Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I t turned out it wasn’t hitting her word count that got Allie out of the door that evening or even fear of Jess’s wrath if she was late. In fact, Allie was early, really early. Early enough to be sat in a virtually empty pub while she waited for the 9-5ers to finish for the day. She nursed a glass of wine and tried to put from her mind the reason she was so early – that after four hours of staring at an empty word document Allie had fled her flat, escaping from the judgement of the blank white page of her computer screen.
And so Allie was guiltily daytime drinking in one of her and Jess’s favourite haunts, an old-school pub in the heart of Soho, a tiny warren of dark-timbered rooms with the bar in the room at the front, overlooking the street. It was here that Allie had sat, thinking that inspiration might strike. Why not? It was atmospheric and cosy, it was quiet but there were enough customers to people-watch, perhaps this was what had been missing from her life? She didn’t need romance, she needed a more inspiring workspace. And it wasn’t as if she was asking for a fully fleshed-out plot, not even the bare bones of a synopsis, or even a title, all she needed was a tiny germ of an idea that she could sculpt and mould into something she could email to Verity without hanging her head in shame.
But the only thing that was filling Allie’s head right now was Will, the hot waiter from the night before, and wondering what he was doing right now. Wondering if he had a catering job that evening and if so where it was. Wondering if their paths might ever cross again and hoping that they would. She thought also of Martin Clark, the crime novelist, and his depressing revelation that he too could no longer write. Allie really didn’t want to be in his position in thirty years’ time, washed up and irrelevant with one unwritable book still under contract. She wondered how he spent his evenings; did he also watch passers-by, looking for inspiration? Although his kind of inspiration would be quite different, she supposed; instead of wondering what romantic plans they had for the evening he would be wondering which one to kill off first.
Allie’s eye was caught by a group of bankers who seemed to have veered off course and got lost on the seedy streets of Soho. Or perhaps this was where they intended to be all along, making their way to a strip club to expense their sordid activities on their corporate credit card. They were definitely bankers, Allie could tell from the way they dressed and the entitled manner in which they walked the street. It reminded her of Dominic’s colleagues, and she took an angry swig from her glass.
That one, she thought to herself. That one in the lead. With his pink shirt and expensive-looking loafers, he ’ s the one I ’ d kill off first. Allie was startled by this train of thought and looked around her, hoping that she hadn’t actually said any of this out loud. But the pub was as quiet and sleepy as it had been before murderous thoughts had infiltrated her brain. Satisfied that she hadn’t caught the attention of anyone in the pub, Allie turned back to her people-watching and wondered just how her murderer would do it. And who would be next on his list. By the time Jess walked in thirty-five minutes later Allie had worked out a central cast plus a few supporting characters along with the opening scene. She was beginning to wonder what Martin was making all that fuss about. Crime writing seemed to be easy.
‘Hey you,’ Jess greeted her, sliding into the bench alongside Allie and kissing both her cheeks. Jess’s silky brown bob had, as was traditional, defied the weather. Allie did a brief pat of it and sighed as she tried to park her inevitable jealousy over just how it was possible that hair could look this good when it was ninety-eight per cent humidity outside and her own waves just turned to frizz. ‘Don’t touch the hair, bitch,’ hissed Jess, making Allie laugh. ‘I spent a small fortune on this at lunchtime and it will be ruined by the morning.’
‘Seriously?’ Allie narrowed her gaze and studied Jess’s hair. ‘It looks … exactly the same as it always looks.’ Allie gulped. ‘Amazing, that is,’ she quickly added, noticing the savage look on Jess’s face.
‘Only you could get away with that.’ Jess picked up Allie’s wine glass and took a large sip, a tax for Allie’s perceived slight. ‘All the Gen Zs have been raving about this new blow dry bar.’ Jess ran her hand through her bob. ‘Thought I’d give it a go, try to keep up with the youth, y’know?’ Allie smirked, Jess was constantly bitching and moaning about her co-workers but was secretly more happy and fulfilled in her job than a thirty-something corporate Londoner had any right to be. She had put her language degree to precisely no good use and ended up working at an advertising and design agency where, as far as Allie could make out, she spent her days terrifying and inspiring the junior staff, cadging freebies and getting promoted about every six months.
‘So how was last night?’ Jess asked on her return from the bar. She dumped most of the bottle of sauvignon she had been carrying into her own glass, before offering what was left to Allie.
‘It was OK.’ Allie scrunched her nose up hoping her response would be enough for Jess and knowing that, of course, it wouldn’t be.
