Chapter 9
This time there was no Cynthia Morton dashing out the front door to welcome them.
Tony came around to open the car door for her—perfect gentleman, Emma thought, contrasting him with the Aussie guys she’d met in London.
He retrieved Emma’s suitcase from the back seat and carried it for her to the front door, also carrying his own briefcase.
He put down the suitcase and rang the doorbell, and the door was opened by the maid Emma had met before.
“Please come in,” she said. “Madam is expecting you in her study.”
Emma tried to pick up her suitcase but Tony beat her to it and stood back to let Emma enter first. Without asking, the maid took Emma’s mack and the suitcase from Tony and placed them by the front door.
“Your things will be taken over to the guest cottage for you, miss,” she said. “Now if you will follow me . . .”
She led them down a small hallway off to the right.
The maid tapped and then opened a door and went in ahead of them.
“Mr Tony and the young lady, madam,” she said.
It was all so much like a drawing room comedy that Emma stifled a grin.
Until now she hadn’t believed that people still lived like this in the second half of the twentieth century.
Then she corrected herself—only people who had lots of money could afford to live like this.
Iris had created the world for herself that she once wrote about and presumably dreamed about when she was on that sheep station in Australia.
Iris was sitting in an armchair by the fire, staring at the flames. She looked up at the sound of the maid’s voice, then focused on Emma and Tony.
“Oh. Hello,” she said. “What are you doing back here so soon?”
“Hello, Miss Blackburn. We’ve brought the papers from my father,” Tony said.
“The papers?” Iris frowned. “But I don’t need any papers. The maid always brings me The Telegraph with my morning cup of tea, although I confess I can no longer complete the crossword.”
“No, I mean the papers for you to sign. The contract for Miss Callander so that she can start working on the book.”
Iris’s gaze seemed to clear as she looked at Emma, then she smiled.
“Oh, those papers. Yes, of course. I was miles away. Thinking.” She stood up.
“Right, let’s get down to it then.” And she walked across to a small table in the window, not to her desk in the middle of the room, and pulled out a chair.
“Would you like some coffee? Maggie, tell Cook we’d like coffee and some of that ginger cake she made.”
“Very good, Miss Blackburn,” the maid replied, and Emma glanced around to see if she had curtseyed, but Maggie was already walking away.
Iris was now alert and focused. “You look very smart today, Emma my darling,” she said. “London suit. Latest fashion. And green goes well with your colouring. Well done.”
“Thank you.” Emma blushed at the praise. She glanced across to see Tony looking amused. “My flatmate works in a boutique. She gets good discounts.”
“Right. Let’s get to work,” Iris said. “I’m sure Tony’s dad wants him back at the office. Take a seat please, and let’s have a look at these contracts your dad has drawn up.”
There were two upright chairs on the other side of the table, and Emma took the one closest to the window.
Outside the wind had picked up and was swirling dead leaves across the lawn.
Tony opened his briefcase, checked the papers before spreading them out before Iris.
Today she wore a burgundy twinset and matching wool slacks.
She didn’t look as frail as she had the day before.
She reached for a pair of glasses and placed them on her nose before picking up the first sheet of paper.
Tony and Emma waited in silence as Iris read it carefully, grunting or nodding occasionally. Then she put it down and looked up at them. “Yes, that all seems to make sense. Explain it to her, dear boy.”
“First things first, Emma,” Tony said. “We ask that you sign an agreement not to divulge anything that goes on here while you are working with Iris or any information about the book until it is published.”
“That seems fair,” Emma said, wincing as she remembered she had already told her flatmates about the book. It seemed wiser not to mention that.
“Good. For this preliminary period while you read and assess,” he went on.
“You will be paid ten pounds a day, plus room and board, up to one week. At the end of the week you make up your mind whether to give this project a try. If you decide yes, you will then go up to Scotland to do your research. There is no set amount of time that you will spend up there, but obviously you can’t turn it into a long holiday at Iris’s expense. ”
“I don’t think that Scotland in late September is going to be so inviting that I’ll want to linger,” Emma said. “It’s not like the Riviera.”
