A Summer of New Beginnings

by Lisa Hobman

Her words stung but she was right. Even though she knew it was ridiculous, Zara still liked Josh. And he clearly loved her or he wouldn’t be going to so much effort.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking, Zee. And, yes, I think he does love you in his own way. But there’s a huge difference between spending your life with someone you love and spending it with someone who sets your soul on fire.’

  Marco appeared at her other side. ‘What will you do about the awards?’

  Zara shrugged. ‘I don’t know. My head and my heart are at odds about the whole thing. I’d love to go just to see if I really am good enough to be a writer. It’d be a fantastic experience. But I’m also terrified.’

  Shelley stopped in her tracks and gasped. ‘Zara, it’s an omen. Look.’

  Zara turned to see the shop that Shelley was pointing at. It was an evening-wear boutique. ‘Come on. Let’s go in and try some dresses on. If you’re attending an awards ceremony you have to look the part.’

  Zara was dragged into the shop by Shelley and Marco, who then proceeded to pull the most stunning gowns from the rails and hold them up against her. With only a small amount of reluctance she accompanied Shelley into the fitting rooms, where they both tried on several glamorous frocks. Then they paraded around doing a makeshift fashion show whilst Marco clapped, Jake rolled his eyes and Toby looked on in bewilderment.

  Much to her own disbelief, Zara purchased the most stunning floor-length black dress. It had a sheer back, which was covered in art-deco-patterned lace and diamantés. Very classy and quite stunning. She felt like a princess. Shelley bought something a little more Shelley-ish and even hinted that she might wear her Doc Martens with it. But the buzz about the awards was really starting to grip her and she was ridiculously excited about the possibility she could actually win.

  Back at the house she made a brief list of who she would like to take to the ceremony as her guests and decided she would contact the awards secretary as soon as she got back home.

  ‘I do love you two. But, honestly, I can sort this out myself. First thing Tuesday I’m going to give the publisher a call and fess up.’

  The rest of the weekend consisted of too much alcohol. Too much food and too many ridiculous games of drunken charades. It was the best time Zara had had in ages.

  When they left the pretty house by the sea on Monday afternoon they were loaded down with ugly cuddly-toy prizes, far too many sticks of rock, a strip of photos from a photo booth on the seafront – who knew you could fit five adults in one of those things? – and lots of crazy memories of karaoke, including a scarily good duet of ‘What Becomes of the Broken Hearted’ by Marco and Toby.

  Monday evening when she arrived home Josh was waiting on the steps inside the entrance to her building.

  He stood as she approached him. ‘Ah, here she is, my award winner in waiting.’

  She couldn’t help grinning. ‘I might not actually win though.’

  He stepped closer and slipped his arm round her waist. ‘You’ve already won something.’

  She frowned and tilted her head. ‘What’s that, then?’

  ‘My heart,’ he informed her and, regardless of how cheesy it was, she kissed him passionately until things got a little too heated for a public stairwell. He pulled away and gazed down at her. ‘Zara, have you had enough time yet? Can we officially be an us again?’

  This was it. The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. After what he had done for her, she couldn’t fail to see that he was trying hard to make amends.

  ‘I think… I think maybe we can.’ She smiled.

  His handsome grin confirmed he was both happy and relieved at her answer. ‘Why don’t I carry your bags upstairs and then… perhaps I could carry you to the bedroom?’ His smile had gone and his eyes were hooded. There had been no word from Lachy, in spite of her wishing he would contact her, and so she figured she needed to close the door on that brief chapter of her life.

  ‘Perhaps you could,’ she whispered.

  On hearing her words, he kissed her again, his hand sliding down to her bottom giving just a glimpse of what was to come.

  33

  Tuesday morning arrived and Zara sat in her office with the door closed. She tapped her fingers on her desk and waited for the display on her phone to show nine o’clock. Her heart was trying to escape through her blouse and her palms were sweaty. She was about to call and confirm her attendance at the most exciting event of her life. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  The telephone number was already programmed into her phone to save her fumbling to dial and when the time came she hit the call button, inhaling a deep breath that was meant to calm her racing pulse but did the opposite.

