by Lucy Coleman
The waitress returns with our salads and Carrie pours out two glasses of water.
‘Who is your inspiration for Jed?’
‘A guy named Rob. When Mel and I did the spa weekend he was the personal trainer who drew up my fitness programme. Arms like tree trunks and not an ounce of fat in sight. A good chat up line, too.’
We both laugh.
‘I’d say it’s good to see you back to your old self but there’s something different about you, aside from the sassy new look.’
I’m pleased she can see the transformation and even I can now admit that I needed it.
‘I might give online dating a go and get myself out there again. Mel has taken the first step and I know it was a big deal for her.’
Carrie looks up abruptly. ‘Well, you need to take care choosing your profile name, Brie. And maybe don’t disclose your real name at all until after you have one successful date behind you. I did tell you at the start that a pen name is often a good idea.’
My name is synonymous with sex, regardless of what I put in my bio, but I hadn’t considered using a fake name in real life. I can’t help wondering if this is more to do with the aftermath of the Paul disaster, though.
‘I know I should have listened to you in the first place, but I was a very naïve twenty-two year old. It was a thrill seeing my name on the book covers. When I crossed over from writing contemporary women’s fiction I didn’t even give it a moment’s thought. Poor Mum had such a shock when she read the first book I wrote after you became my agent. Dad still hasn’t read any of them.’
‘Precisely the point I was trying to make at the time. I don’t see the harm in using a pseudonym if you go ahead and give it a whirl, though. You can reveal your little secret if you find someone you really hit it off with.’
I’m beginning to think she’s right. Would Paul have dated me if he hadn’t instantly recognised my name because his sister had read and raved over my books? Looking back now, I doubt it.
‘Anyway, there are a few things I need to discuss with you. First, it’s time to update your author photo and show off the glamorous new you. Do you want to arrange that, or shall I?’
I continue munching on lettuce, shaking my head from side to side until I clear my mouth.
‘No, it’s fine. I can sort that. I’ll use the guy who did my last lot of shots.’
‘Good. Cosy Living are going to do a double page spread on you and will be giving away copies of your latest novel. I’ll send over the details and someone will contact you directly to arrange the interview.’
Inwardly I groan. To enable me to have an interesting chat for a feature I need to be living an interesting life. I stare at Carrie, with a dubious look on my face.
‘Oh, come on, you can find something to talk about.’
‘I guess the intervention wouldn’t be a good idea?’
She gives me one of her unforgiving looks. ‘No.’
‘Okay. How about a spa weekend and the fact that everyone enjoys having a little makeover every once in a while?’
‘Ooh, great idea! Maybe I can get the spa to join in and offer a free weekend away, or something. Email me the link to their website and I’ll get onto that, the magazine would love it.’
She doesn’t miss an angle or the potential to grab an opportunity.
The avocado and herb salad is delicious, but I’ve had enough. These days I listen to what my stomach is telling me, rather than eating every little morsel out of habit. I push the plate away and as I do so, a woman approaches the table.
‘I’m sorry to bother you, but now you’ve finished eating can I just say that I love your books, Ms Middleton. I only wish I had one with me, so I could get your signature.’
The lady is probably in her fifties and I can see by her demeanour that she’s a real fan. It’s moments like this that remind me what it means to write. It’s not about statistics but the readers who invite my stories into their lives.
Carrie has already pulled a copy of my latest novel out of her bag and passes it to me with a pen.
‘Oh, that’s amazing, thank you so much!’ The woman is delighted. ‘I’m Eve, by the way. This is such a thrill for me.’
Heads are turning in our direction and probably for the first time in a couple of years I don’t feel like shrinking away. I push my shoulders back and keep my head high. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved now that I’m back on track.
‘And I have to say that you are much more glamorous up close than you are in your photographs.’
An image flashes up in my head of the shot where I was getting out of a taxi exposing a wide expanse of white thigh, clearly dimpled with cellulite. I almost shudder at the memory. Instead, I smile and hand Eve the book. She hugs it close to her body, before walking back to her table and the gentleman sitting there, who is patiently waiting for her. I wonder if he realises what his wife is reading when she’s lying next to him in bed at night? That thought raises a chuckle.
‘Now isn’t that a boost to the morale? You turn down so many opportunities to get out there and meet your loyal readers. I know you don’t want to hear this but for the next book your publishers are planning an extended book signing tour. I thought I’d mention it now, so you can psych yourself up. Oh, and I have an idea that might help liven things up for you a little. Something you could also regard as doing me a bit of a personal favour at the same time.’
A personal favour? That’s a first for Carrie.
‘Fire away.’ I can’t wait to hear this.
‘How do you fancy going to Italy on a writing retreat? It’s in a villa in the hills above Lake Garda. Stunning views. Flights and accommodation are free in return for taking part.’
My brow lifts in surprise. ‘Lake Garda?’ I frown at her, wondering where this random idea originated. ‘Taking part, you say?’
For the first time in memory, Carrie is squirming a little in her seat.
