Page 21 of Happily Never After
‘Is that what they’re like then?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve imagined. Some haughty so-and-so telling me my writing is nothing more than commercial doggerel.’
‘Umm, sorry. But your commercial doggerel, as you put it, is probably outselling their weighty tomes by thousands to one. If anyone should be looking down on anyone, it’s you on them.’
‘I’m not sure, Liv. Do you remember exams at school?’
She laughs. ‘I hardly took any, remember?’
‘Good point. OK, when normal people, who aren’t you, take exams, there’s this moment at the end where everyone checks in with everyone else. “What did you put for question three?”, that kind of thing.’
‘What’s this got to do with writing retreats?’
‘I’m getting to that. The point is, I hated that moment, because all it did was make you second-guess yourself. You’d put the answer as twelve, for example, and you’d find out everyone else had written down fourteen. Then you’d spend the rest of the day riddled with self-doubt.’
‘Still not seeing the connection.’
‘It’s the same thing, don’t you see? People ask you what you’ve written today, and you tell them all about how your serial killer has chopped up their latest victim, only for them to rip into you and tell you all the anatomical reasons why that wouldn’t work.’
‘That sounds pretty unlikely, unless they were either in the medical profession or a fellow crime writer. Anyway, I’m sure a bit of online research would clear that up, and better to be corrected during the writing process than having some smug reader leave a shitty review because you’ve got something wrong. That always winds you up.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘It so does. What was the last one you got? Someone had the arse because they thought a fall from a second-floor window wouldn’t cause the type of injuries you’d written. You obsessed over it for days, looking up stuff online and poring over your medical textbooks.’
‘I was sure they were wrong. I just needed to make certain. Anyway, we’re getting off the point. I’m not going on retreat.’
‘Has she sent you the details?’
‘Yes, but I haven’t looked, becauseI’m not going.’
‘Can I see? I’ve always wondered what goes on on a writers’ retreat. Oddly, nobody seems to run retreats for pâtissiers. I know, I’ve looked.’
‘Maybe there’s a missed business opportunity for you there.’
‘Where would I get the time? I’m flat out as it is.’ She pours water into the teapot, swirling it round to warm it before emptying it out and spooning in the tea leaves. ‘That’s why I want to see yours, so I can live vicariously through you.’
‘I’ll go and get my laptop. Hang on.’
It only takes me a minute to fetch it from upstairs but, by the time I return, she’s already placed two chocolate éclairs on plates.
‘They were left over,’ she explains when she sees my raised eyebrows. ‘It seemed a shame to waste them. We’ve got a couple of minutes before the tea is ready, so let’s have a gander.’
I click the links that Tamara has sent me, loading each one onto a new browser tab, before handing the laptop over to an eager Liv.
‘Don’t get tea or éclair on it,’ I warn her. ‘That thing is expensive and doesn’t react well to liquids or baked goods.’
‘Relax, I’m being careful. OK, so number one is in Tuscany. Looks like a nice place, and all your meals are provided. They even give you wine with dinner.’
‘Not being funny, but I eat and drink pretty well here.’
‘Of course you do. I’m a fabulous chef, among my many other talents.’
‘Modesty being chief among them,’ I say with a laugh.
‘Ha. Modesty is overrated in my opinion. If you’re good at something, be honest about it. First rule of marketing. Howsuccessful do you think my business would be if my advertising was modest? Come to Maison Olivia, where you’ll get a tolerable macaron and hopefully leave without being poisoned? No. Come to Maison Olivia, because it’s the best bloody pâtisserie in East Kent. Anyway, brilliant chef as I am, I still think eating genuine Italian food in Italy would be worth the trip on its own.’
‘Mm-hm. What about the writing retreat bit?’
