Chapter 10
Dear Tilly,
The book choice this month is a little different, and it comes with a confession.
Do you remember the honeymoon we had planned before I got sick? And how I cancelled it when we both realized that I wouldn’t be well enough to travel?
Well, I didn’t cancel it. I moved it. I figured that you could do with a holiday now more than ever.
It’s all organized. All you have to do is show up at Heathrow Airport on the 12th of March at 2 p.m.
I wish I could be going with you. But it makes me very happy to picture you on a sunny beach holding a cocktail and reading your book.
I’m thinking about it this very second, in fact, and I’m smiling as I write this.
Please bring that enormous floppy hat with the bow – you always looked adorable in that.
I might not be able to be there but I thought about who the next-best person would be to go in my place, the person who would help to make sure you have a good time.
Give your sister a ring. And have a brilliant holiday. You deserve it.
I love you.
Joe x
But obviously Tilly can’t go to Bali with less than two weeks’ notice. It was a kind thought of Joe’s – and the idea of lying on a beach does sound appealing – but she can’t, not with the Esmerelda Love project kicking off and –
‘You must go, Tilly,’ says Sade from behind her desk, taking off her glasses and wiping them before replacing them on her nose.
‘But what about all my meetings and projects …’
‘It’s all organized,’ Sade replies firmly.
‘Joe told us about this trip last year. We’ve blocked out your diary, and the other editors will be picking up your projects while you’re away.
You never take your full holiday allowance, Tilly, and you’re always the last in the office, especially recently.
While I admire your dedication, you deserve a break.
Just get your meeting today with Rachel Harding and Esmerelda Love out of the way, and then you’re all set to unwind and work on your handover notes for your time away. Enjoy your trip.’
Tilly steps out of the office in a daze. She thinks of Joe organizing this holiday in secret, even getting in touch with Sade to make sure it would be OK, and her heart gives a little tug. Oh, Joe.
Back at her desk, she allows herself to pull up a tab on her laptop and search for images of Bali, scrolling through photo after photo of white sand beaches and tropical sunsets.
The images couldn’t feel further removed from the artificially lit office and the view out over the London skyline, spread out in tones of grey and silver.
For a moment she allows herself to imagine the feeling of sunshine on her bare shoulders and the sound of the sea in her ears.
She’s pulled back to earth by a new email notification from Esmerelda.
From: esmerelda@
To: matilda.nightingale@
Subject: IMPORTANT: low blood sugar!!
Can you please bring a bag of organic California almonds to our meeting later? MUST BE organic California ones, thanks so much babe. xx
Tilly lets out a groan. Maybe a holiday is actually a brilliant idea. She silently thanks Joe for somehow knowing exactly what she needs, even when she doesn’t always get it right herself.
After a trip to Wholefoods and an hour on the Tube, Tilly arrives outside The Nail Atelier on a smart street in Richmond.
Rachel is already there, waiting outside and scrolling on her phone.
Tilly pauses for a second to take in her new fringe and the way she frowns down at her phone with her concentration face.
Rachel is a few years older than Tilly, petite and wiry from CrossFit, with thick dark hair and a dress sense that strikes a balance between car mechanic and off-duty model.
Today she is in a khaki boiler suit, heeled boots and a utilitarian crossbody bag that looks like it could contain both a wrench and a Chanel lipstick.
Rachel looks up, a nervous smile on her face. ‘Tilly!’
There’s an awkward moment when neither of them moves, before Rachel steps forward and hugs her, Tilly stiffening in her arms.
‘It’s great to see you.’
‘You too,’ Tilly replies after a beat. ‘Thanks for coming all this way. I know it’s a bit of an unusual meeting location but Esmerelda has a busy schedule. This was the only time she could fit us in.’
‘That’s OK. I’ve had meetings in weirder places. Remember the time when that singer got me to go to their country house to do our interviews and invited me to stay in their guest house and then told me it was haunted?’
Tilly remembers their meet-up at the pub, the week after Rachel got back from the trip.
She showed Tilly photos of the guest house, and it really did look terrifying – the windows tiny, the furniture ancient, and the room full of china dolls that used to belong to the singer’s grandmother (Rachel had to hide them in the wardrobe so she could sleep).
Many people might have questioned why Rachel didn’t just leave, but Tilly understood how important it was for Rachel to build trust with her clients.
Disappearing to a nearby Premier Inn instead of accepting the singer’s invitation might have derailed the whole project.
And Tilly knows how much Rachel’s career means to her, because Tilly feels the same way about hers.
It’s something Joe never truly understood.
