The Plot Twist

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

T he last time Allie had written like this was the infamous time of her writer’s block on book two, when she had spent two months staring at a blank computer screen trying to make the plot work, gone for an afternoon nap and woken up with it entirely mapped out in her head. It had been pretty epic and she had managed to lose ten pounds at the same time, having been so engrossed in getting her story onto the page she had almost completely forgotten to stop for food. Sadly, by the time publication came around she had put all the weight back on and had to return the dress she’d optimistically bought the afternoon she finally delivered her manuscript. But this time it was different – although she was focused on her writing, she still had half an eye on her phone, and every time it lit up and it wasn’t Will, she tamped down her sadness with a few squares of Dairy Milk. By day three, Allie had written a third of her new draft and was, by her estimation, at least sixty percent chocolate.

And she was feeling better than she really had any right to. Despite the fact she missed Will, in every humanly horny way possible, and despite the fact she kept wanting to ask Martin what he thought of a paragraph she had drafted, and despite the fact she knew she had completely and royally fucked everything up, she was beginning to see the woods for the trees. Ever since she had realised who Will was, she had been treading on eggshells, so afraid of him discovering her secret that she hadn’t really been enjoying the excitement of the early days of a new relationship. All the time she had been wondering how long it might last and knowing she should tell him the truth. Now, with the idea for her new book unfolding on her laptop in front of her she took a deep breath and clicked minimise. Right behind her new draft document was the original one. The one she now knew she had essentially stolen from Martin and Angie. She swallowed and began to read.

Allie didn’t stop reading till she had read the whole thing, and when she stopped she once again had tears in her eyes, partly because it was, without blowing her own trumpet, really rather moving, but mainly, and she wouldn’t want to admit this to anyone but herself, because she knew that she could never publish it. She pushed her laptop away from her and stared out into the garden, wondering where the robin was and whether he would ever forgive her or whether he was destined for the same fate as Will and Martin – someone she once knew who, because of her bad choices would never feel comfortable in allowing her back into their lives. She brushed her hands fiercely under her eyes and swore to herself she was moved by her predicament, not by the departure of some bird she had anthropomorphised because she seemed to be suffering from a distinct lack of actual real-life people in her world right now.

Allie pulled her laptop back towards her, hands hovering over the keyboard, focused on the final words she had written of Martin’s story. She tipped her head to one side, flexed her fingers, made a decision and began to type. Because while she knew she couldn’t publish this thing, she did think there might be one way she might atone for her mistakes, and if she was to embark on that journey, she would need to finish not one, but two books in the next couple of weeks.

* * *

‘Have you seen this?’ Jess’s voice barked down the line.

Blearily Allie dragged her mind away from the computer screen and tried to focus on what Jess was asking her. ‘I haven’t seen anything except Microsoft Word for the last eight hours,’ she admitted wearily.

‘OK, well pull up your socials, you’re a writer, this is going to be everywhere.’

For a brief moment, Allie’s stomach plummeted. She imagined Will, or more likely Martin, had written an exposé on the latest literary scandal and their brush with a plagiarising romance author. She wondered how quickly her name would become mud, how quickly Brinkman’s would drop her. She imagined Verity putting out a carefully worded statement, distancing herself from Allie. Her mum being inundated with reporters outside Nigel’s condo in Marbella, all desperate to understand the psyche of the thieving daughter she had raised. Allie wondered if it was too late to shut down her socials, change her name and retrain as a … as a what though? Really, what else was there for Allie to do but write novels? This was a well-trodden thought pattern over the last few months and at the end of it, each and every time, Allie came up empty handed.

‘Allie?’ Allie pulled herself back from her spiral, it was amazing how dark and how fast her thoughts could turn. Something she really ought to put to work more, maybe a change of name would be enough for her to turn to crime writing, as it seemed she was developing a natural leaning towards the macabre.

‘Allie! Are you still there?’

‘Yes, sorry, I just don’t know what to say.’

‘Well, aren’t you pleased?’

