Bert wagged his tail in apologetic agreement.
‘Right. Thanks.’ Polite as ever, Will opened the passenger door. He collected his phone, thanked the woman, then climbed back into the car.
‘You’re lucky Bert didn’t piddle all over it.’ She shook her head. ‘Why does it keep doing that anyway?’
‘Someone’s trying to call me,’ said Will.
‘Why aren’t you answering it then?’
‘I had other things on my mind.’ As he said it, Bert began to pee all over the dandelion patch.
‘Want me to answer it for you? Tell them to bugger off?’
‘That’s very kind of you, but no need.’
The dog finished his business, then he and the elderly woman set off up the road. Layla and Will watched them go.
‘She was right about one thing,’ said Layla. ‘You definitely need to answer your phone.’
Chapter 44
‘I don’t want to,’ said Will.
‘Why not?’
‘It might be bad news.’
Her blood ran cold. ‘Are you ill?’
‘No. Not that kind of bad news.’
He was holding the phone in the palm of his hand, gazing down at the name on the screen. Layla’s imagination was going haywire. Was it a long-lost relative? An extortion attempt? An ex-girlfriend calling to tell him she’d just given birth to his child? She said, ‘Who’s Esther Richmond?’
Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that Will would heave a sigh and say, ‘My literary agent.’
Layla blinked. ‘Sorry?’ She knew what a literary agent was, because a client of hers was a novelist who wrote impenetrable science fiction and fantasy and was always forcing his latest books on her, urging her to read them then asking complicated questions afterwards to check that she had. But the reason Vincent had a literary agent was because he was an author.
Will was a taxi driver.
‘Esther’s my literary agent. She took me on a fortnight ago.’
‘I didn’t even know you liked books.’ There’d never been so much as a battered paperback in the glove compartment.
‘I love them.’
There was so much she didn’t know about him. ‘I’ve never seen you reading, not once. You’re always on your . . . you know . . . iPad.’ As she mimed typing, her brain finally caught up with her fingers. Staring at him in disbelief, she said, ‘You’ve written a book?’
Will nodded. ‘I have.’
‘So all the time you were working on your iPad, that’s what you were doing?’
‘Yes.’
Layla shook her head. ‘Am I the only person who doesn’t know about this?’
‘The opposite, actually. You’re the only person who does.’
‘What? Are you crazy? You’ve written a whole book and got yourself an agent and you haven’t told anyone? If it was me, I’d be marching up and down the high street with a giant megaphone. I’d be telling the whole world.’
‘You’re you, and I’m me.’ Will managed a wry smile. ‘And getting an agent doesn’t guarantee you’ll find a publisher.’
‘But your agent’s been calling you! Why aren’t you answering your phone? She might have amazing news.’
Will said, ‘And she might not. I know she emailed the manuscript to six editors at the top publishing houses. What if they’ve all said no? What if she’s sent it out to more people and they’ve rejected it too? What if she says she’s sorry but she’s changed her mind about representing me, it was all a terrible mistake and my manuscript just isn’t good enough to be published? What if—’
‘Stop!’ Layla held up both hands. ‘Oh my God, I don’t believe this. You have to call her this minute. Seriously, just do it.’ She grabbed his phone and pushed it into his hands.
Will blanched. ‘I can’t, I feel sick.’
The phone began to buzz again and he shook his head. Layla took it back and answered it.
‘At last,’ said Esther Richmond. ‘But you aren’t Will.’
‘He’s right here next to me.’
Will covered his face with his hands.
‘And the reason he hasn’t been answering his phone . . .? Is he asleep? In a coma?’
‘He’s scared you’re going to tell him his book’s no good and no one wants to buy it.’
‘You mean he’s telling me I don’t know how to do my job?’ Esther Richmond gave a bark of laughter. ‘Put him on.’
‘Oh God.’ Will was as white as a sheet.
He took the phone and listened, and Layla tried her hardest to listen too, but he had it pressed so tightly against his ear that all she could make out was a brisk murmur of conversation punctuated by Will going, ‘Right . . . OK . . . Yes . . . Right,’ at intervals whilst looking dazed.
Finally he said, ‘I know. Sorry about that,’ and ended the call.
‘Sorry about what?’ said Layla.
‘Not answering my phone while she was trying to set up a meeting with an editor.’ He exhaled, and she saw that his hands were trembling. Cool, calm Will was in a state of shock.
‘And? Does that mean someone wants to buy your book?’ Her heart began to skitter; it was like betting on a horse and seeing it move into the lead at the final fence.
‘No.’ Will swallowed audibly and hesitated, then said, ‘Four editors want to buy it.’
‘My God, are you serious?’
He frowned. ‘Unless she was playing a trick on me.’
‘You know she wasn’t. Oh Will, this is amazing! It’s incredible!’ She flung her arms around him and kissed him again, hard. ‘Congratulations!’
‘I have to go up to London to meet them. So I can see how I feel about the different publishing houses and their plans for the book. Esther says she’s going to run an auction . . . and there’s interest from a big American publisher too.’
‘You idiot,’ Layla said fondly. ‘You could have known all this an hour ago if you’d just answered your phone the first time she called.’
‘Ah, but I was with you. Which was pretty great to begin with. Then it turned from being pretty great into one of the best days of my life.’ Will reached for her hand and threaded her fingers between his. ‘Then you forced me to speak to Esther and it got even better.’
Layla’s heart expanded. ‘I don’t even know what kind of a book you’ve written. I’m just so happy for you.’
‘It’s about a space cowboy who travels the universe solving crimes with his pet monkey.’
She blinked. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘Just kidding. It’s about a taxi driver who takes off on a road trip around the UK in search of his long-lost family. According to Esther it’s quirky, comedic and blissfully beguiling. She also said it made her cry, and she never cries.’
‘That definitely sounds more like you. It sounds like the kind of thing I’d love to read. Can I?’ As she said it, Layla belatedly realised that she’d restarted the ignition, performed a three-point turn in the lane and was now driving back towards Elliscombe. Well, they couldn’t stay sitting parked up in the middle of nowhere for ever.