She catches my eye and blinks quickly a few times.
Oh God. Is she on to me? I don’t know, but I’ve got to play the game. I blink right back.
And then she smiles at me – a real, genuine, warm smile, no fake gurning this time. ‘You know, Daisy, I think I like you. Sometimes you can get the wrong idea of someone when we work remotely.’
She walks over to my portfolio and lightly places a hand on Mr Hedgehog.
‘The work looks quite different here in my lap than on my laptop.’She laughs at her own joke, flicking a wrist in the air.
Of course, my laughter chimes in with hers, wrist-flicking in perfect sync. Rory was right. This is quite fun.
Lenka keeps laughing and claps her hands together.‘You know, Daisy, I surprise myself – always. It’s one of the thingsI love about being me. I never know when inspiration will strike! When I’ll be moved by my inner muse to take a totally radical and exciting new direction! I never thought I’d say this, but I think we may be quite similar, you and me… I think we can make something work here.’
Holy smoke.
This is voodoooooooo.
Lenka takes a big breath. ‘It’s reassuring to me that you know the stories so well, that you appreciate how iconic these characters are, how precious these books are to so many. Generations of readers have grown up with and love these stories, and now it’s up to us to make sure they continue to capture the hearts of new readers. Somehow…’
Lenka pauses, her gaze fixed upon me. ‘Matilda Wilder was a founding author of Hedgerow Press, so I’m contractually obligated to ensure her works are published in the editions she has requested. No getting out of it – believe me, I’ve tried.’
I continue to mirror everything: winks, blinks, nose twitches, finger steeples. I never thought I’d say this but I’m in Lenka’s company and I’m having a pretty good time. Weird.
‘I’m going to reconsider you, Daisy.’
That’s when I snap back to full attention.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ She nods, her smile widening even further. ‘It’s a tremendous honour for us here at Hedgerow Press to reimagine such beautiful work and keep Matilda Wilder happy, keep her vision alive. We’re so privileged to be part of this mission of bringing these timeless tales to life again. I gave youthe nod for this job – picked your portfolio out of every new illustrator in the business – for our biggest project yet.’ She shrugs, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘What can I say? I go with my gut… usually, I’m right. It’s got me where I am today.’
I feel a weight lifting from my chest and my breathing steady. I can feel the heat of hope rise through me; perhaps it’s going to be okay.
Lenka walks back to her chair, then leans forward on her elbows and takes off her glasses to study me closer. ‘As you know, to captivate a whole new generation of readers, we need illustrations that are fresh, vibrant and exciting.’
I feel a chill run down my spine.
Lenka fixes me with a steely gaze and says in an even tone, ‘Convince me how these dusty old tales are going to compete in this market – against video games and streaming servicesand endless options for entertainment.’
Uh-oh. Curveball. Rory didn’t equip me with any ‘Pitch for Your Life’ techniques.
‘If you are so confident that your ideas can change things – prove it.’
But we are Team Wilder. It’s now or never.
So carefully, and with confidence, I explain why the work should be taken seriously; why it could have a lasting impact on the industry; how it could revolutionise the way we think about classic storytelling.
My voice trails away as I finish, and the air feels heavy with anticipation.
Lenka is silent, her gaze intense and unyielding. The only sound in the room is the ticking of a clock.
‘You really believe this?’ she asks finally.
Her words hang in the air between us like a shimmering promise.
‘Yes,’ I reply without hesitation. ‘I believe that if we give people something new to think about, a different way of looking at things – then anything is possible.’
Lenka stares at me for a few moments before speaking. Her eyes pierce me, and my breath catches in my throat. I can feel the sweat forming on my palms as her lips part to speak. My heart thumps like a drum inside my chest, and I wait with bated breath for her words.
‘Fine. You want to resurrect the dead? You believe that you can pull off the impossible, make miracles?Do whatever you have to do, but don’t come back in here with anything less than mind-blowing brilliance. We need to see your creativity unleashed. Daisy, blow our freaking minds. I should be moved to tears – give me a spiritual experience of some kind; make me feel like I’ve left this world and entered Fable Forest heaven. Understood?’