‘It’s for a period of four weeks. The villa is owned by Arran Jamieson and every July he runs four one week long retreats for writers of all abilities. People go along because they’ve hit a wall and need some quiet time away from any distractions, or are newbies writing their first manuscripts. You’d be replacing Kathy Porter, the renowned historical romance author, who was going to help Arran and, in particular, run one of the sessions.’
I must look stunned, because Carrie immediately puts up a hand appealing to me to wait and not jump in. July? That’s only a week away.
‘I know it’s short notice because you’d be flying out on Friday, but I genuinely believe this will be mutually beneficial for you and Arran. He can only accommodate six people at a time, so that’s eight of you in total. He provides breakfast but for lunch and dinner guests get a discount at a local restaurant, which is a five minute walk away. Arran’s sessions on the writing process itself and the wider, technical aspects such as building a website and social media presence have gained him a solid reputation. Each morning he runs a three hour workshop. The rest of the day attendees are free to write, go sightseeing, or take part in informal chats to discuss best practice and generally talk shop. Kathy was down for a session on how to make characters leap off the page by tapping into their emotions and portraying real life relationships.’
I let out a rather loud ‘hmm.’
‘It’s Lake Garda – four weeks of guaranteed sunshine and a change of scenery will do you good,’ Carrie adds, quite forcefully.
His name rings a bell; Kathy, I know quite well from various events I’ve attended in the past. The name echoes around inside my head and I know I should be able to conjure up a face. Jamieson… Jamieson – got it!
‘He presented and co-wrote the TV series Inventions That Changed the Way We Live Forever. He’s written a few history textbooks, aside from his usual military fiction,’ she informs me.
I remember watching some of the episodes; he’s a history buff and it was an interesting series looking at different time periods. Basically, it was abou
t how daily life changed with the advent of new discoveries and inventions. I’ve never read any of his novels though, as military fiction isn’t my thing.
‘And this would be doing you a personal favour because…?’
Carrie looks directly at me.
‘As you know, Kathy has been in the game a long time and her workshops have inspired a whole generation of new writers. I was the one who introduced them, and this would have been Kathy’s third year helping Arran. However, a broken ankle means her foot is in plaster and travel is impossible. I think this is a great opportunity to remind you how skilled you are at your craft and helping others is always the best boost to one’s confidence. Plus, it’s a bit of a holiday, too.
‘The personal side to this favour is that Arran’s current work in progress is based on the true story of a young couple who fall in love, only to be separated by war. He sent me the partial manuscript as I’m going to be representing him on this one and while it’s up to his usual high standards there’s something lacking. His skills lie in the detail and technically he can’t be faulted; but within a harrowing story of life and loss during the Second World War, the love story itself lacks depth. Kathy was going to spend some time with Arran to look at re-working the love scenes. Just to add a little more emotion and realism so the reader can really connect with the poignancy of their situation.’
Critiquing another author’s work isn’t something I feel comfortable doing, least of all with the very formidable, and scholarly, Arran Jamieson.
Carrie is staring at me.
‘It would be easy for you, believe me. It’s a heart-rending story and the setting, the action and the plot are spot on. But the love scenes are mechanical and rather cold. I know it and so does Arran. You’d be doing him a huge favour, well, two favours in fact.’
Carrie wouldn’t ask me if she didn’t think I was up to it, but do I want to step outside my comfort zone and be exposed to such a daunting experience?
Lake Garda. I imagine my romantic lead character Ethan Turner standing and looking out across the rippling blue water as the sun glints upon it, turning it into liquid silver.
‘Okay. But I’m repaying the favour you’ve done covering for me and this is a one-off. I am not going to be the backup for future emergencies when it comes to Arran Jamieson’s writing retreats. Understood?’
Carrie nods, raising her water glass and I reluctantly raise mine to chink.
‘Here’s to a wonderful July in a stunning location,’ she grins, looking suitably relieved. I can’t imagine there were many fall back options open to her, or Arran, for that matter.
But everything happens for a reason, or so they say. Maybe this will also be the key to unlocking Ethan Turner’s heart and my love story will begin to flow. If I can’t make two characters fall in love when they have Lake Garda as their background setting, then there is no romance left in my soul. As the characters’ love for each other grows on the page, I’m hoping that it will also keep my dream alive too.
Sex sells, but in my heart, love rules. I hope that somewhere out there is a man capable of seeing the person I am beneath my authorly exterior. Someone who understands what love means, and that it isn’t simply diving between the sheets in a lustful frenzy. I’m talking about enduring love that is so much more than the physical side; it’s about instinctively knowing what makes the other person happy and putting their needs before your own. Lover, friend and confidant – the one who is your inspiration and the person around whom you build your future. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Well, whatever… but I refuse to give up hope.
6
No More Excuses
‘That’s just the sort of challenge you need,’ Mel confirms, looking pleased for me. ‘It’s time you ventured outside your little comfort zone. And Lake Garda – wow, I’m envious!’
She’s sprawled across the sofa opposite me, recovering from our five mile walk. If I’m going to be slipping into one of those strappy little summer frocks I’ve packed ready for Friday’s departure, then the effort is going to be worth it.
