'His secretary is trying to get him on a morning flight but she hasn't confirmed yet.'
'And Gretta?'
'She gets in around four, but she wants to do some shopping so Walter said to meet here about seven.'
'How the hell did he let this happen?' Dana wailed. 'What was he thinking of, arranging this behind my back?'
Sylvie handed her the phone. 'You can ask him your-self. He's waiting for your call.'
Dana dialled her agent's mobile and he picked up immediately.
'Dana, darling, I'm so sorry.'
'What's going on, Wally? Why the hell is Gretta coming to Ireland?' She flopped into a garden chair.
'She was in London for a meeting with Angela Wiseman — Peyton UK's editor.'
'Oh, okay. But why are they coming to see me?'
'They're nervous, Dana. They want to see the whites of your eyes, as it were.'
'I'm not sure I'm up to this, Wally.'
'You have to be,' he said urgently. 'And you have to do your best to deliver this book on time, or as soon after as humanly possible.'
'It's not going to happen.'
There was silence for a second and then a strangled cough. 'Okay, then. I'm sure I can wheedle an extra couple of weeks out of Gretta if necessary—'
'I'd need at least six weeks and even then ...'
'Even then what?' he prompted.
She sighed. 'That would only be enough if I was actually able to write something.'
'Dana?'
'I'm sorry, Wally, but I just can't do it.' Her voice wavered.
'No, darling, please don't get upset.'
'But I've let you down,' she wailed. 'I've let everyone down.'
'We haven't lost the war yet.'
'But, Wally—'
'No buts,' he said firmly. 'We'll figure something out. You get a good night's sleep and I'll see you first thing.'
'But Sylvie said you were having a problem getting a flight.' Dana's voice rose in panic.
'My darling girl, I will be with you tomorrow morning, even if I have to stick a feather up my arse to get there!'
She laughed through her tears. 'Oh, Wally. You're the best.'
Chapter Seventeen
Iris knocked gently and stuck her head around Dana's bedroom door. 'Mr Grimes has arrived and I've shown him into the conservatory.'
'Thank goodness. Has the food arrived?' Realizing preparing a dinner for four at short notice was asking a lot of her housekeeper, Dana had ordered food from a nearby restaurant. There was a lobster bisque to start — Iris just needed to heat that. For the main course there was cold, poached salmon that would be served with asparagus and baby new potatoes, and there was a lemon tart for dessert. And as Wally was arriving early, Dana had ordered some lunch. She'd also given Sylvie the day off. She didn't want her PA to see how nervous she was, or to witness Walter's reaction when he realized how behind she was on the book.
'Yes, and the wine too.'
'Put some white in the fridge, would you, Iris?'
'Already done.'
'What would I do without you?' Dana smiled grate-fully.
'Shall I serve lunch now?' Iris asked as they went downstairs.
'No, you've enough to do. We'll help ourselves when we get hungry.'
Iris nodded. 'Good luck, then — Dana.'
'Thank you, Iris.' Dana gave her a quick hug. She paused in the hall and studied herself in the large mirror. She had dressed in a simple brown linen dress. A single string of topaz beads adorned her throat and on her feet she wore flat, flimsy sandals of the same colour. Her short bob shone and a pale peach lipstick was her only make-up.
When she walked in, Wally was perched on the arm of a chair, staring into the garden, an empty glass between his manicured fingers. He looked tired and drawn and she felt a pang of guilt because she knew that she was probably the reason.
'Hi, Walter.'
He stood immediately and, putting down his glass, came to embrace her. 'My darling!'
Dana felt her eyes fill as he held her at arm's length to study her.
'You are as gorgeous as ever,' he pronounced, 'but you look worried.'
'I am worried! Gretta's coming.' She went to the table in the corner, where Iris had set out drinks. 'Can I get you another?'
'I shouldn't, but I will.' He handed over his empty glass. 'Your housekeeper makes T & G rather than G & T.'
Dana smiled. 'She's never touched a drop in her life and doesn't really approve of anyone else drinking either.'
'She'd soon change her mind if she worked in publishing,' Walter retorted.
