Page 4 of The Plot Twist

The last year had been hard. Riding off the success ofThe Wishlist, Allie at first thought she just needed some time away from her laptop. But a few days had stretched into several weeks, and now here she was, almost a year later and with nothing to show for her sabbatical. This would be the first year in seven years that Allie wouldn’t have a book to publish. And if things continued as they were, it was going to be a long time before she had anything she might comfortably be able to share with Verity. Allie had discovered that publishers didn’t like it when an author decided they need some time off, there was always a hot new author ready to swoop in and steal those sales, but Allie had managed to persuade Verity, who in turn had persuaded Brinkman’s, that she needed this time off, that she would recharge, stretch her synapses, think of other things. And she would emerge better than ever with her new book having come to her during this time off. So far, Allie was still sat waiting for it to arrive.

Allie smiled nervously at the stony-faced Monica, whose facial expression didn’t appear to be capable of adjustment, and wondered if making conversation with her would be more or less painful than with Verity at that moment in time.

‘Hi,’ Allie said, ‘I’m Allie, Allie Edwards.’ She held her hand out to shake. Monica left Allie’s hand hanging there just a beat too long, and then, just as Allie was wondering if she should withdraw it, Monica extended her own.

‘Monica Billings, data analyst.’ Monica gave Allie’s hand one swift shake and then dropped it.

Verity laughed the laugh of someone painfully aware that a social situation was one comment away from disaster. ‘Monica is an absolute whizz at telling us who is buying what, what’s the best price point for maximum sales. All those clever things that actually make a book sell.’

Allie looked at Verity and raised her eyebrows. Verity saw the look on Allie’s face and quickly clarified. ‘After all the hard work of actually writing it, of course!’ she followed up, laughing even more nervously.

Allie smiled. Monica did not.

‘Anyway, Monica, do you mind if Allie and I leave you here? There’s someone I have to introduce her to.’

Monica’s face did something strange; there was a spasm and a constriction of muscles and finally Allie realised that this was possibly as close to a smile as Monica Billings could manage.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Allie said over her shoulder as Verity ushered her away.

‘God,’ Verity muttered, ‘thank you so much for saving me from her. Honestly I don’t know why I always get cornered by her at these things.’

‘Erm, yeah, she seemed kind of hard work.’

‘So painful,’ Verity shook her head, ‘you should try being stuck with her at a book launch, it’s like all the joy is sucked out of the room.’

‘Like a dementor,’ Allie said.

‘A what?’

Allie looked at Verity for a moment before deciding that she really didn’t have the energy to introduce the wizarding world of Harry Potter to her editor at this advanced stage in their relationship.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Right, OK, well, here we are.’

Hereappeared to be the furthest, darkest corner of the courtyard, one not yet touched by canapés and attractive waiters, Allie noticed sadly. She thought fondly of the prawn vol au vent she had cast carelessly into that poor unsuspecting pot plant. And then she thought of the waiter, his grey sparkly eyes. She cleared her throat, attempting to dislodge the strange stirrings of desire she felt within her. Odd that she hadn’t experienced those for Dominic in a while.

‘Hopefully, she won’t find us here.’

Allie looked up at her editor and friend. Even without heels, Verity towered over her, her willowy frame encased in a dramatic ensemble of lime green and shocking pink chiffon. On anyone else, it would look frightful, but on Verity, it looked like something from last season’s fashion shows. Actually, with her new rich boyfriend, Verity could probably affordthisseason’s catwalk offerings. She could probably model the damn things on the catwalk and sell them just as well as she could hand-sell books.

‘So.’ Verity turned her head sharply away from the party and looked down at Allie. ‘Tell me what’s going on? Why haven’t I read anything yet?’

Allie fidgeted with her now empty champagne flute and wondered whether to come clean to Verity right now. As Jess said, what was the worst that could happen? Images of financial destitution and professional shame flashed across Allie’s vision. The bailiffs at her flat, wrestling the keys away from her. Her arrival at her sister Martha’s with nothing but a frayed rucksack on her shoulder. Strangely, the idea of turning up on Dominic’s doorstep didn’t seem to figure in her disaster planning. Allie mulled over her doomsday images briefly and then decided that Jess was wrong and that Brinkman’s annual summer party was probably not the time or place to confess to Verity that her writer’s block now seemed to be a permanent fixture in her life. She would email her first thing tomorrow instead…

‘I’m just having a hard time pulling all the strands of the story together,’ Allie mumbled.

‘But you’ve got the outline? You’ve got some strands to pull together?’ Without waiting for Allie to confirm this, Verity exhaled. ‘Oh, thank goodness.’ She smiled at Allie. ‘For a moment there I thought you were going to tell me you hadn’t written anything yet or, even worse, that you hadn’t even got an outline for the book.’

‘Ha ha,’ Allie laughed weakly, ‘that would be awful.’ She steadied herself on a marble statue briefly before quickly removing her hand. Setting the alarms off at the V&A would just be the icing on the cake of this shitshow of a situation. Although, it might get the party shut down and Allie forcibly removed from social awkwardness, which could just be worth contemplating…

Verity grabbed Allie’s free hand, stopping her just as she was about to make a move to topple the statue. Verity laughed along with Allie, failing to hear the thin wail of desperation in Allie’s muted laugh. ‘Ha! Yes, it would,’ Verity exclaimed. ‘Complete disaster. Just imagine!’ Allie chose not to share that she had already done that, many, many times over. ‘But listen,’ Verity continued, her voice suddenly serious, ‘if there’s any way you feel you can share something with me now, or even just sooner than the deadline…?’

‘Ok, sure.’ Allie’s face froze in a rictus grin of lies. ‘Maybe I can get something to you later this week?’ What was she thinking? Her brain scrambled to keep up with the promises her mouth was making. But as an inveterate people-pleaser, Allie couldn’t help herself, and then there it was, the sweet hit of endorphins that flowed through Allie’s body as Verity’s face creased in a smile of relief and happiness.

‘I’d love that!’ exclaimed Verity, ‘I can’t wait to read whatever you’re ready to share.’ Verity put her arms out and enveloped Allie in a hug of gauzy gratitude.

Still clutching Allie by the shoulders, Verity stared deeply into her eyes. ‘You know, all the years we have worked together and I still get excited when I know you’re about to deliver me a manuscript.’

---