Allie wondered on what planet she would possibly be pleased that her entire career was swirling down the drain because of a stupid decision she had made, a reality glossed over, a kiss with Will gone too far. She held back a moan which almost escaped her at the thought of his lips on hers, and how much she missed them (and him, of course.) And then she noticed something, Jess’s tone wasn’t tinged with panic and concern, or even incredulous anger as it might be had Allie’s literary purloining been exposed. Instead, she was excited, gleeful even. Which made Allie wonder if she hadn’t entirely got the wrong end of the stick, and perhaps Will (and/or Martin) hadn’t yet gotten around to writing their exposé, and that maybe Jess was ringing for entirely different reasons altogether, to draw Allie’s attention to something rather more happy-making than career ending.

‘For god’s sake Allie, just get on insta and look for #publishinginsider. It’s going to be everywhere on your feed.’

Immediately, Allie’s brain sharpened into focus, all thoughts of Will and literary theft swept away in the pure knowledge that Tessa’s story, her exposé on Jake Matthews had gone viral. Allie’s stomach clenched in sympathy for what she could only imagine Tessa was feeling right now. She thumbed her way on her phone, praying that the narrative was playing out the way Verity and her ‘friend’ had been confident it would.

‘It says industry figures are seeking to distance themselves from Jake Matthews and his deplorable actions. That they had no idea of the extent of his undue influence,’ Jess read breathlessly.

Allie scoffed at what she was hearing. As if no one else had known about what Jake Matthews was up to. But this was always the way, ‘hiding in plain sight’ was a well-worn defence.

‘I can’t believe he had so many office affairs. And the drugs?! Good grief, where did he find the time and energy?’

‘Amazing how much free time a publishing executive can find when they have zero interest in books.’

‘Did you know about all of it?’ Jess asked. ‘One account is suggesting he might be responsible for several relationship break-ups.’

‘Allegedly,’ Allie said ironically. ‘Verity told me about some of it, and of course I knew Tessa’s story, but I didn’t know how much they were going to get on the record.’

Allie scrolled through posts and posts of supportive comments, vitriolic attacks on male privilege in publishing. Of course, there were one or two trolls, there always were, people questioning Tessa’s timeline, her account of Jake’s behaviour and her motivations in coming forward. But they were completely drowned out by Tessa’s supporters, and by other women, calling out similar behaviour at the hands of other men in positions of power. Allie’s face scrunched into a semi-smile. She was thrilled at how this seemed to be going down so far. Proud of Tessa for having the guts to tell her story. But just reading the comments, she couldn’t help but feel depressed at how universal Tessa’s story was. It wasn’t a one-off, it wasn’t something that people were shocked by, it seemed most women, from all walks of life, had their own similar story to tell.

‘It’s pretty amazing right?’

‘Yeah,’ Allie agreed, ‘but depressing too.’

‘God yeah. Sometimes I think that the world has moved on, that this kind of stuff can’t be swept under the carpet anymore. And then I don’t know why I’m always so blindsided every time one of these stories comes out. It’s not like it’s unusual.’

They both paused, considering the patriarchy, the systemic structures in place which kept seemingly everyone except heterosexual white males from reaching the apex in most industries. And at the same time Allie was quietly contemplating her word count and whether she had got enough done today to justify asking her next question.

‘Fancy meeting for a drink?’ she blurted out.

‘Hell yes!’ Jess practically gasped. ‘Thought you’d never ask. I know you’re on deadline so I didn’t want to distract you by asking you myself. Elliot’s?’

‘Elliot’s?’ Allie asked in surprise. Elliot’s was the wine bar that they used to go to when they had something to celebrate, although using the description of wine bar was pushing the boundaries of accuracy somewhat. They thought it was fancy in their early twenties, because you could sit at the bar and they would bring you your bottle of white wine in a champagne bucket. Although you couldn’t be picky in what you drank, there was red, white and, sometimes in the summer, pink. Very occasionally they’d splash out and get a bottle of prosecco, which Allie would always regret the next morning when she woke up feeling as if she’d eaten a bunch of rotten flowers. But if you got the prosecco, not only were you guaranteed the champagne bucket but they would also dig out the champagne coupes, which made them feel extra specially fancy, and if you got the right bartender, he’d throw in some salted almonds with their order. They hadn’t been there in years, Allie wasn’t even sure it was open anymore.

