Page 58 of A Summer of New Beginnings
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Noah was overly gushy about her article when she presented it to him. ‘Zara, this is sheer brilliance. You’ve not only captured the setting but the people. I can picture everything from the colour of the skies to the sound of the water lapping at the sand on the beaches. Just…amazing.’
Okay, Noah, calm yourself there. A bit over the top, aren’t we?She smiled as he continued.
‘You’ve reallyencapsulated the Highlands. Ifthisdoesn’t sell thousands of magazines, then I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with the world.’ He leaned in conspiratorially. ‘I’d go so far as to say it’s better thananythingDillon ever produced for the magazine. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was a good writer, but this… You’ve really captured the human aspect of the trip too. Your difficulties will be thereader’s difficulties.’
She smiled and thanked him but inwardly rolled her eyes and screamedPah! at him. His enthusiasm felt incredibly contrived and she seriously doubted that she had produced anything like the type of article Dillon would have, but she had given it her best shot.
‘And don’t even get me started on the images. I mean, to say they were taken on a phone is just… incredible! Lookat the colours. The depth of field. You really have excelled yourself, Zara. And I’m not just saying that.’Yeah, you probably are, but go ahead and polish my ego a little more; I’ll let you after what you made me do.
To be fair to Noah, the photoshadreproduced well and she decided to leave it up to him to select which ones accompanied the piece. In truth she didn’t want to look back and bereminded of what she had left behind.
‘Right, Miss Bailey, I think you deserve to take the rest of this week off.’One and a half days? Gee, thanks, boss.‘Go and relax. The hard work is done and you should be proud of what you’ve achieved. You’ve overcome your fears and doubts and have produced such a wonderful piece. I’m so very proud of you.’Ugh, pass me a bucket.
She plastered on an expressionof what she hoped appeared to be gratitude and not nausea. ‘Thank you, Noah. I have a high-school reunion to attend at the weekend so I should really shop for something to wear, I suppose.’
‘Well, you’ll certainly have lots of wonderful stories to share now. These things are always pissing contests, in my experience. Who earns the most, who’s the most successful, which couples actually stoodthe test of time.’ He shivered. ‘As much as I hate them, it really is a good way of getting one up on those who doubted we would ever amount to much, eh? I wouldn’t think that there’ll be anyone in that room quite so able to wow people as you, Zara.’
‘Hmm. We’ll see. See you Monday.’
She left the office and took the Tube into the city. People rushed all round her, heads down, no eye contact.She was jostled by ignorant civilians too hell-bent on continuing their conversations on mobile phones to be courteous enough to lower their elbows for a split second. By the time she reached her favourite shopping centre she was annoyed, sweaty and exhausted.
Instead of shopping she grabbed a take-out coffee from a concession stand and hopped on a train at the closest Tube station to head home.She hadn’t the energy for shopping any more.Surely there must be something in my wardrobe that will suffice? It’s one bloody evening, for goodness’ sake.
As she sat on the Tube her phone rang. It was her mum. ‘Hi, sweetie, how are you settling in back at home?’
Zara laughed. ‘Mum, I was only away a matter of days, remember? I’m fine. Home is home.’
‘Oh, yes, darling, I know, but it only takesa few days to change a person forever.’ Her words were strangely insightful.
‘True. But I’m fine, Mum. Honest. It’s good to be home.’
‘And you’re definitely coming for lunch on Sunday, aren’t you? It’ll be so special.’
‘I’ll be there, Mum. I can’t wait.’
‘Great. Right, darling, I have to go. I’m helping Mrs Murton build a flat-pack bookcase. It’ll be like the blind literally leading the blind,bless her.’ Mrs Murton was their long-suffering neighbour who had put up with many years of footballs appearing in her garden, stereos being played too loudly and shouting matches between siblings. Now she was in her eighties her sight wasn’t what it was and the Baileys had adopted her as a kind of grandmother figure.
‘Sounds like fun. Watch out for your toes,’ Zara told her with a laugh, rememberingback to when they’d helped Mrs Murton move her bed into the living room and the result had been a broken toe for her mum.
‘I think I’ll borrow your brother’s steel-toe-capped boots! Bye, love!’
*
Marco cooked his deliciouspappardelle al salmonefor dinner on Thursday evening and whilst he was at work on Friday Zara spent the time reading through her novel and remembering Lachy’s reaction toher prose. Maybe he was right and she should actually submit it somewhere and see what happened? She spent a couple of hours preparing a submission letter to go with her manuscript. She still wasn’t sure she would be brave enough to submit it, but it felt good to know that the book was complete and that she had achieved something pretty fantastic all for herself.
She could now visualise the jacketof the novel too. An image of a rugged setting much like the places she had visited in the Highlands, with the heroine of the story standing alone and gazing longingly off into the distance.How wonderful it would be to realise that dream.For some reason, since her return from the North Coast 500 trip Zara’s passion for writing had increased tenfold. Many more story ideas had manifested themselvesand she now had notes scribbled on every possible blank page she came across. It was as if someone had released a dam in her mind and the words were a deluge that had to escape. Her heart raced as she typed, her fingers struggling to keep up.
She kept the keyring Lachy had given her close by and smiled every time she caught sight of it in her peripheral vision. More ideas flowed. A story of aman and woman who met for a brief moment in time but shared something beautiful that they would cling to forever.
A knock on the door snapped her from her writing frenzy and she hoped to goodness it wasn’t anyone important. Her hair was tied in a messy bun and she wore yoga pants and a scruffy old Kiss T-shirt that used to belong to her dad.
She pulled open the door to see a huge bouquet offlowers hiding the face of the delivery man.
Josh peeped out from behind the colourful spray. ‘Hi, gorgeous.’
‘Josh? You didn’t message to say you were coming.’ She folded her arms across her braless chest.
