Page 32 of Hate You to Love You

Parlour is a quiet bar located on the ground floor of the QT hotel, right in the heart of the city. Much like the stylings of the boutique hotel above it, the bar is elegant with sparkly golden tiles and a striking gothic design. The interior is dim – candles dripping with wax are the only source of light – and the tables are located in old ticket booths; a relic of the theatre that used to inhabit the space. On the walls, movie posters pay homage to the history of the building.

I’ve settled in at a table in the far corner, with an orange juice this time. No wine. Not even a mimosa. There’s no way I’m going to mess this up again. This is my fourth chance to make a good impression with Claudia and, in many ways, it feels like my last chance.

I shake off the doubt, remembering why I’m here. This is about moving forward. This is about proving that I can be happy again.

Eventually, two security guards push open the doors leading to the entrance, and Claudia gracefully glides into the bar. She removes her sunglasses and begins to look around the room. There is a thoughtful look in her eyes, and I can tell from her expression that although her body might be here in the present, her mind is recalling a different moment.

Elliot follows Claudia in, then guides her to my table. It’s still so strange to see Elliot in work mode. A force to be reckoned with. And I have to remember that this is who he wants to be; this is the life he chose. We are both different people now.

‘Well, are we going to get started?’ Claudia asks, sounding a little uncertain as she sits across from me and gazes around at the bar.

I take a deep breath. Even with my stomach twisting from the nerves, there’s an eager voice in the back of my head reminding me of the passion and direction I used to have as a writer. The doubt wasn’t going to win this time.

‘I know we didn’t get off to the best start, Claudia,’ I say brightly, ‘so I thought I’d change up where we were supposed to meet. I hope you like the venue?’

I quickly glance over at Elliot. He’s biting his bottom lip as he shoots me a concerned look, but remains silent as both he and Claudia settle into the seats opposite me.

‘I haven’t been to this place in years.’ She shifts in her seat to look around at the old movie posters on the walls. ‘This bar changed my life. I was sitting right over there, on one of the chairs by the counter when I accepted the offer from Redhouse for my first adult novel. After the success of the Golden Ruins series, it took me years to start a new project. I was worried that my publisher would want me to stick within the dystopian middle grade genre. But Summer Memory was a book I needed to write. When I submitted it, I could finally breathe again. And I was sitting in this very bar, two tables over, when the email came through saying that the manuscript had been accepted.’

Claudia looks wistfully towards the other table. Her face is lit up by the flickering glimmer of the candles.

I nod encouragingly. ‘Do you ever feel that the pressure of success in this industry eclipses the wonders of it?’

‘Always. I will never forget that what happened with those books came down to chance. I didn’t think I’d ever write again. So as I sat here, with those words from my publisher affirming that I could still do this, it was a big moment for me,’ she concedes. ‘It proved to me that Golden Ruins wasn’t a fluke. My first book deal had happened so quickly, it had always felt like an accident. Of course, you probably think you know how that story goes.’

‘Everyone does,’ I say with a smile. ‘You worked tirelessly in between jobs to write, only to get rejection after rejection. And then Golden Ruins got picked up by Redhouse – as part of a huge three book deal.’

‘Mmhmm,’ she mumbles. ‘I had never intended to become an author, although my parents always encouraged me to read. I lost track of how many times my mother and I read Anne of Green Gables.’ Pausing, Claudia looks around the bar, and after slowly gazing to her right as if watching her memories play out in front of her, she continues. ‘They passed away when I was quite young.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say quietly.

‘Thank you. It’s been years now. But the people you love never leave you.’

My throat tightens with emotion, but I shove the feelings down.

‘After my parents died, the only thing that I could do was write. Coming up with fictional stories not only gave me an escape from the pain of missing them, but it was a way to keep them close to my heart,’ she continues. ‘When I was writing the Golden Ruins, I kept picturing my mother being proud of me. Or I’d remember my father reading me pages from The Chronicles of Narnia as he tucked me into bed. Storytelling was their lifeline, so it felt like they were still with me as the fictional world I created expanded.’

Listening to Claudia talk about missing her parents is oddly comforting.

‘There was nothing left for me in Perth after they passed away. So, I moved to Sydney because it seemed like the kind of city where I would have the most opportunities. That would have been in 2003, which feels like a different lifetime now. Writing was the only thing giving me purpose, so I worked odd jobs to afford living in this city in the hopes that I could find a way to get The City of Golden Ruins published. During the day, I worked at this charming little bookshop called Gertrude and Alice in Bondi. In the evenings, I juggled shifts between two different bars. The only time I had left to write was in the early hours of the morning. As painful as it was to get up at 5 am, all my energy was focused on finishing the book and making it the best it could be.

‘I was living in this run-down apartment in Kings Cross. Dark, mouldy and noisy as hell. The only place that I could write was this cafe tucked away in the backstreets of Paddington. They had the best croissants, and they were very generous with their serving sizes of coffee. And that’s where I met Stephen.’

Claudia places her hands together and rests them on the table. Her eyes linger on the flickering candle in front of us.

‘He owned the cafe, and one day spotted me sitting with a stack of Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books. He seemed charmed to meet an adult reading children’s classics. I was so used to people telling me that my dreams of becoming a children’s author would never come true, that I was expecting him to make some audacious remark about my reading habits. Except he didn’t. He sat down and told me that he still loved reading the children’s books he grew up with. From Peter Rabbit to Winnie the Pooh. He said that these characters gave his life a sense of whimsy and wonder.’

I almost drop my pen. I’d never heard of Stephen before. I could have sworn she was going to tell me about how this all connected to her relationship with Alastair. But it looked like we hadn’t reached that chapter in her story yet.

‘After that, he started lending me copies of his favourite children’s books. I can still picture him standing behind the counter, handing me a book with my croissant. His favourite was Charlotte’s Web. Stephen had this permanent face full of joy, but his face went stiff when he told me how he’d never forget Charlotte’s death and the way it reminded him to always live boldly. I knew I’d finally met someone who understood the power of storytelling and what it meant to me.’

‘It sounds like he inspired you a lot,’ I say softly.

Claudia shuts her eyes for a moment. ‘He did. In between me recommending him books as well, we started to share more about our lives. He had been studying medicine but left his degree halfway through after burning out. He said he wanted to save people, but didn’t want a career that drained him. He always led with his heart. Everyone has that one person they can rely on to ground them. For some people, it’s their mum, for others it’s their partner or their childhood best friend. For me, it was Stephen.’

‘I haven’t heard you mention Stephen in any of your interviews before,’ I say, flipping through my notes.

Claudia lets out an aching sigh. ‘You wouldn’t find anything. He wasn’t a writer. He didn’t live in the spotlight – in fact, he hated the idea of fame. I hadn’t realised it until I met him, but I was incredibly lonely when I first moved to Sydney. But once he was in my life, I knew I’d be okay because I could finally share my life with someone. All the wins and losses.’