'You don't sound like you believe any of those reasons.'
She rested her chin in her hand and sighed. 'I don't know what to believe.'
'And you've been feeling down.'
'Down, sad, hopeless — the usual things you'd expect of a woman who's just been dumped.' Dana laughed weakly.
Dr Corcoran nodded thoughtfully. 'You know, I remember you telling me that you never suffered from writer's block. You told me that, no matter what happened, you could always write. Until now.'
'Gus was the love of my life. His leaving has knocked me for six.'
'I'm sure, but you've suffered more traumatic experiences in your life and they didn't affect your writing.'
She said nothing.
'And you're having problems sleeping?'
'Yes. I feel exhausted when I go to bed but then I just lie there thinking. So now I get up again and work.'
He looked up from his notes. 'But I thought you couldn't write?'
Dana felt the colour rise in her cheeks. 'I can't write fiction,' she explained. 'Instead I've been working on something else.'
He put down his pen and looked at her. 'Are you writing about your own experiences, by any chance?'
She nodded. 'How did you know?'
He smiled. 'Just a guess. So why do you think you felt the need to write about your life?'
'Isn't it obvious? My husband has left me. I'm at a turning point. I'm depressed.'
'So you're writing about your marriage?'
She sighed. 'No.'
'I see.' He picked up his pen again and wrote some-thing down.
'What do you see?' she said irritably. 'The only reason I'm here is because my marriage has broken up and I need some help to get over it. Just write me a prescription, and I'll let you get on with your work.'
He sat back, folding his hands in his lap. 'I have plenty of time.'
Dana stared at him. If he thought she was going to spill her guts, he had another think coming.
Dr Corcoran smiled, as if she'd spoken the words aloud. 'Did you tell your husband about what happened to you when you were young?'
Dana stiffened. Maybe coming here hadn't been such a good idea after all. 'Why would I?'
'You said you loved him.'
'I did.' She sighed. 'I do.'
'And didn't you want to tell him everything that happened?'
She looked away. 'I talked to you about my problems. That's why I came to you. Why bother him with something that was part of my past? It was all over, finished.'
'Some people cannot understand the point of therapists,' the doctor told her. 'They think that's what a family is for. It's a good point.'
'Yes, well, I haven't had much experience of that,' Dana muttered.
'And what about your husband? Is he close to his family?'
'His parents are dead and he has one sister. They're close but she lives abroad. They don't see that much of each other.'
'So you became his family and he yours,' Dr Corcoran mused.
'What's your point?'
'I was just thinking that maybe when he married you, he thought he was getting a family. But in your head, you've really stayed single.'
'No, I haven't!'
'Dana, husbands and wives are supposed to share.
Granted, we don't tell our partners everything about our past but it is rather unusual to be as mysterious as you've been.'
'It hasn't been an issue.' She was adamant. 'He knows I had a problem with my father. He knows my brother left home at a young age. He knows about Mum. And he knows about you and the fact that I suffered from depression. So I don't think you can say I was mysterious.' She shook her head and smiled.
'So you told him exactly what everyone else already knows about Conal O'Carroll and his daughter. And he accepted that?'
Dana studied her hands. He made it sound so bad. 'He pushed it a little,' she admitted. 'But I told him that I needed to put the past behind me.'
'And he left it at that?'
'He's asked questions from time to time.'
'And did you avoid answering or tell him that you didn't want to talk about it?'
'I usually distracted him or changed the subject.' She sighed. 'It's all so long ago. And the longer I left it, the harder it was to say something. Anyway, if he wanted answers he should have just asked the questions outright,' she said angrily and dropped her head in her hands.
He frowned. 'Dana, I think we should resume our monthly sessions.'
She shook her head. 'No, there's no need for that. I just need the tablets.'
'I'm sorry, Dana, but I'm not happy to prescribe medicine unless you continue with the therapy.'
'But this is just a temporary glitch. I'll be fine.'
'When did your husband leave you?' he asked suddenly.
'A few weeks ago. Why?'
'Why has it taken you so long to come and see me?'
