Tell Him About It (7 page)

Adam and Sara thanked the staff and bought them some wine and chocolates for their staff room before venturing off to check into their hotel, foregoing the sights and cultural attractions of Birmingham. During their walk through the city centre Sara noticed that Adam received another couple of calls on his phone, which he rang off rather than answered. Was it just a persistent journalist, angling for a quote about his ex-wife? Or were they calls from a woman, or women, who’d he met? Every time they called and he didn’t answer Adam certainly looked vexed, or sad. It wasn’t that he was ignoring all of his calls either, just some. Sara noted he still took a call from his literary agent and his sister.

The hotel was pleasant enough. Sara had booked two rooms in advance next to each other. They checked in and freshened up.

Just before having a late lunch together Adam gave an interview over the phone to a radio station dedicated to service personnel. The presenter was apparently respectful of Adam’s wishes that he didn’t want to talk about his private life, or he just rightly felt that it wasn’t news and there were more important things to cover. One of the issues the former soldier was asked about was the problem of Afghanistan being the principle grower of opium in the world – and supplying the illegal drug trade.

“A radical solution, which I’m not altogether endorsing and I’m sure that there are more qualified people in the world to look into it, would be for the West to buy the opium crop from the Afghans and thus prevent drug cartels from doing so... Or we should subsidise the Afghans to farm food rather than opium, which in the long and short term may ease the amount of foreign aid given to the country... The cost of paying the farmers an inflated price for changing what they grow would doubtless cost the West less than the money they currently burn in trying to tackle the problem of drugs from the other end. Governments and companies already buy ten percent of the world’s opium for scientific and medical purposes, principally for the production of morphine...”

During Adam’s interview Sara received a message from Simon.

Hi babe. Sorry if I’ve been off the radar. Am just heading to a breakfast meeting. I’ve got to seal the deal. Will be thinking of you though. Wink. xx

They decided to remain at the hotel for lunch. Neither of them knew of a nice restaurant in the city centre and both of them had work to catch up on before they had to leave for the event in the evening. Adam’s agent had asked him to finish off his book proposal for his next deal and Sara had various emails to reply to.

Sara had a small glass of white wine over lunch, while Adam worked his way through the rest of the bottle. They chatted about all sorts, over several games of Scrabble (which Sara had downloaded on her iPad). She was nigh on addicted to the game and in Adam she seemed to have met her match. They spoke about their favourite works of Tolstoy – and favourite Pixar movies. They also discovered that they had both attended Catholic schools and chatted about their similar and different experiences. Sara also mentioned how much she was looking forward to visiting the Lake District. She could work it into their schedule to visit Dove Cottage and the Wordsworth Museum. Adam said he’d be interested in seeing the cottage too.

Finally, I’m going
, Sara thought to herself.

“The book tour will have a happy ending,” Sara said, tapping the details of their sightseeing trip into her iPad.

Unlike too many other authors to mention, Adam took an interest in his publicist – rather than just talked about himself. He asked her about her career in modelling and why she had left the fashion world to join the publishing industry.

“There wasn’t one reason... The catwalk began to stretch out before me and I felt like I was walking a mile each time I stepped out onto the runway... There are few women I’ve found, who are as unnaturally thin as you need to be as a model, who are also healthy and happy... I was tired of being called ‘angel’, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’. I wanted to be Sara... I also wanted to attend university and challenge myself in a different way... I love reading and ultimately I’d like to write a novel one day... I’ve already written a few short stories and a novella, which I’ve posted on the website Authonomy... I’m not expecting anything to come of it, but I enjoyed writing the stories and it meant something to me...”

Why am I telling him all of this? Why should he care?

“I was wrong earlier Sara. You’re worth a thousand Julian Smythes.”

Please don’t let this be an act. Please let him be genuinely lovely. I want to believe that there is one smart, funny, decent guy out there – even if I can’t have him.

11.

Sara finally turned off the iPad, breathed out and lay upon her back on the bed; keeping still so as not to muss up her hair or crease her dress. She told herself to use the window of time to call Simon, out of a sense of habit rather than from a real desire to do so. But she also told herself that he would probably be busy and it would be better not to disturb him. Things would change between them when he got back. But Sara didn’t quite know how, or if the change would be for the better or for the worse. When she was younger she had realised that most relationships end badly, but in truth even when people were at their best things could still be a messy. “The job is never finished of painting the bridge to save it from rust,” her father had once said, when he gave his daughter some relationship advice.

For just fifteen minutes she didn’t want to think about work or her relationship with Simon. All she wanted to hear was the birdsong from out of her window. For just fifteen minutes she wanted some quietude to empty her cluttered head and think about nothing, or him. Sara still felt the strong and tender sensation from when he had held her briefly at the train station. She remembered some of the things he had said during the day. She pictured the scene again, when he had quoted Byron. He made her laugh – and her heart beat faster. Adam could tell a joke or give a compliment – or carry out a small act of kindness or generosity – and make someone’s day.

Is he in his room now thinking about me? Now you’re just being silly, acting like a teenager... Maybe he’s just interested in barmaids and literary groupies... The last thing he probably wants right now is a meaningful relationship, after coming out of his marriage. But the last thing I need right now is a meaningless fling... Life doesn’t mirror plots from Jane Austen novels... You’re not a character in some romantic comedy... Maybe he’s conscious of not making any advances because we need to have a professional relationship... Remember how he treated his ex-wife. He drinks, she was right about that. Why would she have not been honest about his womanising too? He’ll hurt you in the end, if anything happens. That’s what men do... But nothing can or will happen between us. I’m with Simon – and I don’t want to hurt him...

