Love Letters (41 page)

She swept off on her mission leaving Gerald and Laura to look anxiously at each other, both determined to make an effort. ‘So what do you do, Laura?’ asked Gerald.

‘Oh, I – um – well, I’ve just finished helping to run a literary festival,’ she said. She still didn’t know if Eleanora had set them up for a date, in which case she should think of something to say about herself that would make her sound interesting (but unavailable), or a job, in which case she’d definitely want to appear interested and efficient (and possibly available).

‘That sounds interesting.’ Gerald’s polite but genuine response gave her no clue. ‘My wife worked as a volunteer at the Cheltenham Festival once, when she was a student.’

He had a wife, so he wasn’t a potential date. This was a relief. She relaxed a bit more.

‘It
was
interesting, and quite challenging too, actually. It is amazing how many things you need to be able to do. I had to talk to groups of schoolchildren which, I have to say, is one of the most frightening things I’ve ever done in my life.’

‘I can imagine! In fact, I can’t imagine anything more terrifying!’

His horror made Laura laugh and she felt herself relax even further. ‘Well, they were supervised and I didn’t have to talk for long. Der— a friend had given some hints on how to tackle it and it went quite well. I almost enjoyed doing it at the last school.’

‘I still don’t want to do it. You must be a natural teacher.’

Laura shook her head. ‘Oh no, I’ve never done any teaching.’ She paused. ‘Although come to think of it, I sort of did, when I helped someone run a writing course.’

‘You are a woman of many parts,’ said Gerald gravely, but with enough of a twinkle to tell Laura that he had a sense of humour.

Eleanora swooped back. ‘Nipped that in the bud. But honestly! What is the point in having an agent if you don’t do what they say?’

There was a moment’s pause and then Gerald spoke. ‘I can promise you, Eleanora, if you were my agent, I’d do exactly what you say.’

‘Oh, are you a writer?’ asked Laura.

Gerald was horrified. ‘God no! The boot’s on the other foot! I’m a publisher.’

‘Oh.’ Laura was spared having to wonder why the thought of being a writer was so ghastly, or to think of a proper reaction by the arrival of the starters.

‘Yes and he needs you, Laura dear.’ Not even the arrival of a miniature sculpture made from shellfish, seaweed and something bright red put Eleanora off her stride.

Gerald and Laura exchanged appalled glances. ‘I don’t think—’ they began, more or less in unison.

‘Yes you do, you just don’t know it yet.’ Having checked that Gerald’s soup and Laura’s tian of baby vegetables had arrived, she picked up a mussel. ‘Laura has always wanted to be an editor.’

‘How do—’

‘I met that Grant? Lovely boy. He told me.’ She put down her fork. ‘I am a bit of a fag hag, I must admit. But I never know if it’s because I’m stylish or wear too much make-up!’ Eleanora was off on one of her tangents again.

Neither Gerald nor Laura felt able to help her here, so kept silent. ‘Anyway,’ Eleanora went on, ‘that’s neither here nor there. I’m determined to put you two together.’

The two in question exchanged glances, aware they lacked the moral fibre to withstand Eleanora once her heart was sent on something. ‘I don’t think—’

‘I don’t want . . . The thing is,’ Gerald went on more decisively, ‘I can’t afford to pay a full-time editor and I must have someone in Ireland.’

‘And I need full-time work and I don’t live in Ireland.’ Laura borrowed determination from Gerald with gratitude.

This time the glances they exchanged were almost triumphant.

Eleanora was having none of it. ‘Goodness me, how negative you both are! These are tiny details! You’re made for one another!’

When the waiter offered to refill her wine glass, Laura accepted gratefully.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Eleanora didn’t give up. She told them both how good Laura would be. ‘Think about that writing course! You got through those manuscripts, knew what was wrong, how to put it right. You were brilliant. She was, Gerald, Dermot said so.’ She sipped her wine. ‘I even took on one of the poor dears, though in this market . . .’