‘Hmm. I’m still not totally convinced though, as what Carrie rather diplomatically left out was the fact that I might well have been her only option. How many people can fly off for the best part of a month at such short notice? Only someone without a man or children in tow, that’s for sure!’
Mel frowns.
‘Yes, but it had to be someone with the necessary skills for the task, too.’
‘Agreed. But Arran Jamieson and I have nothing at all in common other than the fact that we are both writers. Oh, and now we have the same agent, of course. Kathy is well respected throughout the industry because she’s been teaching creative writing for many years. I can imagine the two of them getting on very well together. I’m a little nervous about Arran’s reaction when he hears who the stand-in is going to be. I think I’m probably a good ten years younger than him and I doubt we have many writing friends in common. And Carrie has asked me to assist him with his latest writing project; there are a few lack-lustre love scenes that need a little work,’ I grimace.
‘You’ve had no direct contact with him at all, then?’
‘No, nothing yet. Carrie confirmed the flight times and said Arran will be in touch about picking me up from the airport.’
‘So, he’s a history buff, you say, and he presented a series on TV? How old is he?’
‘I don’t know. Late thirties or early forties? There’s a YouTube video they made as a pilot for the programme; give me a moment and I’ll find it.’
Not wanting to go into this situation blind, I’ve done a bit of online research about Arran. He’s very personable, obviously, because you don’t get a job as a TV presenter unless you are watchable as well as knowledgeable. He has charm and oodles of it, but he isn’t afraid to speak his mind. Particularly on Twitter, I notice, where he’s very vocal about his pet topics.
‘Here you go.’ I start the video clip and place the iPad on the coffee table between us, turning it round so Mel can watch it. I sit back for a few minutes, watching her reaction.
‘He’s younger looking than I was expecting!’ she exclaims, a small smile spreading over her face. ‘You made him sound a bit dull, just now. Lucky you, he’s a real gentleman. And pretty fit. That haircut doesn’t do him any favours though, which is a real shame but there’s definitely a shade or two of David Gandy about him. He’s wearing a wedding ring, I see. Will his wife be there at the villa?’
He’s so animated when he talks and clearly he’s passionate about history. As for the ring, well, I hadn’t even noticed that. And David Gandy? I peer at the screen, squinting. Hmm… maybe. I pull back, rather sharply. Broody is the term I’d use and I guess there is a certain something that makes him watchable.
‘I don’t know and that’s not really relevant, anyway,’ I reply in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘What I need to know is whether he thinks this is a good idea or not. I can handle running the workshop, no problem at all, but as for helping him out, that’s another matter entirely. You need to be on the same page as someone conceptually to work on editing a manuscript. For the writer that means listening, taking on board ideas and then testing them out. I’m afraid that most of us have quite fragile egos; each story you write is like sharing a part of you, what’s inside your head, with the world. It can be quite painful to have someone pull it apart unless you have the utmost respect for them and trust that their expertise will make your story better.’
My real concern is that although Kathy might be physically hampered at the moment, that shouldn’t stop her working with Arran online. Or Carrie, for that matter. So what is Carrie not telling me and what is Arran’s real problem, I wonder?
‘So, have you packed your suitcase yet?’
I shake my head, taking a sip of my coffee.
‘No, well, partly. I’m sort of hoping Arran declines Carrie’s offer, even at this late stage. I know four weeks in the sun would be lovely, but I don’t really need the hassle.
Especially now I’m back in my stride and I want to meet the original deadline for my next book, if I can. Besides, Carrie says I have to do an extended book signing tour once it’s out, so that’s more than enough excitement on the horizon. Oh, and I’m doing an interview for Cosy Living tomorrow. Fortunately, it’s via Skype but a photographer is coming here to take a couple of shots of me at home in the picturesque Forest of Dean.’
‘And all of that is happening before you’re due to fly out in five days’ time?’
I replace the empty mug on the coffee table between us, then switch off the iPad.
‘Yes, assuming I do fly out on Friday, of course.’
Mel is wearing a slight frown. ‘You’re going to miss my first date. Saturday night, I’m meeting up with Ross and we’re having dinner together.’
‘That’s awesome news, Mel! Obviously, the email exchanges are going well.’
Her cheeks are beginning to colour up a little and she looks away for a moment, uncomfortably.
‘Well enough. He’s twenty-seven and he’s a graphic designer.’
‘Oh, another techie person, then. Right up your street.’ Mel is the IT manager at our local school. She was the one who helped me set up my author website and social media platform.
The screen on my iPad lights up and I see it’s an email from the man himself, Arran Jamieson.
‘Well, talk of the devil! I need to read this email. It might save me finishing off that packing.’
Dear Ms Middleton,
Thank you for stepping in to take over after Kathy Porter’s unfortunate accident. While I’m not personally familiar with your work, Carrie tells me you will do a great job of running the character development workshop.
I’ll make sure it isn’t too onerous and you will have plenty of free time to relax and write.
Your flight arrival time is 9.25 p.m. on Friday evening and I’ll be at the airport waiting to drive you back to the villa.