Chapter 2
Things went from bad to worse as the weekend loomed.
Poppy hoped the shitstorm Simon had created might slowly fade away, but if anything, it picked up pace, and she had no idea how to fix things or how to walk away with her reputation intact.
Keira had earned all the friendship stars as soon as she learnt what had happened, dropping everything and rushing to Poppy’s side, bringing with her two bottles of wine.
She had been furious, wanting to fight everyone who was calling Poppy names.
Perhaps drinking hadn’t been the wisest idea, as alcohol had provided bravado and after the first bottle had been polished off, the two of them had tried to defend her on Facebook against the accusations.
Speaking out had only seemed to make things worse, and even before she had gone to bed, having waved Keira off in her taxi, Poppy knew she had made a mistake.
Friday brought fresh hell, as the messages kept coming. She had given up reading them now, but they were stacking up in Messenger faster than she could clear them. And the comments on Facebook continued.
Hope she rots.
That was from someone with a pink heart in their bio.
Another:
She’s finished. We’ll make sure she doesn’t work again.
Unable to deal with reading any more cruel insults, she logged off, swiping to her calendar, looking at the upcoming work she had scheduled in.
It was pointless, though. She couldn’t stop thinking about the nasty comments, and pretending to be normal wasn’t going to help defend her against the angry mob.
Her phone buzzed, alerting her to a notification for her website. A new review had been posted and as she clicked on it, her stomach dropped. It was a one star:
Destroyed my friend’s book. Absolute disgrace. Avoid.
She stared at the words, unable to process how quickly these strangers were reshaping her life, and aware that her clients were going to see this.
She’d built her business on trust. And trust, she was beginning to realise, was fragile.
Somehow, she managed to stay off social media for the rest of the morning, but although she remained at her desk, she was too distracted to open the manuscript she was supposed to be working on.
More devastating news came via email at lunchtime, from a small publisher she’d been in talks with for months. She didn’t open it straightaway, instead staring at the sender name, a pulse in her neck throbbing. Her mouth was dry.
Finally, she clicked.
Poppy,
I’m so sorry. We’re going to have to pause the discussion for now. Given the situation online, it’s not something we can risk being associated with at the moment.
Please understand it’s not personal.
Best,
Louise
Not personal? This was her bloody livelihood. It wasn’t just a job. It was everything she’d worked towards.
Part of her wanted to reply, to try to explain what had happened in an attempt to fix things, but Louise wasn’t going to care. No one was going to want to touch Poppy. At least while Simon’s lies were blowing up the internet. The truth didn’t matter.
She had worked so hard to become an editor, training and completing courses while working full-time in a bookstore, and she had been careful not to give up the security of her regular wage until she had built up a steady portfolio of clients.
Now she had taken that step, she relied on her business to pay her bills, including the mortgage on her little one-bed flat in Bexleyheath. Simon’s cruel lies could jeopardise everything, and already she could feel the world imploding around her.
Needing some fresh air, she slipped on trainers and let herself out of the flat. She would head over to Danson Park for a run around the lake.
So far, outside of the book world, only Keira knew what had happened. Poppy didn’t want to worry her parents or her younger sister, Grace. The four of them would be together at Sunday lunch in two days, and she hoped like hell that the damage would be limited by then, so she could relax.
It crossed her mind as she circled back around the lake: did Tom know?
He was part of the whole online community, but if he had seen the fallout, then he hadn’t reached out. Had he sided with Simon?
No, Tom Rainer would never do that. He and Poppy were close friends. He might call her to ask what was going on, but he wouldn’t turn on her on the say-so of another author.
Slowing to a walk, she pulled her phone from her pocket, calling his number from her favourites list. She could really do with hearing his voice, and also with his take on everything.
He took a few seconds to answer, but then his reassuring deep voice was on the line.
‘Hey, trouble.’ She could hear the smile in his greeting and the tension in her shoulders eased a little.
Oh, if only he knew how close to the mark he was.
‘Is this an okay time to call? I don’t want to bother you if you’re writing.’
‘It’s all good,’ he assured her. ‘We don’t often speak during the day. Is everything okay?’
Tom had the sort of freedom that meant he could write whenever he wanted. His days were his own. Still, Poppy hesitated. Should she burden him with all of this? Though he would see it when he next logged on to Facebook. At which point he would probably question why she hadn’t said anything.
