Page 29 of Happily Never After
‘No. Suzie did. Why?’
Lynette grins. ‘Oh, Gina. You naughty, naughty girl,’ she murmurs.
I must look as baffled as Tess, so Lynette continues.
‘OK,’ she says. ‘Gina’s magnum opus is a book calledThe Lion and the Snake. She’s been hawking it around publishers and agents for the last two years, with no success. The only people surprised by this are her, Suzie and Grace, who believe it’s the pinnacle of twenty-first century highbrow fiction because that’s what she’s told them. There’s just one, tiny problem standing between her, a publishing deal worth millions and the inevitability of the Booker Prize landing in her lap.’
‘Which is?’
‘Gina is very secretive about it, but I managed to get a glimpse of the manuscript once, when she left it out by mistake.The Lion and the Snakeis basically one hundred and fifty thousand words of totally impenetrable bollocks.’
‘You’re being a bit harsh, Lynette,’ Tess chides her. ‘I’ve seen the synopsis and there are some strong themes in it.’
‘If you can find them under the mountain of hyperbole and clunky metaphors,’ Lynette says defiantly. ‘Anyway, the point is that this pile of literary manure is the pinnacle of human achievement, according to Gina. I’ve even known her to refer to herself in the third person when she talks about it, that’s how self-important she is.’
‘But she’s sold it to a publisher,’ I repeat.
‘No. That’s what’s so funny. Well, it’s one of the things that are so funny. Have you heard of a publisher called Florianus?’
‘No.’
‘You wouldn’t have, but that’s who’s publishing Gina’s book. Now, who do you think the directors of Florianus are, hm? I’ll tell you. Only one John and Gina Atkinson. So, she hasn’t sold anything to anyone. What she’s done is forced her poor, long-suffering husband to help her set up her own imprint to publish her book.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Tess says. ‘Lots of successful authors are self-published. I work with quite a few of them.’
‘Of course there’s nothing wrong with being self-published. It’s what I am, after all. But telling people you’ve signed with a publisher when it’s actually your own company is a little misleading, isn’t it? God, I bet Suzie and Grace absolutely lapped that up. And then, for the icing on the cake, there’s you, Laura.’
‘What about me?’
‘I saw how she was being with you, all hoity-toity. If she only knew who you really were. God, I’d pay good money to be a fly on the wall for that.’
‘Laura’s asked us to keep her identity confidential,’ Tess reminds her.
‘I know that. But the irony is going to keep me laughing all fortnight. A real, live, bestselling author right under Gina’s nose, only that nose is too far up her arse to spot it. Sorry. That’s probably a mangled metaphor, but you know what I mean. Right, I’d better go and assess the damage all this hilarity has caused. I love my children to bits, but they haven’t half fucked up my plumbing.’
‘There isn’t much love lost there, I take it,’ I say to Tess as Lynette heads for the house.
She smiles softly. ‘Not a lot, no. But the funny thing is that I don’t think they’d actually survive without each other. Did you notice anything about the two of them?’
‘Apart from the fact that they hate each other, no.’
‘Hm. Maybe that’s not my story to tell either. Let me put it this way. They absolutely hate each other’s guts, but there’s also a strong bond between them. How easy would it be for them to book retreats at different times, for example? But no. Every year they rock up on the same ones, regular as clockwork. Gina makes no bones about the fact that she thinks what Lynette writes is basically porn and, as you’ll have noticed, Lynette isn’t much more polite about Gina’s stuff. So what does that tell you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘OK, well, as I said, it’s not my story to tell, so I’ll have to leave you to work it out yourself.’
‘I’m supposed to be here to concentrate on my book, not whatever’s going on between my fellow guests.’
‘Yes, but you know what they say about all work and no play, don’t you? Plus, it’s good for your detective skills. Now, I’d better go and talk to the others for a bit. I’ll see you at dinner.’
‘I’ve been thinking about you. How is it?’ Liv asks when I call her that evening. I’ve helped myself to a glass of wine from the bar and I’m sitting on a lounger, enjoying the cool of the evening. I’m not sure what’s for dinner, but if the smells coming from the kitchen are anything to go by, it’s going to be delicious.
‘Interesting,’ I tell her.
‘Interesting good or interesting bad?’
‘A bit of both. The house is amazing, even better than I’d hoped, and Hugh and Cara are lovely.’