'Well, I don't know ...'
'You're not here because your husband left, Dana. You're here because you've started to write your story. And it's difficult.'
She looked at him, tears in her eyes. 'It's so difficult. It drains and upsets me — and I've only just started. I wish I could stop.'
'I know it's hard, Dana, but it will help. Do you remember what I asked you to do when you first came to see me?'
She nodded slowly. 'You said I should write my father a letter. You said I should write down everything that I'd ever wanted to say to him. You said I didn't have to send it to him — just writing it all down would be cathartic enough.'
'And did you do it?'
She nodded.
'And did it help?'
She nodded again.
'Maybe you should write to your husband too. But this time, maybe you should post the letter.'
Chapter Sixteen
Walter Grimes fixed his tie and combed his hair, so that the thin patch in the centre wasn't as obvious. He eyed himself sternly in the small mirror. 'Okay, Wally, show time.' A final spray of cologne and he went back into his office to collect his Paul Smith jacket.
He was meeting Gretta Knight for lunch at one, and he felt uncharacteristically nervous. When she had called to invite him, he had been immediately suspicious. Usually the editor's trips to Britain were planned weeks, if not months, in advance. The first he'd heard of this visit was last Friday. The fact that she was bringing along her opposite number at Peyton UK made him more uncomfortable. Of course it might be just a courtesy. Angela Wiseman would be responsible for the Passion imprint, and maybe she just wanted to discuss the launch of The Mile High Club. Given the events of the last few weeks, though, it seemed unlikely. Gretta's calls had become more frequent and more abrasive as time passed and still Dana wouldn't talk to her. He had done his best to placate the editor, but Gretta had a nose for trouble.
Walter would be happier dealing with anyone other than Gretta Knight. She was a hard-nosed, thick-skinned businesswoman who parked her heart outside when she went into negotiations. She and Dana had always had a good relationship, but Walter knew that meant nothing. If Dana didn't come up with the goods, he knew Gretta would drop the author, without a second thought.
Dana's recent behaviour could affect her whole future with Peyton, but she didn't seem to realize that. Or, if she did, she didn't care. It didn't help that there were a couple of new authors on the block snapping at Dana's heels. Walter had tried a couple of times to explain this to Dana, in the gentlest possible terms, but he doubted she'd even heard him. And now that she had started writing again, he didn't want to do or say anything that might send her off the rails.
Walter checked he had his wallet and phone, and hurried out into the busy London streets. Dining at the Ivy usually filled him with delightful anticipation. He loved the food, he loved people-watching, but most of all he loved to be seen. Not because he had a huge ego, but because it was important in this business. He was one of the top agents in the country and he'd worked long and hard to achieve that. But it wasn't enough
to be at the top. You had to be seen to be at the top. It was all part of the game. He sighed as he crossed the road, zigzagging his way between cars. But he wasn't in the mood for games today. He had to convince Gretta that everything was okay. Dana might be a client but she was also his friend. He couldn't let her down.
He paused for a moment outside the door of the famous restaurant and took a few deep breaths. Sadly, his nerves were directly linked to his stomach. The thought of eating as much as a lettuce leaf made him feel nauseous. A large drink, however, would be most welcome.
The two women were already seated when he was shown to the table. His heart sank at the sight of the large bottle of sparkling water they were sharing. Bloody Americans, he thought miserably. Alcohol-free lunches were so uncivilized.
He smiled widely as Gretta stood to greet him. She was a small, round woman who could be mistaken for someone's beloved mother — until she opened her mouth. She had a distinct and sharp nasal twang that grated on Walter's nerves. Her personality didn't redeem her. Gretta was abrupt and tactless and didn't believe in wasting time on pleasantries when there was business to do, and money to make.
'Gretta, you look marvellous,' he gushed, as he held out his arms to embrace her. Gretta wasn't the demonstrative sort and she endured the hug with obvious discomfort. He kissed her cheek for good measure.
Gretta pulled away as soon as politeness allowed and gestured to the other woman. 'Walter, this is Angela Wiseman. Angela, meet Walter Grimes.'