‘What’s OK mean?’ Jess asked sharply, tipping her glass back and swallowing a frighteningly large amount of the contents in one go. ‘Did you talk to Verity?’
‘Yes.’
Jess gave her a pointed look. ‘And did talking to her cover the topic of you not being able to write a new book?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘And not exactly means you covered the broad outline and Verity is on board and happy to help? Or you said nothing and dodged the topic entirely?’
‘The latter,’ Allie admitted in a small voice.
‘Al!’ admonished Jess. ‘You said you were going to talk to her!’
‘I was!’ protested Allie, ‘but then she made me meet this terrifying new publisher who I think wants to cancel my contract.’
‘Riiight. And do you think not delivering a new book is going to make it more or less likely that he wants to cancel? Hmm?’
‘More,’ admitted Allie in the tone of a scolded child. ‘But I do have to go in for a meeting sometime soon so I promise I’ll talk to Verity then.’
‘And is this promise more or less likely to be kept than the promise you made me that you’d talk to Verity last night?’
‘Jess,’ moaned Allie, ‘you’re making me feel bad.’
‘Good. I’m only looking out for you. So how was the rest of the party?’
‘Well, I met a hot waiter and a washed-up crime writer.’
‘OK,’ said Jess. ‘Which one shall we start with then?’
Allie screwed up one eye and regarded her friend. ‘Hot waiter?’
Jess raised her glass. ‘Exactly what I was thinking.’
‘But there’s not much to say. I mean he was gorgeous and friendly but it’s not like I’ll ever see him again and, anyway, he’s probably got a girlfriend.’
‘Yep, and you have a boyfriend,’ Jess reminded her.
‘Oh yeah, about that…’ Allie continued. ‘Dominic dumped me last night.’
‘What?’ Jess’s face creased in concern, her forehead wrinkling in exactly the sort of way that would make her ask Allie if she ought to get Botox. ‘He dumped you?’ Allie nodded. ‘Last night?’
Allie nodded again. ‘He was waiting for me when I got home from the party and yeah, he just ended it.’
‘Oh, Al, I’m sorry. Are you OK?’ Jess put her arm around Allie and squeezed her.
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Allie rubbed her face and quickly stopped, not wanting to end up with mascara and bronzer smeared everywhere. ‘Honestly, Jess, I’m surprisingly fine,’ Allie said. ‘I mean it’s not like I wouldn’t have dumped him, too. I just hadn’t got around to it yet.’
Jess narrowed her eyes. Allie knew how Jess felt about Dominic. But no matter any of that, she hoped Jess would understand it was never pleasant to be dumped, to find out you’re surplus to requirements.
‘Actually, what really sucked was when he left.’
‘Why?’
‘I went to look out the window and saw him getting into the car of his new girlfriend.’
‘What?’ Jess exploded.
‘She drives a better car than I do, so maybe that’s why he dumped me.’
‘Allie,’ Jess said sagely, ‘you don’t drive.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Surely he can’t be that stupid. Maybe it was his Uber?’
Allie raised her eyebrow and looked at Jess. ‘Tell me honestly if you’ve ever kissed an Uber driver on the lips as you got into the front seat of their car.’
Jess looked up at the ceiling and flushed slightly. ‘Actually, there was this one time…’
Allie held up her hand to cut Jess off. She remembered and didn’t need to be reminded of it, or of their long walk home after the Uber driver had subsequently refused to drive them and given Jess such a bad rating that for months she had had to use black cabs. ‘Dominic was sober, you were not.’
‘Well, he’s an arsehole. I always said he was an arsehole.’
‘No, you didn’t,’ Allie replied indignantly.
‘Not to you maybe,’ Jess bristled, ‘I was trying to be supportive.’
Allie looked down at her drink. ‘Is he though?’ she pondered. ‘An arsehole, I mean? Or is he just deeply disappointing?’ She exhaled. ‘I’m already looking back and wondering what I was thinking when we started dating. I just, I guess, I feel like I’ve lost my way a bit, do you know what I mean?’ Jess nodded her head supportively. ‘I feel like a romance writer ought to be better at picking boyfriends.’ Jess stifled a giggle. ‘No, it’s OK, it’s fine to laugh. It’s stupid, isn’t it?’ Allie smiled wanly. ‘But what if this is all connected? What if I can’t write because I can’t find my Mr Right? What if I’m doomed to a life of mediocre lovers and blank pages?’
