Page 28 of Broken Beyond Repair
“It’s hard going back there,” Beatrice replied, drawing her bottom lip in and biting at it.
“I know, Bea. How does Xander feel?”
“He seems indifferent. He already knows about most things, of course, from the absence of grandparents on my side. I’m undecided what to include about the status quo.”
“Not to add pressure… I’ve got a publisher interested, the best. I started at the top, and that’s where I ended. They want to release it in time for Christmas.”
“Next Christmas?”
“No.”
“What?” Beatrice replied, almost choking on her own saliva as her throat tightened.
“Someone on the schedule died and the family have pulled his autobiography for the time being, so the publishers have a spot they are eager to fill. They’re offering a lot, Bea,a lot. I’ll send the contract with the deadlines. This is the time to do it, and youcando it. We both know you’ll struggle to find the time when you return to work. You need to get this done now.”
Her schedulewaslooking hectic for the foreseeable future. Now that they were going to be six to eight weeks behind on the production of her current film, she would need to work the promotion of her latest film that was premiering before Christmas around it. It would be Alison’s problem to schedule a book launch into the mix too.
“I’ve begun the descent into the hell that was my childhood,” Beatrice admitted, “and it’s a mess of very scattered thoughts, anger, resentment, and tangents wild enough to lead you to Mount Doom. I’m an actress, not a writer, and it’s bloody impossible balancing a laptop with your leg elevated.”
“You’re the control freak who insisted on writing this yourself. You’ll have to find a way to make it work. Can’t Sydney help you? She’s a writer. Couldn’t you talk and she type?”
“Is she?” Beatrice said, trying to keep the level of sarcasm in her voice to a minimum. “Why is she my PA then?”
“She has a degree in creative writing,” Alison clarified. “It’s on her CV. It says she writes in her spare time. Though I doubt she gets much of that working as a—”
“Send me a copy,” Beatrice demanded, cutting her off.
“Of her CV? You’ve never asked to see one before. Why now?” Intrigue filled Alison’s voice.
That was true. Her previous PAs certainly held no interest for her. Most of them were nothing but a hindrance.
“I’d like to see what it says, that’s all,” she replied as casually as she could. She was intrigued to discover more about thiscompetentPA.
“I’ll email it over. Why don’t you send her what you’ve sent me? See what she makes of it. You never know, she could inject some creativity into it. Someone will have to, or it will be left in the hands of the publishers, and who knows what they will do to it. I’ve got to dash; I have a meeting with my most important client.”
Beatrice was about to object, but Alison cut in with, “Only joking, you are all my most important client.”
Beatrice hung up with a “Hmm.”
A noise from the kitchen drew her attention. What on earth was Sydney doing? Her question was promptly answered when Sydney presented her with a glass of liquid pink.
“What is this? I didn’t ask for anything.”
“It’s a nutrition shake. You need it to aid your recovery.”
Beatrice eyed it. “What’s in it?”
“The usual. Protein, vitamin D, calcium, zinc.”
“Go easy on the protein; I don’t need to be packing the pounds on.”
“Your body will use it, not store it. Ten to twenty grams of protein a day can speed up the healing of a fracture.”
So that was Sydney’s plan—aid a swifter recovery so she could get away from her sooner. Forty-eight hours in and she was already planning her escape. When they first spoke, she’d mentioned she was only available for a short time. Did she have somewhere more important to be? Or someone more important to be with? The thought caught her unawares and left her with that familiar feeling that etched away at her soul. Loneliness.
Sydney took a step to return to her desk at the kitchen table.
“Wait. Sit,” Beatrice ordered, placing her good leg on the floor to make room for Sydney, sucking in a breath as she did from the pain. She wasn’t sure which leg hurt more, the broken one or the one working so much overtime she expected it to resign soon.
