Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
E verything pointed to the fact that Allie was nailing this. She was writing again, Martin was regularly messaging her with anecdotes about his attempts to reignite the romance in his marriage; albeit these were long-winded emails rather than the brief imagination-inspiring voice notes Allie was hoping for. But she wasn’t going to complain. She’d arranged another date with Will, and Tessa had agreed to meet with her so that Allie could hand over a flash drive with her new draft on it. The twenty-something Tessa was completely bemused by this request but had seemingly decided to humour Allie in her ancient ways, completely unaware that Allie had an ulterior motive in getting her to meet face to face. And even Martha had invited Allie round for Sunday lunch with her and Ruth, apparently purely because she wanted to see Allie, not because she needed to lecture her about something or felt Allie to be incapable of feeding herself. Still, Allie decided she’d do a brief overview of her financial situation ahead of Sunday, just so she couldn’t be blindsided about pension contributions and mortgage rates.
So, it was completely understandable that this blissful state couldn’t last. And when Allie answered her phone to a panicked-sounding Martin, she quickly realised that those brief halcyon days were definitely behind her.
‘Disaster!’ boomed Martin down the phone.
‘Oh, hello Martin, nice to hear from you. I’m fine, thanks for asking, yourself?’
‘Yes yes, very funny,’ barked Martin. ‘Allie, I need your help.’
Reluctantly, Allie asked, ‘Why? What’s happened?’
‘Angie knows.’
This was the news that Allie had both been dreading and also, if she was being honest, hoping might happen one day. Because secrets could never be good in a marriage, and from everything Martin had told her about Angie, she sounded pretty awesome, and therefore deserved not to be lied to by her husband of thirty-eight years.
‘Oh,’ she replied, in what even she would admit was a useless summing up of all the emotions that this hammer blow of a reveal should conjure.
‘This is a disaster. What do I do?’
‘Well,’ she played for time, ‘is it really a disaster?’ She could hear Martin spluttering on the end of the line. ‘I mean,’ she continued quickly, ‘we discussed this, she was going to find out sometime. And if everything you’ve been telling me is true, you two are getting on much better at the moment?’ Allie restrained herself from inserting a comment praising herself for this state of affairs. ‘Maybe this was the best time for her to find out,’ Allie said with more certainty than she actually felt.
‘Oh god. Maybe? I don’t know. But what should I do now?’
Allie racked her brain and wondered whether she ought to have had more serious training in marriage counselling before embarking on this kind of writing relationship. ‘How did you leave things with her?’
‘I didn’t. I mean…’ Martin floundered. ‘Well, I was out and had my phone turned off. When I turned it on I had a message from Angie.’
‘Okaaay. So what did you say when you called her back?’
‘I haven’t.’
‘What do you mean you haven’t?’ Allie asked incredulously. ‘Martin,’ she was now severely pissed off, ‘do you mean to tell me that you rang me rather than your wife ??’
‘Yes.’ Martin replied, sounding more like a meek twelve-year-old boy, than the aging bestselling novelist that he was. Or used to be.
‘Martin!’ Allie exploded. ‘This is not OK. Get off the phone with me and call her back right now.’
‘But what should I say?’ Martin wheedled.
‘I don’t know! Maybe tell her you’re sorry. That you shouldn’t have given Gigi the money in the first place. That you should have told her from the start. But that you’ve realised the error of your ways, you won’t do it again, and that you’re writing another bestseller?’
‘You’re good,’ Martin said. ‘Any chance you could do this for me?’
‘You had better be joking,’ Allie snapped.
‘I am, don’t worry. But you’re better at this than me.’
‘This being?’
‘You know, relationships, reading people, understanding emotions.’
‘Oh, stop being so pathetic. You’re a grown man Martin.’
There was a long silence. ‘Martin?’ Allie asked. ‘What’s that sound in the background?’ Allie had heard something she thought she recognised. ‘Martin, where are you?’ There was another long pause and then Allie groaned, ‘Martin, please don’t tell me you came to see me rather than calling your wife back?’
‘How did you know?’ Martin asked meekly.
‘I recognise the man who stands outside the Tube shouting,’ Allie huffed and then sighed. ‘Alright, I’ll text you my address. Come over, we can discuss this but then you must promise to call Angie.’
‘I promise,’ Martin acquiesced.
Allie put the phone down and while she tapped out her address she cursed her previous self for ever mentioning her closest tube station.
