‘You always end up having to fight for your relationship at some stage. And maybe you do it now, then the rest of it is relatively struggle-free. Or maybe it isn’t, and you’ve learned the hard things about communication and openness now, and they’ll stand you in good stead later.’
The thing with having a married friend is that sometimes it feels like Lily is light years ahead of her in terms of emotional maturity and general wisdom. Like she’s an adultier adult. Like she knows some secrets ofthe universe that Jess doesn’t. If it was anyone other than Lily, or if theirs was a different kind of friendship, maybe it would come across as smug and unlikeable. But Jess knows that Lily’s wisdom is hard won, that she is sharing it to help her and not to show off.
Still. Words likefight, words likestruggle– they make Jess wonder. If anyone is worth putting herself through that, it’s definitely Alex. But still. ‘I don’t know, Lily. Maybe being single is easier.’
‘Well, I don’t think that’s true,’ Lily says. ‘I think being single and being in a relationship both have their challenges in different ways. But even if that was true – let me ask you this. Is something being hard a good enough reason not to do it?’
She might as well repeat what she said when Jess was deciding whether to write the book with Alex.It’s not like you to shy away from a challenge.It was true then, and it’s true now. And maybe the boys she used to get bored with weren’t as much of a challenge. Maybe it’s a good sign that making it work with Alex might take more work.
She smiles. ‘Obviously not. You know I love a challenge.’
‘Exactly,’ Lily says. ‘That’s the spirit.’
Never able to resist a good ‘speaking of …’ segue, Lily pours them both more gin, topped up with tonic this time. Food is supposed to happen at some stage this evening, but there’s no evidence of that yet. Still, that’s what Deliveroo is for. For now, gin. And gossip.
‘So what do you think his secret is?’ she asks. ‘If it’s not a wife in the attic?’
‘A secret baby?’ Jess pulls a face. ‘That has to be one of the worst tropes in all of romance.’
Lily nods vigorously. ‘Agreed. A secret stash of money, then?’
‘Nah, it can’t be that. He’s made it clear that he needs this book deal as much to stay afloat as he does for his ego. Besides, he’s got a huge family, so even if there was a massive inheritance, it would be divided between a lot of kids.’
‘Ah. Secret pen name as a writer of erotic fiction?’
They dissolve into giggles, and it feels good. Everything has been a bit intense lately – all these big feelings about Alex, all this hard work around the book. Imagining Alex blushing away at his typewriter (it would have to be a typewriter) takes the edge off all of that. And so, if she’s honest, does the gin.
Chapter Thirty
Alex
Sipping his flat white in the coffee shop while he waits for Jess, Alex ponders the progress they have made together. The book is gradually taking shape, like a misshapen lump of clay being remoulded into something that’s both beautiful and useful. Alex feels connected to his characters in ways he hasn’t for a while – not since his first novel, when they had seemed to come alive and talk to him in ways that he knows make no sense to people who don’t write, who haven’t experienced this phenomenon first-hand. Of course, it’s always possible that he’s confusing his sense of connection with his characters with connection with Jess. She, too, talks about the characters as if they’re real, with fondness and affection for them. Maybe this is part of the reason why she had wanted them all to survive – she has become attached to them. That is always a dangerous thing as a writer. A good plot often relies on catastrophes and difficult situations for the characters to show their mettle, for them to grow and change and learn. You have to be willing to turn the pressure up, to throw your characters into tricky quandaries, to havethem experience pain and jeopardy. He has tried to explain this to Jess, as gently and unpatronisingly as he knows how. But he caught her wincing, and then caught himself not wanting to hurt characters because of how much they mean toher. Just as she’s become too attached to their characters, he’s become too attached to her. All of which is a little terrifying.
‘Hey.’
Jess is sliding into the seat opposite him, flat white in hand. He hadn’t noticed her come in – hadn’t noticed that he has been sitting with his notebook open and his pen poised above it in the air for goodness knows how long. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by the sight of her, by how pretty she looks today, with her hair down and the burnt orange jumper which seems to bring out the colour in her face and the green in her eyes.
Yes. He’s definitely too attached.
‘Hi,’ he says, his voice cracking a little. A throwback to his inability to speak to his teenage crushes. His cheeks burn.
‘You seem very deep in thought.’
It’s charitable of her not to point out the strikingly deep red he has probably just turned.
‘Yes,’ he says.
‘Penny for them.’
‘Ah, sorry. I don’t take cash.’
‘Contactless? No problem.’
She holds out her phone as if about to pay. It’s silly, but it makes him laugh, and he loves how satisfied she looks to have provoked this reaction. But then she says, ‘No, but seriously. Tell me.’
‘Fine.’ He sighs. She isn’t going to like this. ‘I was just thinking that we need to push a bit harder on tragedy. Amp up the stakes, make the characters face some hard things.’
‘They’ve just been in a plane crash,’ she says. ‘You don’t think that’s enough trauma?’
