Page 58 of The Little Teashop of Lost and Found
‘There,’ she said finally. ‘I’ll bring it back tomorrow all finished and there’s another inch or two to be got out of the hem – you’re a bit taller than our Tilda.’
‘It’s very kind of you,’ I said gratefully.
‘It’s nowt. I like to keep my hand in.’
‘You’ll be the belle of the ball,’ Bel said when she’d gone and we’d resumed the café painting. The walls were going to be buttermilk below the plate racks (when they were back in place) and white above, like the ceiling.
‘It’s not a ball, just a book launch,’ I pointed out.
‘It’ll be fun, though. I wish I was going with you!’
‘You could, if you dressed up as Heathcliff, because Senga told me to bring one with me,’ I joked. ‘Any man, in fact, though she’d prefer it to be a handsome one.’
Bel looked at me. ‘I think I’d rather wait and go next year, in full crinoline, but you could ask Nile. I mean, you can’t say he isn’t handsome.’
‘There’sno wayI’m asking Nile to go with me. He might think I was inviting him out on a date,’ I said firmly.
Bel’s big blue eyes slanted a sideways look at me. ‘Would that be such a bad thing? It wouldn’t be the first time a girl had asked him out.’
‘Exactly! I’m not going to do anything to make him think I’ve added myself to the drooling throng of his admirers. Even the postwoman knocks at his door, so she can hand him his letters personally, instead of shoving them through the letter box,’ I said, and she giggled.
‘Oh, well, as they say, treat him mean and keep him keen.’
‘He’s just as mean back and neither of us is keen,’ I told her firmly.
Bel must have told Sheila all about the book launch as soon as she got home, because she rang later.
‘The dress sounds lovely, darling – what fun! And I’ve been up in the attic and found you a warm paisley shawl to go over it, because you don’t want to freeze between the car and the restaurant.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said gratefully.
‘What about shoes?’
‘I’ve got some silver ballerina flats that will do.’
‘They sound perfect – and of course you must spend Friday night with us, so I can put your hair in rags to make proper ringlets for the party.’
‘It mostlyisin ringlets already,’ I protested, but she insisted.
Then she totally distracted me by adding, ‘Bel said your agent wants you to take Nile with you.’
‘Not Nile particularly, she just suggested I take a man, because there weren’t very many last time, but I’m sure dressing up and going to a book launch isn’t his idea of a good time.’
‘Well, it is now. I’ve just rung him and told him so. He needs to widen his horizons and get out more.’
‘He seems to be always out!’
‘Yes, but the wrong kind of out,’ she said obscurely. ‘He can wear a pair of Paul’s old riding breeches and black leather boots, so a loose white shirt open at the neck and perhaps a dark cloak and he’ll make a very dashing Heathcliff, don’t you think?’
I thought he’d be more than a tad too elegant and handsome for Heathcliff. But he’d certainly meet the bill where Senga and the others were concerned, especially if, as I suspected, he’d been dragooned into it and would be in a deep and glowering sulk throughout the proceedings.
I had no idea where Sheila was going to lay her hands on a cloak …
When I checked my emails next morning, there were the edits Senga had told me to expect, with a covering letter from my editor, ten pagesof notes and the manuscript itself attached, covered in coloured highlighting.
It proved quite a challenge because although they were mostly little queries, there were a couple of suggested changes right near the start of the book that I could see would be like the chaos theory in action: a butterfly would flap its wings and then the whole damned plot would unravel faster than knitting.
I emailed Senga urgently and got a terse reply telling me to do my best and she’d discuss the rest with me on Saturday. Which was all very well, but after waiting weeks for the edits to appear, the editor wanted them back by Monday.
