Page 156 of The Honeymoon Affair

But it’s Tristan I see first, on the upper level of the store where the event is taking place. There are already a few super-fans waiting for Charles, which is heartening.

‘How is he?’ I ask him.

‘Practising away in the stockroom,’ he says.

‘He’ll be fine. He always gets good sales at events.’

‘Yes, the manager says they’ve sold a load of books already. She told the buyers that Charles would be here later, but they couldn’t wait.’

‘That’ll keep him happy.’

‘He needs to be told he’s good, doesn’t he?’

‘Don’t we all.’

I smile at Tristan and then take a seat at the back of the room, where I’m partially hidden by a display of Irish history books. As the room begins to fill up, I recognise the young woman sliding into the seat in front of me. I hesitate for a moment, then tap her on the shoulder.

‘Oh,’ she says when she turns around and sees me. ‘Ariel.’

‘Francesca.’ I smile at her. ‘How are you? How’s the book going?’

I didn’t hear anything more about her after our meeting at the Shelbourne, although for a while afterwards I kept an eye on the trade news to see which agent her father had deemed good enough to represent her.

‘No news,’ she says. ‘I’ve been busy at work.’

She’s in hotel administration as far as I remember.

‘It takes time,’ I say. ‘I hope you’re still writing.’

‘Oh, I’m not sure about that any more.’ She shrugs. ‘I don’t think it’s me really.’

‘Francesca! It’s absolutely you. Your book is marvellous. Did you get an agent?’

‘It didn’t work out.’ She makes a face. ‘Dad feels he can do it himself.’

‘Look, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but please don’t let your dad influence your future career. I know he means well, I know he thinks he’s doing his best for you, but he doesn’t have the knowledge or the contacts or the experience.’

‘A friend of his knows someone in a small publishing company who might be interested,’ she says.

‘And have they made an offer?’

She shakes her head.

‘Even if you want to go to that publisher, you can still have a chat with me first,’ I tell her. ‘I’m not trying to muscle in, I promise. I just want to be sure you’re doing the right thing. I’m in Dublin for a couple of days, so get in touch if you feel it’s appropriate.’

She hesitates, and then tells me she has my number and might give me a call. I say that’s fine and settle back in my chair. She turns around, then a moment later turns back again.

‘Could you meet me tomorrow?’ she asks. ‘The morning would be best, but whatever suits you.’

‘Ten thirty? At the Shelbourne?’

‘That’d be perfect,’ she says. ‘My dad won’t be with me.’

I smile to myself. Sometimes the things that seem to pass you by are simply waiting for the right moment.

The room is now full, and Charles walks out to a warm round of applause. After being introduced by the store manager, he opens the book and begins to read.

He’s so, so good at this. He has them in the palm of his hand. I look at all the rapt faces and then catch my breath. Because I recognise another young woman, this time sitting in the back row, shielded behind a table display.