“Do you know how many calls I got last night about where you were? Nigella wanted hourly updates in case you turned up on my doorstep. I told her that you’d never even been to my house.”
I stopped eating and glanced at her. She gave me a look I couldn’t read. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? No one saw you for months. Nigella was sending news on whether you were dead or alive based on your neighbours seeing you out for a run. No one even knew you’d got a dog. And then this all happened, and you’ve run away every time.”
I sat still for a long time. “S’just easier to get out of the way when shit hits the fan. Force of habit. I’m not good with …” I took a long breath. This was agonising. “Not good with … being exposed to things.” I gestured at the room, my life. “You can probably work out why. It’s easier to leave and start again. Or at least hide until it all blows over.”
“You don’t need to do either. People care about you, Arden. I’ve been sitting here for months holding out my hand to be a friend and you never took it.”
I looked up at her from where I’d been staring at the table. “I’d like to be your friend.”
She grinned. “I’d love to be proper friends.” Her face darkened. “But don’t ever ask me to break into any more houses.”
She was never gonna let go of that, was she?
I went upstairs to sleep for a few hours, and Sonia said she’d give the house a quick spruce up (“It’s very obvious a single man lives here.”) and then depart. I was asleep when she left. I woke up mid-afternoon cocooned in a sweaty mess with Kenny, my perma-guard.
I had put off the inevitable long enough. I switched on my phone.
And instant barrage. No less than eleven voicemails, which I think was a record. I deleted all of them without listening. Some were from unrecognised numbers, which I didn’t want to know about. Numerous texts and WhatsApps from everyone at the meeting last night were read and then left un-replied. Once again, unrecognised numbers were deleted instantly.
Ollie had left three voicemails and numerous messages. I ignored them. If I replied, he’d jump all over me and want answers to questions that I barely knew.
There was a message from Guy.Arden, thank you for your text during the week. It meant a lot. I’m sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve it. X
“I don’t think my date’s happening,” I told Kenny. It looked like Guy and I had missed our shot.
The last person to contact me was Verity. Her last message was at 9 a.m. today.Call me when you can. Urgent.
A deep sigh emanated from me of its own accord.
I dialled her number.
“Arden, thank God. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Listen, good, okay. Look, I know this is bad, but we can fix it.”
“It’s a story, Vee. What happened to the ‘all publicity is good publicity’ mantra?”
There was a pause. “What are you talking about – did you listen to any of my messages?”
“There were so many.”
“Jesus, Arden, I am doing everything I can to stop this, and you’re swanning about in a sulk!”
I leaned up. “What? I—”
“Donal and Ffion called a meeting for the first available moment this week. I’ve managed to hold them off until Tuesday so I can spend tomorrow seeing how things are sitting with the publishers, at least. They’re on the warpath. Arden, they want to cancel your contract. They think you’re bringing the agency into disrepute.”
“What? They can’t do that!” I jumped off my bed and paced the room. “Verity, they can’t do that!”
“They can. They’re equity partners; equal and joint owners of the business. We make decisions together.”
They were going to take my career away. I was going to be dropped. I didn’t have anything else. No matter what had happened over the past year, at least I’d had my bizarre fluke of a career to rely on to keep me occupied and well paid. “What do I do? Should I come to London? Do they want me to beg? Do I have to grovel? I’m not proud, I’ll do it.”
They couldn’t cancel my contract. If I lost Verity … would another agent even take me with the publicity I’d garnered over the past few months? Would anyone else put up with my reticence on social media and my standoffishness in the face of trying to market the books?
“Look, not all hope is lost. They’re not stupid. They know the business needs you. But … you know, there might be changes, stipulations. New clauses in your contract.”