Dana poured his drink and a glass of wine for herself and led the way out into the garden. 'Can you believe how lovely the weather is?' she marvelled, holding her face up to the sun.
'Wonderful.' Wally dusted off a garden chair, before sitting down. 'Talk to me, darling.'
Dana put on dark glasses. 'I'm sorry, Walter. I've tried, but I just cannot finish The Mile High Club.'
His eyes widened in horror. 'But, Dana, you must! We're at a very important crossroads in your career — probably the most important since you were first published.'
'I realize that, Wally.' She shrugged. 'But there's nothing I can do about it.'
'Of course there is!' Walter flushed angrily. 'You can't just give up, Dana.'
Her eyes filled with tears. 'But what else can I do?'
'But you told me you were writing.' His eyes narrowed. 'Were you lying to me?'
She shook her head, glad that he couldn't see her eyes. 'No. I've been working on something else. It's just an exercise that I thought would help get me back into writing again. But any time I go back to The Mile High Club . ..' She sighed. 'Nothing.'
He patted her hand. 'Perhaps if you went away for a few weeks; sometimes a different environment helps.'
'Perhaps,' she said, knowing it wouldn't.
'Or maybe you need someone to work with you. I'm sure I could find someone who'd be interested.'
'Are you talking about a ghostwriter?' Dana said incredulously.
Walter shrugged. 'We have to do whatever it takes to finish this book. If we don't...'
'What?' Dana looked at him.
He sighed. 'It's not just about the book being published over here. If you don't come up with the goods, I don't believe Gretta will offer you a new contract in the US either.'
Dana gaped at him, her glass halfway to her lips. 'But she can't do that to me — can she?'
He shrugged, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply. 'Once you're out of contract, Dana, she can do whatever she wants.'
'The bitch! Well, she can go to hell. There are other publishers who will be only too happy to have me. It's time I moved on anyway.'
Walter shot her a pitying look. 'You still have to finish this book, Dana. If you don't, Peyton could sue. And, quite frankly, darling, if you leave them on bad terms, no one will touch you with a bargepole.'
Dana reached for one of Walter's cigarettes and lit it. 'So what on earth am I going to do?'
'First, I think we should eat,' Wally said halfheartedly. 'We need to have our wits about us this evening.'
'I'll go and get us something,' Dana murmured but didn't stand up.
'You stay here. I'll go.'
Dana couldn't even summon up the energy to reply. How had it come to this? In a matter of hours her career could be at an end. This was what Gus Johnson had done to her. Single-handedly he had destroyed everything she had worked for. Well, if she ended up with nothing she'd make damn sure he paid. She'd file for divorce and she'd take everything. And, if she had her way, he'd never see his beloved house in Cork again.
'Your housekeeper is full of surprises,' Walter commented as he arrived with a tray of food.
'It's courtesy of the local deli. If I'd left it to Iris you'd be eating a big fry-up or corned beef and cabbage.'
He laughed. 'I quite like fry-ups. They remind me of my childhood. My mother used to cook one every Saturday night for supper. It wa
s a real treat. I don't think we got any meat the rest of the week.'
Dana was momentarily distracted. 'I always thought you were posh.'
Walter smiled, showing off his perfect, even teeth. 'That's what you're supposed to think.'
He put some food on a plate and pushed it towards her. 'Now. Eat.'
Like a child, Dana let him feed her: slices of ciabatta spread with rich pesto, baguette smothered in runny Brie, and bruschetta with Parma ham. She ate more in an hour than she'd eaten in the time since Gus had left. Finally, Walter presented her with a strong espresso and a glass of port.
'That's your last drink till dinner,' he warned. 'And even then, limit yourself.'
She leaned across and stole another one of his cigarettes. 'What would I do without you, Walter?'
'Go broke,' he said smartly. 'And you shouldn't be smoking; you gave up years ago, didn't you?'
She nodded. 'But can you blame me, after all that's happened?'
'I know how tough it's been, Dana. Believe me, I've been there. For months after Giles left, I didn't want to go outside the door. There didn't seem to be any point to anything. Money, food, even wine — nothing's enjoyable when you do it alone.'
