Short and Sweet

by Anna Jacobs

Her heroine was all Katie had ever wanted to be – confident, tall, with a cloud of dark hair. Not short with reddish hair and rather ordinary blue eyes. And Helen didn’t have to watch every penny she spent, either. Oh, no! She wore designer clothes and ate in the very best restaurants.

  In her lunch break, Katie went and read the menus in the windows of fancy restaurants to find out what sort of meals they served. Some of them didn’t even show prices. Imagine buying something without asking how much it cost?

  ‘What have you been doing with yourself lately?’ her boss asked her one day. ‘You look much happier. Met a fellow?’

  But at that moment he saw his wife arriving and forgot Katie. Enviously, she watched them kiss and walk out hand in hand.

  ‘Isn’t love sweet?’ her friend Wendy mocked.

  ‘I think it’s wonderful for them to be so happy after twenty years of marriage,’ Katie said, still watching them as they crossed the car park and he swung her round into his arms for a quick kiss.

  Wendy snorted. ‘It doesn’t happen to many. You’re better off single, Katie, believe me.’ She’d caught her husband being unfaithful and was in the process of divorcing him.

  A few months later, Katie saw an advertisement for a conference of romance writers in London during the autumn. She hesitated, then tore it out of the newspaper. Her story was nearly finished now and she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Maybe she could take some of her holiday leave and go to this conference? Only – it was rather expensive and she was just starting to get on her feet again financially after the expenses of her mother’s funeral and a move to a new flat.

  Then she bought a scratchie and won a thousand pounds. This was meant to be, she decided, and wrote to book a place at the conference. Prudently, she decided to share a room, to save money, and put her name on a list for that.

  But she felt so nervous about going to the conference; she went and got her hair restyled at a fancy hairdresser’s she’d never tried before.

  ‘What a beautiful red-gold colour!’ the stylist enthused. ‘Let me just put a few lighter streaks through. You’ll not recognize yourself.’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ Then she thought of Helen and stiffened her spine. Her heroine would never have been so wimpish. ‘All right.’

  Afterwards, Katie stared at her face in the mirror and blinked in astonishment and delight. ‘Oh, you’ve done a marvellous job.’

  That success encouraged her to take step number two: buying herself some new clothes. Goodness, her mother would have had a fit at the way she was spending the money she’d won. But she couldn’t, she definitely couldn’t, face a crowd of strangers in her ordinary clothes.

  The next day at work, she had lunch with Wendy, who was always ferociously smart. ‘Um – where do you get your clothes from? You always look great.’

  Wendy turned to stare at her. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, I’ve won a bit of money and – and I’m going to this conference in London next month and I need some new outfits.’

  ‘I’ll come shopping with you.’

  ‘I can’t ask you to do that.’

  Wendy gave her a quick hug. ‘I’m delighted to help. It’s about time you stopped dressing like a mouse in camouflage. You’ve got a great figure. You should show it off more.’

  Katie wound up with a subtle green silky dress for the cocktail party and a snazzy blue outfit for daytime, with two different tops. They went rather well with her new ‘sun-gilded’ hair. She hung the cocktail dress on her wardrobe door and beamed at it every time she went into her bedroom.

  On the train to London, however, Katie grew more and more nervous. What if no one talked to her? What if she made a fool of herself? What if she was just fooling herself about being able to write a novel?

  At the hotel, she found herself sharing a room with a woman from Scotland, an extrovert who never stopped talking. When they’d unpacked, Kate decided to get an early night and took out a book.

  Jenny took the book out of her hand and tossed it aside. ‘You surely aren’t going to sit up here alone all evening?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know anyone.’

  ‘Neither do I. That’s half the fun of it. Anyway, you know me now. Come on, we’ll go down and have a drink.’

  Talking all the way, Jenny swept her into the bar. ‘First shout’s on me. Go and grab that empty table in the corner, quick.’

