Page 11 of Duke It Out
“I’m going to town to meet that guy I interviewed the other day for the big piece about investment banking. He’s taking me to the Oxo Tower for dinner.”
She tosses the line out like it’s no big deal, but I know Anna. She’s always working on an angle. I’m not sure whether this is for the story or survival.
“Oh wow.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Don’t actually fancy him, but I do quite fancy his pay packet, not to mention his bonus scheme. I’d be set up for life with a nice little townhouse in Farringdon with a husband on that sort of money. Maybe he’ll have a mate. I could set you up on a double date if this works out.”
I shift on the sofa and open my laptop again now that she’s not looking over my shoulder, shutting down Google. “I’m not looking for a double date.”
“If you don’t have sex at some point, Ede, you’re going to become one of those born-again virgins. Anyway, about this work stuff. Look, if the book isn’t working out, maybe you should think about a sideways move? I saw a really interesting looking marketing job on Indeed…” She picks up her phone and starts scrolling.
I know she means well, but she has a way of making me feel about five years old. It’s not a great sign when your flatmate and landlord is job-huntingforyou.
“Here you are, look. I’ll send you the link.”
My phone vibrates a second later.
“You need to stop holding out for this dream book dealand start being practical. Just sell your soul to the devil and embrace the corporate world. You’ll love it.”
“I’d hate it.” I scroll obediently through the job description. A tiny bit of my soul dies in the process. “You never know, Charlotte might be calling to tell me I’ve been snapped up by one of the big five publishers and they’re going to make my book their lead title for next year.”
Anna snorts.
“I’m just trying to look out for you, babe.” She throws the cotton pad into the bin and stands up, stretching so her top reveals a smooth, tanned strip of perfectly flat stomach. I pull my cardigan over mine, almost without thinking.
It’s ten past when Charlotte calls, yelling over the sound of traffic as she marches down Tottenham Court Road. She walks everywhere at a hundred miles an hour and makes all her calls as she goes. The line is always dodgy, and half the time I can’t quite hear her over the sound of buses and people walking past and the general chaos of London at five o’clock.
“Edie, great. I have the most brilliant news.”
This is it. There’s a series of beeps and some yelling and I hear her apologising to someone.
“Still there?”
“Still here.”
“Wonderful. Right. I have a proposition for you. It’s marvellous and it’s all thanks to Annabel, who put in a good word at the right moment. Everything is pretty much ready to go, as long as you give me the nod. We’ll get the paperwork drawn up and get the ball rolling.”
“I—”
“It’s a ghosting job, but this one will be right up your street. You’ll be in your element – it’s writing a family historybased on archives and diaries. Probably about three months work, they think. Accommodation and everything is sorted. All you have to do is turn up, settle down in the library and get to work. Doesn’t it sound perfect?”
“I —” I try to formulate a sentence and fail in the face of Charlotte’s barrage of enthusiasm.
“Obviously there are NDAs and all the rest of it to be signed, but I’m getting them sorted out in the office,” she says, breezily. “You can pop in on Monday and sign on the dotted line.”
It doesn’t seem to have occurred to her that a) she’s presenting this to me as a fait accompli or b) that I might have other plans on Monday.
“Did you—I mean, have you heard back from anyone about the manuscript?”
“Oh yes,” Charlotte says, and her tone shifts effortlessly from her brisk sales mode into consoling-disappointed-author mode. “Yes, I had the last two emails back from Dilly at Harper Collins and Jessica at Macmillan. Both loved it, but it’s not quite what they’re looking for right now.”
I glance upward, half-expecting to see the dragons which I’d flatly refused to crowbar into my story circling overhead with I-told-you-so expressions on their scaly faces.
“I know it’s not what you were hoping for, but it’s a really well-paid opportunity,” she adds. “And just think all that fresh Highland air and free time will give you loads of chance to work on those dragons!”
I think I might need to get a T-shirt printed with THIS IS A DRAGON FREE ZONE on the front. Maybe then she’d get the hint. But it’s still writing I guess, and it solves the immediate problem of what I’m going to do about paying the bills. I twiddle with the blind cord, winding it around my finger.
At least three months’ rent free might give me a chance to pay off my overdraft?
