Page 79 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘It’s New Year’s Eve.’ He shrugs. ‘Social media will be overloaded. Nobody will notice.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course they will. I suppose we could spin something for the PR rounds about falling for your beta reader.’

‘This is my life, not a PR stunt.’

‘I’m shocked you asked someone to marry you, stunt or not!’ I exclaim. ‘Charles, seriously, listen to me, because this comes from a place of caring for you – do you really love her?’

‘She’s amazing,’ he says. ‘She says things like they are. She doesn’t tiptoe around me. She told me the manuscript I first showed her was crap. She said that Janice Jermyn’s books were better than mine. She doesn’t care what I do or who I am.’

‘You’re a writer, not a celebrity superstar!’

‘She’s young and forward-looking and she has her own career,’ says Charles. ‘And it’s good that it has nothing to do with publishing.’

‘A customs officer?’ I shake my head. ‘Honestly, Charles, it’s—’

‘I’m sick of everyone I know being involved in publishing,’ he says. ‘You should be too, Ariel. I’m supposed to be a writer and in touch with the world, yet ever since we married, our world has become book launches and reading events and awards dinners and we never do anything that isn’t about a bloody book.’

He’s saying the same thing I’ve often said to myself. Yet I love this world and everybody in it. Besides, bookish friendships aren’t all about work. Ekene and Maya are proper friends as well as colleagues. Lots of the people I meet in the course of my job are friends too. Just because I don’t know engineers or gardeners or even customs officers doesn’t mean I’m not living the life I want to lead.

‘She was part of that huge drugs find mentioned on the news recently.’ The pride in his voice as he continues makes it sound as though he was involved in it himself. I find it hard to imagine the girl in the green dress and ill-fitting shoes managing to confront drug smugglers, but I guess we all have our strengths. However, I’m perfectly sure that no matter what he might say, the main strength she has as far as Charles is concerned is that she’s young.

‘How old is she?’ I put the question casually.

‘Twenty-nine,’ he replies.

When I was twenty-nine my name was mentioned in one of the trade magazines as one of the Thirty Under Thirty to watch. And of course when Winter’s Heartbreak went on to be so successful, there was another piece about me, talking about how I’d fulfilled my potential.

There aren’t any articles about me these days. There are younger, hungrier people snapping at my heels, hoovering up the good talent, doing spectacular deals, and they’re the ones who make the pages of the trade magazines now. It’s not that being in your forties can’t be about success and challenges; it’s simply that nobody remarks on it any more. They expect you to have done everything you’re supposed to by now. And they’ve moved on to fresher talent.

Exactly as Charles has done. He’s found a younger, more vibrant replacement for me. He’s moved me from personal to professional, and I have a horrible feeling that eventually he’ll try to move me out of my professional role too. Or if not him, her. Because will she really want me working with my not-yet-ex-husband? Will she want me phoning him with details of deals I’ve done? Will she want me celebrating with him?

Like heck she will.

I feel a sudden spurt of fear. Then anger.

She will not push me away.

Whatever about him marrying someone else, Charles and I have something special together.

A twenty-nine-year-old in a hi-vis jacket isn’t going to change that.

Not now, not ever.

Chapter 22

Iseult

There are very few innocent sentences in writing.

David Foster Wallace

Celeste congratulates me again as I get out of the taxi outside my house. She’s been nothing but supportive, but I’m not entirely sure she’s a hundred per cent convinced I’ve done the right thing in getting engaged to Charles. I understand her hesitation. I’m only just over my break-up with Steve. I haven’t known Charles that long. He’s older than me. We’re from different worlds. Yet there was a connection between us from the moment I first saw him sitting alone at his table at the White Sands, and it’s become stronger with every passing day. I’ve never felt more sure of anything in my life.

I let myself into the house and make myself a cup of tea. I’m light-headed from champagne and cocktails, and I don’t want to appear drunk to my parents. They’ll think I said yes because I’m pissed, not because I’m in love. I drink the tea and eat two chocolate Hob Nobs. Then I FaceTime mum’s number.

It’s mid-afternoon in Napier, and she’s sitting at the garden table with a mug in front of her and baby Azaria on her lap. They’re both wearing wide-brimmed hats to protect their faces from the sun.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she says. ‘Happy New Year. Isn’t she a dote?’ She holds the phone so that I can see my niece more clearly. Mum is right. Azaria is gorgeous, with her dark eyes, perfect button nose and soft rosebud mouth.