  Katie rushed across the room, tripped over someone’s foot and landed in the lap of a man at the next table.

  ‘Sorry!’ She blushed hotly and for a moment couldn’t move.

  He smiled down at her. ‘You can fall into my lap any time, gorgeous.’ He helped her up and stuck out one hand. ‘I’m Jake.’

  ‘Katie.’ She shook his hand, thinking what a lovely smile he had. In fact, he was so like her hero that she sneaked a few more glances at him after she’d sat down at her own table. Fairly tall, dark, good-looking and with a whimsical expression that made you want to talk to him and find out what he thought about the world.

  Jenny plonked two drinks down and nudged her. ‘Bit of all right, isn’t he?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve been staring at Romeo over there ever since you fell into his lap. Nice move, that.’

  ‘I didn’t fall on purpose!’

  Jenny grinned. ‘I suppose not. I wouldn’t blame you if you had, though. I’d certainly like to find him under my Christmas tree.’

  ‘He looks exactly like my hero,’ Katie confided.

  Jenny studied him openly. ‘Does he? My hero’s blond and six feet three.’

  By this time the man was looking rather embarrassed by their scrutiny. ‘Please stop staring at him!’ Katie begged.

  ‘Spoilsport!’

  Luckily a group of women came in at that moment wearing conference badges and Jenny waved to them and pointed to her own badge.

  ‘Do you know them?’ Katie whispered.

  ‘Not yet.’ Jenny laughed at her expression of shock. ‘You have to make the effort to meet people at these conferences. You just walk up to them and say hello.’

  Soon there were eight at their table, talking and laughing. They were all so friendly Katie began to relax.

  A little later, Jenny nudged her. ‘He’s not stopped staring at you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Romeo. He’s been staring at you all night. Give him a wave.’

  Katie blushed at the mere idea, but turned for a quick glance and couldn’t resist returning his smile. She was relieved when he walked out, though, because Jenny kept up a running commentary on what he was doing and the other women started staring at him, too.

  They all watched him leave.

  ‘Wow, gorgeous!’ Jenny patted her chest and pretended to faint. ‘Be still my beating heart.’

  When he turned at the door to glance back at Katie, he waved and she raised her hand in reply. She’d probably never see him again but she’d certainly dream about him.

  Katie loved every minute of the conference – the speakers, most of them published novelists whose books she’d read, the other new writers like herself, eager to learn, the air of excitement. When Dyanne Colby, the most successful romance writer in the world, gave her speech, Katie took page after page of notes.

  In the afternoon they had workshops in smaller groups. Lost in a dream of what it might be like to get a book published, Katie fronted up to a talk on forensic pathology. She had an idea for another book, one with a murder in it, where the heroine was a detective.

  In the doorway she stopped dead. Romeo was standing at the front, shuffling pieces of paper. Was he the speaker, then? Someone bumped into her and she pulled herself together and moved into the room. Well, she was more or less together. She couldn’t help staring at him, though. He was so very – gorgeous. And he winked at her again, he definitely did.

  She had to stop thinking of him as Romeo, though. What if she forgot and called him that?

  All the back seats were taken
, so she had to sit near the front, very conscious of the way his eyes settled upon her at regular intervals. It made her breath catch in her throat.

  In spite of the distraction of his presence, however, she found the talk fascinating and took more notes.

  When it was over, she clapped loudly with the others, then hesitated. She had so wanted to ask him a question, but time had run out. The thought of how Jenny did things gave her the courage to join the small queue waiting to talk to him. After they’d asked their questions, people rushed off to get coffee before the next session and she found herself alone with him.

  He offered his hand. ‘We meet again, Katie.’

  She wondered why her hand tingled when he shook it, why there seemed a sudden lack of oxygen in the room. For a moment, they stared solemnly at one another, then she managed to ask, ‘I wonder if you could just spare me a minute to help me with my murder?’

  He chuckled. ‘Do you commit many murders?’

