‘Mum, this is Flynn Gardener,’ says Carly when I find them at the front of the shop, the young man perusing the outdated fiction titles. ‘Flynn, Frances Henderson.’
‘A pleasure to meet you,’ says Flynn. He’s very handsome. I can see why Carly was animated. ‘My mother loved your books. The house was full of them when I was young.’
‘Thank you,’ I laugh, batting away my instinct to fixate on his use of the past tense. ‘It’s always good to be reminded that readers enjoy my work.’
‘Flynn has a great opportunity for you, for us,’ says Carly.
‘Oh yes?’ I ask, conscious of my hesitancy, uncertain of how capable I’ll be of doing whatever he’s about to suggest.
‘I’m organising a book festival on a train from Edinburgh to Paris – I’ve one last bookseller and author spot to fill. When Carly mentioned that her mother was the illustrious Frances Henderson, it felt like a no-brainer to ask if you’d like to take part.’
‘A book train! What a wonderful idea,’ I say sincerely, imagining enjoying the experience as a reader, but at the same time I’m wary; the prospect of contributing to a book festival while struggling with writer’s block gives me palpitations.
‘It would be such a coup for us to have you alongside the others, and in particular Christopher Rose – a bestselling crime authoranda bestselling romance author heading the bill.’
‘Ye-es,’ I muse quietly, wondering what a romance author with a failing marriage could possibly contribute to the experience, but flattered that Flynn should think I’m equal to Christopher Rose, Chris Rose having been an industry darling for over thirty years, whose sales figures defy all trends, and whose work has been made into countless films.
‘You’ve published what, twenty, twenty-five books over the course of your career, topped the bestseller list, and sold in countless different countries, am I correct?’ asks Flynn. He talks with such warmth and enthusiasm, it feels as if we’ve known each other for years.
‘You’re right – you know your books. You must have a lot of experience,’ I say, beginning to feel as if I’ve grown an inch.
‘There are few other people in the country more qualified to talk about romantic fiction. Your presence really would elevate the experience.’
‘I don’t know,’ I say.
‘The hope would be for you to do the same as Chris, the standard book festival format – a workshop and ameet and greet – although he’ll be doing the big finale in Paris, a Q&A on his life’s work, rather than a workshop. I’m certain our guests would be queuing the length of the train to attend your sessions.’
‘When is this happening?’ I ask, my curiosity piqued, beginning to think that some time away might be just what the doctor ordered.
‘Next Friday,’ says Flynn, quickly following up with, ‘There’s a lot of excitement on our social channels – you really would be the cherry on top of the cake.’
‘Next Friday,’ I echo, surprised. From the corner of my eye, I see Carly frown.
‘And, of course, there’s a generous fee, which I’m more than happy to send you details of. But more importantly, it would be a great opportunity to generate interest in your latest book whilst enjoying the train and all that London and Paris have to offer, hopefully alongside your daughter as bookseller.’
‘Can you give us twenty-four hours to think about it?’ Carly asks, the enthusiasm that was written all over her face having faded.
‘Of course, I realise it’s a lot to take in, but I promise, if you go for it, you won’t regret it for a moment.’
‘What was that about?’ I ask, once Flynn has gone and Carly and I are alone in the shop.
‘How do you mean?’
‘I thought you were keen on the idea, maybe even keen on him, but then you all but threw him out.’
Carly returns to her sorting of the books, more vigorously than usual.
‘I was, but then when he was talking, he sounded a bit too keen and opportunistic, don’t you think? All that chat about huge queues of readers and you being the cherry on top of it all when he clearly hasn’t even thought about you until he walked into the shop.’
‘He’s a marketing man, it comes with the territory. It could be fun, Carly. Like he said, it might help raise my profile again. Maybe I’ll come up with a new idea or two. And it could be good for you too. God knows we both need the income.’
‘I’m not saying no. I’m just saying let’s give it some thought. I know all publicity is meant to be good publicity, but that’s not always the case. Damaging your reputation at this stage in your career wouldn’t be great.’
‘Carly, you’re overthinking this.’
‘I just don’t want anyone taking advantage of you, that’s all,’ she says, her rankle abating slightly.
‘Who’s taking advantage? He gets an author, I get a new perspective. You were sold on the idea when he first suggested it.’