Walter shook the other woman's hand. 'Delighted.'
Angela nodded, her smile friendly and her hand firm in his. He took to her instantly. She was everything Gretta was not. Tall and slender, she wore a beautifully tailored dark-green trouser suit that suited her fair colouring and brought out the green in her eyes. Her jewellery was as tasteful as Gretta's was loud, and she held herself with grace and poise. If I were straight, Walter thought, this is the kind of woman I'd fancy.
'Drink?' Gretta asked, as they all sat down.
'Feel free to have a real one,' Angela added. 'Gretta and I have a rather full afternoon so we have to behave ourselves.'
Walter smiled gratefully. 'A G & T would be greatly appreciated. I've had a long and difficult morning.'
Angela gave the order and they chatted casually as they studied their menus.
'I don't fancy a starter.' Gretta snapped her menu closed and shot Walter a challenging look.
Obviously on yet another weird diet, Walter surmised.
The waiter hovered at Gretta's shoulder.
'I'll have the Dover sole, no spinach, with the dressing on the side,' she told him. 'Have you got any pasta to go with that?'
'It comes with baby new potatoes,' the waiter said quietly.
Gretta eyeballed him. 'I can see that, but I'd like pasta.'
'Some penne, perhaps?' he suggested.
'That will do.'
'I'll have the same,' Angela said with a smile, 'but exactly as it comes.'
'And the Thai sea bass for me,' Walter added.
'Would you like some wine, Walter?' Angela asked as Walter swallowed half his gin in one gulp.
'That would be lovely.'
Angela went up further in his estimation by ordering a half-bottle of Chablis rather than a glass. Or, he worried, perhaps was she just trying to loosen him up so he'd spill the beans about Dana.
Gretta got straight to the point as soon as the waiter had left. 'So, Walter. Fill me in. What's happening with Dana?'
'I'm happy to report that we're back on track.' He smiled at each woman in turn. 'As you know, poor Dana has been through a terrible time. She was devoted to Gus and devastated when he left. I think what she finds hardest is that she doesn't even know why.'
'Because he's a man,' Gretta snarled. 'They're all selfish, insensitive bastards.'
'Present company excepted, of course,' Angela added.
Walter sighed. 'Sadly, I have to agree with Gretta. Most men seem to have a cad gene. I know, I've been there.'
Gretta rolled her eyes. 'Let's talk about Dana. Is the book finished yet?'
'No, but she seems to be working around the clock.' Walter forced an enthusiasm into his voice that he didn't feel. 'I think going through this trauma has given her a new focus, and I think The Mile High Club will be a better book for it.'
'Have you read any of it?' Gretta asked, unmoved by his optimism.
'Oh, no, I only ever read the finished product. It's the way Dana and I work,' he explained to Angela.
'Well, it's not the way Dana and I work,' Gretta retorted. 'The first fifteen chapters, she was hardly off the phone. Then nothing. I haven't a fucking clue what's going on. How do we know she's really working on it at all, Walter? Do I need to remind you that there's a lot riding on this book?'
'You do not.'
'Will she meet her deadline?' For the first time Angela joined the conversation.
'If she doesn't, she won't be far off. And given her punctuality in the past, I think we have to make allowances. There are extenuating circumstances, after all.' Walter drained his glass and shot a desperate look at the waiter, who was uncorking the wine.
'I think I've been very patient, given that she's ignored all my calls for weeks.' Gretta scowled as their food was set down in front of them.
'She did call you yesterday, but of course you were on a plane.'
'Yeah, I got the message,' Gretta admitted.
'She feels terrible about the way she's behaved,' Walter assured her. 'She's never done it before and, I know she never will again. I think it's important that we remember what a consummate professional she has always been.' He turned his gaze on Angela. 'Eighteen books in as many years; it's quite an achievement.'
'It certainly is,' the other editor agreed.
Gretta nodded. 'I hear what you're saying, Walter, but I'd like it from the horse's mouth.' She turned thoughtful eyes on Angela. 'Maybe I should go and see her. Hey, I've got a great idea. Why don't you come with me, Angela?'