'Exactly!'
'Except you're not alone, Dana. That's what you haven't realized yet. Life may not be the same, but it does go on.' He nudged her playfully. 'And it didn't take you long to climb back on the horse, did it?'
Dana flushed. 'It was just one night. I was on the rebound.'
'Hey, I'm not knocking it. I wish I could be more like you.'
Dana looked at him and saw the sadness in his eyes.
'One day someone will fall madly in love with you, and you with him. I can't believe it hasn't happened before. You're such a lovely man.'
Wally's eyes filled with tears. 'Bless you, darling. And, you'll find someone too. And, in the meantime, you've got your friends; you've got me. Please don't forget that. Don't make me grill Sylvie to find out what's going on in your life, Dana. I'm your agent and your friend. We have to work as a team. If you don't tell me what's going on, how can I possibly help?'
'Sorry,' Dana said meekly.
He beamed at her. 'It's forgotten. Now, let's get to work. We have to persuade Gretta that you've almost finished the book, and that it's your best, juiciest work yet.'
Dana stared at him. 'How in hell are we going to do that?'
'If my memory serves me right, darling, you're in the habit of scribbling in notebooks, n'est-ce pas?'
Dana nodded. 'Yes. If I'm out without my laptop and get an idea I write it down.'
'So perhaps we can get some inspiration from there.'
'I doubt it. We're talking disjointed paragraphs, random ideas, that sort of thing.'
'No, darling,' he said firmly, 'we're talking desperate. Now, tell me, how many thousand words have you written? And,' he waggled a finger at her, 'I want the truth.'
I'll have to check my laptop to give you an exact figure,' Dana prevaricated.
'Well, go get it and I'll take this back to the kitchen.' Walter began to pile all the dishes and glasses back on to the tray and led the way into the house.
'I had no idea you were so domesticated,' she teased.
'I am all things to all men.' He winked.
Dana went into her office and sat down at her desk. She flipped open her laptop and went into the The Mile High Club file. Her heart sank as she checked the word count. It was even worse than she had remembered. Setting it aside, she went in search of her notebooks. It took some time. She had one in each of her larger handbags, one in her bedside table and one in the car. She realized as she carried them back to her office that there was also one in the glove compartment of Gus's car.
When she returned, Walter was sitting at her desk, staring at the screen of her laptop. His face was decidedly pale. 'Thirty-five thousand words?' he croaked. 'Remind me, how many words are there usually in your novels?'
Dana swallowed hard. 'Eighty-five thousand.'
Walter nodded slowly, his eyes still on the screen. 'And you normally write about two to three thousand words a day, yes?'
'On a good day she hedged. 'And then, of course, I go back over it and edit...'
'So if you were to start tomorrow, you could easily have finished this book in less than three weeks, couldn't you?' His face lit up and he sprang to his feet to kiss her. 'We're saved.'
'Aren't you forgetting something?' she said wearily. 'I told you, I can't do it.'
'Sure you can, you just need some help.' He sat down at her desk again, rolled up his sleeves and took a sip of his coffee. 'Now, print off a copy of what you've written so far, and I'll get reading. While I'm doing that, you can go through those,' he nodded towards the notebooks, 'and see if there's anything we can use.'
Moments later, the printer was spewing out sheets of paper. Dana watched nervously as the pages of her book flipped out into Walter's greedy hands but he chased her away.
'You get started on the notebooks,' he urged, his voice brooking no argument. 'We don't have much time.'
Resignedly, Dana lit yet another cigarette, took the pads and a pencil and went out to the garden. She knew she owed it to Wally to make an effort, but in her heart she also knew that it was a waste of time. Still, if they could come up with enough copy to buy them some time, it would keep everybody happy for a while. The problem was: what then?
Dana opened the first notebook and began to read. It took her a while to get into it. As she'd told her agent, there were many disjointed ideas — not just for The Mile High Club but for other books too. She winced at some of the sloppy rubbish she'd written and raised her eyebrows at the more raunchy pieces. She flushed as she remembered how she had sometimes sat up in bed writing this kind of stuff after some energetic love-making, Gus out cold beside her.