He worked to earn a living but for Tilly it has always meant more than that.
Books are her passion and being an editor doesn’t feel like just a job, it’s who she is.
Joe couldn’t relate to that, no matter how many times she tried to explain. But Rachel can.
‘Well, hopefully no ghosts today,’ Tilly says, trying to push thoughts of their history to one side and focus on the task at hand. She just has to get through this meeting and then she can think about Bali instead. She still can’t quite believe she’s actually going to Bali.
‘Shall we go in?’
A member of staff leads them to the back of the salon where Esmerelda Love reclines in a chair, one nail technician busily at work on her hands and another crouched at her feet. She is easily recognizable from her photos, which isn’t always a given.
‘Esmerelda?’ There’s a strong smell of polish and the sound of emery boards filing back and forth with efficient speed.
‘We’re from Splash Books. I’m your editor, Tilly, it’s great to meet in person.
And this is Rachel Harding, the brilliant ghostwriter I told you about who is going to be helping bring your book to life.
She’s the best in the business, so you’re in safe hands. ’
Rachel glances at Tilly, her cheeks flushing as she throws her a tentative smile. Tilly turns her attention quickly back to Esmerelda who is scanning them both up and down in silence.
‘It’s great to meet you …’ Rachel steps in, hovering awkwardly next to one of the nail technicians. ‘I thought it would be helpful to get more of an understanding of your vision for the book so we can –’
‘Do you have the almonds?’ Esmerelda interrupts. ‘Sorry, babe, but my blood sugar …’
‘I get it,’ says Rachel warmly. ‘My brother is diabetic too. It’s a nightmare, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, well, I’m not diabetic exactly. But you do not want to see me when my blood sugar gets too low, do you know what I mean, babe?’
‘I think I do,’ Rachel says very quietly, and Tilly has to stifle a laugh.
She rummages about in her bag and pulls out the sack of almonds. ‘Here we go!’
But instead of taking the bag Esmerelda glances down at her hands. ‘They haven’t dried yet. I can’t touch a thing. Can you?’ She opens her mouth expectantly.
‘I don’t think that’s –’ begins Rachel, her eyebrows lifted in shock, but Tilly shakes her head slightly, trying to tell her with a look that it isn’t worth it and that she doesn’t need her sticking up for her.
She wonders briefly if throwing an almond into the back of Esmerelda’s mouth would choke her.
Instead she summons all the professionalism she can muster and pops an almond on Esmerelda’s outstretched tongue as she says, ‘How about Rachel tells you a bit about her experience, Esmerelda, and then you can tell Rachel more about your vision for your memoir?’
The rest of the meeting goes surprisingly smoothly.
But at one point, when Tilly is feeding Esmerelda another handful of almonds, a memory enters her mind – as sudden and visceral as an electric shock – of spoon-feeding Joe soup in a hospital bed.
For a long time, he insisted on doing everything for himself, even if it meant constantly spilling things and getting angry and frustrated.
But eventually he became too exhausted to resist, and that was somehow far worse than his anger.
In the nail studio in Richmond a dark wave of grief rolls over her, unexpected as these waves so often are.
She holds her breath, trying not to let herself get pulled under.
‘Oh my god, the almonds,’ says Rachel once the meeting is over and they’re standing outside. ‘It was so hard to hold it together when she asked for the almonds. You are a saint for doing that. Do you want to go and get a coffee? It would be great to catch up.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ Tilly replies quickly. ‘I’ve got another meeting to get to. Thanks again for making the trip. I’ll be in touch soon about next steps.’
‘OK,’ replies Rachel, her expression clouding. ‘Thanks again for thinking of me for this project. It will be good to work together again. I hope we’ll be able to get that coffee another time. Oh, and I’ve got a book for you …’
She reaches into the bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out a battered-looking paperback copy of Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin.
‘Sorry for all the dog-eared pages. But I loved it and thought you might too. There’s a lot in it about video games, but stick with it – I’ve now got into gaming because of how beautiful the book was.’
She reaches out, the book floating in the gap between them until Tilly takes it and slips it into her satchel.
‘Thanks.’
‘Let me know what you think when you finish it.’
In the past she used to message Rachel immediately after finishing a particularly good book, with Joe sometimes asking her if she had to do it right that second, especially if it was particularly late and she’d already stayed up half the night working, but Tilly always wanted to tell Rachel her thoughts while they were fresh.
They say a stilted goodbye and Tilly turns one way and Rachel the other. After a few paces Tilly allows herself to pause and glance back over her shoulder, watching her old friend walk away and trying to ignore the feeling that, despite it all, she misses her.