Page 33 of Happily Never After
‘Fair point. I wonder what he writes?’ Lynette continues after a brief pause. ‘Cosy crime?’
‘He’s not a writer,’ I tell her. ‘He makes TV game shows.’
‘Really? How do you know that?’
‘I bumped into him in the town this morning. He was lost so I showed him the way to the house. We chatted.’
She smiles mischievously. ‘Gina isn’t happy about him at all, which pleases me immensely.’
‘She doesn’t know anything about him.’
‘That doesn’t matter. The fact that he’s a man will already have ruffled her feathers. We’ve never had a man on theseretreats before, and it’s going to change the dynamic. Look at the way she’s sizing him up.’
‘You were sizing him up yourself just now,’ I remind her.
‘Yes, but in an entirely different way. I was, and still am, enjoying a bit of eye candy. She’s trying to work out if he’s a threat. When she finds out he’s a non-writer on a writers’ retreat, it will probably blow her mind.’
‘Does it matter? We’re all here for the same reason, aren’t we? He’s just after inspiration for a TV show rather than a book.’
‘It doesn’t matter to normal people like you and me. But Gina is already off kilter because of you, and now she’s got another complete unknown to deal with. She doesn’t like things she can’t control.’
‘I wouldn’t say she controlled you. You seem to take pleasure in winding her up.’
‘Yes, but I’m still a known quantity.’
‘Tess said that there’s a connection between you, but it wasn’t her role to tell me what it is.’
She smiles. ‘There is. Have you worked it out?’
She obviously thinks this is a big mystery and is clearly dying to tell me. I can’t say that I haven’t really given it more than a couple of passing thoughts, so I simply shake my head instead.
Her smile broadens. ‘Would it help if I told you that we’ve known each other since I was born?’
I stare at her, and then at Gina. Apart from their eyes, which I’ll admit are the same colour, there is no resemblance between them that I can spot.
‘You’re sisters?’ I ask. OK, I have to admit that this is a bigger reveal than I’d given credit to.
‘Yes. She’s six years older than me and, boy, did she like to remind me of that fact when we were little. I think she still would, if she thought I gave a crap. I did ask our mother oncewhether she was sure one of us wasn’t a changeling, because we couldn’t be more different in every conceivable way.’
‘You’re both writers,’ I point out.
‘A fact that irritates her every day. She can’t bear the fact that I’m a reasonably successful author with eight books out, while her first is still in the doldrums.’
‘Does it have to be a competition? It’s not as if you write in the same genre.’
‘If you want to understand one thing about Gina, it’s thateverythingis a competition and she’s a sore loser. That’s her Achilles’ heel. If she could just chill the hell out, she might actually be someone worth talking to. As it is, well…’
‘You hate her and she hates you.’
Lynette grins. ‘It’s more of a love/hate thing. She hates me because I’m more successful than her and, after years of her telling me how much better and more important she is than me because she’s the older child, I love rubbing her face in it.’
I flick my gaze across to Gina, who is deep in conversation with Suzie and Grace. From the way she keeps looking at Finn, who is still chatting with Cara, it’s not hard to work out what they’re talking about. I’m not naïve enough to buy Lynette’s version of events wholesale – I’m sure Gina has her own story about the feud between the two of them – but it’s become clear to me that Lynette’s friendliness is a thin veneer over a desperate desire to have an ally. It’s a shame, because I do like her, but I’m not here to embroil myself in her family dynamics. Who knew that a writers’ retreat would be so complicated to navigate? Let’s hope Finn doesn’t turn out to be some long-lost cousin from a branch of the family they both loathe. I think I might have to go home early if that happens.
13
‘I’m in the kitchen,’ Darren called as soon as Claire closed the front door behind her. ‘Would you mind very much doing me a favour and joining me?’
The tone of his voice was enough to tell her that something was seriously wrong, and her hands shook as she hung her coat on the rack.
