Jo replied to Graham Westbury after she had tucked Clara up in bed. Before then, she didn’t feel able to reply without making herself sound like a fawning idiot. It was bad enough that she had zero chill, she didn’t want to advertise it in her first official communication with Graham.
She could hardly believe that she was having this email conversation, but she was determined to take her time and enjoy it.
Dear Graham,
Thank you so much for your email of this morning. I apologise for the time it has taken me to respond, but I was so blown away by your words that I wanted a little time to process everything you had written.
As it happened, I was also on a writing retreat of sorts with one of your authors – Ewan McLachlan, who has been researching his next novel here.
I am beyond happy that you read and enjoyed The Lies We Tell, and I am thrilled that you would like to discuss representing me. I would be more than happy to have a phone conversation with you to discuss this further, and to discuss your ideas on how to get the book ready to submit to publishers.
Please let me know when would suit you for a chat. I look forward to speaking with you.
Kindest regards,
Jo Campbell
She read the email at least seven times, and tweaked it before she pressed send. She realised that while she hadn’t exactly shown zero chill, she wasn’t far off. But this was a huge deal. This could bring her dream directly to her door. The thought made her feel giddy.
Jo was still feeling light and breezy when she got up the following morning and looked out at the bright spring morning. She was determined nothing was going to bring her down, not even the incredibly bizarre behaviour of Ewan the day before or whatever would happen when she met Lorcan for a coffee. He had sent a perfunctory message shortly after her return to Derry saying he would appreciate the chance to talk. Something that, probably because of Ewan’s sudden mood swing the day before, she felt more nervous about than she normally would. She wasn’t sure she could trust her feelings about new men in her life any more.
But first of all, she was going to take Clara to school and then she, and her battered laptop, were going to Once Upon A Book to try to pull together some of the ideas she had worked on with Ewan. She intended to write until it was time to see Lorcan, and then, when that was done and dusted, she planned to write some more.
‘You don’t look sad today, Jo,’ Clara said, as they walked hand in hand through the school gates, having sung most of the Frozen soundtrack on the way.
‘You know what? I don’t think I am sad today and I’m not even tired because I had cuddles with my best girl all night.’
A bright smile beaming across her face, Clara skipped into school and Jo turned and headed for the bookshop.
‘I’ve kept our next big famous author her favourite spot by the window,’ Libby crowed as Jo arrived. ‘And your first coffee and bun is on the house. As is the use of the writing nook. All I ask is that when you get your book made into a HUGE movie, you invite me to the Oscars with you so I can bag a celebrity husband.’
Jo laughed. ‘Won’t Noah have a problem with that?’
‘Not if I bring him back Charlize Theron. We have an agreement.’
‘I don’t think the Oscars are like Build-A-Bear. You don’t get to nab a celebrity of your own and bring them home with you,’ Jo smiled. ‘But I suppose it’s worth a try. Not that I think I’ll ever get to the Oscars…’
’Ssh!’ Libby said, raising her finger in front of her mouth. ‘Dream big and remember the universe is listening. Express your hopes and wishes out loud, keep your doubts bottled up.’
‘I think you might have been spending too much time with Mum and Auntie Mags,’ Jo laughed.
‘They have a point, you know,’ Libby said, as she walked towards the coffee bar to make a cappuccino for her friend. ‘I’ve been reading up on it. It’s called cosmic ordering or something. View the world and your goals as a great big Argos catalogue in the sky, then order what you want.’
‘Do they do next day delivery?’ Jo asked, amused at Libby but also thinking it would be wonderful if the concept were true.
‘If only,’ Libby said. ‘But look how far you’ve come. We’re so proud of you. All of us. And it makes me feel validated in opening this shop and creating these lovely spaces for people to work from.’
If Jo wasn’t mistaken, Libby had become misty-eyed, which in turn made Jo feel more than a little emotional.
‘God, look at us, like two big eejits!’ she said. ‘Let’s just say we’re both doing okay and be glad of it.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Libby said, as she lifted a caramel square and put it on a side plate. ‘Go get yourself settled in and I’ll bring this over. We want to get you writing this book and get us all closer to Hollywood.’
‘Yes, boss!’ Jo replied, and plugged her laptop in and switched it on. It would take at least five minutes to fully power up. If she did get a publishing deal, the first thing she would do is buy a new one. One that didn’t occasionally smell like burnt toast or need the charging cable to be wiggled in just the right manner to get it to work.
Once she set to work, she felt her fingers fly over the keys, as her characters came to life at her hands. Before she knew it, her coffee had gone cold and her caramel square remained untouched. But her word count had jumped up. She ordered a warm coffee and returned to her seat. She read over the notes Ewan had scribbled in the margins of her notebook. He had been so full of compliments, she felt a pang of regret at how things had gone between them the day before and decided she’d send him a quick message.
Jo took her phone from her bag and tapped in a message wishing him all the best for his meeting with his editor and agent, adding that she hoped he felt better. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when her phone remained silent but did her best to push those feelings aside. Work, she discovered, was a great distraction.
By the time the bell above the door tinkled to announce Lorcan’s arrival, she had written almost two thousand words and she was happy with most of them. She’d also received an email from Graham Westbury to arrange a phone chat with her the following day.
She realised as soon as she saw Lorcan that she desperately wanted to tell him her news. She wanted things to be okay between them. It was, she realised, important to her, and not because she wanted to prove to him she was a good writer. She just wanted someone – and him in particular – to share in her happiness. Whatever was said between them as they sat together drinking coffee, she really hoped that they could get back to a place where they could share each other’s happiness.
Lorcan gave her an awkward smile, and pulled out a chair to sit down. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me,’ he said.
‘Thanks for asking,’ she replied. ‘First of all, I’m really sorry for how I spoke to you on Friday.’
He shook his head. ‘No need to apologise, Jo. I’m sorry for inserting myself in your business on Thursday evening and for all the things I said…’
There was a pause and they looked at each other and she felt the tension between them melt away.
‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let me get you a coffee and let’s have a proper talk.’