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‘What is there to think about?’ Freddy explodes. ‘It’s a brilliant offer. Marriage and a more profitable business! A total win, win.’

‘Only if you deliver,’ says Kat. ‘What proof do I have that you’ll succeed at this getting-me-married malarkey?’

‘I’ll do you a marketing appraisal,’ says Freddy. ‘A try before you buy. Come to the Salt Marketing offices on Monday morning and I’ll explain how my processesalwayswork.’

Freddy gives Kat a winning smile, his hand still dangling in mid-air.

As Kat gives Freddy’s hand wary eyes, Chris and Minola sway past, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, dancing palm to palm. Kat’s gaze drifts after them. ‘Okay, fine.’ She still doesn’t take Freddy’s hand. ‘I’ll see you on Monday.’

CHAPTER10

Usually, I like Mondays. I spend my weekends churning over publishing to-do lists, so it’s a relief to get into the office and action everything. But this Monday, everything has gone to hell way too early. Andwhywon’t this stupid vend-o-coffee machine take my coin?

‘Duncan?’ I give the vend-o-coffee a well-timed whack. ‘What time is it?’

Duncan lifts his large, bald head from his age-stained computer monitor. ‘Um … 9.45 am?’

I crouch down to peer into the coin slot. ‘Can you phone and cancel my meeting with Freddy Stark? I won’t have time for it. Not with this latest set of disasters.’

‘Why you meet Freddy Stark?’ Gabriela shuffles past in her cat slippers, scarf and fingerless mittens, dyed orange hair stuffed under a woolly hat. Having grown up in Barcelona, Gabriela regularly comes to work with a higher tog rating than the John Lewis bedding department.

‘Whyareyou meetingFreddy Stark,’ I correct.

Gabriela blinks at me. ‘Yes. Why you meet him?’

As an editor, Gabriela’s English grammar should be better. I have been correcting her for seven years, but it’s never really sunk in. Still. She’s creative and nurturing and loves the books we work on. If I have to pull the occasional evening or weekend or Christmas Day doing an extra line edit, who’s counting?

‘Freddy is giving me advice about something,’ I say distractedly. ‘But there’s no time.Howcould we have missed this deadline, Duncan? There’s no way we can proofread an entire manuscript by lunchtime.’

‘I’ll get started on it.’ Gabriela drops onto her chair, ironically moving cat paraphernalia to find her mouse. I’ll have to tweet that when I get a moment.

‘Maybe I can get it done by tomorrow,’ Gabriela continues. ‘And they’ll take pity on us. Again.’

‘Gabriela, you know you can’t proofread at the best of times, let alone when one of your cats is sick.’ I gesture to the cat carrier under Gabriela’s desk, where Gatto lies on beige fleece. Gatto is Gabriela’s oldest, sickest cat and looks perpetually evil and pissed off. ‘You miss major things like capital letters and full stops, and youstilldon’t know how to use English past tense. Better you do something less important. Like marketing and social media. We still haven’t posted about our last award win. How long ago was the Frankfurt Book Fair now? Six months?’

‘What’s the Frankfurt Book Fair got to do with it?’ Gabriela looks genuinely perplexed.

‘Because that’s where we won the award. At the opening ceremony. You were there. Remember? You mixed our complimentary bottle of red wine with Coca-Cola and drank the whole lot –’

‘Coke and red wine is a very special Spanish drink.’ Gabriela waves a dismissive hand. ‘Kalimotxo. I thought we celebrated different cultures here.’

‘Spanish culture is about drinking moderately with small plates of food,’ I say. ‘Not to get hammered on free booze.’

‘Both are part of my culture.’ Gabriela sounds defensive.

‘Well, we really should post about that award, and … what is it, Duncan?’ I give the vending machine another bash. ‘Why are you waving your hand around like we’re in a classroom?’

Duncan lowers his arm. ‘I just wanted to tell you. We have a slight issue.’

‘As well as missing our print window?’

‘Yes. I uploaded the wrong PDF forWhy Good Girls Get Married.’

‘So? Upload the right one.’

‘It’s too late. The books have already been printed and delivered.’

‘Delivered where?’ My heart begins to pound.