‘Can’t stop!’ she says, refusing my invitation to come inside the apartment. ‘But your phone still isn’t workingand I figured it was probably best to tell you in person.’ She exhales a quick short breath and meets my eyes, ‘So … I tried my darndest to extend your deadline and I’m afraid that no matter what I said – and I said many things – your publishers were simply unwilling and unable to budge on the date – not even by two weeks. So unfortunately, unless you die before the deadline, you now only have nine days to deliver this book.’
‘Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck.’
‘Agreed,’ Bridget says, reaching out to give my shoulder a game pat. ‘I’m sorry, Gertie. Will you be okay? I would say no pressure, but it seems that would be a lie and maybe it’s time to admit to myself that it was always a lie. There is now, in fact, much pressure!’
I nod dumbly.
‘Oh yes!’ Bridget adds, lowering her voice a tad. ‘If your editors ask about your recovery from scabies, just tell them you’re on the mend and move on, okay? Right. Must go. Meetings abound! Egos to tend to! Deals to be done!’
‘Scabies?’ I screw my face up. ‘Bridget, why would my editors ask me about scabies?’
‘Don’t worry about it!’ She starts down the stairs, the clip of her heels echoing in the cavernous space.
‘Bridget,’ I shout after her. ‘Did you tell my editors I have scabies?’
‘I’m sorry, okay!’ she shouts back from the bottom of the stairs. ‘I know it sounds extreme, but it’s never failed. People usually back well away from any mention of scabies. In my experience it’s the only way you get people to leave you wellalone, no requests for in-person editorial meetings or even Zooms. Plus it worked the last time I said it!’
‘WHAT LAST TIME?’
‘I can’t hear you, I’m all the way at the bottom of the stairs now! I’ll check in tomorrow!’
‘BRIDGET?!’
‘Bye! Good luck!’
For fuck’s sake.
I slump back inside and tell River that it’s a no-go on the extension. He presses his lips together.
‘So your deadline is in nine days and the land auction is in thirteen. Is there any world in which—’
‘It’s impossible.’ I take my glasses off and rub at my eyes. ‘It’s literally impossible.’
River places his hulking workman hands on my shoulders. ‘Look at the situation we’re in, Owl. We bothknowthere’s no such thing as impossible.’ He bites his bottom lip and I think, despite my current panicked state, that I would like to join him in the endeavour.
River’s eyes become serious. ‘Looks like it’s time to bring out the big guns.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
You’re still not answering your phone and now I’m worried. Is that what you wanted? Well, it worked. Officially worried. H
Text undelivered
As we reach the enormous cast-iron gates of the cemetery I immediately start sweating. ‘This was a bad idea,’ I mutter, turning to River and thrusting the bunch of chamomile into his hands. ‘I don’t actually think it’ll help after all. Let’s just go back home. Why don’t we try that other suggestion:Get the hell out of your head and get the hell into your body?We could go to Southend, get on a roller coaster? How about we do that instead?’
‘Because we both agreed that facing your fears could really help you to write again. That’s why we put it on our list –Unravel unresolved emotions, just like the library books suggested. You told me that visiting Josie’s headstone was something you’d been trying to do for years.’
I switch my glasses for prescription sunglasses and kick at the dusty ground, cursing myself and my stupid blabbermouth.
‘I have loads of other unresolved emotions to unravel,’ I try. ‘I once laughed at a hipster trying and failing to walk up an icy hill. He saw me laughing and he looked so hurt. I feel bad about that all the time. Sometimes it stops me sleeping. Ooh, and – this one’s good – I haven’t seen my parents in six months. I can’t bear to see them so sorrowful. I tried. I really did. But they just want to talk about Josie, and the guilt I feel when they do is too …’ I sigh heavily. ‘That definitely needs unravelling. Maybe I could send them a voice note?’
‘Oh Gertie,’ River says softly.
I plonk myself down onto the bench outside the cemetery gates and lower my voice, eyes flicking from side to side in case I’m in hearing range of a single other person. ‘I have another one,’ I say. ‘This goes no further, okay, but – I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I pretend to adore Taylor Swift’s music because I’m worried that if I publicly admit my ambivalence, I’ll get cancelled by all of my peers,’ I blurt it out quickly, hands covering my face. ‘She’s clearly an amazing, clever, talented woman but the songs … I could take or leave them. Gosh. That’s the first time I’ve ever said that to anyone. Let’s unravel that! I’m sure there’s lots of juice in there.’
River nods thoughtfully. ‘First of all, hipster trying and failing to walk up an icy hill is objectively hilarious.’
‘Yeah. It really is. He was wearing these dungarees …’
