One Small Mistake(12)

Lara pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through her emails. My heart beats so hard, I feel it in my fingertips.

‘So,’ she begins, and I sit up straighter. ‘Darcy said, “Terribly sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I loved so much about Elodie’s book – I thought she established the characters very deftly, her description is fantastic, really sexy and smart and her writing is extremely accomplished.”’

A smile tugs at my mouth. This is good, this is really good. I get that feeling in my stomach, like I’m being lifted. I’m a kite being swept into the sky, tethered only by a flimsy thread; I float higher and higher until my panic and fear are so far below me, they’re specks on the map.

‘“But,”’ she continues, ‘“I don’t think this is for us – there are too many parallels with another of our titles, Behind Her Eyes, but more generally, Elodie’s book doesn’t have the hook we’re looking for right now. The demand is for stories based on true events, something darker and grittier, and so with quite a lot of light-hearted romances already on our list, we don’t feel this is for us. If Elodie comes up with something else, we’d absolutely love to see it.”’

And just like that, I plummet back down to Earth with a crash so hard, my teeth knock together.

Lara slips her phone back into her bag then examines my face. I don’t want to seem weak, I want to stay together and professional, so I put all my energy into keeping emotion out of my expression whilst digging my nails into my palms beneath the table hard enough that they’ll leave little half-moon imprints in my skin.

‘I’m so sorry, Elodie,’ she says, voice creamy with sympathy. ‘These rejections are tough, but all the editors have been so positive and encouraging. Sometimes I just get a one-liner which says nothing more than “not for us, thank you” so, although a rejection isn’t what we want, the feedback is useful.’

I nod and nod and nod. There’s something heavy pressing down on my chest. I think it’s devastation. Lara is staring at me, waiting for me to react but on the back of the devastation is shock. Ridiculous really because I knew there was a very real possibility I’d fail like everyone said I would. I knew that, but surely this can’t be the end of the road? It can’t. I take another sip of water. ‘So,’ I manage, and swallow thickly around the hard lump in my throat. ‘So, what happens next?’

There’s relief in Lara’s smile. I get the impression she’s dealt with a few crushed artists dissolving into tears and I’m pleased that I’m not one of them. ‘Well, the reason I asked you to come up with some new ideas is because Darcy is giving us a second chance.’

I take another sip of water, and take a second to organise my thoughts before asking, ‘Does this mean there’s no hope for The Kissing Rock?’

I wait.

Lara takes a sip of her drink and I can see she’s mentally sprinkling sugar on what she’s about to say. ‘I think it’s best we concentrate on a new project.’

But it still leaves a bitter aftertaste because the answer is no, there’s no hope for the manuscript I devoted over a year of my life to. It’s been thrown out like a carton of old milk. I’m afraid I might let us both down and cry. Lara has put so many hours into my manuscript; I’ve not just failed myself, I’ve failed her too. I give this crushing realisation the moment of silence it deserves.

She leans forward. ‘So, let’s hear these new pitches.’

I blink, surprised we’re moving on so quickly when I still feel raw, like I’m in mourning, but apparently, we’re not giving my book a proper burial; we’re just tossing its tattered corpse into a hole and skipping the wake altogether.

‘Sure, yeah, okay.’ With trembling fingers, I pull my phone from my bag and scroll through to my notes. I take a breath, hoping my voice will stay even. ‘Well, I had an idea about childhood sweethearts in the wild moors of Scotland who are torn apart when their families move away, and they spend the next decade trying to get back to each other, their paths always almost crossing.’ I glance up, trying to gauge her thoughts but she isn’t giving much away, so I go on. ‘I wanted to play with the idea of fate and soulmates. Something timeless, classic.’

Lara nods encouragingly but her smile is fixed. Fake. ‘That’s a great idea,’ she galvanises. I wait. The ‘but’ is coming. ‘The thing is, Elodie, it’s got quite similar themes to The Kissing Rock. Do you have anything grittier, as Darcy suggested?’

‘Well …’ I’m staring at my screen, not able to read a single word thanks to the rising dread. ‘Urm …’ I bite my lip and scroll pointlessly up and down through my notes because I know I don’t have anything resembling gritty.

‘It’s not the first time an editor has come back to me recently and expressed that true crime is selling right now,’ she starts. ‘I wouldn’t usually suggest assessing the market and writing for it because by the time you’ve jumped on a trend, the next one has come along, but true crime has been around for years. There’s always a place for it.’ She’s looking at me expectantly, but my mind is blank.

I can’t even bullshit my way through this. ‘Look,’ I say flatly. ‘I don’t have anything like that. At least, not right now. Or maybe …’ My pulse quickens. ‘Something about a stalker? A woman being followed or …’