‘Are you talking about “The” Dermot? Dermot Flynn?’ Gerald cut through what could have become a long lecture on ‘the State of Publishing Today’. He turned to Laura. ‘Did you work with him, then?’

‘Yes.’ She couldn’t think of much else to say on the subject. It was just as well she didn’t want the job, she was doing very badly in the interview. Of course, had the job been in England, she would have been much more enthusiastic.

‘And her organisational skills are second to none. The festival was fantastic! All down to Laura.’

‘And Fenella, and Sarah and Rupert and countless others,’ Laura said.

‘You got the star to appear.’

‘What star?’ asked Gerald politely.

‘Dermot, of course. She went to Ireland and brought him back, kicking and screaming. Didn’t you read about it in the trade press? Quite an amusing little article.’

This was news to Laura and not particularly welcome, but if Gerald hadn’t read about it, others might not either. He was now really interested. ‘Is he out of contract? He must be, surely, he hasn’t produced anything new for ages.’

Eleanora laughed. ‘Don’t even think about it. Way out of your league. Very, very expensive.’

‘But he’d turn my little Irish publishing house into a giant.’

Eleanora shook her head. ‘Takes more than one, darling, you know that as well I as I do. You’re the publisher, damn it. Talking of Dermot . . .’ She turned to Laura, ‘He’s been calling me, saying you won’t return his calls. Do for heaven’s sake ring him, there’s a dear, he’s driving me mad.’

Laura nodded as if in agreement, but although she knew full well that Dermot had been trying to get hold of her there was no way she’d ever return his calls. She had nothing to say to him.

Eleanora glanced round the room again. ‘Oh, sorry. Just seen an old friend. Back in a min.,’ she said and she was off.

‘I knew it was a long shot but I thought I’d try.’ Gerald narrowed his eyes. ‘Hey, if he’s calling you, I don’t suppose you could persuade Dermot—’

Laura shook her head sadly. ‘No! I assure you I have no influence over him.’

‘Then how did you get him to appear at the festival?’ Gerald persisted. ‘He’s famously difficult to budge out of his “little grey home in the West”.’

‘That was just a one-off,’ Laura explained. It was agony for her to talk about him. If she kept it general she could just about cope. ‘Just for the festival. And anyway, it’s one thing getting someone to pitch up at a literary festival and quite another to persuade them to join a publisher that’s far too small for them.’ She looked around. ‘Where is Eleanora? I can’t believe she’s really seen an old friend.’

Gerald also turned round. ‘She has. She’s over there. She seems to know half the room. I think this is where she always has lunch so she’s bound to get to know everyone even if she didn’t before they came. So tell me really, how did you get Dermot Flynn out of Ireland to come to this festival?’

Laura now realised she might be asked this question again and again; she’d better think of an answer fit to print, or at least say out loud. She smiled to give an impression it was down to serendipity and therefore not really anything to do with her efforts. ‘Well, let’s just say alcohol was involved.’ They needn’t know it was on her part more than Dermot’s. ‘And I didn’t bring him between my jaws, like a Labrador, and drop him at Eleanora’s feet. She just makes it sound like that.’

He laughed. ‘It sounds impressive even if you didn’t.’ Laura decided he was rather sweet as he leant forward, sounding really interested. ‘So, have you really always wanted to be an editor?’

This was one question she could happily answer, with genuine enthusiasm. ‘Oh yes.’ She sat up straighter. ‘That’s true. I really have no desire to write anything myself, but I would really enjoy polishing someone else’s work so that it really shines. When I worked at the bookshop and used to read as much of the stock as I possibly could, I came across books – self-published ones mainly – that obviously hadn’t had much editing. It really showed me how important editing is. I’d think: this bit would be so much better here, or the writer needed to introduce this character or that much earlier. And then, when I was doing it for the writing course, well I loved it. I see editing as like being a master jeweller: you take a wonderful but uncut stone and polish and work on it until it really shines. The original stone is still the main thing, but now everyone can see its beauty.’

