Page 44

‘Shall we get back to talking about the book?’ I said, wishing I’d never started this particular line of questioning. Although I supposed I had gleaned some interesting information about his romantic life, even if I did feel annoyingly relieved that he hadn’t found anyone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It made it feel less personal that he hadn’t wanted to spend it with me.

‘How would you see this “writing together” thing working?’ I asked, trying to get back to sounding remotely professional when really all I could think about was him, sitting behind me, half-naked in the dark.

‘We’d pitch up somewhere. Down by the beach, maybe, why not, since our book begins there? And we write together and critique our work as we go along. Plot it all out before we start,’ he said.

‘I don’t do plotting,’ I said.

‘How’s that been working out for you?’

‘Good point,’ I conceded.

‘Look,’ he said, and I could sense that he was leaning forward even if I suddenly couldn’t bring myself to look at him, ‘if we plot it out together, chapter by chapter, scene by scene, then we’ll know exactly where we’re headed. And most importantly, we’ll both be heading in the same direction. The last thing we want is one of us going off on one tangent and the other one going a different way and then none of it makes sense. The strands all have to come together in the end, don’t they, with a proper, satisfying conclusion? If we have that clear in our heads, it will also be clear for our readers.’

Maybe, but it also sounded like the opposite of fun. I liked to almost improvise and to let my characters take over and show me how they wanted to react to a certain situation and what they wanted to do about it. It was what I loved aboutwriting books, being able to behave and think like somebody who was nothing like me. If we planned it all out like a military operation, I thought it would take that joy away. Plus, it would mean spending more time with Theo, whose near-perfect abs I was finding it harder not to think about with each long minute that passed.

‘Can I think about it?’ I said, knowing I ought to compromise. I was usually excellent at putting other people’s needs first, but there was something about Theo that made me want to dig my heels in. I desperately didn’t want him to have the upper hand, a dynamic I felt I could easily fall into with him, but which I knew I could resist if I put my mind to it.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘If you need to.’

I was far too hot and I needed fresh air. As Theo seemed happy as Larry up there, it was clearly me who was going to have to leave first. I bolted up, darting for my robe to cover myself up before he realised what was happening.

‘Don’t leave on my account,’ he said. I could hear the amusement in his voice.

I tutted. ‘I did say I’d be going to the hot tub.’

‘I might come with you, actually,’ he said, making a move to get up.

I must have looked horrified.

‘I’m joking, Scarlett,’ he said. ‘Enjoy some quiet time in the jacuzzi. And I’ll see you at breakfast.’

I did not enjoy the jacuzzi because before I’d even climbed the few steps out to the roof, I decided to check my phone (bad idea) and there were six missed calls from my dad. With panic flooding my body as it always did when I saw he’d been trying to get hold of me and I hadn’t answered, I called him, not caring that I was standing right by the entrance to the sauna. Theo came through the door at the worst possibletime, of course, still in that ridiculous towel. He clocked me, hesitated and then started out in the direction of the men’s changing rooms.

‘Dad?’ I said, my tone thick and urgent. ‘Is everything all right? I’m sorry I missed your calls.’

Theo looked over his shoulder at me and I caught his eye for a second before turning my back on him, focusing on Dad who at least was alive or else presumably he wouldn’t have been able to answer his phone.

‘When are you coming back?’ said Dad. ‘Nobody is cooking for me like you do. Kate refused to send an email I asked her to do because she said she was too busy, but busy with what, I ask you? She’s only got to do the school run.’

‘I’m sure she’ll do it at some point, Dad,’ I said, silently thinking that rather than refusing Dad’s request, perhaps it was more that Kate didn’t just wade in and do what he’d asked the second he clicked his fingers. And it dawned on me that perhaps, without even realising, I’d sabotaged my siblings’ efforts by diving on things and fixing them before anyone had even realised they needed fixing. It was a strange and new realisation that I wasn’t the only one capable of looking after Dad, and that I didn’t need to be.

Chapter Thirteen

That evening I made an extra effort to look nice for a drinks reception Melissa had organised. It was being in France that had sparked this newfound need to be the chicest version of myself possible, I told myself. Cannes was a particularly fashion-conscious town. So what if I wanted to wear little dresses and heels instead of my usual jeans and cardigan combo? I was adaptable. I read the room. The French Riviera demanded style and an element of panache, even from those of us who were fundamentally not stylish in the least but who occasionally gave it a go. And things were hotting up for the film festival – earlier, on a walk down to the beach, I’d noticed a crowd were taking photos of themselves on the steps leading up to the Palais des Festivals, which had a fake-looking red carpet draped over them, and railings were stacked up on the kerbside, presumably to be used to control the crowds who would soon be gathering to see some of the biggest movie stars on earth.

I secretly loved awards season. I say secretly, because it was something Jackson had despised because he said he was fed up with people in the movie industry patting each other on the back and who was interested, anyway? When I’d pointed out that he’d seemed to quite enjoy all the pomp and ceremony around being a Booker Prize longlistee – twice! – he shut me down, branding it completely different.I mean, how? It was exactly the same! Except that everyone was about a thousand times better dressed at the Oscars.

I was one of the last to arrive in the hotel bar, a room to the left of the dining room which housed an upright piano, several tables and chairs and a giant TV screen, which I guessed meant this room was also used for meetings and small conferences. Theo was already there, standing over at the far side of the room wearing black jeans and a pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. My stomach flipped when he looked across and smiled at me, warming me from the inside out. It was nice to see him like this, relaxed again, like before. Except that it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep on hating him, which felt much safer, if less productive writing-wise. He was holding a glass of wine in each hand and had been chatting to Paul until he saw me and now we were sort of beaming at each other as though everyone else in the room could fade away and we wouldn’t notice. I forced myself to pull it together and walked breezily over to him, otherwise other people were going to notice how weirdly we were acting around each other.

‘Hey,’ I said, approaching him and Paul, who didn’t seem to have clocked that Theo was now only half-listening; he was waxing lyrical about a team spending millions on somebody and them not playing well. Football, I presumed. Or soccer, as Paul called it.

‘Ah, here she is,’ announced Paul as though everyone had been waiting with bated breath for my arrival.

I loved this group, I decided there and then. Despite entering the retreat under duress and without being in an actual couple, they’d all welcomed me and Theo with open arms. I felt properly seen for the first time in ages. Part of something. Cared about, which was strange since I’d only known them all for only a matter of days. I felt a pang ofsadness at the thought of leaving all of this and going home to my real life, where I had no time and space to think about myself and life seemed to be made up of a series of tasks, as though I was ticking things off a list before writing a whole new list and then starting all over again. It was exhausting. And here, in this little hotel in Cannes, I felt energised and grounded and like I shone in a different way, i.e. not just because I was giving everything of myself to others.

‘I got you a glass of red,’ said Theo, passing it to me. ‘I hope that’s OK? Only I remember it’s what you used to drink?’

‘Thanks,’ I said, touched that he hadn’t forgotten. ‘Just what I fancied.’