‘For old times’ sake?’ pleaded Jess. ‘What time can you be there?’

Allie looked at her watch, calculating how long it would take her to make herself presentable and then get down to Elliot’s. It was an easy bus ride from her flat and Allie was fairly sure she could get away with what she was wearing but given she was meeting Jess she ought to make the effort and at least change out of her ancient hoody, which she had been haunting on and off for days.

‘An hour?’

‘Done. See you there.’

* * *

Jess was already at the bar when Allie walked in. Allie had spent the bus journey bleakly fantasising about the way Will kissed her and checking that Elliot’s still actually existed. Which it not only did, but it even had a website. Allie marvelled at the fact that they seemed to have branched out and currently served at least four different kinds of wine of each colour. Seeing Jess sat on her bar stool made Allie pleased she had made the effort to change. She might still be wearing trainers, but they were expensive trainers, and she’d paired them with her black wide-legged trousers and a stripy T-shirt she had forgotten she had, discovered at the back of her wardrobe as she rummaged for something to wear. Jess exuded sophistication as she always did, so Allie hoped she was at least stumbling in the direction of Parisian chic, even if she had yet to reach the Champs-élysées.

‘Feeling nostalgic, hey?’ Allie gave her friend a kiss on the cheek and gestured to their surroundings. ‘To be honest I wasn’t sure this place still existed.’

Jess laughed. ‘I actually came here with Tom the other day. Do you know, I don’t think he’d ever been here before?’

Allie looked at her incredulously. ‘Really?’

‘Uh-huh. I mean think about it. By the time I’d met Tom we both had proper jobs and could afford to go to places that had more than one type of wine. But look…’ Jess held up a wine list, which despite the fact it was printed on cheap paper, was an actual list, which was more than Elliot’s had when they used to meet there.

‘I know!’ Allie laughed. ‘I was looking at their website on the way here. What did you go for in the end?’ she asked, pointing at the champagne bucket, which looked identical to the ones they had drunk from a decade earlier.

‘Pinot grigio, thought it was the safest option. Probably best not to get ahead of ourselves don’t you think?’

Allie pulled herself on to a bar stool while Jess poured her a glass of wine, Allie noted that Jess’s glass was, as yet, untouched. ‘What did Tom make of the old place and what on earth made you want to bring him here?’

Jess shrugged, her eyes glazing over slightly and slipping off into the middle distance behind Allie. ‘I don’t know. Just thinking about the past, no real reason,’ she answered vaguely.

Allie narrowed her eyes, Jess was being weird again.

‘So, what’s going down in the world of publishing? Is it all over for Jake Matthews and has Verity finally got her job back?’

‘Still up in the air, at the moment. I called Verity while I was on my way, but she was too excited to get much sense out of.’ Allie chugged a large part of her wine, delighted to have smashed her word count that day AND be out of the flat. ‘As far as I can make out, Brinkman’s are in crisis mode, lots of closed doors, lots of high-level meetings. Verity seems to think something will happen overnight and Jake will be summoned to a meeting tomorrow.’

‘Well, that’s exciting!’

Allie shrugged. ‘I’ll believe it when it happens. Let’s be honest, we’ve seen men get away with far more serious things. I’m just really glad that other people came forward to support Tessa’s allegations, so she didn’t have to do it alone, but I hope she’s OK. I can’t imagine how brave she must be to have put herself out there like that. Makes me feel a bit guilty about thinking so little of her before.’ She pulled a face and Jess reached over and squeezed her hand in sympathy.

‘Hey. You were doing your best with the information you had at the time. And just remember, she was pretty dismissive of you, and it’s not like you were awful to her.’

‘No, but I do feel bad for presuming she was just one of Jake’s lackeys though.’