'When?'
Gretta shrugged. 'Tomorrow?'
'I'd need to double-check my diary, but I think it's possible.'
Walter swallowed hard. 'It's really not necessary. I'm sure you're far too busy—'
'No, really,' Angela said, shaking her head, 'I think it's a wonderful idea. It would be lovely to meet Dana.'
The agent forced a smile. 'Wonderful. She'll be so thrilled.'
'Have you visited Ireland before, Gretta?' Angela asked.
'Yeah, once, about five years ago. I must pick up some of that Waterford glass. And an Aran sweater for JJ. He's originally Irish, did I mention that?' The editor softened visibly as she thought of her new boyfriend.
'Really?' Walter said politely.
'Yeah. His great-grandfather was born in Drogeeda.'
'I think it's pronounced Dro-ha-da,' Walter told her.
Gretta shrugged. 'Whatever.'
Walter gave up and turned his attention back to the English editor. 'So, Angela, you must be excited about introducing the Passion imprint to Britain.'
'Very. Gretta and I have been talking about it for some time, but we've had to deal with a lot of negativity. Some of our directors took a lot of convincing that this genre would work in the UK.'
'Haven't they heard of Mills & Boon?' Walter said, incredulously.
Angela laughed. 'Well, exactly! It's a snobbery of sorts, really. But, thankfully, we've overcome it.'
'I believe that choosing Dana De Lacey to launch it is a master stroke. She is such a pro and she understands the subtle differences between the two markets. The fact that she's Irish and the daughter of a famous poet -' Walter splayed his hands and smiled — 'it's the icing on the cake.'
Angela inclined her head. 'Yes, but, as I'm sure you know, Walter, what works in the US doesn't always work over here. We've found that out to our cost. We need to read The Mile High Club before we can come to a final decision.'
Walter felt slightly sick. 'I'm confident that you will
be more than happy with it.'
Gretta set down her fork and looked at him, her eyes as hard as flint. 'Walter, let's cut the bull. The fact that Dana was punctual, reliable and humorous got her where she is today. But there are now a lot of female authors snapping at her heels. They're gutsy, they're greedy and, frankly, they're cheaper. I don't want to lose Dana — Angela will tell you that.'
'Absolutely not.' Angela nodded sincerely. 'We love Dana.'
Gretta sighed. 'But business is business.'
'I'm sure The Mile High Club will be wonderful,' Angela enthused. 'And we'll be able to forget we even had this conversation.'
Walter drained his glass. 'I'm sure.'
Out on the street, Walter blinked in the sunshine and felt horribly sober. Taking out his phone, he phoned his secretary. 'Get me on a flight to Dublin first thing tomorrow.'
Less than thirty minutes later, Sylvie put down the phone. She looked out of the window at Dana, who was wandering around her garden, obviously lost in thought. If Gretta or Walter saw the author in this pose, they'd be delighted. But Sylvie knew the reality.
When Dana went out yesterday, Sylvie had had a sneaky peek at the The Mile High Club file on Dana's laptop. As she'd suspected, no work had been done on it for weeks. But the author was definitely working on something. Sylvie knew the signs. Dana was agitated and distracted, a sure sign that she had embarked on a new project. The PA had scanned the directory for files that had been accessed most recently. There was just one and it had been updated only yesterday. Sylvie had sat and stared at it for a moment. It would be wrong to open it. Still, if she knew what was in it she might know whether or not she'd have a job in six months. Sylvie hadn't been able to resist any longer. She'd opened the file and started to read. She hadn't had long and she'd only got through two chapters when she'd heard the front door open. She'd quickly closed the file and retreated behind her own desk. She'd felt bad. She'd felt as if she'd just read Dana's diary. But then, she'd realized, that was exactly what she'd done.
Now, with a sigh, Sylvie went out into the garden. She had to break the bad news to her boss that she was going to have visitors the next day. Dana's reaction was fairly predictable.
'Holy fuck,' she muttered, her eyes round with shock. 'When is Walter coming? He will be here, won't he?'
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