* * *
‘You do know how wrong this feels?’ Allie asked when she answered the door a few minutes later. Martin was standing on her doorstep with two cups of takeaway tea in his hands looking sheepish. He offered one to her and she snatched it from him with an, ‘I have better tea here.’ And then she immediately felt bad for being so churlish. Yes, Martin should have called Angie back, rather than turning up on Allie’s doorstep, but it was rather sweet that he thought Allie such an expert on romance and love that he should instinctively seek her advice first.
‘Honestly?’ he said, taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs as Allie had refused to take it from him in the hallway. ‘I was in your neck of the woods already; I had lunch with my son. And when I got Angie’s message I was only a few minutes from your Tube stop.’
He sat down at the table which Allie glared at him across. ‘I know it was the wrong thing to do,’ he admitted, ‘and I will call Angie, of course. But I wouldn’t mind having a cup of tea with you before I do so. I guess I feel we’re mates now?’
Allie couldn’t help but feel flattered, and it was true, the time they had spent together in the last few weeks had been enjoyable as well as being useful. Allie had really started to look forward to seeing Martin and found his outlook on life so refreshingly different from hers. But she was still annoyed that he was at her kitchen table unloading his disaster upon her when everything in her world had been going so well. And she really wanted to get back to writing; she was on a roll with a romance inspired by Martin’s lifelong devotion to Angie and spiced up by the way Will made her feel. She glanced at her watch surreptitiously.
‘I didn’t realise your son lived round here,’ Allie said grudgingly. She presumed that Martin, like all affluent writers who had made it big in the eighties and nineties, lived in north London. Allie took a sip of her tea and wished again that Martin hadn’t bothered and she could have made something more drinkable.
‘He works in Hammersmith, that’s where his office is located.’
‘Right. You said he had his own company.’
‘Yes.’ Martin took a sip of his tea and pulled a face that suggested he agreed with Allie’s hot take on the beverage.
‘Running a restaurant, right?’ Allie asked when it became clear that Martin was not about to elaborate.
‘Well, actually, that’s his business partner’s side of things. He runs the catering arm. Does a lot of functions. Anyway, sorry, this is totally irrelevant, you’re right. I need to talk to Angie, I’m going to do it right now.’ He started to pull his phone out of his pocket.
‘Martin, no!’ Allie practically shouted. ‘Good grief, not here! Not in front of me.’
Martin blinked at her. ‘Oh right, yes, sorry.’
He looked panicked, absolutely out of his depth and she felt terrible for the mess he found himself in. He so obviously adored Angie and wanted to make things right. Yes he’d made a stupid mistake and he should have confessed a long time before, but Allie really hoped that Angie would understand that although misguided, his heart was in the right place.
She sighed and regarded this man who had suddenly inserted himself into such an important position in her writing life, who singlehandedly might end up saving her from Jake Matthews, and then she had a thought. ‘Oh hey, I heard from Verity.’
‘You did?’
‘Uh-huh. She’s pretty messed up by this whole thing but she seems to think we can come up with a plan to bring Jake down.’
Martin raised one of his eyebrows questioningly. ‘How?’
‘Tessa. His assistant. She’s supposed to be working on my book and Verity thinks she might have dirt she can spill on Jake.’
‘Don’t they all have dirt on that man?’
‘Yes, but this is weaponized, career-ending dirt.’ And so Allie told Martin everything that she and Verity had found out and Verity’s plan to end Jake Matthews once and for all, and Martin’s eyebrows got higher and higher as she went on.
‘Impressive,’ he said eventually. ‘Do you think Verity could work out my mess too?’
‘I thought I was helping,’ Allie replied primly.
‘Sorry, yes you are, and you have, and I should go,’ he said, standing up. ‘I’m really not sure what I was thinking coming here. I can only apologise.’ And buttoned-up Martin was suddenly back, all business-like and tweed.
‘No need.’ She waved her hand at his apology as they walked back to her front door. ‘I’m glad you felt you could come and talk to me.’
‘Thank you,’ Martin said somewhat gruffly. ‘I do value your advice,’ he continued stiffly. ‘You know, you’re a damn good writer, Allie, and you should have more faith in your ability. Keep me updated with this plan of yours for Mr Matthews?’ With that and a wave of his hand, he was off, leaving Allie stood in her doorway, feeling emotional and watching him go through a film of tears.
She shook her head. ‘What on earth is going to happen next?’