Chapter 17
From Lamb’s Conduit Street, Stella headed deeper into the streets of Bloomsbury, flanked by gracious buildings either side, until she emerged into Bloomsbury Square.
She slowed down, counting the numbers of the houses, looking for the one she wanted.
And there it was, with a dark red door, the brass plate on the wall announcing Godolphin Publishing.
Inside, she presented herself to the receptionist and went to sit in the waiting area.
She looked around at the framed book covers, in awe of the familiar names, the striking illustrations that made them into bestsellers that would be tucked into bookcases in homes all over the country.
Even getting this far was thrilling. She didn’t dare to imagine her own name up there some day.
This was one small step in the next adventure.
Whatever happened, it would have been an experience. She mustn’t get her hopes up too much.
The building was much busier than she thought it would be.
She’d expected an air of hushed reverence, but there were people running up and down the stairs, in and out of the door, talking and gesticulating, greeting each other with cries of enthusiasm.
They all seemed so excited by what they were doing, and she found the butterflies in her stomach had doubled by the time Harriet Banham appeared in front of her.
She was incredibly tall, with pale hair the colour of butter cut off at the jawline and wise eyes behind heavy spectacles.
She was wearing a blue corduroy dress, with ropes of amber beads slung round her neck.
‘Stella?’
Stella jumped up and held out her hand. Harriet took it and squeezed it tight.
‘I’m so thrilled to meet you. Did you have a good journey?
Did you come on the train? You must be dying for a cup of tea.
Annette, could you bring us up some tea?
’ She called over to the receptionist, who nodded.
‘I’ve got some shortbread too, if you’re ravenous.
I can’t make it to lunchtime without a couple of fingers. ’
They headed up the stairs and into a tiny office no bigger than a cupboard. A desk took up more than half of it, piled high with manuscripts.
‘I’m the lowest of the low,’ laughed Harriet. ‘I’m the most junior editor, so they’ve stuffed me in here. They call it the Broom Cupboard. But never mind. Sit, sit. You get the comfy chair.’
She ushered Stella into a very low armchair that was spilling its stuffing. Outside the window, Stella could see the square, the trees becoming bare, a weak sun trying to push away the dishwater sky. That was how she felt, as if she was trying to push away her own darkness.
Harriet folded herself into a not very comfortable-looking ladderback chair behind the desk and lifted up the sample chapters Stella had sent her a few weeks ago. She had been astonished to find a letter waiting for her at the post office less than a week later, asking her to come in.
‘So.’ Harriet waved the chapters at her. ‘Tell me more about the Towpath Gang. I love them, by the way. I think I said that in my letter. What inspired you to write about them?’
Stella took in a deep breath. This might be the most important speech of her life. She had to get it right.
‘I live on a canal boat. In Somerset. And there’s always something going on.
I wanted to capture the rhythm. The freedom.
The adventure. The unwritten rules. It’s another world.
There’s nothing like it, waking up early in the morning.
It’s still at first. And quiet. But then when you start listening, all life is there.
It’s just me and my son on the boat.’ Stella paused for a moment.
She saw a flicker in Harriet’s eyes, but no raised eyebrow.
But she knew there would be questions. Inevitably.
‘One day I thought – what if there were children living on a boat? What if their parents weren’t there, for some reason, and they had to survive?
What if they only had each other, a little gang of brothers and sisters.
And it’s about them finding out how the world works, and how there are good people and bad people, people who judge and people who …
’ She took a deep breath. ‘People who don’t. People who care.’
As Harriet regarded her with a steady gaze, she hoped she was one of the latter. She ploughed on.
‘And what I really want to do is help give children their childhood back. For them to roam free and explore, to build dens and rope swings and roast sausages on an open fire and swim in rivers. I think for a long time we’ve been led to believe the world is a scary and dangerous place, but it’s not.
There is so much to discover …’ She trailed off, astonished to see Harriet wiping away a tear.
She laughed, uncertain. ‘It’s not supposed to be sad. It’s supposed to give hope.’
‘I know,’ said Harriet softly. ‘And that’s what’s made me cry.
Because it’s exactly what children need.
The spirit of adventure. And yours is the first thing to come across my desk that really captures that.
I’ve got a very important job, because by bringing the right books to the next generation I can help mould how they think, and behave, and help them make sense of the world.
I think the Towpath Gang would be an incredible influence.
They leap off the page. Both the words, and the pictures. You’ve done something very special.’
‘Oh.’ Stella hadn’t been expecting such a positive reaction.
‘Thank you. I’ve got a few more chapters,’ she said, rummaging in her bag.
‘I was going to post them, but I thought I’d bring them today.
’ She pulled out the manuscript and placed it on the desk.
Harriet grabbed it eagerly and started leafing through, smiling as her eyes raked across the pages, taking in the words, the hand-drawn pen-and-ink illustrations.
Then she looked up, laying her hands over the top of Stella’s precious pages as if to stop anyone else from looking at them.
‘The thing is, Stella, I could offer you a deal here and now. But as you’ve only given me a few chapters, it wouldn’t be as big an advance as if you’d finished the book, because it would be more of a risk. I need to know you can structure a story, that it would have pace and a satisfying ending.’
Stella’s mind was racing. A book deal? Had she actually said she might offer her a book deal? She had to prove she was up to the challenge.
‘I’ve been doing a serial for a children’s magazine for a while now. The Ditch Babies.’
‘I know. You explained that in your covering letter, so I went and got a copy of the magazine.’
Stella was impressed that Harriet had done her research.
‘Your stories are delightful, but a whole book is a very different proposition. Anyone can start a book, but not many people have the stamina to finish. How long do you think it would take you?’
‘A month, perhaps two? It’s the drawings that take the time.’ Was that too long? She couldn’t rush it.
‘Then I’m going to have to be very patient.’ But Harriet was smiling. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have an agent?’
‘No.’ Of course she should have an agent. How un-professional.
‘You should get one. It’s not really in my interests to tell you that, because they’ll probably want to take The Towpath Gang to other publishers, to get you the best deal.
But I promise you, no one will look after you better than I will.
I’ve got a lot to prove.’ A determined look came into her eye.
‘I’m new to this job and this would be my first acquisition.
I know that’s a risk for you, but I have a lot of people with a lot of experience here to give me advice.
And I’m horribly ambitious. I’ll stop at nothing to make a name for myself.
’ She laughed. She shuffled the pages back together, lifted them up and held them to her heart.
‘I’m not asking you to make me any promises, because I can’t make you any, yet.
But I hope I’ll get first refusal on The Towpath Gang. ’
By now, Stella was determined that the two of them would be working together until the end of time. She loved Harriet’s openness and honesty, and the way she had completely understood what she was trying to do.
‘I’ll get working on it straight away.’
‘Good. Now, would you like to go for something to eat? We can relax. Chat a bit more.’
The apple on the train had been a long time ago. Stella thought about Ted and Mr C. They would be absolutely fine, she reassured herself. As long as she and Ted were on the six o’clock train from Paddington, all would be well. They’d have to walk home in the dark, but she had her torch. Why not?