Chapter 7
Madeleine heard a blaring sound and bolted upright in bed.
It took her a minute to get her bearings.
She had lain awake for half the night fretting over what to do about the book launch, but had eventually fallen into a deep sleep.
She realised the noise was coming from her phone.
She felt around on her bedside table and eventually located it.
When she saw Jerry Kavanagh’s name on the screen – the managing director of Interstellar PR – events came rushing back to her, jolting her awake.
‘J-Jerry,’ she began, trying to make her voice sound like she hadn’t just been asleep.
‘What the hell is going on, Madeleine?’ he began without so much as a greeting.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked to buy herself time as she jumped out of bed. She knew what this call was about.
‘I’ve spoken to your team, who told me the books haven’t arrived. They’ve been trying to get in contact with you, but no one can get hold of you. Where the hell are you and what is going on?’
Her stomach clenched and her heart flip-flopped. He was the kind of man who didn’t want to hear about problems, only solutions. He had no time or patience for excuses and was fond of saying ‘I don’t care how you do it, just get it done’.
‘I’m down in Inishbeg Cove.’
‘Inishbeg where?’ he barked.
‘Inishbeg Cove. It’s in County Clare.’
‘What are you doing down there when we have Howard O’Brien’s book launch in two days?’
‘Unfortunately, my mother-in-law passed away yesterday. I had to leave the office early.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but where the hell are the books?’
‘There’s a minor issue in customs, but I promise you I am sorting it out.’
‘You need to get back here, Madeleine. You need to fix this immediately – our reputation is on the line.’
Madeleine winced. ‘I know, Jerry, but it’s tricky. The wake is tomorrow. My daughters are very upset, and they’ll never forgive me if I run out on them.’
‘The whole of Ireland will not forgive you if Howard O’Brien has no books to sign at his launch! Everyone who is anyone is going to be there, Madeleine – even the Taoiseach has RSVP’d. Have you any idea how bad it will look if you mess this up?’
You – the word landed like a punch in the gut. He was pinning the blame squarely on her shoulders. Warning her that this was her mess to fix.
‘Look, I’ll sort it, Jerry. I promise. I’ll talk to my daughters again… They were upset last night but maybe I could get away for a few hours today…’
‘You better, Madeleine!’ he warned.
She rubbed at her bleary eyes, desperately trying to wake herself up. ‘Don’t worry, Jerry. I have it all under control,’ she lied.
‘Well, I’m glad to hear it.’ His tone climbed down several octaves. ‘You had me in a sweat thinking I was going to have to break the news to Howard O’Brien’s agent that the launch was off.’ He laughed.
She laughed along nervously. ‘Jerry, we’ve worked together for over twenty years,’ she cajoled. ‘Would I do that to you?’
‘All right then, Madeleine, I’m up to my tonsils here so I’ll leave this in your very capable hands.’
‘Don’t worry, Jerry, it’s all going to be fine,’ she assured him before hanging up.
She tossed the phone down on the bed and rubbed her hands over her face.
Oh, God. What had she just done? She had promised to fix the situation, but she had no idea how she was supposed to do that.
She had told Jerry – no, not just told him, she had promised him that she would sort this mess out.
And yet she was on the west coast of Ireland and the books were in a shipping container on the east coast. Her team had tried everything possible yesterday and the custom officers still wouldn’t release them.
Then there was the little problem that she had no car – and oh, just the minor obstacle that her daughters would probably never speak to her again if she left to go to Dublin.
A tension headache began thumping inside her skull.
She felt like heading out through the back door and running away from it all.