Page 9 of The In-Laws

‘It’s okay, love, we’ll be home soon,’ Jamie tried to placate her.

‘I wanna take my shoes off too.’ Toby whipped off his trainers.

Jamie laughed. ‘What the hell? Me too!’

Lucy walked ahead. ‘I’m pretending you’re not my family. I wish Melanie was my mum. She doesn’t drink lotsof wine and walk home in her bare feet. She reads tons of books, like Granny, and doesn’t embarrass the twins.’

Melanie is hardly ever at home. She needs to get her head out of her books and spend some actual time with her kids, Katie wanted to shout, but she didn’t get the chance because she tripped and toppled sideways into a hedge.

3. Melanie

Melanie poured her coffee into her keep cup and grabbed her car keys. She cocked her ear to the stairs to hear any signs of life. Nothing.

She climbed the stairs, went into her bedroom and found Frank fast asleep. For God’s sake. She shook him awake. ‘Frank!’

‘What?’

‘It’s seven thirty, you need to get the girls up.’

He rubbed his eyes. ‘A few more minutes. I’ll get them up at seven forty-five. Plenty of time.’

‘No, Frank. If you do that, they’ll be late for school again. Come on.’

He raised a hand. ‘It’s okay, Melanie. I’ll drive them in, don’t stress.’

Melanie resisted telling him to stick ‘don’t stress’ up his arse. It was easy for Frank to live his life at a chilled-out level because he had a wife who was out there worrying, organizing and funding everything.

When they’d first met, she’d loved his laidback attitude. He was her opposite in every way. He stopped her over-thinking and spiralling. He made her leave work on time to go to concerts, movies and gigs. He tried to get her to meditate but that was a bridge too far. Melanie couldn’t sit still for two minutes, never mind fifteen. But now all of his calm, don’t-worry ways drove her nuts. Someone had to worry. Someone had to make sure the girls’ school fees were paid on time, mortgage, bills … and work long hoursat the agency to earn money. It was all very well for Frank: he’d never get fired from the family business, even though he hadn’t brought in any authors or money for years. He could be Mr Chill because his wife worked sixteen-hour days and was bringing in a lot of revenue. Melanie felt she had to earn more than was expected because of Frank’s failure. She knew Nancy would never fire one of her sons, especially Frank, whom she let away with much more than the other two because of the car crash. But Melanie was growing tired of all of the responsibility falling on her shoulders.

She had been born conscientious. Nancy had told her when she’d initially interviewed her for the job of assistant agent that Melanie was the most prepared, intense and focused candidate by miles. Nancy said she had known then and there that Melanie would be an excellent agent. She had what it took – persistence, toughness, passion, belief, tenacity, and the ability to lift authors up when they were floundering, to advise and guide them with their ideas and skeleton manuscripts. Looking back now, Melanie could also see that Nancy had wanted her for Frank, too. It was Nancy who had arranged for them to work together on projects, making sure they spent lots of time in each other’s company. Nancy had nudged Melanie towards Frank and vice versa. Melanie had been dazzled by Nancy and, truth be told, a little overawed by her. The fact that this über-agent seemed to want Melanie to date her son was very flattering. Besides, Frank was lovely, and he was so different from the usual ambitious, go-getting (at times ruthless) men that Melanie had dated before, she had found it endearing. So, Melanie had jumped in feet first. Within a year of joining the agency she had been promoted and had married the boss’s son.

Sighing, Melanie left her husband in bed and headed towork. She was first in, as always. She loved this time of day when she had the whole place to herself. She went into her office and closed the door. She was not a fan of open-door policy, and thankfully neither was Nancy. Through the glass window Melanie could see the comings and goings in the agency but not hear them. She needed quiet to read manuscripts and to have those difficult conversations with authors whose books were not being picked up, and the happier conversations when she had negotiated meaty publishing deals.

Sloane was her current superstar client, but she had a couple of other authors who were really beginning to break through. It was an exciting time. Melanie had gone from having a solid list of authors who did well to finally having a real breakout name. Sloane was what every agent dreamt of – a young, brilliant, literary author, who would be nominated for (and hopefully win) prestigious awards, but whose books were also liked and read by the masses, not just readers of high-end fiction. Finding Sloane was like finding the Hope Diamond.

Melanie sat back, sipped her coffee and began to read a manuscript that had been put to the top of her pile by her most trusted reader, Alison. Finding good readers was not as easy as she’d originally thought. Alison could spot a good writer or a writer with potential. She had pulled Sloane’s manuscript from the slush pile and urged Melanie to read it. Melanie was hoping that when Alison stopped having babies – she was on number four – she’d come to work for the agency full-time.

As she was beginning the third chapter she saw Ross wheeling Nancy into the office, followed by Jamie. Nancy beckoned for Melanie to come out. Damnit, her peace and quiet were officially over.

‘Boardroom, now,’ Nancy ordered.

‘Good morning to you too,’ Melanie muttered.

‘She’s in a foul mood,’ Jamie whispered. ‘Apparently she didn’t sleep last night because Amanda gave her only one painkiller or something. Whatever happened, poor Amanda is getting blamed.’

Melanie texted Frank:Get in asap, ur mother on war path.

She followed Jamie, Nancy and Ross into the small boardroom and sat down at the round table.

‘Where’s Frank?’ Nancy asked.

‘On his way,’ Melanie fudged.

‘It’s eight forty-five. He should be here,’ Nancy fumed.

Ross snorted. ‘Frank’s never been on time in his life.’

Melanie bristled. Ross was barely in the door of the agency and he was already slating her husband. She wasn’t having that. ‘He is not always late and he will be in soon,’ she lied.

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