Chapter 54
Rosie is not at the dentist, but she wishes she were.
People only come to see you in person if they have very good news, or if they have very bad news.
Her manager, Elspeth, is beaming from ear to ear, but Rosie is fairly sure that she doesn’t have good news. Elspeth smiles because Elspeth always smiles.
‘I got the train down,’ says Elspeth. ‘Can you believe it?’
‘Can I believe you got the train down?’ Rosie asks. ‘Yes.’
‘Normally I drive,’ says Elspeth. ‘But they took my licence away.’
‘Okay,’ says Rosie. ‘Okay. What did they take your licence away for?’
‘Literally nothing,’ beams Elspeth. ‘I hit someone.’
‘You hit someone?’
‘Well, I didn’t hit someone,’ laughs Elspeth. ‘My car did!’
‘I see,’ says Rosie.
‘Ergo, that’s why I took the train,’ says Elspeth. ‘All a bit of woke nonsense. This restaurant is soooo cute. Mega rural.’
The Hunter’s Rest is not only the best hotel in the area, it also has the best restaurant.
‘Before we order,’ says Rosie, ‘do you have news for me? About the book?’
‘Let’s order first,’ says Elspeth. ‘I’m ravishing.’
‘I suspect you’re either ravenous or famished,’ says Rosie. ‘Let’s talk first though.’
‘But what if you storm out?’ says Elspeth.
‘So you have bad news?’ Rosie asks. She knew it.
‘God, depends what you define as bad,’ says Elspeth. ‘Depends if you want to be binary about it.’
‘For the sake of argument,’ says Rosie, ‘let’s say I do want to be binary about it.’
‘Oh, goodness, then it’s bad news,’ says Elspeth, still smiling. ‘Yes, then it is bad news. Do you like oysters? We could share some oysters?’
Why does she smile all the time? Either something deeply traumatic has happened to Elspeth at some point, or nothing traumatic at all has ever happened to her. It’ll be one or the other.
Rosie will not be staying for lunch. Ernesto called just before she walked in to say he’d heard gunshots outside the castle. Six of them. He and Lee are out in the grounds, investigating. Lots of gunshots in the countryside, of course, but unsettling news nonetheless.
‘Are we doing wine?’ Elspeth asks.
‘Just tell me,’ says Rosie.
‘It’s only your ridiculous publisher,’ says Elspeth. ‘They called me this morning on the old blower. They’ve decided not to renew. Which goes to show what they know. Namely, nothing!’
‘They’re not renewing my contract?’ says Rosie. ‘I’ve been with them for twenty-five years!’
‘Exactly,’ says Elspeth. ‘Long enough. New challenges. Or just retire even. See the world, play bingo.’
Rosie has never been ‘let go’ by a publisher before. She has changed publishers a number of times, sometimes for creative reasons, sometimes because a managing director has fired a crossbow in an editorial meeting. But no one has ever left her before.
‘I’m … disappointed,’ says Rosie. Something has collapsed inside her.
‘Nonsense,’ says Elspeth, reading the menu again. ‘Your publisher is leaning into fem-gore horror for the next few years.’
‘What is fem-gore horror?’ Rosie asks.
‘No idea,’ says Elspeth. ‘But another client is doing a book at the moment that has a robot wolf on the cover, so that’s a lot of fun. It’s like, how can a robot be a wolf, you know? Does not compute.’
She says this last bit like a robot and makes herself laugh.
Is this the end, Rosie wonders? After all, she is now [redacted at manuscript stage] years old. Will anybody else take a chance on her? Perhaps And the Devil Blinked First is no good? Perhaps she has become a rotten writer? Although Amy liked it, didn’t she?
What if there are no more books? No more evenings at the keyboard killing bad guys and making sworn enemies have sex with each other? What then, Rosie?
What if she can’t get up?
‘I’m going to leave now,’ says Rosie.
‘Oh no, why?’ says Elspeth. ‘Not on my account?’
‘I’m going to go home,’ says Rosie. ‘I’m going to have a Martini, and then I’m going to solve a murder.’
Rosie is good at dramatic exits.
What she is really going to do is go home, lock herself away, then curl into a ball and cry.
Unless those gunshots lead to something.
There will be Martinis later, but for now Rosie feels like she has been hit by Elspeth’s car.
Everything ends, she knows that. But she doesn’t want this to be that end.
She stands.
‘I might still have wine?’ says Elspeth.
Rosie makes a ‘be my guest’ gesture.
She has enough money to see her through, but money is not why Rosie writes. Rosie writes because it’s the only thing no one will ever be able to take from her.
Diamonds can come and go. Cars and houses can be repossessed. But you’ll always be able to get your hands on a pen and a bit of paper.
Don’t get her wrong, she loves spending money. But Rosie has no interest in spending money if she isn’t earning money.
Earn your money fairly, don’t cheat on your tax, and spend what’s left on whatever you choose. Those are Rosie’s only politics.
Who is she without her stories? A caricature. A failure. My God, a joke?
As she is leaving, she sees a couple sitting at a quiet table. It is Steve and Georgie Glazier.
She thought he’d got a dentist appointment suspiciously easily.
Rosie allows herself a smile. Seeing Steve being so brave gives her a little hope. It’s easy to think there’s no future. Easy to give up.
Bonne chance, Stevie, you fine man. None of us is long for this world. Find some happiness where you may.
Rosie is on the floor again. What happens next is up to her.