  ‘Original Fiction Association, how may I direct your call?’

  ‘Oh… erm… hello, is it possible to speak to Dominic McAllen, please?’

  ‘I’m sorry but Mr McAllen doesn’t take direct calls without a telephone appointment. Can I put you through to his secretary so you can arrange that?’

  Zara cleared her throat. ‘Oh, erm, yes, please.’ She realised she must sound ridiculous. Come on, Bailey, you can do this. Just be professional and calm.

  ‘Hold the line.’ Click. A ballad she recognised by the band Sonic Idols played over the airwaves as she waited to be connected.

  A voice snatched her from her daydream about the long-haired rock star she had hunted for in the Highlands. ‘Hello, this is Sandy, secretary to Mr McAllen. How may I help you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Hello, my name is Zara Bailey and—’

  ‘Ah yes, Miss Bailey, lovely to hear from you. Are you calling to confirm your attendance at the OFALA?’

  She was stunned into silence for a moment when the secretary knew her name. ‘Oh… yes, that’s right. Sorry, I’m still a bit shocked that my book was shortlisted.’

  ‘Ah, well, believe it, Miss Bailey. We can’t wait to meet you. The whole office was captivated by your book. New Beginnings is such a wonderful title and concept. We all just adored it.’

  ‘That’s wonderful to hear. Thank you. I honestly didn’t think it was good enough. I would never have sent it in myself.’

  ‘Oh, you didn’t submit the book?’

  Zara laughed. ‘No, I wouldn’t have had the courage. It was my erm… friend. He sent it in. I guess he has more faith in me than I have in myself.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ There was a pause where the whirring of thinking cogs was almost audible. ‘Well, there may be a slight problem, then. I’m afraid this now classes as a third-party submission.’

  Zara frowned, not quite sure what that meant. ‘Okay. Does that make much difference?’

  The secretary sighed. ‘I’m afraid it makes a big difference, Miss Bailey. The thing is… We don’t accept third-party submissions. There has clearly been an oversight somewhere. Your own signature needs to be on the form.’

  Shit. ‘Oh, right. I see. Well, in that case could you forward me a form to my email address and I’ll sign it and get it straight back to you?’

  ‘I’m so sorry but that won’t be possible. It would have to be sent as a new entry and the deadline for entries has now lapsed.’

  Zara’s heart sank. ‘I see. And there’s no way round it?’

  ‘To be honest, no third-party submissions have ever slipped through the net to this point as the entry requirements are quite strict and very clear. I’m a little stumped.’ She sighed heavily and it sounded like a gale-force wind in Zara’s ear. ‘Okay, I think I need to discuss this with Mr McAllen and come back to you. Is that okay, Miss Bailey?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. But please, please pass on my sincerest apologies to Mr McAllen. The last thing I wanted to do was waste anyone’s time.’ Her voice cracked and she closed her eyes. ‘The fact that you all loved my book is a dream come true. The fact that you were prepared to shortlist me for such a prestigious award is beyond amazing. And knowing that it could all be taken away from me is just heart breaking. I’m so very sorry.’

  ‘L
eave it with me, Miss Bailey.’ Sandy’s voice was tinged with sympathy. ‘I promise I’ll be in touch as soon as possible. And, Miss Bailey, thank you for your honesty. It must have been a very difficult thing to hear. It’s clear from speaking to you how much this all meant.’

  Zara said goodbye and ended the call as tears spilled over from her eyes and she rested her head in her hands.

  *

  Every time her phone pinged with a message Zara jumped. But none of the messages were from Original Fiction Association. Her dream was slipping away and she was powerless to stop it. What made it worse was that it wasn’t a dream she should even be having. Why hadn’t Josh spoken to her about it first? Maybe he could have convinced her to submit it herself? Just before she was about to head off home her mobile rang and the name on screen showed it was the Original Fiction Association office.

  Nervously, with shaking hands, she hit the ‘answer call’ button. ‘Hello, Zara Bailey speaking.’

