Chapter 10 #2
‘True,’ she said, deciding it would be as good an excuse as any if she decided she wanted to remain anonymous.
‘It’s something to think about anyway. You don’t have to decide anything right now. And if we do publish anonymously, you can always decide to go public further down the line, if you want. It could even give the book a second bite of the cherry when the initial publicity has died down.’
By the time their starters were cleared, the champagne bottle was empty, and they ordered some red wine.
‘So, tell me a bit about yourself, Claire,’ Mark said, when their main courses had been served.
‘Like what?’
‘Anything. I know absolutely nothing about you – except for the explicit details of your sex life, of course.’ He grinned.
She smiled ruefully, the champagne buzz overriding her shyness. ‘Well, let’s see. I’m twenty-eight, the youngest in my family. I have two older brothers, both married with kids. I have a degree in English literature. I work in a bookshop – an independent.’
‘But you’d like to write full-time?’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Well, hopefully we can make that happen.’ He smiled. ‘Do you write other stuff?’
‘Yes, I write fiction. I’m working on a young adult novel at the moment.’
‘I’d be happy to take a look at if you’d like.’
‘You would?’
‘Sure.’
‘That would be great. I mean, it’s not ready to show to anyone yet, but when it is, I’d love you to read it.’
‘I’d be glad to.’
‘Anything else you’d like to know?’
‘Well… I know you don’t have a boyfriend as such – you’re still auditioning for the role, yes?’
‘Sort of.’
‘How many candidates are there, now that Mr Handy’s out of the picture?’
‘Actually… I may exaggerate a bit on the blog,’ she admitted.
‘Really? How much?’
She took a deep breath. ‘At the moment there are…’ she looked up at the ceiling as if counting ‘…none.’
‘None?’ His eyebrows shot up, but she couldn’t help thinking he seemed rather pleased.
‘Do you think I’m an awful fraud?’
‘I’m just surprised. I did allow for a certain amount of artistic license – several of my female friends who read your blog tell me that no single young woman could be getting that much action.’
‘Well, they’re right.’
‘You’re not going to tell me you make it all up, are you?’
‘Oh no!’ she gasped, in mock horror. ‘It’s sort of a blend – part reality, part fiction. Like Made in Chelsea.’
‘Some scenes have been created for our entertainment?’
‘Exactly. Some of the men I describe are actually a mash-up of a couple of guys I’ve dated. Or I write about stuff that’s happened in the past. Some of the guys I made up completely, for my own amusement,’ she admitted, with a guilty smile.
‘Mr Bossy?’ he guessed.
‘Mr Bossy’s real, but he was a long time ago,’ she heard herself saying. She had no idea where that had come from. Surely it would have been simpler to make him fictional, and the more straightforward guys real. Well, it was said now – too late to take it back.
‘So there’s no one in your life at the moment?’
‘It’s my guilty secret.’
‘Would it be very cheesy to say I find that hard to believe?’
‘Very cheesy. But I happen to love cheese,’ she smiled, ‘so I’ll let you get away with it.’
‘So, seriously – how did that happen?’
‘Well, your friend is right. Good men aren’t that thick on the ground. And I’m quite fussy. There’s also the fact that I live with my mother now.’
‘You live with your mother?’
‘She’s been ill. She has a dodgy heart and she’s quite incapacitated, so I moved back home to look after her,’ she said.
‘Well, I can see how that would curtail your social life.’
‘It’s fine. I think it came at a good time, actually – gave me a chance to take stock.
I was getting tired of playing the field anyway.
I think I’m ready for something more serious.
’ Wow, she had no idea where all this material was coming from, but she liked it.
Turned out improvisation was her thing! Who knew?
‘Well, at the risk of sounding even cheesier, may I say I’m glad to hear that?’ he said, with a slow smile.
Claire smiled back. ‘So, what about you?’
‘Well, I’m a publisher, as you know. Thirty-two. I run. I live in Highgate with Millie and we have a pretty volatile relationship—’
‘Millie?’ Claire was surprised by how disappointed she felt.
‘My cat. I told you about her.’
‘Oh yes! The feline one.’ She smiled in relief. ‘How is she?’
‘I’d like to say she was jealous about me coming to meet you, but she’s not arsed, as usual. Sometimes I think she’s just using me for my money. She has very expensive tastes.’
‘You should ditch her. She doesn’t deserve you.’
‘I know, but I’m a besotted fool,’ Mark said, putting his hand on his heart and pulling a pathetic face.
‘What about your family?’
‘I’m an only child. But don’t believe the propaganda,’ he said, with a grin. ‘We’re a much-maligned group.’