‘Huh. I don’t think there was much else you could think at the time. It’s OK Al, I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong and you’re supporting her now, aren’t you?’

‘I guess. I mean it all feels a bit like virtue signaling, doesn’t it? Liking tweets and hashtagging I stand with women?’

‘Al, seriously, what else are you supposed to be doing right now? It’s not like you can pull your contract from Brinkman’s? And by the way, I thought your statement was exactly spot on.’

‘Thanks, that means a lot. I’d been drafting it in my head ever since Verity told me they were going to go public.’ In the short space of time between talking to Jess and arriving at Elliot’s, when she wasn’t hunting for clothes at the back of her wardrobe and googling the wine bar, Allie had issued a brief statement on her socials. It hadn’t badmouthed Brinkman’s and she had just about managed to steer clear of libelling Jake Matthews, but she had managed to say that she welcomed a swift investigation into these troubling allegations and made it clear that her sympathies and loyalties lay with the women coming forward.

‘Ugh, I just hope some good comes of it and it doesn’t all get brushed under the carpet.’

‘Let’s drink to that.’ Jess tipped her wine glass towards Allie, but didn’t actually drink. ‘And also to the fact you’re writing again.’

Allie scrunched her nose, wondering whether now was the time to come clean. ‘Yup, good news. Especially as it’s not the book I was writing before.’

‘Okaay…’

‘I told Will.’ Allie paused. ‘I told him everything.’

‘Aaand?’ Jess watched her friend with concern.

‘Haven’t heard from him since. Which isn’t really surprising, is it? There’s a lot for him to process.’

‘OK. Well, I’m proud of you for telling him. It was the right thing to do. But now what? Why the new story?’

‘Because I want him to realise how sorry I am about the whole thing. And that, to me, his feelings are more important than delivering a manuscript.’ Allie left her confession and the implication of it hanging. Jess’s eyes went wide.

‘More important than reneging on a contract?’

Allie nodded.

‘More important than your writing career?’

Allie nodded again.

Jess exhaled heavily. ‘So it’s serious then?’

‘I think so.’ Allie felt dejected. ‘But I also think I’ve messed it up completely.’ She wanted her friend to disavow her of this uncomfortable thought but Jess said nothing, and, for that Allie was actually grateful. It meant Jess wasn’t just filling her mind with platitudes.

‘So, what do you have planned?’ Jess asked eventually.

Allie took a deep breath. ‘I’m going for the grand romantic gesture. Hoping that might get his attention. Make him realise I’m serious, about him.’

‘And that entails writing an entirely new story?’

‘Yup,’ Allie said much more confidently than she actually felt. ‘But I’m also going to finish writing Martin and Angie’s story, and then I’m going to give it to them. As a gift. A tribute, if you like.’

‘What if they end up splitting up?’

Allie felt tears forming in her eyes at the thought. ‘God, Jess, seriously? It’s bad enough that I’ve messed things up with Will. I think my belief in true love would be terminal if that happened. Ugh. Who am I kidding? I think my belief in true love died a long time ago.’ Allie slugged back the rest of her glass of wine and reached over to grab the bottle. ‘I mean, maybe I should have just sucked things up with Dominic and realised that was the best I could hope for.’

‘Don’t say that!’ A look of abject horror was now on Jess’ face. ‘He cheated on you!’

‘We don’t actually know that.’

‘How else do you explain the “Uber driver”?’ asked Jess.

Allie considered this, putting her creative mind to work. In a book there were loads of ways she could have explained it away, a trick of the light, an overfamiliar Uber driver that Allie then missed being reprimanded by a horrified Dominic. But in the light of real life, she had to admit it was hard to place a positive spin on seeing your ex-boyfriend kiss another woman in a car right outside your flat.

‘Yeah, but maybe we could have worked through it. Maybe we should have worked through it? I could have put more effort in. Not have expected so much.’

‘I don’t think we should even be discussing this,’ Jess said tartly.

And so, Allie shut up. Because she didn’t want Jess judging that small part of her brain, which had a very loud voice in vulnerable moments, which was now suggesting that maybe what she and Dominic had was good enough , and that if she’d made an effort to talk things through with him, work things out, then she wouldn’t feel so alone right now.

