Page 4 of Knowing You
‘Oh, nothing much. She’s recently bought a Mazda MX-5.’
‘Nice.’
‘Don’t pretend you have any idea what that looks like.’
Our eyes smile.
‘What’s more, next week she’s moving into a penthouse flat overlooking the Thames. Her Instagram shots look amazing. It must have cost a packet.’
‘She deserves it – but that doesn’t explain what you meant about her and younger men.’
Hugo runs a hand through his slicked back blonde hair. ‘Just another conspiracy theory. You know how publishing is full of them, like—’
‘So what’s the theory about Beatrix Bingham?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s just… take John Bennett—’
‘Who wrote theEarth Gazerseries?’
‘Yes. He’d just left university. They dated for six months.’ He stares at the signing-in book once more. ‘Funny how she ditched him once the deal was signed.’
‘Perhaps the relationship just came to its natural end. Or she felt their professional relationship was more important.’
‘But then there was that young editor she dated who started out at Bloomsbury,’ he continued, warming to his subject. ‘All the books he worked on hit the Sunday Times List. He moved to Alpaca Books. Their romance ended shortly afterwards.’
‘If you’re implying that she was able to just use… I mean, really… these are intelligent men.’
‘Who partly think with their pants.’
‘Hugo. You can’t say this about her. And would she really take such risks? It’s a dangerous strategy that could so easily backfire.’
He shrugged.
‘And it’s slander apart from anything else. Beatrix’s form as an influential member of the industry should tell you that her editing skills are attractive enough.’
‘I’m not denying that. Nor implying she’s falling back on womanly wiles. Really, I see her more as a ruthless player who’s in charge and will use any extra tools in her arsenal to cut the deal when required. If anything, I admire her.’
‘I still think—’
‘Violet, this theory isn’t something I’ve created. Speculation has been rife for a while. And you’re right – it is dangerous, she should be more careful. Her reputation and professionalism could be at stake. There’s a difference between ambition and recklessness. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that if a younger man has got something she wants, Beatrix uses whatever assets she’s got to acquire it. Not that she’d stand a chance with Lenny, obviously – what with him dating one of the most genuine people I know.’ He gives me a good-humoured wink. ‘And Lenny is only an assistant. It’s not as if he’s got his hands on anything for her to chase, right?’
He answers the phone and I head back to the lift, glad he can’t see my face.
Chapter 3
I shuffle to get comfortable on the sofa, appreciating the soft velvet throw after an afternoon sitting on office chairs. I chose the yellow, terracotta and cream colour for furnishings to make our home look as cosy as possible, like it’s a summer afternoon all year around. Flossie is lying next to me and lifts her head. We exchange looks before she curls into a cinnamon swirl.
The flat’s layout is simple with two decent-sized bedrooms. The main one has a modest balcony, a favourite spot even though it overlooks a busy road. There is just enough room for my window boxes and a line of washing. I gaze at the wall above my fireplace. To the right of the rectangular mirror is my cuckoo clock. Uncle Kevin the financial whizz gave it to me years ago after a business trip to Munich. The wooden bird has just shot out to announce eight o’clock.
I stroke Flossie’s back. She purrs and gives a shuddering stretch before her body pings back into a circle. I get up to check on Lenny’s favourite lasagne. The kitchen is small but I prefer it enclosed so that cooking smells don’t invade the living area. The tomato sauce is a bit dry now. It’s a shame Lenny couldn’t get home earlier, but he’s doing everything possible to be considered for promotion. His agency normally closes its doors at six, but over the last month he has signed several new authors and Lenny likes to show goodwill by putting in extra hours. I consider taking the dish out of the oven when a key turns in the lock. I open the oven door and put in the garlic bread before going back into the lounge.
‘That weather… I’m surprised the busses are still running.’ He takes off his black mackintosh and shakes it in the corridor before coming in. Lenny hangs it up on the coat stand to his left. The cold air has made his skin glow. His eyes sparkle. I head over and we embrace. If I ever have a bad day and get a sinking feeling, Lenny’s hugs are like buoys that keep me afloat. He wrinkles his nose. ‘Mmm. Beef. Pasta.’ He squeezes me tight for a second. ‘You really are too good to me. I… I appreciate it.’
‘Guess what’s for dessert.’ Nothing makes me feel better than making others happy. It started when I was old enough to look after Mum, in little ways, when she was working all hours. I did what I could to make her day easier, at first preparing straightforward meals like beans on toast. Eventually I progressed to omelettes. Mum was always so grateful and her worry lines became less deep if I also dusted or cleaned the bathroom.
‘Not chocolate tart?’
‘Opportunity knocked last night, seeing as you were out all evening at that book launch.’