‘Not really,’ she told him.
‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded, immediately sounding concerned.
That was her cue. Without thinking it through any further, she unburdened, and everything that had happened came pouring out. By the time she had finished, she was slightly breathless and could feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
‘Wow!’ Tom uttered just the one word before falling silent.
Managing to swallow the lump in her throat, Poppy waited.
‘I know Simon Daley. I’m shocked he would do this.’
Did Tom not believe her? She clenched the phone tightly, nausea heavy in her stomach, the thought of losing him too suddenly seeming a possibility.
‘I only did what he paid me for,’ she said, unable to hide her defensive tone.
‘Of course you did. You’re a professional, Pops, and brilliant at your job. I wasn’t doubting you. I’m just shocked at Simon’s behaviour if I’m honest.’ Tom hesitated. ‘Have you spoken to him? I’m sure this can be sorted out.’
‘No, and I’m not sure it can be fixed. The accusation is already out there now.’
Simon had been a nightmare throughout her dealings with him and she doubted he could be reasoned with. She could try grovelling and beg him to remove the video, but everyone had already seen it. Besides, the only thing she had right now was her pride. She wouldn’t give it up.
‘Would you like me to talk to him?’ Tom suggested. ‘I’m happy to try to mediate.’
It was kind of him to offer, but Poppy couldn’t drag him into her mess.
‘Thank you, but no. I just need to ride the storm out and hope it doesn’t kill my business.’ She hesitated, conscious not to make the call all about herself. ‘Besides, you need to focus on your writing. How is the book going?’
‘Slowly.’ Tom laughed. ‘You know me. I can’t help tweaking as I go along.’
Tweaking was an understatement. He had almost changed the whole story.
It was through his book that the two of them had met. He was a good friend of Rebecca Kennedy’s and Rebecca had approached Poppy mentioning Tom’s name and asking if she could put them in touch for when Tom eventually needed an editor.
At the time, he only had a handful of chapters written and wouldn’t need her help until further down the line, but he had reached out to thank her and from there a friendship had blossomed.
He lived in Crete, which made meeting up difficult, and the one time he had been back in England for his friend’s fortieth and had suggested coming to see her, Poppy had unfortunately been busy with other plans.
It would happen, but for now they kept in regular contact, speaking most evenings, and their conversations often stretching late into the night.
‘I guess it must be all that sunshine distracting you,’ she teased, her heart squeezing a little when he gave a deep, throaty laugh. She could picture his warm smile and the pale blue of his eyes that always sparkled in his online photos, and for a moment it felt like he was right here beside her.
‘I have to admit the weather here is definitely a plus,’ he confessed.
‘I can imagine. What’s the temperature today?’
‘A nice balmy 23 degrees. I might go for a swim.’
‘Ha, I’m jealous.’ Poppy laughed. ‘I’ll trade you. I’ll take your sunshine and you can have this nice grey, damp day.’
‘You make it sound so tempting,’ Tom joked.
There had been moments over the last year where it had felt like there could be more between them than friendship. Tom had even floated the idea of her visiting Crete once or twice, though it had never quite moved beyond a vague and appealing suggestion.
Perhaps that failure was on Poppy’s part. She was always so busy with work.
The distance did make things complicated, but the thought lingered. The prospect of escaping her problems right now and jetting away for a few days was appealing, but it wasn’t realistic. She needed to figure out a way to save her business. Not daydream of warmer climates.
At least speaking with Tom improved her mood and she returned to her flat in a more positive frame of mind. This storm might linger for a while, but eventually it would pass. And not everyone she worked with was going to have seen Simon’s video.
As for authors who had previously hired her, she hoped they would draw their own conclusions based on the quality of the work she had done for them.
She had been prudent with her savings over the years, squirreling away a little extra money whenever she could. If she lost more work, at least she would be able to keep paying her mortgage and buying food for a few months.
Her afternoon was quieter. After putting her phone on silent, she managed to get a couple of hours of editing done, and when she did check it, she ignored all of the negativity waiting for her, instead focusing on one WhatsApp message.
It was from Tom.
Just checking in. You don’t need to reply. I just wanted you to know I’m here.
Poppy stared at the screen, a small, unexpected tightness in her chest.
It shouldn’t have mattered so much. But it did.