Page 29 of Slow Burn Summer

“Have you told her about the book yet?”

Kate shrugged. “Not yet. I don’t think she’s in the mood to listen anyway, it’s all Flynn this, Flynn that, Flynn the other. I hate the name more every time I say it.”

“Don’t mention that to Alice,” Liv cautioned.

“Oh, I know. I won’t.” Kate sighed. “She’s lucky I have the book keeping me busy or I’d be on the next train up there.”

“Which would make things a million times worse,” Liv said. “Show her you trust her, she’ll come through.”

“You think so?”

“Well, I tried to talk sense into you all those years ago, if you remember, and look where that got me.”

It had been the closest they’d come to falling out as adults, awful for them both until Liv held out the olive branch. At the time Kate had felt as if everyone in her life wanted to stick their oar in because they didn’t know Richard the way she did. She’d been determined to prove them all wrong.

“I know you’re right, but it’s so hard not to wade in and bring her home for the summer, make her see sense over endless plates of spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti or a surfer that looks like a Hemsworth brother and lives on the beach?” Liv said.

Kate screwed her eyes closed and burrowed into her sister’s shoulder, defeated.

16

Publication eve, 11:45p.m….

Kate lay in bed, watchingthe clock count down to midnight. She’d spent the day getting book-prepped and polished, staying busy to keep her nerves in check.

Her social media pages were awash with glowing excitement from reviewers who’d already read the book, teasers and competitions to build anticipation, shots of her fingernails painted to match the cover, and the towering stack of books other publishers had sent her to read and review in the hope of a cover quote. It was all about building the buzz, and right now she felt as if she lived inside a beehive, curled into a fetal position around the book to protect it at all costs.

“Eleven fifty-seven,” she whispered into the darkness.

It had been ten days now and H still hadn’t replied, which troubled her greatly. She’d agonized over what she might have said to cause offense, whether to send a follow-up email, if she should seek advice from Charlie. She hadn’t done any of those things so far, cautioned by Liv to just hold her nerve. Why wasn’t there a handbook for all of this debut author stuff? The pressure of waiting to see how the world would treat the book sat like an elephant on her chest.

Eleven fifty-nine. Sudden surety that she should never have taken the job pinned her against the mattress, cold sweat on her forehead. She wasn’t up to the grade. She wasn’t good enough for the book. She was going to say the wrong thing, post the wrong image, offend someone crucial, alienate the actual author. She kicked the quilt away and sat up, too hot, queasy.

Midnight. Zero hundred hours. She clutched her mobile in the dark room as a message popped in from Liv.

Here we go! Congrats sis, love you lots. Tomorrow, champagne! Xxx

She read it twice over, allowing her sister’s excitement to seep in and become her own. It wasn’t publication eve anymore, any final chance to back out was officially gone. Rehearsals were over. It was opening night.

—

She slept in fits andstarts, a combination of sickly nerves and mixed-up dreams of Alice. They were together under the shade of a palm umbrella in an Aussie beach café, sand warm under the soles of her bare feet. Alice ordered for them; the owners seemed to know her, they shared a familiarity and inside jokes Kate didn’t understand. A guy appeared. She didn’t get a clear look at his face but when Alice stood to greet him, Kate belatedly realized her daughter was heavily pregnant. Sun-streaked gold had lightened her hair and sand clung to the back of her tanned legs beneath her denim cut-offs. A slim wreath of tattooed flowers circled her ankle, and she laughed as she cradled her bump and stood on tiptoe to kiss the guy. She didn’t turn to introduce him to Kate, and she didn’t glance back as they wandered away toward the sea.

Kate rose through the layers of sleep, fighting to stay under to call her daughter back. She didn’t need a psychologist to decipher that particular dream; it may as well have flashed up “Talk to Alice” in huge neon letters.

Her phone burst into frantic life when she flicked it off night mode: a barrage of messages from various members of the publishing team; separate ones from Liv and Nish because he was away on a work trip. An avalanche of social media notifications too, well wishes from readers all clamoring to let her know they finally had their hands on the book and couldn’t wait to read it.

“Kate, you decent? Let me in regardless.”

Liv’s voice carried up the stairwell, and by the time Kate opened the door her sister was waiting outside it, slightly breathless with her hands full.

“Celebratory breakfast.” She held a brown paper bag up as she came in. “Fancy pastries from that new shop down the road and coffee strong enough to wake the dead.”

“I just made one,” Kate said.

“Instant issonot the vibe for today, Katie.” Liv laughed as she took the lid off her cup and blew on it.

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