Page 72 of The Plot Twist

Blearily Allie dragged her mind away from the computer screen and tried to focus on what Jess was asking her. ‘I haven’t seen anything except Microsoft Word for the last eight hours,’ she admitted wearily.

‘OK, well pull up your socials, you’re a writer, this is going to be everywhere.’

For a brief moment, Allie’s stomach plummeted. She imagined Will, or more likely Martin, had written an exposé on the latest literary scandal and their brush with a plagiarising romance author. She wondered how quickly her name would become mud, how quickly Brinkman’s would drop her. She imagined Verity putting out a carefully worded statement, distancing herself from Allie. Her mum being inundated with reporters outside Nigel’s condo in Marbella, all desperate to understand the psyche of the thieving daughter she had raised. Allie wondered if it was too late to shut down her socials, change her name and retrain as a … as a what though? Really, what else was there for Allie to do but write novels? This was a well-trodden thought pattern over the last few months and at the end of it, each and every time, Allie came up empty handed.

‘Allie?’ Allie pulled herself back from her spiral, it was amazing how dark and how fast her thoughts could turn. Something she really ought to put to work more, maybe a change of name would be enough for her to turn to crime writing, as it seemed she was developing a natural leaning towards the macabre.

‘Allie! Are you still there?’

‘Yes, sorry, I just don’t know what to say.’

‘Well, aren’t you pleased?’

Allie wondered on what planet she would possibly be pleased that her entire career was swirling down the drain because of a stupid decision she had made, a reality glossed over, a kiss with Will gone too far. She held back a moan which almost escaped her at the thought of his lips on hers, and how much she missed them (and him, of course.) And then she noticed something, Jess’s tone wasn’t tinged with panic and concern, or even incredulous anger as it might be had Allie’s literary purloining been exposed. Instead, she was excited, gleeful even. Which made Allie wonder if she hadn’t entirely got the wrong end of the stick, and perhaps Will (and/or Martin) hadn’t yet gotten around to writing their exposé, and that maybe Jess was ringing for entirely different reasons altogether, to draw Allie’s attention to something rather more happy-making than career ending.

‘For god’s sake Allie, just get on insta and look for #publishinginsider. It’s going to be everywhere on your feed.’

Immediately, Allie’s brain sharpened into focus, all thoughts of Will and literary theft swept away in the pure knowledge that Tessa’s story, her exposé on Jake Matthews had gone viral. Allie’s stomach clenched in sympathy for what she could only imagine Tessa was feeling right now. She thumbed her way on her phone, praying that the narrative was playing out the way Verity and her ‘friend’ had been confident it would.

‘It says industry figures are seeking to distance themselves from Jake Matthews and his deplorable actions. That they had no idea of the extent of his undue influence,’ Jess read breathlessly.

Allie scoffed at what she was hearing. As if no one else had known about what Jake Matthews was up to. But this was always the way, ‘hiding in plain sight’ was a well-worn defence.

‘I can’t believe he had so many office affairs. And the drugs?! Good grief, where did he find the time and energy?’

‘Amazing how much free time a publishing executive can find when they have zero interest in books.’

‘Did you know about all of it?’ Jess asked. ‘One account is suggesting he might be responsible for several relationship break-ups.’

‘Allegedly,’ Allie said ironically. ‘Verity told me about some of it, and of course I knew Tessa’s story, but I didn’t know how much they were going to get on the record.’

Allie scrolled through posts and posts of supportive comments, vitriolic attacks on male privilege in publishing. Of course, there were one or two trolls, there always were, people questioning Tessa’s timeline, her account of Jake’s behaviour and her motivations in coming forward. But they were completely drowned out by Tessa’s supporters, and by other women, calling out similar behaviour at the hands of other men in positions of power. Allie’s face scrunched into a semi-smile. She was thrilled at how this seemed to be going down so far. Proud of Tessa for having the guts to tell her story. But just reading the comments, she couldn’t help but feel depressed at how universal Tessa’s story was. It wasn’t a one-off, it wasn’t something that people were shocked by, it seemed most women, from all walks of life, had their own similar story to tell.

‘It’s pretty amazing right?’

‘Yeah,’ Allie agreed, ‘but depressing too.’

‘God yeah. Sometimes I think that the world has moved on, that this kind of stuff can’t be swept under the carpet anymore. And then I don’t know why I’m always so blindsided every time one of these stories comes out. It’s not like it’s unusual.’

They both paused, considering the patriarchy, the systemic structures in place which kept seemingly everyone except heterosexual white males from reaching the apex in most industries. And at the same time Allie was quietly contemplating her word count and whether she had got enough done today to justify asking her next question.

‘Fancy meeting for a drink?’ she blurted out.

‘Hell yes!’ Jess practically gasped. ‘Thought you’d never ask. I know you’re on deadline so I didn’t want to distract you by asking you myself. Elliot’s?’

‘Elliot’s?’ Allie asked in surprise. Elliot’s was the wine bar that they used to go to when they had something to celebrate, although using the description of wine bar was pushing the boundaries of accuracy somewhat. They thought it was fancy in their early twenties, because you could sit at the bar and they would bring you your bottle of white wine in a champagne bucket. Although you couldn’t be picky in what you drank, there was red, white and, sometimes in the summer, pink. Very occasionally they’d splash out and get a bottle of prosecco, which Allie would always regret the next morning when she woke up feeling as if she’d eaten a bunch of rotten flowers. But if you got the prosecco, not only were you guaranteed the champagne bucket but they would also dig out the champagne coupes, which made them feel extra specially fancy, and if you got the right bartender, he’d throw in some salted almonds with their order. They hadn’t been there in years, Allie wasn’t even sure it was open anymore.

‘For old times’ sake?’ pleaded Jess. ‘What time can you be there?’

Allie looked at her watch, calculating how long it would take her to make herself presentable and then get down to Elliot’s. It was an easy bus ride from her flat and Allie was fairly sure she could get away with what she was wearing but given she was meeting Jess she ought to make the effort and at least change out of her ancient hoody, which she had been haunting on and off for days.

‘An hour?’

‘Done. See you there.’

* * *

Jess was already at the bar when Allie walked in. Allie had spent the bus journey bleakly fantasising about the way Will kissed her and checking that Elliot’s still actually existed. Which it not only did, but it even had a website. Allie marvelled at the fact that they seemed to have branched out and currently served at least four different kinds of wine of each colour. Seeing Jess sat on her bar stool made Allie pleased she had made the effort to change. She might still be wearing trainers, but they were expensive trainers, and she’d paired them with her black wide-legged trousers and a stripy T-shirt she had forgotten she had, discovered at the back of her wardrobe as she rummaged for something to wear. Jess exuded sophistication as she always did, so Allie hoped she was at least stumbling in the direction of Parisian chic, even if she had yet to reach the Champs-Élysées.

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