‘So, if we’re in the mood for confessions…’

Allie turned her head sharply at Jess’s words. ‘You’re pregnant?’ she blurted out.

‘No!’ protested Jess. ‘Look?’ she said, pointing at her glass, then the bottle of wine, and finally chugging half of it back. ‘Also, why is that the first thing people suspect when a woman in her thirties says she has news? It’s such a product of the patriarchy. Men NEVER get asked that question,’ she grumbled.

Allie felt her feminist credentials suitably questioned and went slightly red.

‘But what was with the whole ‘Tom has a cold’ business the other night?’

‘What? Oh that,’ replied Jess. ‘I just felt like I should cut down on drinking, and I didn’t want to make a big thing out of it, so I just pretended my drink was alcoholic.’

‘You could have told me,’ Allie complained, ‘I’d have been supportive.’

‘No, you’d have made a big deal out of it and then thought I was pregnant anyway. Exactly like you’re doing now,’ retorted Jess.

‘Sorry,’ Allie mumbled.

‘No, it’s OK,’ Jess sighed. ‘I guess I need to find a better way of imparting big news.’

‘Well, go on then…’

‘Tom and I are moving out of London.’

If Allie’s jaw had been physically capable of dislocating and hitting the floor it would have done so. Allie couldn’t think of anyone in her social circle who was more London than Jess. She’d grown up in the city, hated being out of it for university, and had made it abundantly clear that if Allie wanted to stay best friends, Allie would have to move to London with her. Not that Allie minded, she was pretty clear herself that London was where her heart lay. So, she couldn’t help but feel a small niggle of betrayal inside her at Jess’s confession.

‘Oh,’ she managed. Not wanting Jess to bear the weight of her confusion and impending sense of loneliness, which she was undoubtedly going to experience in the weeks, months, years ahead, when Allie would be in London and Jess would be… gone …

Jess’s face scrunched up, her eyes going a little bit watery. ‘That’s all you’ve got?’

‘Well, erm, I guess I’m a bit surprised?’

‘You won’t forget me?!’ Jess lunged forward and grabbed both of Allie’s hands dramatically.

‘What? No! Of course not.’ Allie said, startled by Jess’s announcement and her behaviour. ‘But erm, can you catch me up on this … news?’

And so Jess told Allie that this was something she and Tom had been thinking about for a while. Tom had never been as keen on London as Jess had, viewing it as a necessary evil to being close to the office, although a necessary evil with the benefits of pubs and bars and cab rides and Tube trains attached. But now that things were more flexible in terms of office location, he had been pushing to move back closer to where he (and Allie) had grown up. Allie had to shake off her shudder at certain childhood memories when Jess had told her this. And Jess had said she was feeling restless, ready for something new, maybe a different pace of life. Maybe a dog?

‘Not kids then?’ Allie had asked.

‘No. I mean, I feel less adverse to the concept than I did previously, but not so much in favour that I’m ready to just whip out my IUD.’ Allie had winced at the thought and wondered whether she would ever need to worry about contraception ever again before pulling herself back into the present where Jess now had her phone out and was showing her pictures of houses she and Tom had been looking at.

‘So you’re pretty far down the line then?’ Allie had asked, trying not to sound too hurt and judgemental that Jess had been going behind her back with property websites.

‘Yes and no,’ Jess admitted. ‘We’ve decided on location, but haven’t found anything quite right yet.’

Allie’s mind went back to the phone call she’d had with Jess the other day, the midweek one where she and Tom had been in a car, going somewhere mysterious. ‘That’s where you were going the other day when I called you?’

‘Uh-huh, you know the good thing is that if we find somewhere close to that, we won’t be far from your mum! So, it’ll be easier to visit?!’ Jess said, sounding somewhat desperate for Allie’s approval.

‘Except when she’s in Spain,’ Allie couldn’t help shooting back.