  She smiled back into his deep-blue eyes, feeling exhilaration course through her. ‘This will be my very first.’

  ‘Then we must make it a good one.’

  When he had finished his explanation of why her first choice of murder weapon would not be suitable, he said abruptly, ‘I’ve been wanting to speak to you ever since last night.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You have the most gorgeous hair and your smile would melt an icicle.’

  The world spun around Katie. This sort of thing didn’t happen in real life. And certainly not to someone as ordinary as her.

  ‘If you have a minute, maybe we could grab a coffee and talk? I’d be happy to help you with the other details of your murder. There are quite a few other things you’ll have to bear in mind.’

  ‘Oh – yes – lovely.’

  She missed the next speaker completely, but found out that Jake was divorced, lived in London and adored Italian food. She also agreed to meet him after the conference ended, because she was using the rest of her winnings to take a week’s holiday. Well, it’d be silly to go back to Lancashire without having a look round the capital, wouldn’t it?

  It took far less than a week for Katie to fall in love with Jake. His kisses made the world spin around her. His voice echoed in her dreams. His touch lit her like a flame.

  And since they shared the same sense of the ridiculous, he fell about laughing when she did forget and called him ‘Romeo’.

  When the last day came, he took her out for a meal, held her hand and said quietly, ‘I want to go on seeing you, Katie.’

  She stared back at him. ‘Yes. So do I.’ It was like a romance novel come true, only far better.

  ‘If I come to Rochdale, may I see you?’

  ‘Of course. I’d like that.’

  She couldn’t quite believe he would come, but then, she couldn’t believe what had happened during the past week. Surely this thing between them couldn’t be merely a summer romance?

  No. Quiet certainty filled her. This was the real thing.

  On the train back, she didn’t read the new book she’d bought at the conference. She simply sat and relived the most glorious week of her whole life. In a romance novel, the heroine would be filled with doubts and something would happen to tear them apart. In real life, she felt quietly certain of Jake and her own love for him. It was as if something inside her recognized him, and she had never felt so comfortable with anyone in her life.

  Wendy took one look at her and guessed. ‘Who is he?’

  Katie told her a little of what had happened.

  Wendy frowned. ‘Don’t – well, bank too much on him contacting you, love.’

  ‘Don’t start getting cynical about love,’ the new Katie said firmly. ‘I’m very happy and I’m sure I’ll see him again. Now, how about you? Are things any better at home?’

  Wendy blushed. ‘Well, Jack and I – we went away for the weekend and – we’re trying to make a fresh start.’

  Katie hugged her. ‘I’m so glad. I always knew you still loved him.’

  When she got home that night the phone was ringing. She picked it up to hear, ‘Hi, there. Romeo calling.’

  She laughed and it was an hour before she put the phone down. They called one another every night that week.

  Within three months, she and Jake were married and she’d moved to London to live with him. She didn’t try to find a job, because he said she should have a go at writing full-time first, to see if she could get a book published.

  She had never been so happy in her life. And Jake was – oh, he was just the most wonderful husband and lover in the whole world. She was quite sure of that.

  The first novel wasn’t good enough. She knew that. It had been the childlike fantasy of a woman who had never really been in love. The second was much better because now she knew what love was like – and sex – and a sparkling, joyful relationship. But it was still not good enough.

  When she finished her third novel, a romantic suspense tale with a very realistic murder in it, she stared at the screen and said, ‘I think this one is really good.’

  But still, she did as they had advised her at the conference: set it aside for a while, then read it through quickly, as if it were a real novel, not her own manuscript.

  She gave it to Jake to read, too, then left him alone.

  When he came out of his home office a few hours later, he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. ‘It’s excellent,’ he said, and went to kiss her on the forehead. ‘I hadn’t realized how clever you were.’

  ‘There’s a competition – I thought I’d enter it.’

  ‘You do that.’

  Two months later she received a phone call. ‘I’m from Her World magazine,’ a voice said. ‘I’m delighted to tell you that you’ve won our writing competition and we have a publisher who wants to publish your novel.’

