‘Yes, a few times, on local news programmes and a few other chat and magazine type shows like this. My publisher has a very good publicity department and they’re fantastic at getting authors slots like this.’
To maximise the number of people who will get sucked into reading her books and thus have their perception of reality warped.
‘Good for them,’ I say with great insincerity.
‘Yep.’ She stands up and smooths the skirt of her dress, which makes me wonder whether she’s a little anxious about the interview.
I’m not nervous, just keen to get the interview out of the way and then get on with the rest of my over-busy day; I’m here because no publicity is bad publicity, according to my fellow partners at work. The more people have heard of us, the more they’ll send their business our way. I already have enough business but thought how hard can it be, and said yes anyway, for the greater good of the firm, when everyone else decided I’d be the best person for the job. Mistake.
The door opens; Soraya’s back.
‘Let’s go,’ she says.
Ms Cassidy does the skirt-smoothing again and also gives both sides of the chest of her dress a little inwards tug. It’s quite revealing on the top half; I’m guessing from the way she seems to be trying to rearrange the dress that she isn’t comfortable with that. Presumably she was given it to wear by the wardrobe people.
‘You look beautiful, Freya,’ Soraya tells her, obviously having noticed that she doesn’t look entirely at ease. She’s right. Objectively, shedoeslook beautiful. She has very thick, long hair, mainly down but with some bits up, which frames her heart-shaped face very attractively. And whoever chose the dress and high heels she’s wearing did a good job; I can’t imagine anyone else wearing them better, frankly. The dress has deep pink and red flowers, presumably in a nod to Valentine’s Day (I was told to either bring a pink tie of my own or borrow one from them; I brought one), and suits her dark blonde hair and creamy skin, and the heels are red and shiny, and combined with the swishy skirts of the dress reveal excellent legs.
Wow. I havenoidea why I’m cataloguing what the woman is wearing. She’s been thanking Soraya, and they’ve been chatting about nail varnish while I’ve been lost in my own peculiar thoughts.
Make-up people swoop towards us. I tell them I am absolutely fine, thank you; Ms Cassidy submits to having something powdery brushed on her cheeks and forehead and black eye stuff touched up, while the woman wielding the brushes gives her some advice about how to hold herself on camera. When the woman’s finished, I can’t see a difference if I’m honest. Ms Cassidy looked ridiculously beautiful before; she still does.
I havenoidea why I can’t think of her as Freya. We aren’t in the nineteenth century. I’m just tooirritatedby her actual existence, though.
Right. We’re finally going on. As we walk down the corridor, Soraya calls, ‘Enjoy!’ after us.
I look at Ms Cassidy’s perfectly proportioned profile and feel yet another wave ofrealannoyance that she has this butter-wouldn’t-melt look while she’s regularly ruining people’s lives.
When she smiles at me, and says with an ironic little eye-roll, ‘Well, let’s havefun. Here’s to love and Valentine’s Day,’ all I can do is respond with an eye-roll of my own.Ather, though, notwithher.
3
FREYA
‘Freya Cassidy. Writer of romance. Purveyor of happily-ever-afters.’ Maud’s heroine, Sonja, the national-treasure, longest-standing presenter ofWake Up Britain, smiles at me, and I dutifully return the smile, remembering to project my chin forward as I do so. The chin projection is surprisingly difficult but – according to the make-up artist who dusted powder over my face just now – worth it as it’s the best way to ensure as flattering a camera angle as possible at all times. ‘What are your tips for finding a forever love? Yourpersonaltips.’
Accept there’s no such thing and move on, I think.
‘Well,’ I say. ‘Everyone is different, and every love story is different.’ I look at Sonja. She famously likes actual answers to her actual questions; clearly I’m not going to be able to leave it there. ‘And you’re asking how each person can find their own individual love story.’ In my experience you can sometimes divert interviewers by repeating their question back at them.
‘Exactly.’ Sonja leans in towards me, her head tilted to one side, an interested, enquiring expression on her face. She’sgood; I now genuinely almost do want to answer her truthfully. Except, also, I do not want to upset my readers, to whom I am verygrateful, and about whom I care a lot; and no-one enjoys having illusions shattered, and they think that I very much believe in love and am waiting with bated breath for my own Prince Charming to come along. So I’m going to continue to hide the truth behind platitudes.
‘I think you just have to let it happen,’ I say soulfully, still chin-projecting.
A discreet but definite snort comes from my left. Jake. I freeze for a moment in slight shock – it’s one thing someone being rude to me one on one, behind the scenes, and quite another them snorting at me on national television – before realising that, frustratingly, my only option is to ignore him if I want to retain my dignity.
Sonja does not ignore it. ‘Jake Stone. Divorce lawyer to the stars. You look – and sound – sceptical. Are you suggesting that there’s no such thing as “just letting it happen”? I take it you don’t believe in love?’
Well, of course he doesn’t. Surely all divorce lawyers have seen so many warring couples that it would put them off love for life. Presumably that was why they asked him on the show in the first place, to provide a balance to the pro-finding-love comments they knew I would make.
However. ‘On the contrary,’ says snorty, over-smooth and over-handsome Jake. ‘I do believe in love. I believe that most of my clients have just been unlucky and there’s no reason they shouldn’t eventually find true love. Or perhaps theyweretruly in love when they married, but they’ve genuinely grown apart due to circumstance or differing personal development. So, yes, I do believe in love.’
I find myself nodding in reluctant appreciation. Despite how extremely annoying he is, I do have to give it to him: that was a very good marketing spiel. And almost genuine-seeming. If someone’s hurting from the breakdown of their marriage andwants to go back for more romance, what better divorce lawyer to choose than someone who has a touchy-feely, you-will-love-again side to him. As well as being reputedly the most ferocious in the business. (I googled him when he rudely got his phone out to avoid talking to me while we were waiting.)
‘That’s so lovely,’ says Sonja. ‘Why, then, did you audibly snort in response to Freya’s beautiful answer?’
‘I felt that it was hollow.’ Jake speaks so affably that it takes a moment for the words to achieve their full impact.
When they do, Sonja gasps.
