‘You take it.’ He paid and handed the popcorn tub to her.
‘No, it’s yours.’
‘We could share it,’ he said with a smile. ‘I’m Jake, by the way.’
‘Hi, I’m Liv.’
They were the only two people in the screening, and they sat next to each other in the back row. Liv tried to eat her popcorn quietly. She liked how Jake concentrated on the film, without chatting all the way through it, like her last date had done.
Afterwards, they went to a pub for a glass of wine and chatted about the film. Liv didn’t usually kiss anyone on a first date, but when Jake told her that his family business typeset and printed books, her heart melted a little.
‘Paperpress binds books, too,’ he said. ‘I fold paper into sections called signatures and sew them together using waxed linen thread to create a text block, then adhere endpapers to the spine edge and shape it with a hammer. The cover is glued to the endpapers, forming the hollow you see between the cover and pages.’
Liv felt like he was reading her a bedtime story. They kissed in the doorway of the pub.
He was eight years older than her, like a strong, solid oak tree, while she still felt like a sapling. While her friends were out dancing in nightclubs and doing the walk of shame home in the early morning, she curled up on the sofa, reading books or watching movies with Jake. She didn’t tell him about her dream of being a writer, feeling too foolish to share it.
In the award room, Liv tore herself away from Essie’s photos. When she returned to the writing room, the manuscript felt like a massive undertaking. She wasn’t sure where to start and she tried to tap into Georgia’s spirit once more. However, the story had left her feeling flat and uninspired. When Liv leafed through her notes, her lungs felt heavy and fear tightened her throat. She couldn’t possibly fit all this work around Platinum and the Cardinals, and she wondered if the deadline to complete the book was movable. Why did it have to be within six months?
Feeling very alone, Liv had an urge to reach out to someone who loved Georgia as much as she did. Neither Anthony nor Jake fitted the bill, so she found herself googling Essie’s agent, Marlon.
She found that Marlon had worked as a car mechanic for many years before returning to university as a mature student. After gaining his English degree he worked for a large London literary agency before setting up The Marlon Austin Literary Agency.His image showed a plump, bald man with an auburn goatee and mischievous smile. He dressed with dapper rebellion in a tweed waistcoat teamed with a leather biker jacket. Other than Essie, his client list consisted of only nine little-known authors, and Liv wondered how this quirky-looking fellow had attracted Essie to his agency.
She nibbled her thumbnail until she summoned up the bravado to call him. She told the agency receptionist she was Essie Starling’s assistant and needed to speak to Marlon.
As she waited for him to answer, Liv practised refining her accent and grammar. She’d once read the success rate of a writer getting a literary agent was six thousand to one. They were an elusive breed, and she was nervous about speaking to one in real life.
‘Matilda? Is that you? Are you alright?’ Marlon said in a booming voice, not the posh one Liv expected. He had a Birmingham accent so his pronunciation of vowels made the wordrightsound likeroit, andyousound likeyow.
‘Sorry, it’s actually Liv… Essie’s new assistant,’ she said.
‘Anotherone?’ he said. ‘I thought I was speaking to… Oh, never mind. Where’s Essie been hiding, Timbuktu? Is that why she doesn’t answer my emails?’
Liv laughed politely. ‘I’m calling about her deadline.’
‘Oh, really? Fantastic. Hit me with it, Liv. When will I see her latest masterpiece?’
Liv ran her tongue around her teeth, considering how much she could tell him. ‘It’s still at the handwritten stage, so I need to type it up,’ she said. ‘Then Essie has lots of editing to do. She still has to write the last eight chapters.’
The silence that followed sounded deafening. ‘Seriously?’ Marlon said. ‘Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’
Liv shifted in her chair. ‘I understand Essie has until November the first to fin—’
‘That’s over five months away,’ Marlon interrupted. ‘It was due eons ago. Meg’s literally pulling her hair out. The schedule is planned, and her team is working on marketing. She wants a big hoo-ha around this one.’
‘And that’s why I’m calling you.’ Liv swallowed. ‘Essie’s finding writing really tough right now.’
‘If it was that easy, everyone would do it.’
Liv’s stomach shrank. ‘But what if she needs more time?’
Marlon let out a low rumbling noise. ‘You and I need to be a team, Liv, pulling together. With all these delays, I’m expecting something brilliant. Unplug Essie’s phone, lock her door, buy her a horse’s nose bag so she can eat while she’s writing, whatever you need to do for her to finish this book. I don’t want to ask Meg for more time until we absolutely need it. It’ll push her over the edge. Call me anytime for a bit of support. You okay with that?’
Liv wrapped her fingers tightly around the phone. The pages of the manuscript were furling again, and she flattened them down with her elbow. The quietness in the flat made her feel suddenly isolated. The feeling reminded her of trembling under the bedcovers readingThe Moon on the Waterby torchlight, after losing her dad.
She’d always imagined becoming a writer was like an invisible path stretching out in front of her, waiting for her to start her journey. It looked like she had to stamp on nettles and jump over potholes to walk along it. Just like Georgia Rory.‘Yes, that’s okay.’ Liv screwed her eyes shut. ‘I’m sure Essie can get it done.’
‘Good stuff,’ Marlon said. ‘I’ll take that as your guarantee.’