  She couldn’t speak for a moment, and she never did remember what she said or even what the person who rang was called.

  To her amazement and delight, the novel caught the public attention and began to sell really well.

  ‘Here’s how to handle reporters,’ Jake told her. ‘Treat them like long-lost friends and let them see how happy you are.’

  Let them see that! She couldn’t hide it. Joy was oozing out of every pore. She felt as if she was tap-dancing on the ceiling every time she thought about her book.

  ‘How could I not succeed?’ she told the reporters who interviewed her. ‘My own marriage is proof that romance is alive and well.’

  She turned to beam at Jake, smiling proudly in the background. She had some equally exciting news for him when they got home. The pregnancy test was positive.

  An Interesting Development

  Anna’s Notes

  I had to write a story with a dog in it at some stage because we once had a wonderful dog called Ellie, a golden Labrador, whom we still remember fondly. I wrote this just after we’d lost her. Why do dogs live for such a short time?

  ‘Hey! Is this your dog?’

  The voice sounded so angry Mel’s heart sank as she stared at Ellie’s muddy nose, then looked up and blinked in shock. The most gorgeous man she had ever seen was scowling at her as if she had just committed a major crime. Tall, with brown wavy hair, grey eyes and a lean body. Wow! she thought. Is he real?

  ‘Er – yes.’

  ‘That damned animal has dug a tunnel under my veranda.’

  ‘I didn’t know anyone had moved in next door yet.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Mel Gilby.’

  ‘James Carling. And keep your dog under control from now on, if you don’t mind.’ He ignored the hand and strode off across the grass, which was just turning green again after the first winter rains.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, too!’ Mel returned to her painting. She had a commission for three matching landscapes for a hotel foyer, her biggest earner so far. It would pay her rates and enable her to live here a little longer without going back to work for someone else.

  Maybe it was be
cause she was so engrossed in the paintings that she didn’t quite manage to keep Ellie under control. Or maybe it was because Ellie had taken an enormous fancy to James Carling.

  Five times during the next three days Mel’s new neighbour stalked across from his block, with poor old Ellie trotting beside him at the end of a rope. By the time she’d wagged him to death and swiped several licks at his hand, he was beginning to see the humour of it and finding it hard to stay angry.

  ‘I am sorry, truly,’ Mel said. ‘I hope she hasn’t dug any more holes.’

  ‘No. She got inside this time and made a nest in my bed.’

  ‘Oh, no! And she’s always so muddy.’

  ‘I noticed.’

  ‘I can’t afford a fence,’ she blurted out. ‘And Ellie’s second name is Houdini.’

  He sighed. ‘I’ll keep my door locked.’

  He strode off. Ellie whined and tugged at the makeshift lead.

  ‘No! You’re to stay here.’

  But they both watched him till he was out of sight.

  What was a man like him doing on a country block in Western Australia, anyway? Mel began to weave a fantasy around him that he was a millionaire hiding from publicity. When she caught herself imagining how it would feel to be taken in his arms and thoroughly kissed, she suppressed all daydreams. Well, almost.

  After a week of winter sunshine with only intermittent showers, she woke to the sound of a flock of cockatoos shrieking with laughter and rain sighing against the windows. She could hear the ocean crashing on the nearby beach. The surfers would be out in force today. She loved to sit and watch them. In fact, she loved everything about living here in what had once been her family’s beach shack, even the scrimping and making do.

  After breakfast, she realized that Ellie was missing again. ‘Oh, no!’ She glanced at the clock. It was still early. If she were lucky, she would find her dog before her neighbour did.

  She was not lucky.

  ‘I’m sorry, James. I don’t know how she got out.’

  The sky chose that moment to open and pour water all over them as thunder groaned in the distance. Ellie was first to flee to the porch, standing there grinning at them as they dashed for shelter through a solid wall of water.