‘Well, yes, I guess,’ admitted Jess reluctantly. ‘But it does mean you could stay with us rather than at her house every time!’

Allie brightened at that prospect although she wasn’t quite ready to allow Jess to revel in the realisation that actually it would be pretty nice to be able to stay with Jess and Tom and not have to sleep in a box room for a week every Christmas.

‘Promise me you’ll find somewhere close enough?’ she said reluctantly.

‘Yes! Promise!’ Jess grabbed on to the idea enthusiastically.

‘And you promise you’re not going to become smug and lazy?’ Jess frowned at Allie. ‘I mean,’ she explained, ‘not always going on about how the country is so much better than London , because let’s be clear, it’s not.’ Jess bit back a smile at Allie’s tone. ‘Or too lazy to ever come into London again?’

‘I promise,’ Jess said solemnly. ‘Never too smug or lazy.’

‘Even when it’s winter and dark and cold?’ Allie said challengingly.

‘Even when it’s winter and dark and cold,’ Jess agreed.

‘Even when there are train strikes?’

‘I promise not to turn my nose up at rail replacement bus services.’

‘Even when London is sweltering in forty-degree heat, the Tube is like a furnace and the tracks are melting?’

Jess fixed Allie with a look. ‘Allie? Be reasonable.’

‘OK, fine,’ she grumbled. ‘I’ll come to you then.’

Jess clapped her hands in delight. ‘And guess what?’

‘What?’ Allie asked reluctantly.

‘The place we’re looking at this weekend has a sex shed.’

‘A what?!’

‘You know, one of those home offices that people went crazy about and built in their gardens?’

‘Yeees, but why would you call it a sex shed?’ Allie didn’t want to know what Tom and Jess were planning with the shed, but she couldn’t help but ask.

‘Don’t you think that’s what most people built them for?’

‘No,’ said Allie incredulously, thinking about their friends who had them in their back gardens and then shuddering slightly at the thought that all this time she had been presuming they had been using them as a home office, and all this time maybe ‘working from home’ had a totally different meaning for the vast majority of the population, who, unlike Allie, worked in an office for most of the week.

‘Well, I think it is.’

Allie stared at her friend, momentarily jealous about the sex life that she and Tom evidently still planned to have even when they had left behind their London youth and moved out to the provinces. ‘Anyway,’ she said, shaking unwanted images from her mind, ‘why on earth are you excited to tell me about this sex shed?’

‘Because I thought you could use it!’ Jess said excitedly.

‘What? We’ve just established that my relationship with Will is over and that my ex is too disappointing to be considering getting back together with.’

‘You’re not seriously thinking about getting back together with him, are you?’ Jess asked in concern.

‘No.’ Allie batted Jess’s question away, not willing to delve into the depths of her concerns about loneliness right now. ‘So, who do you think I’m going to be using your shed with?’ Allie harboured some vague hope that Jess might have her romantic future all mapped out and that the property details she had been looking at had listed ‘hot single neighbour’ in the particulars. It was Jess’s turn to look confused.

‘Oh, no, not for sex! God no.’ Allie couldn’t keep the look of disappointment off her face that Jess had seemingly quickly dismissed the idea of Allie having any kind of sex, with anyone, anytime soon. ‘I meant for writing!’

‘Oh, OK.’

‘You could come down and write in there, whenever you wanted to! It would be great.’ Jess’s face was a picture of nervous expectation. ‘A break from London, a change of scenery could really help with the writer’s block! Tom could cook dinner every night.’ Allie felt grateful that at least Jess hadn’t suggested she cook dinner every night, knowing that this would result in smouldering ashes and fire blankets, which was recoverable when there were a billion different options on Deliveroo, but not so much when the local chippy was, from Allie’s recollection, a twenty-minute drive away, and closed at 7.30pm each night. And Allie didn’t have the heart to tell Jess that her writer’s block was never a result of her environment, and that actually she loved writing in her flat, and was even starting to feel guilty about scaring her friend the robin away.

