‘What? Oh, no thanks. I don’t normally drink during the day. I just had this for the toasts.’ She places her almost-full glass down on a table behind me.
‘Oh, sure, okay.’ I set my own empty glass down next to hers. I’d better not have any more either; I remember I have to pick Joe up from school later this afternoon. In fact, I’d better have some more canapés to soak up the alcohol I’ve just had.
‘I have had a bit of good news,’ she says, leaning closer. ‘But it’s nothing to do with Mike, unfortunately.’
‘Oh?’ I wait for her to tell me.
She bites the inside of her lip and tries to suppress a smile.
‘Well?’
‘I got emails last week from two different literary agents.’
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘I know. I can hardly believe it. They’ve read my column and one of them said they know of at least three big publishers who would want to offer me a book deal.’
‘I’m really pleased for you, Darcy. You always wanted to write. Well, now it’s happening.’ I reach for my empty glass and nod at one of the waiting staff to top me up. I’ll get a taxi home.
‘I know. I keep having to pinch myself. It kind of makes up for all the crap I’m going through with Mike.’
I nod. ‘It always seems to work like that,’ I say. ‘You can never have it all, can you? When one area of your life is going well, another area has to go down the toilet. It’s like a law or something.’
‘I notice you haven’t written much lately,’ Darcy says. ‘Are you taking a break fromLouisa’s Life’s a Beach?’
‘Kathryn gave me the boot,’ I say, taking another swig of champagne, feeling my anxiety and self-control detach from my brain.
‘Oh, no!’ Darcy says, placing a hand on my arm. ‘I hope I didn’t have anything to do with that…’
‘Shouldn’t think so,’ I reply. ‘Your writing’s much better than mine anyway. Wouldn’t blame Kathryn for giving my column to you instead.’
‘You’re sweet to say so, but I feel terrible now. Like I’m responsible.’ Her brow creases.
Did she really not realise? It’s hard to believe. Maybe it’s like my sister said, maybe Darcy is so self-absorbed she doesn’t think about how her actions impact on other people.
‘Forget it,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t enjoying the column any more anyway. I’m glad I’ve got more free time. I’m actually writing a book, too. This way, I get to spend more time on it.’ That’s a lie – I miss writing for the paper terribly, but I can’t guilt trip Darcy when she’s obviously going through such a rough patch with Mike.
‘Oh! You must let me have your manuscript when it’s finished. I could pass it on to my agent – once I decide who to go with.’
I neglect to mention that I haven’t looked at my novel in at least three years and I have a horrible feeling that it’s total crap. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I may take you up on that.’
She kisses my cheek and stares over my shoulder. ‘Sweetie, I’ve just spotted an old friend, will you excuse me for just a—’
‘Sure,’ I say, draining my glass. ‘Go ahead.’ I have an urge to laugh, or maybe to cry. I’m not sure which. The music and the chatter, the heat and the laughter in the room are all crowding in on me. I stare from the account handlers in their suits to the designers and techies in their jeans and trainers. Everyone here is in charge of their own life. They know what they’re doing. They’re on a course, focused and going places. It’s only me – Louisa Sullivan – who doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing. I smile at a couple of Jared’s employees, but I don’t feel in the mood to make conversation. Instead, I wander over to one of the huge windows and stare down at the quay. At two young women in suits walking past, at the boats on the water waiting for their owners to take them out.
Back when I was at uni, studying Journalism, my career was the most important thing in my life. I was driven and sharp. Excited about all the things I was going to achieve. When did I lose that drive and energy? I keep in touch with a few of my college friends, and they’re all still working in the industry. My best friend from back then, Corinne, she writes investigative pieces for one of the broadsheets. Another good friend works for a music magazine, others freelance for popular online magazines and websites. Too late, I realise I took my writing gig for granted. Now it’s gone, I miss it terribly. Sure, I’m a wife and mother now, and I love being those things, but I also needed something that was just mine. My writing gave me that. I had it, and I gave it away.
‘Louisa? Louisa!’
His voice cuts through my self-pity and I’m suddenly back at the launch party once more, away from my maudlin thoughts.
‘Hey, Jared,’ I say, running a hand down his cheek. ‘Looks like it’s all going great. I think your agency is going to be brilliant.’
‘Do you really think so?’ he asks, a momentary flash of doubt in his eyes.
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Look at you. Look at this place, these people. You’re going to be mega-successful, Jared Sullivan. I’m surprisedHellomagazine aren’t here.’
‘No, but we’ve gotCompassmagazine andDorset Life. You ready to pose for the camera?’
