to him and before she could overthink yet one more thing in her life she leaned against the brick wall and wrote:

Will, this is for you. I no longer think you have my heart, I know you do. A xx

If someone had been watching, Allie would have held the manuscript to her lips and kissed it dramatically, just to add to the romantic gesture. But no one was about, certainly not anyone who gave half a hoot what she had just written. So instead, she carefully placed the manuscript back down and turned and left, hoping that Will would make it home before the arrival of the inevitable London rain.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

‘What do you think?’ Jess was twirling away in front of the mirror, making enough noise that it would be seemingly impossible to ignore her, but Allie was doing her best to try. She was staring out of Jess’s window, seeing nothing but the manuscript she had left on Will’s doorstep a few days before.

‘Allie? Are you listening to me?’

Allie snapped to attention. ‘Yes, absolutely. I definitely think we should.’

‘Should what?’ There was an icy pause.

‘Oh alright. I’ve no idea. I wasn’t listening.’

Jess flopped down onto the bed almost causing Allie to fall off. ‘Thinking about Will?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘No news then?’

‘Jess. You know I’d have told you if I’d heard from him.’

Jess lay back on the pillows and arranged the elaborate feathering of her black dress around her. If Allie had been thinking of anything other than the fact she had not heard a peep from Will since she had left her manuscript and her heart on his doorstep, she would have teased Jess about how many black swans had died to make her dress. But Allie barely noticed, her heart felt too heavy to make any well observed quips.

‘So, what do you think?’

‘About what?’

‘Will, of course. What do you think it means that he hasn’t contacted you?’

Allie lay back next to Jess, moving some of the feathers to avoid crushing them as she did so. ‘I want it to mean that he’s away. Or that the manuscript got stolen. Or that he picked it up and put it on his TBR pile and hasn’t quite got round to it yet but that sometime over the next few months he might just have the time to put his feet up and read my love letter to him.’

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