Jess considered this. ‘I think that’s unlikely. I definitely think you deserve better than Dominic, and all the other ones. Hey, speaking of which, hot waiter from last night? Maybe some action with him will get you over Dominic and back into that writing groove?’ She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, making Allie laugh. She much preferred Jess’s take on the situation, than the ‘told you so’ she feared she would get from Martha.
‘You’re thinking about him, aren’t you!’ crowed Jess, seeing the smile on Allie’s face.
‘Maybe?’ Allie gave her a sly sideways grin. ‘I mean, he was really hot. But as I’ll probably never see him again, there’s no point in thinking about him. Unless… I can use him as inspiration for a new book.’ A smirk played about her lips.
‘Eww!’ Jess protested. ‘If you do, please tell me because I will NOT be reading that section.’
‘Prude,’ said Allie, swatting Jess’s arm, safe in the knowledge that, of course, Jess would be reading whatever Allie wrote, because firstly she loved to dissect the sex scenes, and, secondly she was Allie’s greatest and most vocal fan. Allie just needed to write a new book for her to fangirl over.
Jess leaned forward on the table, putting her chin in her hands. ‘Couldn’t you ask someone at Brinkman’s about him?’
‘Seriously?’ Allie asked, incredulous. ‘What part of how behind on deadline I am did you not understand? Do you really think anyone there wants to hear from me other than if I’m sending in my new book?’
Jess stretched back up from the table. ‘They might if you fessed up. Told them you can’t write but that you think a date with the hot waiter might get your creative juices flowing.’ She gave Allie a wink.
‘Jess!’ protested Allie. ‘Now who’s being crude?’
Jess tipped her head back and laughed. The very act of seeing her bestie laugh so loudly made Allie do the same, a surge of love for her friend forcing out all her dark thoughts.
‘You know, sometimes, when you make me laugh like this, I wonder why I ever bother with dating. I’d much rather be out with you, than on a second-rate date with a disappointing man.’
‘Only sometimes?’ Jess joked. She raised her glass. ‘To my greatest love, to us!’
Allie’s heart squeezed tightly and she felt the prick of tears in her eyes. ‘Idiot,’ she said, brushing her fingers under her eyes, wiping away the tears before her mascara ran. ‘Don’t let Tom hear you say that,’ she said warningly.
‘Oh he knows. I’ve always been completely upfront with him. You and Timothee Chalamet beat him every time.’
‘Glad you have standards. Where do I rank against Timothee?’ Allie asked.
‘Don’t push your luck, Edwards,’ growled Jess. Allie laughed, she’d take that. It wasn’t as if she expected to get upstaged by Chalamet anytime soon.
‘Where is Tom anyway?’ Allie asked, glancing at her watch.
‘God knows. Working late. They’ve got a new artist they need to pitch to and apparently they’re the next big thing.’
‘Doesn’t he say that every time?’
Jess nodded and sipped her wine. ‘Yup. But there’s no point telling him that. He truly believes it, until the next big thing comes along.’ Jess turned to Allie and pulled a horror-stricken face. ‘D’you reckon that’s what he’s doing with me? Waiting for a better, younger, less in need of Botox, version to come along?’ She pulled her cheeks back and up and pushed her face up close to Allie.
‘Don’t be an idiot.’ Allie pushed Jess away, laughing. ‘Tom is far too scared of me to dump you,’ she laughed.
‘I think you’re right. Maybe you’re the only reason we’re still together?’
‘Oh shut up!’ Allie protested.
There was a kernel of truth here. Jess and Tom had met through Allie, Allie and Tom having been next-door neighbours when they were growing up. They’d done all the usual stuff: play dates and sleepovers and getting locked in the shed by Tom’s slightly psychotic older brother. Playing naked in the paddling pool before getting to the age where they quickly pretended that this had never happened and in fact they didn’t actually know each other at all.
Allie had lost touch with Tom over the years. Around Christmas time she’d get an update from her mum who still exchanged Christmas cards with Tom’s parents. But she didn’t pay him much mind, still dealing with unresolved trauma from interactions with his older brother. And then, completely out of the blue, several years ago, Tom had turned up at one of her book signings. It was in a bookshop, just around the corner from his office. He had seen her name in the window and wondered if it was the same Allie Edwards with whom he used to skinny dip in the paddling pool, and so there he was, stood in front of her asking her to sign his book.
