Chapter Seven
Save your tears for the pillowcase.
Matilda Beam’sGood Housewife Guide, 1957
Three days later there had been no word from Valentina Smith or anyone at the Southbank Press. On day two, Summer locked herself in her bedroom and refused to come out. I set up camp outside her door and tried to convince her that everyone at the publisher was probably still hung-over from all that free party champagne and simply not up for making celebratory phone calls. Summer didn’t answer, though, just sent Holden back and forth for organic nut snacks and elderflower cordial and an instruction to absolutely ignore me no matter what I said, even when I sang ‘Please let me in, I’ve been a massive turd, but I’m a turd who is soooo sorreeee!’ in my best singing voice. I tried to bribe her out by telling her how much Mr Belding was missing her, even though the truth was that he seemed to be much happier prowling around our flat in the nude.
Five days after the launch, and with still no word from the publisher, it eventually sinks in that I may have fucked things up in a massive way. I can’t believe it. Valentina was so enthusiastic about everything. Could that really have changed so quickly? Leo Frostisa really big deal in London. Maybe he’s like a sort of mafia don and, by offending him, all the doors I try to get through for the rest of my life will be mysteriously shut in my face, and one day, who knows when, the head of a noble stallion will be resting on the foot of my bed.
‘I’m going to ring up Valentina,’ I say determinedly through Summer’s door at lunchtime on Tuesday. ‘We had a rapport, I think. I’m going to try and fix this, OK? Apologize to her for my stupid behaviour. She can’t punish you for what I’ve done − it’s not fair.’
I take out my iPhone, but before I can look up Valentina’s number online, Summer’s door clicks open and she emerges at last. She doesn’t look dishevelled and tear-stained like I thought she would after holing herself up for almost a week. She looks fresh. Bright-eyed and clean and sparky and … happy?
‘Have you heard something?’ I ask, getting up from my spot on the hall floor, my heart leaping. ‘Oh my God. You have, haven’t you? Good news?’
I’ve not messed it up. We’ve got the book deal. Summer’s fine. I’ll have enough money for a decent flight!
My body floods with hot, bright relief.
‘Jess … we need to talk,’ Summer says.
‘God, we really do!’ I agree, following her downstairs to the living room. ‘It’s been five days! Feels weird us not speaking for so long. I don’t expect you to forgive me straight away. I know how mad you are. But I’ll make it up to—’
‘We didn’t get the book deal,’ Summer cuts in, perching neatly on the huge leather sofa.
‘We – we didn’t? Oh shit.Shit.’ I plonk down beside her. ‘Let me ring Valentina, Sum. God.’
‘I’ve already spoken to Valentina.’
‘What? When? When did she ring? What did she say? Why don’t they want us? They loved us last week!’
‘She said the decision wasn’t just down to her … that a whole team has to decide these things.’
‘Oh God. Did she say it was my fault?’
Summer looks me squarely in the eyes and nods. ‘Yes. She did.’
Fuck.
‘God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to call Leo Frost a knob-prince. He just completely rubbed me up the wrong way. He talked to me like I was crap on his overly shined shoe. It made me so cross, I couldn’t help myself.’
‘Yeah, that’s why we need to talk.’
‘To figure out a plan? Good idea. We can do that. Shall I get my laptop? We can approach another publisher, can’t we? I’ll write a better pitch. I’m sure I can fix—’
‘Jess, I want you to move out.’
My throat tightens. ‘What?’
‘And I don’t think you should work onSummer in the Cityany more.’
Whaaaat?
My head snaps up. ‘You’re – you’re sacking me? And kicking me out?On the same day?’
Summer slowly shrugs one shoulder. ‘I just want you to know that it’s not been an easy decision for me. I’ve been thinking about thingssuperhard these past few days. I talked to everyone about us, and they all think—’
‘Talked to everyone? Who? I don’t understand.’