Iris gave a chortle. “Good sense of humour. Aussie wit. I like that.”
Tony cleared his throat. “For this period you will also be paid ten pounds a day plus expenses. Does that sound fair to you?”
“Yes. Very fair,” Emma said. Ten pounds a day seemed like a fortune after living on eight pounds a week.
“Then if you’d read this through and sign and date.
” He pushed the sheet in front of her. He then handed it to Iris, who also signed.
Tony put it back in a folder and handed a second sheet to Iris, who took longer to read this one, frowning as she concentrated.
Eventually she put it down. “Too complicated, dear boy. Can’t take it all in right now. You explain it.”
Tony had a worried look on his face as he took back the paper.
“This contract is to protect Iris,” he said.
“It states that you, Emma Callander, have no claim to the finished product, the character or the series. You are being taken on in what is called work for hire, which means you’ll be paid a fee, if Iris is satisfied with your work, and that will be that.
The book will be published under Iris’s name. ”
“Wait a second,” Emma interrupted. “I’m not to get a credit as a cowriter?”
Tony looked slightly uncomfortable. “The book is part of the Inspector Melrose series, known around the world as Iris Blackburn’s creation. My father felt it would diminish the value of the product if it was thought that Iris did not write this book herself.”
“Then, if you don’t mind my saying so, what sort of protection do I have?
” Emma asked, surprised at how sharp her voice sounded.
“I won’t be able to use this as a stepping stone without my name on the cover.
I’m not going to get a cut of the royalties if the book is a major bestseller?
Look, I could work on this for three months, and Iris could decide one day that she didn’t want me around any more.
The book would eventually be published with my writing, my words in it, but I’d get no credit and nobody would ever know.
She might even get out of paying me, if she decides she’s not satisfied with my work.
So why would I want to give up months of my life for something that will only bring in a little more money than my current job?
I could be writing my own book in that time and actually furthering my career. ”
“She’s right, you know,” Iris said. “There is very little in this for her, apart from the honour of working with me.” She gave Emma what was almost a wink, making Emma realize it was self-deprecating humour.
“I say we have another think about the finished product when we see how things are progressing. We’re getting ahead of ourselves at the moment.
We don’t know if Emma wants to do it. We don’t know if she can do it to my satisfaction.
We don’t know if we can work together. I say we take the first step with the contract that Emma has signed.
She reads the pages I’ve written and we go from there. ”
“If that’s your wish.” Tony gave something between a nod and a little bow.
“Fair enough. I’ll take this one back to my father and tell him we’re going to hold off until we can see the light ahead.
” He put the paper back into the folder and the folder into the briefcase.
“Then I’ll wait until we hear from you, Iris.
I wish you good luck, Emma. It was nice talking to you. ”
He gave another curt little bow and left the room.
Emma sat, feeling uncomfortable. It seemed unlike the friendly person with whom she had been getting on so well.
Had he now switched to full solicitor mode?
Then it occurred to her that he was probably carrying out his father’s instructions whether he agreed with them or not.
Mr Gordon’s words echoed in her head. “You’re the young lady who has created such a stir.
” I was supposed to agree and submit, she thought and wondered if she had blown her big chance.
When the front door slammed Iris turned back to Emma. “Left in a huff, if you ask me. I expect you’ve already found out that no man likes being corrected by a woman. They take it for granted that you’ll smile sweetly and say, ‘Yes dear, whatever you say is right.’”
Emma gave her a delighted grin. “I really didn’t mean to make a fuss,” she said.
“No. You were absolutely right. Stick up for what you want in life. I always have. We’ll talk about the next contract when you’ve finished reading.
As a matter of fact I’m interested to see what you think so far.
To be truthful I can’t quite remember what I’ve already written.
I find it comes and goes these days. Some days it’s all lovely and clear in my head and I want to surge ahead with the book, and other days I stare at the page and it’s as if a stranger has written it.
Or I try to write and the words just won’t come. ”
Emma looked at her with compassion.
“I’m so sorry. That must be awful for you, when the words have come so easily all your life.”