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Fucking hell. What else could there be?

‘Go on . . .’

‘I know you’ve started work on your next book and you told me it feels like it’s going well, but you’re out of contract and – I don’t know, Scarlett. The way things are going, I think it’s unlikely they’re going to offer you another deal. And I thought I’d say this now because I don’t want youto spend the next six months slaving away on a book that simply isn’t going to get picked up.’

I bit my lip. This was worse than I’d feared. It was bad enough when a book you’d put your heart and soul into didn’t sell, but at least there was still the promise of another newer, shinier one being published in its wake. And maybe that could be THE ONE, and that’s what you held on to when you got your royalty statement and you’d not even made a dent in your advance. But this? This not renewing of contracts? This level of rejection was all new to me. And of course I’d seen it happen to author friends, and I’d felt truly terrible for them, but honestly? I’d never thought it was going to happen to me. Because my editor, Sophie, was lovely and in my head we were friends and I’d been under the misguided delusion that she loved me as much as I loved her and that she’d stick by me even if a book didn’t sell quite as well as we’d all hoped. Had I been wrong about her all along?

‘But they lovedThe Mother-in-Lawwhen I first handed it in. I hardly had any notes!’ I protested. ‘They said it was ten times more high-concept thanThe Babysitterand that they were really excited about it.’

Carla didn’t flinch. ‘It’s about the sales, Scarlett. You mustn’t take it personally. We can’t control how well a book does once it’s out there, it’s down to a whole host of factors and a bit of luck. Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ she said annoyingly casually.

My phone buzzed in my bag, a timely reminder of exactly why I could not lose my deal. It would be my dad. Perhaps he’d sent me a picture of another piece of medical equipment he wanted me to buy for his house. There was always something, and to stop myself feeling guilty about not living with him anymore, I always bought it for him. But what if I couldn’t?

‘Look,’ said Carla. ‘I’m not saying this is the end of your writing career, Scarlett, far from it. Let’s not run ahead of ourselves. Saturn House is one publisher in a sea of publishers.’

‘Hardly a sea.’

I swallowed hard, hoping my default mechanism would kick in and I’d be able to remain calm and unfazed in the face of crappy news. But it felt harder than usual to act like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

‘And there’s nothing we can do?’ I challenged.

I was loath to admit it, but for once I needed someone to help me fix this, even if I did pride myself on not needing help from anyone, ever.

‘Look, Carla, I can’t afford to stop publishing books, so if you want me to switch to uplit, I’ll do it. Give me a premise you think editors would get excited about and I’ll write it. Anything. I mean it.’

I was aware I sounded desperate, but I wanted Carla to know how important this was to me and that I wasn’t going to allow myself to be brushed off. I was a good writer, I knew I was, and there would be another publisher, another book, I was sure of it. All I needed was some guidance from Carla about how to get there, and fast.

Carla sat back in her chair, twiddling her thumbs like a pantomime villain.

‘I do have one idea . . .’ she said. ‘Which was why I asked you to come in. But I warn you, you’re not going to like it.’

She took a hardcover book out of her top drawer and slid it across the table to me. I turned it over so that I could see the front and immediately dropped it again, as if it had singed my fingers. It wasThe Killing Party, the latest Theo Winters novel.

‘Is there a reason you’ve pushed this testosterone-fuelledthriller in my direction?’ I asked, trying to sound jokey but not even remotely pulling it off.

‘I don’t want to go into details,’ she said, ‘but let’s just say that Theo is also in need of a career boost. And, like you, he has reasons for wanting more financial security.’

This was interesting. I knew he hadn’t hit any bestseller lists sinceLittle Boy Lostbecause obviously I’d checked, but there was always buzz around his new releases, and his press reviews were annoyingly glowing. Could it be there was trouble in paradise?

‘How is any of this going to helpme, though?’ I asked, wanting to get back to the rather pressing matter at hand.

Carla placed her hands in the prayer position and looked me directly in the eye.

‘I think the two of you should write another book together,’ she said.

It took a second or two for this to sink in. My stomach dropped, my mouth went dry. She could not be serious?

‘Me and Theo?’ I asked, suddenly finding it impossible to do anything as simple as swallow.

‘Yes,’ confirmed Carla.

‘Absolutely not.’

‘Hear me out,’ she said.

‘No. No way.’

Carla raised her eyebrows. ‘What happened to “Tell me what to do to save my career and I’ll do it, Carla? Anything. I mean it”?’