  ‘Zara, hi, it’s Dominic McAllen here. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to come back to you. Let’s just say it’s been a hell of a hectic day.’

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s understandable.’

  ‘Now… I firstly wanted to say thank you for your honesty over the business with your book. I have to say I’ve not met many with your integrity, especially when something so big is at stake. How it slipped through the net has foxed us all, to be honest. I’ve a mind to fire someone over this once I find out how it happened. Anyway, I called a board meeting to discuss the matter and many people were on your side over the situation. Including myself.’ Zara’s stomach fluttered in anticipation and she tried not to let hope spark anew as he continued, ‘And I hope that you now know how much talent you have. But – and I say this with an incredibly heavy heart, Zara – we can’t bend the rules. So I’m afraid we can’t accept your novel into the shortlist.’

  Her heart broke as she listened and silent tears trickled down her face. ‘However, what I will say is, please do submit to the awards next year. I feel that you could have a very promising future. But it won’t be from this round of awards, sadly. We’re not accepting any further submissions just now as we prepare for the ceremony. The shortlist is to be made public at the start of September and the awards, as you know, take place in October, meaning this is a very busy time for the company. I know this isn’t what you hoped to hear, Zara, and I have to say I’m so disappointed on your behalf. But I genuinely do mean this: you are a very talented writer, and I really do hope to hear from you in the future.’

  She inhaled deeply and smiled – she was always taught that people could hear a smile over the phone. ‘Thank you so much for your call, Mr McAllen. I really do appreciate your kind words. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Zara.’

  34

  It was at times of real anguish that you found out who your true friends were, and Zara knew she had the best. Over the next couple of days there were more flowers from Josh, wine, DVD nights, a trip to a comedy club and Marco dancing round the living room in his boxers complete with badly applied make-up. Everyone tried their best to lift Zara up after the devastating news. The memory stick had been placed in her underwear drawer, hidden out of sight, whilst she decided if she had the guts to try and find an agent or a publisher. She’d read online how difficult it could be and she wasn’t one to handle rejection well, as she had discovered all too recently.

  Even Noah had been rallying round to cheer her up. He’d offered to send her to his home country, Australia, so she could escape for a while. She’d graciously declined the very tempting prospect.

  Friday arrived and Josh turned up for the evening. He was full of apologies again and was evidently worried that she would dump him.

  ‘I mean, why couldn’t they just slip it through anyway? I don’t get it.’ Josh sprawled on her bed as she got ready to go out – her friends had insisted on taking her out again, but she really questioned her toleration for more forced fun, preferring instead to stay home and listen to Florence and the Machine. But knowing full well that would only lead to thinking about little crofts in the Highlands, the handsome men who ran them and black and white border collie dogs.

  ‘Because they have rules, Josh. Didn’t you realise that when you completed the form?’

  He frowned. ‘What form?’

  ‘The submission form for the competition.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Oh, that form, durr. Silly me.’ He rolled his eyes.

  ‘I mean, what did you do – forge my signature?’

  Before he could answer, Marco appeared in the doorway. ‘Come on, Zara Bear. Time to go. You too, I suppose, Josh.’ He gave her boyfriend a look of disdain and left.

  ‘Ugh, I don’t know what I ever did to him,’ Josh huffed.

  Zara turned and glared at him. It should’ve been blatantly obvious what he had done.

  Seeing her expression, he cringed and jumped off the bed to put his arms round her. ‘Sorry. Now come on, you look gorgeous.’

  At the end of the night Josh went home, seeing as Zara’s mood had descended with each alcoholic beverage that had passed her lips. She was relieved to have the bed to herself and intended to sleep in.

  The next morning she awoke with a banging head and a mouth as dry as the bottom of a bird’s cage. Marco had stayed at Toby’s once again, so the flat was quiet and empty.

  Flicking on some music, she decided to give herself one last day to be miserable and grumpy, but then she was going to snap the hell out of it before her friends totally gave up on her.

  At lunch time she sat at her desk with a falafel and hummus salad and flicked through her photos of the NC500 route once more. Her mobile rang and she answered without looking at the screen, presuming it was Marco or Shelley.