And what an amazing meet-cute that would have been if Allie had been even remotely attracted to Tom. But she wasn’t. And the feeling was mutual. Which was fine because it turned out that when Allie introduced them to each other in a pub a few nights later, Tom and Jess couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Allie had left them to it after the second drink, preferring to go home and watch Netflix, rather than the sex show that was unfolding in front of her eyes. And now here they were, six years later and married for the past three.
Allie had been both bridesmaid and best man at their wedding, which had confused Tom’s terribly traditional parents, but as his brother couldn’t set foot in the country at that time due to some legal mix-up, which Tom didn’t want to go into and Allie was happy not to explore as it brought up memories of traumatic childhood incidents, there wasn’t an obvious alternative to best man. And so Allie had stood in on the understanding that she have complete creative control over what she wore. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Jess’s taste, which was usually impeccable. But Allie knew what happened to women when they planned a wedding and quite often taste and perspective were thrown to the winds.
‘Will he be here later?’ Allie asked.
Jess shrugged. ‘Not sure. Last night he didn’t get home till after nine and I don’t know about the night before because I was already asleep.’
Allie looked at her watch again and thought that the chances of her still standing in three hours’ time were pretty slim if Jess was going to keep topping her glass up.
‘So what’s the goss with Verity then? Have you met Richard yet?’ Jess didn’t really know Verity, but Allie talked about her editor a lot and Jess had become strangely invested in this new relationship of hers.
‘Nope, not yet. She’s stopped suggesting it. Probably because I haven’t sent her a book yet.’
‘Ha! So she’s mad at you then?’
‘No.’ Allie paused. ‘It’s not that exactly, although she’d have every right to be mad. She seemed quite hyper last night to be honest. Desperate to read anything I could send her and terrified of her new boss.’
‘Sounds like an excellent combination.’ Jess grinned. ‘Big question being, have you got anything at all you can send her?’
Allie shook her head. ‘Nope, nada.’
‘Not a rehash of an earlier idea? Not something you can find in the back of that distressingly tatty notebook you still use?’
Allie shook her head again. She paused and then said, her voice wobbling slightly, ‘Jess, what if I can’t write anymore?’
Jess looked surprised. ‘Come on, of course you’ll write again,’ she said encouragingly, reaching out and rubbing Allie’s arm. ‘Remember with your second book where you didn’t write anything for two whole months?’
‘Yes, but then it all came pouring out and I wrote the whole first draft in a few weeks. And it’s different, then I had the plot, I just didn’t know how to write it. Now I have no plot and I haven’t written anything in months.’ Allie took a long swig of her wine.
Jess grimaced. ‘OK, not good, I get it. So let’s make a plan? I really think you should tell Verity. It’s no good hiding from her and secretly panicking.’ Jess had a worried expression on her face.
‘I did promise that I would email her with my plot outline this week.’
Jess looked confused. ‘I thought you said…’
‘Exactly, no plot to send!’ Allie spread her empty hands out in front of her. She groaned. ‘I know, you’re right. I will tell her. I’ll do it at our meeting, face to face.’ She looked at Jess for reassurance.
‘That’s good! Definitely talk to her, face to face. She’s on your side, remember, we all are.’ Jess looked pleased to have solved the crisis. ‘Shall we get another one?’ She waved the now empty bottle at Allie who grimaced slightly, feeling the sour wine settling hard in her stomach.
‘Can we get some food first?’
‘Do we have to?’ Jess looked reluctantly round at the fast-filling pub. ‘We have a table here, and seats?’ She looked imploringly at Allie. ‘Aren’t those better than food?’
Allie rolled her eyes. ‘And not having a hangover is better than having one. Especially when I need to write tomorrow.’
Jess pouted. ‘But how will Tom know where to find us?’
‘Jess’ snapped Allie, ‘we have these things called mobile phones.’ She picked hers up off the table and waggled it in Jess’s face. ‘And anyway, you said yourself he probably won’t make it. Come on, please?’ Allie’s voice took on a plaintive tone. ‘I need to write tomorrow, I can’t do that with a hangover.’
‘It sounds like you can’t write at all at the moment, hungover or not.’
‘Hey! Not fair.’ Allie was genuinely hurt and Jess, clearly realising she had probably overplayed her hand and admitting defeat, sighed and picked her coat up from the back of her chair, huffing and puffing as she did so.
‘You’ll thank me tomorrow,’ Allie said smugly as they made their way to the door. Jess didn’t look convinced as she glanced sadly back over her shoulder to see their table immediately swarmed by drinkers in desperate need of a seat.