Page 35 of The In-Laws

Lucy hopped onto Jamie’s back and he bounced her around as they left the kitchen. Katie loved seeing her daughter giggling like the young girl she was.

She prayed Jamie wouldn’t take too long. She poured herself another glass of wine.

‘So, uhm, how are things in the agency with Ross and all?’ she asked as she busied herself stacking the dishwasher. She needed something to do to make it all less awkward. While she didn’t care what Nancy thought of her as a person, she did care what she thought of her as a mother. Those comments about not valuing education had cut deep. She would have liked to smash a plate over the old witch’s head.

‘Ross is a great asset. He’s bringing a wealth of experience from his time in London. He just needs to find his place in the agency.’

‘And how is Theo settling in? Not easy for him.’

Nancy made a dismissive sound. ‘He needs a firm hand. Amanda fusses over him far too much.’

Right. So I don’t do enough for Lucy, but Amanda does too much for Theo. Is Melanie the perfect mother, then?‘He’s only seventeen. He just needs time to find his feet.’

‘Teenagers these days are far too mollycoddled. They’ve no resilience. They need to get on with things and stop constantly navel-gazing, banging on about anxiety and depression. Christ, I lost my husband and almost my son. I had to get up and get on with it. I had to earn money, support the family and help poor Frank to recover. What Frank experienced was real trauma. Moving school is an inconvenience, not a trauma.’

While she had a point, Theo hadn’t just moved school, he had moved country too. But Katie wasn’t getting into that with Nancy now.

‘How are you feeling? Do you know when you’ll get the cast off?’

‘Thank God I’m due to be rid of it in two weeks. Then I can start physio and get back on my feet.’

‘That’s good news. It must be such a help to have Amanda there to cook and help look after you.’

Nancy shrugged. ‘To be honest, I hate having people living with me. I’m used to having my own space and a peaceful, quiet house. Amanda is always fussing about. I don’t particularly like her cooking either. But she is helpful in some ways, given that this awful cast has made me very immobile. I can’t wait to get it off. It’s impossible to sleep.’

Katie almost felt sorry for her mother-in-law. It couldn’t be easy being seventy-six, stuck in a wheelchair and suddenly sharing your space with three people you’d never spent that much time with before. ‘Would you like me to come over and give you a blow-dry tomorrow? I’m finished at twelve, so I have an hour before pick-up,’ she offered.

Nancy picked up her phone and flicked through her calendar. ‘No. I’ve back-to-back meetings tomorrow. We’re not all part-time working women.’

Bitch! All sympathy was erased. Katie wanted to turn her wheelchair around and shove her out of the door.

She went to pour herself more wine, but the bottle was empty. Where the hell was Jamie?

12. Melanie

Melanie lit the Neom Calm candle that Sloane had given her. She closed the upper blinds so the office wasn’t too bright. Sloane didn’t like bright light. She wrote all night and slept all day.

Melanie had met a lot of writers like her along the way and only the ones who didn’t go on to have children were able to continue the upside-down routine. She doubted Sloane would ever have kids – she was the least maternal person Melanie had ever met, andshewas not exactly Mother Earth. Sometimes she envied Sloane, a child-free, burden-free life with nothing to focus on except work. Melanie found the twins increasingly draining and difficult. In their eyes she could do nothing right … ever. There seemed to be a hell of a lot of input from her side for very little in return.

She missed the sweet girls in matching dresses and plaits who were compliant and glad to see her when she came home. It was no fun going back every evening to the two scowling, sarcastic, often monosyllabic teens who seemed irritated by her very existence.

Through her office door she could see Ross pacing around the conference room, talking furiously into his phone. He looked extremely stressed. What was he up to? No one seemed to know exactly what Ross was doing. He claimed to be working on connections, ‘leaning in’ to the TV and movie rights business, and schmoozing potential authors, but so far nothing concrete had come of anything.It was early days, to be fair, but Melanie was beginning to wonder if he was all hot air. She’d discreetly asked around the industry and the feedback was that Ross had not been very popular at the publishing house in London, but that he was extremely hard-working. While his strong personality put off a lot of authors, those with big egos and swagger liked his direct style of doing business and his big promises – on which he did not always deliver.

Melanie’s phone buzzed. Sloane was downstairs. She’d have to go to the building’s reception area and meet her author. Sloane didn’t walk in anywhere alone. She was an extreme introvert and just getting her to come to the office was a big feat.

Sloane was wrapped in a dark, oversized coat and a beanie hat pulled low over her forehead, even though the autumn weather was still quite warm. Black was Sloane’s go-to colour. Sometimes she broke out and wore charcoal grey, but that was as bright as she got.

Melanie had dressed in a navy trouser suit and plain white shirt. Sloane hated bright colours. Melanie would have worn a hazmat suit if it made Sloane happy. Her beautiful novel, boosted by the shortlisting for the Goldstone award, had had another big jump in sales and Jamie was bringing in even more translation rights. Royalties would soon be pouring in from all over the world. Jamie privately called her Melanie’s cash-cow, not a term Melanie loved, but it was true.

Melanie gave Sloane a light hug – it was something they had in common: Melanie wasn’t a fan of big hugs either – and ushered her star author straight through to her dimly lit office. Sloane sank into the chair opposite Melanie, pulled off her hat and exhaled. Rubbing her forehead, she said, ‘It’s so nice to be in here, in the quiet. Dublin is so busy, full of people and noise. My head is churning.’

Melanie handed Sloane a glass of room-temperature water. She drank thirstily and sighed happily. She sniffed. ‘You lit my candle.’

Melanie smiled. ‘Of course. I love the smell.’

‘I’m so glad. It’s my favourite.’

In all honesty, Melanie hated scented candles – they gave her a headache. But she’d suffer it for her percentage of the large bonus cheque that had just come through for Sloane from the publisher. Melanie had negotiated into the publishing contract that if Sloane were to be shortlisted for the Goldstone or the Booker she would get a large bonus. Melanie handed Sloane a fake cheque with the pending bank-transfer amount on it.

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