Chapter 10 #2
Marian leaned forward, glaring at him while a seething anger began to build.
‘And it never will be. How dare you use me in this way? Don’t you understand how damaging this will be to all the Fleurys?
How devastating and hurtful? Especially the bits about the gambling debt and the rightful heir, not to mention the hints about Sylvia, which I think you’ve made up all by yourself.
All this will spark off gossip that will never end, and then everyone will start second guessing and create other stories that aren’t true.
All based on whatever you heard from a tired, slightly sloshed woman on a plane.
’ She leaned back with a feeling of hopelessness as she noticed a tiny smile hovering on his lips.
He looked both smug and arrogant and she began to feel that it was no use.
He was never going to rewrite his novel no matter how much she pleaded with him.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘That was quite a speech. You’re more eloquent than the last time we met.’
‘I was quite eloquent even then, apparently,’ Marian said sourly. ‘Enough to inspire you, as you said.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, that’s true. And maybe it was a little underhand of me to use my phone to record you when you thought you were talking to some random stranger with a sympathetic ear.’
‘But instead you were an author looking for a juicy story,’ Marian filled in. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You didn’t ask,’ he said with an ironic twist to his mouth.
‘Very funny.’ Marian was about to continue when the waitress arrived with their drinks.
He lifted his glass of Guinness. ‘Well, cheers, anyway.’
‘To what? Your forthcoming novel?’ Marian asked, taking a long sip of her Guinness without clinking glasses as he seemed to expect.
‘Let’s calm down and discuss the problem when we’ve got our food,’ Sean suggested.
‘I’m perfectly calm,’ Marian said.
‘No, you’re furious,’ he countered. ‘But maybe we can come to an agreement. Please relax and stop looking at me as if you want to throw that drink in my face.’
‘And waste a glass of Guinness?’ she said, beginning to see a ray of hope.
If she pleaded with him, he might agree to change some of his story, or at least rewrite the description, which would be a good start.
She was suddenly livid with Theo for making her feel so sad, which had made her start talking about the Fleurys just to forget her sorrows about their marriage.
‘I’m very tempted,’ she said. Then she took a sip and started to enjoy the rich taste. ‘But I don’t want to make scene.’
He laughed suddenly. ‘Well, that would be a pity. Not to mention the mess it would make of my white shirt. And then people would stare at us and wonder what was going on. And then someone would recognise one of us and then the word would be out that Marian Fleury was on a date with this author whose books they’re all reading. We can’t have that, can we?’
‘No.’ She took another sip and then put her glass on the table, trying not to be pulled in by his charm and good humour, not to mention those flirty brown eyes and the dimple that appeared beside his mouth when he smiled.
But then she wondered what Theo would think if he saw her now, half-flirting with another man, the idea making her sit up straighter.
The waitress arrived with two plates of fish and chips, which smelled delicious. ‘Let me know if you want anything else,’ she said as she put the plates before them.
Marian forgot her distress as the fragrance of freshly caught fish in golden batter hit her nose. The chips were hand cut and the sauces looked freshly made. ‘Wow,’ she said without thinking. ‘I’ve heard this pub serves the best fish and chips in Ireland and now I’m beginning to believe it.’
‘Well,’ Sean said and lifted his knife and fork, ‘let’s dig in, then, and see if it’s true. I take it the green goo in the little pot is the famous mushy peas. And then there’s the tartare sauce. All according to tradition.’
‘And all fabulous,’ Marian said as she dipped a piece of fish into the tartare sauce and felt it melt in her mouth.
‘I have to agree with you,’ he said, devouring the fish and taking sips of Guinness in between bites. ‘Too good to have an argument over.’
‘I feel less argumentative with every bite,’ Marian said, smiling at him, the food making her feel more positive.
‘You have a little foam on your lip,’ he said. ‘And it suits you.’
‘And you have some green stuff between your teeth,’ she countered, dabbing her mouth with her napkin.
He squirmed. ‘Do I?’
‘No. I was joking.’ Marian patted her mouth with her napkin again and looked at her empty plate. ‘I can’t believe I finished it.’
‘You look much better for it,’ Sean said. He leaned back and studied her. ‘In fact, you look a lot better than the last time we met. It seems that Kerry is good for you.’
‘That, and a good rest and having space and time to think,’ Marian said, looking away from his warm gaze. ‘And I even managed to get a job.’
‘Already?’ Sean looked impressed. ‘Doing what?’
‘Marketing. I’m working for my brother-in-law, who runs a publicity and marketing firm. I’m really enjoying it.’
‘I bet you’re good at it,’ he said.
‘I’m not sure about that. I’m learning a lot, anyway. But that’s not what I came here to talk about,’ Marian remarked.
‘I know,’ he said with a tiny sigh. ‘So let’s talk. About my book and the problem you have with it. I’ve been thinking about it while I was enjoying the amazing food.’
She looked expectantly at him, feeling a dart of hope. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m not going to change anything in the story. The plot is too good. But I could change the description a little and maybe change the name of the house. But that’s all I’m willing to do.’
‘It’s a good start,’ Marian said, feeling calmer. ‘I’m amazed that nobody in Dingle has read the description and made the connection. But then most people would be waiting for the paperback, so they wouldn’t look at the Kindle preorder and read the blurb.’
‘No, I suppose not. I get the impression that my readers around here want what they refer to as “real books”.’ He looked thoughtfully at her for a moment. ‘A good start? So you think you’ll convince me to rewrite a lot of the book so nobody will point the finger at the Fleury family?’
‘Maybe you would if I tell you that they – or, in any case, Sylvia – will sue you for defamation or slander or something like that. Her granddaughter’s husband is a solicitor so that’s not out of the question.
I don’t think she’ll take kindly to a made-up juicy story about whatever you say in your book she was up to in her youth. ’
‘Well, they can sue if they want. But that kind of thing would only hurt them, not me. It would give me great publicity and make everyone want to read this roman à clef, as it’s known in French. Win-win for me, I think.’
‘Yes, but you’ll still be telling lies,’ Marian argued. ‘About Sylvia Fleury, I mean. I didn’t say anything about her to you. How could I? I hadn’t even met her yet.’
‘No, but I have found out from other sources what she was involved in,’ Sean argued. ‘And it was quite shocking.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Marian said with a snort. ‘You’re making it up.’
‘I’m not.’ Sean leaned forward across the table and lowered his voice.
‘I’ve heard from a reliable source that Sylvia changed from the demure convent girl she was when she left Dingle and turned into quite the femme fatale when she was in Paris.
If anyone around here had found out, it would have caused a huge scandal.
She could never have been able to show her face here again. ’
‘You can’t prove that,’ Marian argued, shaken by his words. ‘If you’re telling lies, you will pay dearly for that.’
He lifted one eyebrow. ‘Lies? You think it’s a made-up story? But what if it isn’t?’