As Iris put together the simple but elegant dinner, Walter and Dana worked, she in the conservatory and he in the office. Occasionally he came in to ask a question, but for the most part they worked alone. At five-thirty, Walter called Dana. 'Okay, my darling, tell me what you've got.'
He listened and made notes. Finally, at six-thirty, he laid down his pen. 'Right, I think we have enough to go on.'
'You do?' she said, doubtfully.
'I do. Now, Ms De Lacey, go and make yourself beautiful. And wear lots of make-up — you're far too pale.'
So much for the natural look, Dana thought.
'And,' he warned, 'leave the talking to me.'
'Gretta won't have that,' Dana assured him.
'Trust me, I'll handle her. You talk to Angela. Quiz her about the UK operation and the plans they have for promoting the Passion label. Put her on the back foot. That way, you'll look in control and we'll avoid discussing the real issue.'
'Which is that I've stopped writing.'
'That's not technically correct,' he pointed out, smiling. 'So you don't even have to lie.' He stood up and stretched. 'Now, darling, may I use one of your luxurious bathrooms? I badly need a shower.'
Wally looked as fresh as he had when he'd walked through the door, but Dana knew he must be as drained as she was. 'Would you like a reviving drink to take up with you?'
'Excellent idea. Then, as the Yanks say, we'll blow their socks off!'
Chapter Eighteen
Dana changed into a white lace skirt and a sleeveless white T-shirt that showed off her tanned and reasonably toned arms and legs. Her face took a bit more work. Sleep deprivation showed in her eyes and belied her otherwise relaxed, carefree image. She rummaged in her make-up drawer for drops that promised to make her eyes sparkle; a white pencil that would make the whites appear whiter; and some miracle cream that would disguise the bags underneath. She wasn't convinced.
She applied some delicate-pink eye shadow, grey eyeliner and pink lipstick, then brushed her hair until it shone, pulling down a few wisps to cover the frown lines on her forehead. Adding gold hoop earrings and a thick bangle, she slipped her feet into gold wedge sandals and
went downstairs.
Walter was relaxing in the conservatory and nursing a G & T when she walked in. He came to kiss her on both cheeks. 'Perfect, darling, just perfect. We'll get through this, you'll see. Just keep your cool. What we need them to see tonight is an author who is so caught up in her work she's blotted everything and everyone out. As far as Gus is concerned, I suggest that you appear sad and contemplative but not distraught. They must not think you've gone over the edge.'
'Even though I have,' she said with a sad smile.
'You have not! Don't talk like that. You're just a little stressed.'
She sighed. 'I know what you're saying, Wally, and I'll do my best, I promise. Only—'
Dana never got to finish her sentence as the buzzer at the gate interrupted her. She went out into the hall and buzzed in the taxi, then stuck her head into the kitchen to let Iris know that their guests had arrived. When she came back into the hall, Walter was waiting for her.
'Ready?' He watched her anxiously.
She smiled. 'Sure.'
The car pulled up and Walter threw open the door. As Angela paid the driver, the agent opened Gretta's door with a flourish. 'We meet again!'
'Walter, what a surprise,' Gretta said drily, standing stiff as a board as he embraced her.
'Hello, Gretta,' Dana said softly from behind her agent.
Gretta almost shoved Walter to one side. 'Dana, honey!' She kissed her on both cheeks and then stepped back to stare into her face. 'You look great.'
'You too, Gretta, it's wonderful to see you. I couldn't believe it when Wally told me you were coming.'
'Yes, me too. It was just a mad impulse I had at lunch yesterday. I wasn't expecting your agent to join us, though,' Gretta murmured.
'That was my idea,' Dana said quickly. 'I thought it would be nice for us to have an evening together. Telephones and emails are all very well, but it is nice to talk face to face. Maybe it's my lonely occupation that makes me feel that way.' She stopped suddenly, realizing that Walter was shooting her a warning look. She was babbling.
'Dana, let me introduce Angela Wiseman,' he said.
The elegant woman who'd been standing silently in the background now came forward to shake Dana's hand. 'It's wonderful to finally meet you.'
Between The Sheets Page 14