Page 61 of Love or Your Money Back
CHAPTER
‘Don’t try to do anything.’ Freddy places another hot water bottle over me, making five in total.
I’m on my hotel bed, gently thawing under a giant rubber radiator of heat.
‘I have to do something,’ I insist. ‘I need to message Penguin Random House and tell them I’m not a drunk. I may be more hot water bottle than human being, but my fingers still work.’
‘I’ll get you another meeting with Penguin Random House,’ says Freddy. ‘Now. About the award ceremony tonight –’
‘I can’t go.’ My bottom lip becomes a squiggle.
‘Don’t start crying again.’ Freddy holds up a hand. ‘Of course you’re going to the award ceremony. You’ve been nominated for Small Press of the Year.’
‘A nomination isn’t a win –’
‘I think you will win.’
‘Because you know nothing about publishing.’
‘I know business,’ says Freddy. ‘Little Voice had a 500% profit increase this year and a potential partnership deal with Penguin Random House. Have you seen the other nominees? They barely have a handful of bestsellers between them. Now, you’ll need your cane –’
‘You’re assuming I can walk with my cane.’
‘Well, can’t you?’
‘I don’t know. My hand isn’t working well. I could lose my grip. And I’d rather not find that out in a crowded ceremony room with everyone watching me.’
‘Right. Okay.’ Freddy nods. ‘So what about a wheelchair?’
‘There is no way –’
‘Come on, Kat. MS is part of your life, right? And your indifference to popular opinion is one of my favourite things about you.’
I struggle to sit up on the hotel bed. ‘There’s a certain line of humiliation even I won’t cross. I can cope with legs that jump all over the place. And a mild amount of voice tremor. But turning up in front of my industry peers as a wheelchair-bound, slurring wreck lacks dignity.’
‘They’re not going to think any less of you –’
‘Of course they’ll think less of me,’ I say. ‘Society thinks less of everyone who comes last in the sport’s day race. It’s sad but true.’
‘Has it occurred to you that people might think more of you for braving the award ceremony in a wheelchair?’
‘No.’ I arrange my back against pillows.
‘There’s strength in vulnerability, you know.’
‘Oh, fuck off. You hide your vulnerabilities too, Freddy Stark. You don’t talk about your mother leaving you. Or why you’re too scared to settle down.’
‘Well, we’re both frightened idiots, darling.’ Freddy gives me a half smile. ‘But I always thought you were the stronger of the two of us.’
‘I cry quite a bit behind closed doors.’ I rearrange hot water bottles. ‘So what are your other favourite things about me?’
‘What?’
‘You said you had favourite things
about me. Things. Plural.’
‘Yes.’ Freddy lifts the mini travel kettle. ‘I did say that.’
‘So what are they?’
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘Answer the question.’
‘Fine. I enjoy your complete certainty about right and wrong. And that you’re not afraid to argue with me about anything and everything.
And that even when you’re in pain, you still try to micro-manage.
But my very favourite thing about you is that you need help more than you will ever admit, and sometimes I’m the special person you let give you that help.
Actually Kat, I need to tell you something –’
There’s a knock at the door.
‘Helloooooo!’
‘Oh Lord.’ I struggle up in bed. ‘It’s Ahmet. Help me sit upright. He can’t see me slumped and pathetic.’
‘He’s your fiancé.’ Freddy pulls me up against the headboard. ‘Don’t you think he’s going to see you at your worst from time to time?’
‘No. Chris never saw me like this. I made him sleep downstairs.’
‘Katerina?’ Ahmet’s voice floats through the bedroom door. ‘I hear Freddy in there with you. I DO HOPE you’re being appropriate, ha, ha, ha!’
‘VERY APPROPRIATE,’ I call back. ‘I’m fully dressed and trapped under five hot water bottles.’
There’s a pause. Then Ahmet says, ‘Is the heating broken?’
Freddy pulls the bedroom door open. ‘Can we help you, Ahmet?’
Ahmet stands in the doorway wearing an ‘Ich lese gerne Bücher’ baseball cap and holding armfuls of souvenir bags.
‘Is everything alright?’ Ahmet asks.
‘Fine,’ says Freddy. ‘Kat is having a flare-up. She’s resting.’
‘A flare up!’ Ahmet looks terrified. ‘Have you called a doctor?’
‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘It’s just a fake flare-up. No blindness or complete paralysis. I need to wait this one out. I’ll be better by tomorrow.’
‘You’re sure?’ Ahmet asks.
I manage a nod, although it hurts. ‘Honestly, I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘It’s just bad timing, that’s all. With the awards tonight. Because my legs are being a little problematic.’
‘Oh, that’s such a shame
.’ Ahmet gives me sympathetic eyes. ‘Especially with your Small Press of the Year nomination. What a pity to miss out.’
‘She’s going to the ceremony, Ahmet,’ Freddy snaps. ‘It’s just a question of how. A wheelchair is the best bet, but Kat doesn’t want –’
‘I will not be using a wheelchair.’ My cheeks burn. ‘If it comes to that, I’ll stay here.’
‘We can stay here together!’ Ahmet looks delighted. ‘I don’t have a ticket for the award ceremony, anyway. They said I needed to be affiliated with a publishing company. Who knew publishing could be so elitist?’
‘Come on, Kat,’ says Freddy. ‘You know how badly you want to go to that award ceremony. The only reason not to go would be cowardliness. And you’re the bravest person I ever met. Don’t let me down.’
‘You know what?’ I push back the duvet. ‘I am brave. Freddy, hand me my cane. I’ll see how many steps I can take without falling over.’
Freddy hands me my cane. I pull myself out of bed and promptly fall over.
‘Righty-o.’ Freddy stands over me. ‘Wheelchair it is, then?’