Chapter Twenty-Five
Leo dropped Olivia home the following lunchtime.
As she walked back into the flat and deposited her bag on to the chenille sofa she had not yet been able to replace, Charlie’s place looked small and a little sad after the grandeur of Foxes.
But Olivia shouldn’t compare, should she?
It was pointless. Leo’s life was held like a jewel inside a spinning, glittering satellite of fine things, old money and heritage; Olivia’s was small and simple.
She had no ancestry, all of that was gone.
She had no fine things. She had no backup plan.
But she still had the wedding photo of Charlie and Ann on the mantel.
Their smiles as they came out of the church.
The love that was perfect, just for them.
And she knew she was right to turn down Leo Greene.
She unpacked her bag. She made herself some beans on toast. It was Sunday.
She had no plans. Annabel had her parents over this weekend; Stella had gone away with Shoreditch Man to Bruges on an impromptu third ‘date’.
So Olivia had the rest of the day to prepare the first three chapters of her book, working title, The Florist, to be fit for Leo’s eyes tomorrow.
After she’d cleared her lunch things away, she opened her laptop on the kitchen table and set to work, reading and editing what she’d written so far, swapping paragraphs around, inserting sentences, taking sentences out, fine-tuning her prose, honing her dialogue: re-writing and re-writing and re-writing.
The book was about a florist who falls in love with a businessman who calls at her shop in Mayfair every morning to buy a single red rose, and Olivia had the whole plot all worked out.
She’d made charts, word-flows, Venn diagrams – she’d used every colour in the highlighter rainbow.
She knew exactly where she was going; she now just had to find the best way to get there.
She wrote chapter four, as she was in the zone.
The words rattled out of her like a runaway train down a mountain track.
When she finished, she read it back from the beginning, editing as she went along once again.
Expanding the imagery, concentrating on making the dialogue sound natural.
Then she left chapter four for the rest of the day, but got back to it at ten in the evening, bringing it up to the standard of the first three chapters.
Finally, she returned to the first three chapters, and looked at them again.
She didn’t know if the quality was high enough, but she was willing to let Leo be the judge of that.
At eleven o’clock on Sunday evening, just as Olivia was about to shut the laptop, an email pinged into her inbox from leo.greene@.
Chapters One Olivia went to Annabel’s. In January, they resumed.
The comments in the margins began to really stack up.
I agree, the chef is a little too overwrought at the end of that scene. I will amend. The part about the cat is not supposed to be funny!!!!!!!! Again, I will amend.
I’m really glad you love the bit about the skateboarding park and I will take on board what you said about what Jackson is wearing.
Of course he would not be wearing a Simpsons sweatshirt when he is trying to impress Ali!
I am going to deck him out in something completely different, in the pursuit of romance. Thank you.
Hmmm. I’m still mulling over the details of that character. You say info dump, I say vital character background! I’m going to step away for a few hours, take a walk and come back to it. But this is great food for thought, Livs.
Thank you for reading chapter eight. I love your suggestion about making Edward even more dashing, but I am wary of stretching incredulity too far, as surely no man can be that perfect – I mean, come on . . .
You really do write romance well, Olivia. I am blushing!!!!!!!
I love, love, love what Ben said about forgiving Claude, and at just the right time, too. I’m in awe, Leo.
I think you mean ‘vicious’ and not ‘viscous’ here?
Oxford comma??
In the springtime, Olivia suggested – gently – that Leo focused on his characterisation.
She suggested he make lists of character traits, both physiological and psychological.
He told her that was a great idea, and he did so, and began sending them to her.
Then, he started sending her random lists of other things:
Considerations for the next chapter. I am thinking about:
A chess set
A severed finger
A double twist – jaw-dropping
Angela???
I am also thinking about:
My dinner tonight
Silent Witness
The morning we spent together in your single bed . . .
Olivia stared at her screen. Their time in the single bed in Pimlico? Why was Leo bringing that up again? But yes, she still thought about that, too, although she would never say so.
She fired a reply off immediately.
You need to stay focused on your work, or you will never finish that damn book. I agree, a severed finger and a bit more Angela would be marvellous in your next chapter . . .
By the summer, other bits of real life started creeping into their emails.
P.S. I had a terrible meal tonight – I bought a Tesco meal deal and I left the carbonara in the microwave for too long and it was horrible. Please tell me you’ve had a better day.
Yes, I’m in France! Just with a friend. A quick Friday to Sunday.
Nice, have a great time!
No, we are in Paris.
P.S. What are your opinions about blue cheese, Olivia? If you were going to a birthday party of a man who had everything, would you take some? Like, a cheese wheel?
A cheese wheel sounds extravagant, I hear those things are enormous. How about some Ferrero Rocher, or am I showing my class??