  ‘Yup?’ she asked with a mouthful of food.

  ‘Oh, I may have called at a bad time. I was hoping to speak to Zara Bailey,’ a woman with a posh accent said.

  Zara swallowed and took a very quick gulp of water. ‘This is she. Who’s calling?’

  ‘Ah, Miss Bailey. My name is Loretta Bateman of Bateman Welch Literary Agency.’ Zara’s eyes widened and she opened and closed her mouth, unable to speak. The voice came again. ‘Miss Bailey? Is this a bad time?’ Zara could now tell that the caller’s accent was ever so slightly Scottish.

  ‘Oh, gosh, no, not at all. I’m so sorry. H-how can I help you?’

  ‘I think it’s I that can help you. Or perhaps it’s more a case of us helping each other.’

  ‘I see. Go on.’

  ‘Let’s just say you have some very insistent fans and supporters in the book world and no doubt elsewhere. I was passed your manuscript and asked to read it as a matter of urgency. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure it was really going to be my thing, but I have to say I was highly impressed. New Beginnings is far more than the title might suggest. The emotion is very raw and believable. The lead character has real tenacity and a fire that I think people will relate to greatly. Now… I’m based in Inverness, not too far from the offices of the Original Fiction Association who I know you’re familiar with, and I’m aware that’s not exactly an easy place for you to access, but I was wondering if you might be interested in discussing representation by my agency.’

  ‘Interested? In representation? By a literary agent?’

  A laugh could be heard over the airwaves. ‘Don’t sound so surprised, Zara. You have a real talent for the written word and storytelling. I would very much like to represent you.’

  Her heart rate picked up and she sat upright in her chair. ‘Wow… I mean yes! Yes, that would be wonderful. I’d very much like to discuss that.’

  ‘Excellent, excellent. So when do you think you’d be able to travel up? Or would it be better if I travel down to London?’

  ‘I would love to come back to Inverness. I just need to book a hotel and travel and check with my boss. Can I come back to you? How soon were you thinking?’

  ‘Hmm, in all honesty, with what I have planned
for you I’d very much like to do this as soon as possible. Monday?’

  Yikes! ‘M-Monday? Oh, right. Okay, can you leave it with me and I’ll see what arrangements I can make.’

  ‘Excellent. Obviously this won’t be necessary all the time, but I do feel that an initial face-to-face meeting is a good idea. After that we can do most things by email and telephone. Come back to me as soon as you have details. Bye just now.’ The line went dead and Zara stared at the phone. Did that really just happen?

  She jumped up from her desk and yelled, ‘Yes!’ With a wide grin and equally wide eyes she glanced at the computer and at the door and at her phone. ‘Shit, what do I do first?’ Her mind was racing and her heart was doing a great impression of an erratic, haywire drum machine. She held up a decisive finger. ‘I need to speak to Noah.’

  *

  Thankfully Noah now understood how important writing was to Zara outside work and his answer was a simple, ‘Remember me when you’re a bestseller.’ He offered to pay for a flight so she could get there quicker. Why the hell did I have to take the bloody train last time? Ugh, never mind that now. She tried to refuse but he insisted. Next she called her parents, Josh, Marco and Shelley in turn. All had similar comments that someone from the Original Fiction Association really wanted her to be published.

  Within an hour her flight was booked, along with a hotel room for an overnight stay in Inverness, so she contacted Loretta to confirm.

  ‘That’s wonderful news, Zara. I look forward to seeing you on Monday. I’ll take you for afternoon tea at the Kingsman. That way you can check out the venue before the awards.’

  Zara’s stomach dropped a little. ‘Oh, I’m afraid I was disqualified from the awards. If that was part of why you wanted to sign me, I’m afraid it’s too late. It’s a rather strange story but—’

  ‘Okay, now I don’t want to influence your decision about signing with my agency… Oh, who am I kidding? I totally do… But let’s just say if you sign on the dotted line on Monday, I can get you reinstated as a shortlist candidate.’