Gerald seemed apologetic. ‘To think I dismissed you because you didn’t live in Ireland! You’re just what I need.’

‘And to think I dismissed you, just because you did! Although I think to begin with the thought of moving to another country seemed like a big thing, but now – well, I might as well live in Ireland as anywhere else.’ A horrible thought made Laura bite her lip anxiously. ‘You don’t just want me because I know Dermot, do you? If I joined you, would you constantly be badgering me to get Dermot to sign up?’

This time he laughed. ‘Indeed no. I was just trying it on with Eleanora. I know my place. But would you really consider it?’ He ran through what would roughly be involved: two to three new authors a year, editing, potential to grow. Laura grew more and more excited as he talked. She couldn’t help herself. It did sound pretty much like her dream job. Before long Laura
really
wanted to work for Gerald, even if it was in Ireland. After all, Ireland was quite a big place and Dermot would probably spend all his time in the States or somewhere now. But even if he didn’t, they could both live there and never meet up. It would be fine. And somehow despite everything she still felt a soft spot for the country she’d lost her virginity in. ‘But your office is in Dublin, isn’t it?’ she asked.

He acknowledged that it was.

‘And that’s a really expensive place to live?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, but you don’t have to live in Dublin, as long as you could get there once a week or so. You’d need to meet the authors in the office occasionally.’

Laura considered her carbon footprint for a moment. In theory it would be possible to fly to Dublin once a week and still live in England, but she didn’t really want to send half her life in an airport. No, she would take a chance and relocate.

It sounded almost perfect. There was only one thing that was concerning her now. ‘But I’d still need full-time work, not just part-time.’

‘I’m sure I could make it full-time. I’d need to check my finances but the more I think about it, the more I realise I’ve needed someone like you for a while. It’s time I took on someone full-time.’

She felt flattered. She may have lost her dream man (if she’d ever had him in the first place) but it looked as if she might just be on her way to securing her dream job – or at least the distinct possibility of it. But would she be mad to take it? She had a bit of money: would it tide her over until the work picked up? Moving to Ireland didn’t seem as daunting as it might have once done. She was a different person now. But it was still quite an upheaval.

Seeing Laura’s doubts, Gerald put his hands on the table in a triumphant gesture. ‘I’ve just had an idea! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I own a couple of holiday cottages on the west coast—’

‘Where on the west coast?’ Laura’s self-preservation antennae went on red alert. If he said Ballyfitzpatrick she’d say no, however wonderful the deal was.

‘Ballymolloy. It’s a really beautiful spot. You might not have seen it though. It’s not very near where Dermot comes from.’

Suddenly it sounded perfect. She smiled broadly. ‘I’d love the chance to see a bit more of Ireland!’

‘Well, the thing is, the holiday cottage isn’t quite ready for visitors yet. There’s still a bit of work going on, decorating and suchlike. If you wouldn’t mind being there while it’s finished, I’d let you have it rent-free.’

She’d once heard that things that sounded too good to be true usually were. ‘That’s a very generous offer and it’s very tempting, but wouldn’t it lull me into a false sense of security? Living rent-free, I’ll get to think I can manage on the money.’ But she was used to living frugally: maybe she could make it work. It was such a great opportunity. And why not – if it didn’t work out she could always come back to England, no lasting harm done.

Gerald was determined to reassure her. ‘By the time the building and decorating is finished I’ll probably have full-time work for you and I’ve got friends in the business who might use you too. Editors tend to be freelance in Ireland. It’s a much smaller market than in England.’

By now Laura’s enthusiasm was pushing aside her natural caution. ‘And I could always get a job in a pub, to make a bit of extra.’

Gerald became solemn. ‘I don’t think I’d like to think of you working in a pub. Tell you what, I’ll undertake to get you all the editorial work you need, be it from me or other publishers. Although you might have to do a bit of copy-editing, too – you can handle that.’