Page 31 of Broken Beyond Repair
What did she think?
How did she tell her assistant that she thought it was one of the most remarkable books she’d ever read — without giving her a big head? How did she admit it made her cry and feel emotions she thought were lost to her?
Her heart was torn from her chest when Sydney’s character Skye lost her father overboard whilst working on his fishing vessel. Her description of how he was swept over the side during a storm, haunted not only by the image of it but the fear in his eyes in those final seconds, had truly overwhelmed Beatrice.
The way she had described her character’s grief when no body was recovered and how she was left with nothing to bury and no closure, was mortifying. Skye lived in the hope of never finding his body yet knew she would live in limbo until it was found. She never gave up looking for her father; she’d search a crowd for his face in the hope of one day finding him. How anyone could move past an experience like that was beyond Beatrice. It was a wound unable to heal.
She was so drawn into the story it took her a while to realise it hadn’t happened to her. It wasn’t her story despite Sydney’s skill to make the reader feel it was. It left Beatrice with unexpected envy for the love the character held for her father — something she’d been unable to feel herself. Skye was unable to grieve, and she had no father worthy of her grief.
“Well?” Sydney prompted.
“It was… quite remarkable? You’re exceptionally talented. I stayed up late reading it in fact and finished it this morning. Have you tried to find a publisher?”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Writing exposes our fears and weaknesses to us; publishing exposes them to the rest of the world. Plus, I don’t exactly have the time to scout around and beg for a random stranger’s approval of me so I can give them a share of my royalties.” Sydney shrugged. “Maybe I’ll self-publish one day. I don’t see why I should do all the work and have someone else reap the benefits.”
“May I now ask what you thought of mine?” Beatrice said.
Sydney’s pause would have given her cause for concern if Alison hadn’t already been brutally honest.
“I thought it was cold, stagnant, and unengaging. The writing,” Sydney was quick to clarify, “not your life. That’s exciting, amazing… scary at times. I think we just need to inject some life into it; put some meat on the bones.”
“We?”
“I assume that’s why you asked me to read it.”
“Indeed it was,” Beatrice replied, a little annoyed and impressed that Sydney was always one step ahead of her.
“I’ve already made a start on the first few chapters. We’ll need to sit down and go through parts I’ve marked — a lot of parts in fact.”
Beatrice lifted her eyebrows at her diligent assistant before brushing a soapy sponge along her arms. A bath had never been so welcome.
“Just areas I think need improvement,” Sydney continued. “I assume I would be free to embellish as necessary.”
“You can embellish the writing, not the story. I don’t wish to discover I once stripped forGQMagazine.”
A glare from Sydney reminded her that she was the least likely of anyone to furnish a story with lies.
“Do what you feel necessary. I can always choose to ignore it,” Beatrice replied with a sharp lift of her cheeks. “Would you mind?” She gestured with the sponge to her back.
Sydney’s hesitation reminded her of the previous day’s leg massage. She’d offered to do it. Had it been done out of pity and ultimately repulsed her? Was she asking too much by requesting a back scrub?
Her assistant approached and took the sponge from her. Beatrice clung to the sides of the bath and leaned forward to clamp her leg down and allow Sydney access to her back. As her hair was swept to one side and the warm sponge lightly scratched her back, her whole body tingled; it was ecstasy. She hadn’t had someone wash her back since Peter, and although they had separated well over a year ago, there had been no intimacy between them for a long time before that, let alone a back scrub. Just thinking about him now made her skin crawl.
“Would I get a writing credit?” Sydney asked, all business.
“I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”
“Great. Let me know where to sign.”
“I’ll get Alison to draft something up. I want you to start right away. In the meantime, I will continue my attempts to recall my childhood. I cannot emphasise enough the importance of speedy work on this. It’s top priority; we’re working against a tight deadline. It’s going to squeeze the life out of us in the coming weeks if it’s going to hit the shelves in time for Christmas.”
“Christmas!”
The sponge stopped in the centre of her back, leaving Beatrice aching for more.
“ThisChristmas?” Sydney clarified.
“Indeed.” Had she sounded this absurd when she had the same conversation with Alison?
