November 27, 7:46 p.m.
Dear Ezra,
I’m sorry to hear you found it boring. Please remember there is still plenty of time for me to meet someone and prove you wrong. I’ll send my next report shortly. Looking forward to seeing your first pages.
EVIE
* * *
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL: The Drink Spill (why would I have seen that?)
November 28, 1:06 p.m.
Red, I’m not joking, I’m not writing anything if this is the kind of drivel you’re going to send me. Please remember that even dramas have to keep their audience awake. I assume from this that rom-coms don’t have the same standards.
* * *
From: [email protected]
Subject: HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL: The Drink Spill Take 2 (has the package I sent you arrived?)
December 2, 2:56 p.m.
Dear Ezra,
Given the disappointment you expressed at my first attempt, I have given this meet-cute another go. Please find it attached. It’s not long, so you could at least try to stay awake.
Fingers crossed,
Evie
* * *
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL: The Drink Spill Take 2 (yes, but no one owns a DVD player anymore so I put it in the trash)
December 2, 3:06 p.m.
This is more like it, Red. When the kid spewed, I honestly thought this had to be bullshit so I rang the café. Fairly sure they’ve put you on a watch list.
I changed my mind. I can’t wait to hear about your next “meet-cute.”
Humbly yours,
E
* * *
From: [email protected]
Subject: Progress update
December 3, 11:45 a.m.
Dear Evelyn,
Can you give me an update re: the script? I’m stepping back to allow Ezra the space to create. You should see this as an opportunity. There could be a great future ahead of you.
Of course, for that to happen, the agency does need to still be here.
Best,
Monty
WILLIAM JONATHAN MONTGOMERY III
THE WILLIAM JONATHAN MONTGOMERY & SONS AGENCY FOR SCREENWRITERS
* * *
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL: The Drink Spill Take 2 (www.netflix.co.uk/nottinghill)
December 3, 1:15 p.m.
I’m sure the pages you’re about to send Monty will make the whole thing worthwhile.
P.S. I’ve attached a comprehensive list of the best rom-coms for you to watch to address your alarming lack of cultural knowledge. Consider this an education. I trust you’ll find them inspiring.
Chapter 8
The Other Shoe
EXT: GIL’S COFFEE HOUSE, EAST DULWICH, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 9, 10 A.M.
It’s pouring rain. EVIE hurries past the door to Gil’s, holding a red umbrella but still soaked through. The café next door is closed for refurbishment. She spins around, looking for another option. The torrential rain makes it all but impossible to see, so she dashes back to Gil’s. Despite the weather, she hesitates at the door.
It had been only a week since I’d made a child projectile-vomit in this café. Could I really go back? An ice-cold droplet of rain found its way down my neck, and I had my answer.
It wasn’t like I could go home, I reminded myself as I opened the door. In the territory negotiations for the flat, I’d got sex-free Saturdays and Jane had claimed Sundays so she could have sleepovers. Not that anyone did much sleeping. I needed somewhere I could write up my latest meet-cute “report” for NOB in peace. He hadn’t sent Monty any pages even after approving of my second Drink Spill, but I wasn’t panicking yet. It had been only a few weeks, and I hadn’t expected him to break through his writer’s block straight away. NOB needed more inspiration to get him going, and that’s what I was giving him. Even if, so far, that had entailed humiliating myself all over London.
I headed to the counter, telling myself no one would recognize me. My dad always said that everyone was too busy worrying about themselves to give a damn about anybody else. I kept this in mind as I checked to make sure the Yummy Mummies had stuck to their promise never to return. They weren’t there. Thank God.
Xan was serving. I ordered a coffee and toast, my heart kicking up a beat.
“Sure, mate, coming right up.” Xan smiled. I was fairly sure he was the type of person who used “mate” indiscriminately. If the guy who’d had to clean up the mess didn’t remember me, no one would.
While he made the coffee, I scoped the café for a free table. There were two familiar faces at the back. Ben and Anette were sitting where they’d been the week before, both with their heads down, reading. I exhaled slowly.
The sound of a cup hitting the counter made me turn back around.
It was an orange juice.
I looked at it for a long moment.
Xan stood behind it with a big grin on his face.
“I thought you might like to try our new special.” He produced a blackboard with a handwritten message on it.
The “Not Suitable for Children” Surprise!
(spoiler: contains egg)
His expression wavered as he caught sight of mine and he quickly replaced the juice with a coffee.
“It’s given us a break from the pumpkin-spice lattes,” he said, slightly apologetically.
I took the coffee with the tiniest of thank-yous. I’d made a mistake. I should never have come back here. A throat cleared behind me.