It was 5.30. Sara had arranged to meet Adam in the hotel bar at 5.45. From there they would get a taxi to the university, where the Birmingham Crime & Thriller Writers’ Association had booked out a lecture theatre to host a talk by Adam. She checked herself in the mirror one last time, straightened her already straight fringe and decided to go downstairs a little early.

Adam was already at the bar when she got there. Music was playing in the background, Lionel Richie’s ‘Stuck on You’. Adam was cradling a whisky and looking down into the tumbler, expecting to find the solution to something there perhaps. He’d shaved and was wearing a shirt, jacket and trousers. “Adam may be a squaddie at heart, but he was comfortable at being an officer too,” one of his army buddies had remarked to her at the event in Hampstead. He scrubbed up well.

Rosie would definitely take the rough with the smooth. And so would I.

Her perfume filled his nostrils as she came up behind him and Adam came back to life, stood up and put his drink down. He turned towards Sara. His eyes widened in astonishment and pleasure as he took in his publicist – and her dress. She was wearing her Jacques Vert black and white shift dress, inlaid with lace work. Rosie joked that she should only wear it sparingly – and inside – for fear of causing traffic accidents. It was pretty, elegant and she always felt in bloom when she wore it. Sara told herself that she packed the dress because it was suitable as summer and evening wear – but really she picked it out because she thought that Adam might like it. Which he did – and then some. Her eyes shone as brightly as the L.K. Bennett polished black heels she wore, when she took in his reaction. Her lips were fuller (“kissable” – Adam would later think to himself) from the soft red lipstick she wore. A pair of silver oval drop earrings sparkled beneath her blonde hair every time Sara turned her head. She also wore the small silver cross that her mother had bought for her for Christmas a couple of years ago (Simon never liked her wearing it).

It’s not that she looks beautiful. It’s that she is beautiful – kind, funny and smart. Indeed her attractiveness sometimes works against her, blinding people to the other good things about her... She’s turning more than just my head in the bar, but I’m seeing so much more than they are.

Adam liked her, more than he wanted to admit to himself – let alone to Sara. He was worried however that she was just a distraction, from the hurt he still felt from his divorce. And how much love did he have left in his heart for anyone after what he had recently been through? His glass wasn’t even half full; there was just half an ice cube left at the bottom of the tumbler, figuratively and metaphorically. He felt more like a widower than divorcee sometimes. Victoria had been everything to him, but was now nothing to him. Adam also didn’t want to ruin a friendship, or their professional relationship, by saying something to Sara he would regret.

I don’t want to hurt her. And don’t hurt yourself again Cooper. If you fall no one will catch you. Life doesn’t play itself out like a love song. But she’s got a way about her...

12.

They got to the venue early, as Sara had arranged for Adam to be interviewed by the local paper. After the interview they met Frank Porter, the social secretary for the writing group. He was a retired RAF officer and a published author, although, for the past ten years, he had yet to secure a deal with a major, or minor, publisher. He was seventy and looked more like David Niven than David Beckham. Margaret Duvall wouldn’t have called him “marketable”. Yet he was a kindly soul and good writer. Before the event Adam also found himself talking to Justin Courtney, a young black man. Justin wrote historical crime, set during the Great War. He had secured a meeting with a top agent a year ago through the strength of his manuscript. When they met however the agent advised Justin to write something more gritty or urban, or write a Zadie Smith-like novel about an immigrant living in the inner city. When Justin explained that he had lived in Britain all his life – and grew up in the suburbs – the agent seemed disappointed. Adam, impressed by the concept and strength of the central character in Justin’s idea, said that he would take a look at the book and put him in touch with his own agent.

The audience numbered close to a hundred. Adam first spoke about his books, their formula and how he went about writing and researching his thrillers. The main portion of the evening though was dedicated to the writing group asking the author questions. Understandably the would-be writers in the audience asked about the best way to obtain an agent and publishing deal. Similarly, the people who were already published or self-published asked about tips in regards to author promotion and publicity. At which point, to her surprise, Adam invited Sara to join him on the stage. He encouraged her to give her view, both on publishing in general and publicity. She didn’t from balk from a sense of realism and articulated how publishers were publishing fewer books and consequently agents were developing fewer new authors. But there was now another way, which her employers may have deemed heresy should they have heard her recommend it. Authors could contact independent publishers themselves (although she warned the group not to pay a vanity publisher to produce and market their work). But the major publishers and literary agents were no longer the gatekeepers. An author now also possessed the option of setting up their own publishers on Kindle and other digital platforms. In terms of the genres of crime and thrillers Kindle sales alone could provide an income for talented, prolific writers. Should an author want physical copies of their books available there was Createspace and lulu.com. Sara also provided some tips for the audience on promoting books through Twitter, Goodreads, contacting book bloggers and other hubs for spreading the word. She grew in confidence as she spoke and, like Adam, gave sound editorial advice. Sara even agreed to read a couple of manuscripts and give some feedback via email for a few people.

“I’d be happy to look at the opening chapters of your novel. It’ll be good practice. A friend of mine has recently encouraged me to consider a career in editorial... There’s a book in everyone, but it’s often the case that that’s where it should stay... Most debut books are over written, or not sufficiently re-written... Be wary of digital book promoters however, who promise the world but in the end just deliver a number of fake followers on twitter...”

Adam and Sara laughed and joked on the stage, as well as providing advice (which proved both encouraging and dispiriting – depending on the attitude of the recipient). They shared looks which they thought were private, but everyone in the audience could see that there was a spark between them. Old-fashioned chemistry. A shared sense of humour and a shared attraction.

Towards the end of the event, while Adam signed books for members of the audience, the social secretary approached Sara and asked if she would be willing to come back and give a talk by herself for the group next year. She was equally surprised as she was pleased by the invitation – and said yes.