‘Sure, that sounds lovely.’ Allie couldn’t help smiling at the look of relief and pleasure that spread across Jess’s face as she agreed with her. And who knew, maybe it would be nice to have that escape. Maybe she wouldn’t have quite so many ties to London in the future… Allie’s heart clenched at the thought of leaving London and all those in it, and one person in particular, behind…

The beep of her phone dislodged the uncomfortable lump in her throat and she was grateful for the distraction. ‘Sorry, I just should check this…’ she said fumbling in her bag. ‘It’s Verity,’ she said, looking up at Jess. ‘She says she’s heard on the publishing grapevine that Jake is definitely being summoned to a meeting tomorrow morning at Brinkman’s. Rumour has it he’ll be leaving the office with his belongings in a box!’ Allie grinned.

‘Result! This is great, just what you wanted, right? And what about Verity? Any news on her job?’

Allie’s smile widened. ‘She’s being invited back in for a meeting straight afterwards. I can’t imagine it means anything other than a grovelling apology and her job back, can you?’

‘Brilliant. You should go.’

‘What?’

‘You should be there. Watch it all unfurl. It will be cathartic.’

‘I can’t just march into Brinkman’s and insist I attend the meetings.’

‘No, but you can watch from outside.’

Allie contemplated Jess’s suggestion for a moment.

‘Wouldn’t it be something though? To watch Jake leave, carrying a box?’ Jess prompted.

‘I guess I could… I mean, there’s a cafe over the road, I could watch it from there I suppose … it would be fun to actually witness his downfall.’

‘And Verity’s redemption,’ reminded Jess.

‘Yes, yes of course. Maybe I could deliver her some flowers straight to the office as soon as it’s confirmed?’

‘One hundred percent, and then you can ask her for a small extension seeing as you now apparently have two books to write.’

‘Don’t remind me!’ Allie sighed and glugged back the rest of her wine as Jess’s phone took its turn to interrupt them. ‘Tom?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ replied Jess. ‘Honestly it’s depressing how little anyone but you and Tom ever contact me.’

‘Yeah, well, it will only get worse when you leave London.’ Allie couldn’t resist the dig. ‘Bet they don’t even have a proper phone signal down there yet.’

Jess fixed her a stare over the top of her phone. ‘First thing I checked actually,’ she said primly. ‘Anyway, I better go. Tom wants to discuss house-buying strategies for our trip down there this weekend and if I drink any more, that sex shed you’ll be writing in will end up being a swimming pool.’

‘I’d quite like a swimming pool.’

‘Tough, can’t afford it. You can make do with the sex shed.’

Allie shrugged and picked up her bag. ‘I should go too. Maybe half a bottle of wine is just the right amount to consume before writing. Don’t want to tip over the edge into maudlin and depressed.’

Jess put her phone away and looked at Allie seriously. ‘I am sorry, Allie, about Will. Don’t give up. Please? Give him some time. And that grand romantic gesture? Just remember you’re amazing at writing them, I believe you can pull one off in real life.’

Allie hugged Jess and said a muffled ‘thanks’ into her shiny hair, hoping that even just a smidgeon of her friend’s belief in her might transfer through hair to skin contact.

‘Keep me posted on those houses?’

‘Of course.’ Jess turned to leave.

‘And Jess? Don’t forget me, will you?’ Allie was half joking, but there was a note of sentimentality in her voice that she knew Jess could hear.

‘Never!’ Jess insisted adamantly. ‘This won’t change a thing.’

Allie followed her friend out onto the street, where Jess turned to go one way and Allie turned to go the other, leaving her realising that this might just be the metaphor for the turning point in their lives. Jess was adamant nothing would change, whereas Allie saw, quite clearly and with acceptance, that no matter how much Jess insisted, it would change, they would change, and surprisingly, Allie didn’t feel abject despair at the idea. It would hurt, and she would be lonely at times, but life was about change, and you couldn’t sit still for too long or it would pass you by. Her phone buzzed with a message from Martin, interrupting her philosophical deep dive.

We should talk.

Allie tipped her head back and stared up at the cloudy London sky. She took a deep breath. She was OK. She would be OK.