‘So you weren’t a spoilt brat who thought the world revolved around you and didn’t know how to share?’
‘Well, I have to admit I’m not good at sharing. I was a nightmare at playschool.’
‘What about your parents? Do they live in London?’
‘They moved to Cornwall when my father retired. I visit as often as I can, which isn’t often enough.’
‘So… girlfriend?’
‘No. I’ve been dating a bit, but nothing serious. I broke up with my last girlfriend about six months ago. Sophie,’ he added, with a faraway look in his eyes. ‘She was even more high maintenance than Millie.’
‘Had you been together long?’
‘About five years, off and on. Mostly on.’
‘That’s a long time. What happened?’
‘We were fighting all the time. We made each other miserable. So we decided to call it a day.’
‘Well, at the risk of sounding cheesy, may I say I’m very glad you did,’ she said.
She couldn’t believe how easy she was finding it to flirt with him.
She hardly recognised herself. She didn’t know what had got into her, but whatever it was, she liked it.
It was fun, dressing up, flirting her socks off with Mark, seeing the admiration in his eyes when he looked at her.
She was really enjoying being this person, and she was delighted that the spark between them was still there in real life.
She liked Mark, and she felt they already had a connection that went way beyond a superficial Twitter flirtation.
When the mains were cleared away, Mark became more business-like again.
‘Do you have an agent?’ he asked her.
‘No. Do I need one?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s up to you, but it would probably be advisable. It shouldn’t be hard to get one when you already have a deal on the table.’
‘And do I?’
‘If you want one.’
‘Yes! I do.’
‘I’ll get a formal offer in the post and have a contract drawn up. But, in the meantime, can we shake on it?’ he asked, holding out his hand.
‘Definitely!’ Claire grasped and shook it heartily.
‘Great! I look forward to working with you.’ Mark beamed at her. ‘Now, do you want dessert?’ he asked, looking at the menus the waiter had just handed them.
‘I’m absolutely stuffed,’ Claire said, ‘but they do have sticky toffee pudding…’
‘Want to go halves?’ Mark asked.
‘I thought you didn’t like sharing?’
‘I need the practice.’
‘In that case, yes, please,’ Claire said eagerly, thinking he might well be the perfect man.
‘So what made you decide to work in the bookshop?’ Mark asked.
‘It wasn’t really a decision. It was more a case of what I could get. My original plan was to move to London and try to start a career in publishing.’ She wondered if their paths would have crossed. ‘I tried to find something in that field when I moved home, but… it didn’t happen.’
‘Well, I’m glad about that.’
‘You are?’ She frowned.
‘Yes. Instead of joining the hordes of writers manqué working in publishing, you’ve skipped that bit and actually become a writer.’
‘Well, it wasn’t part of any grand plan.’
‘Still, that’s the way it’s worked out.’
‘I suppose it is.’ She smiled. Maybe he was right and everything had happened for a reason. ‘Are you a writer manqué?’
‘Not really. I’ve written some short stories, but I don’t have any ambitions to write full-time. I enjoy what I do. I get a real buzz out of discovering and nurturing talent. Like yours.’
When the bill came, Mark paid. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he said, when Claire reached for her purse. ‘It’s on expenses.’
‘That was lovely, thank you,’ Claire said, as they stood.
She hadn’t noticed the restaurant emptying, but as they walked to the exit, she realised that they were the last to leave.
She had enjoyed Mark’s company so much that the time had flown.
They made their way outside, where a line of taxis was waiting.
‘It was really good to meet you,’ Claire said.
She was sorry that the evening was over so soon.
Mark must have felt the same because he said, ‘Do you fancy going for a drink?’
Claire looked at her watch. ‘I don’t think there’ll be anywhere open.’
‘We could go to my hotel and have a drink in the bar.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘The Merrion.’
‘Okay, yes.’ She was happy to spend a bit more time with him and get to know him better. He was only in Dublin for a short time so she wanted to make the most of it.
It was a short drive to the Merrion Hotel. Mark paid the taxi driver and took her hand as they walked up the steps to the entrance.
‘I love this place,’ Claire said, as they went into the gracious marble lobby with its classical columns and ornate plasterwork.
Instead of heading straight for the bar, Mark came to a halt in the lobby, taking both her hands in his. ‘So, we could go to the bar,’ he said, gazing meaningfully into her eyes, ‘or we could have a drink in my room.’
‘Oh!’ Claire suddenly felt gauche, her thin veneer of sophistication evaporating, like Cinderella’s finery, to expose her as the na?ve, clueless girl she really was. She had no idea what the signals were, what the etiquette was.
‘Um… the bar?’ she said in a small voice.