Ada leads me down her hallway.
They’ve rejected all three pitches.
She squeezes my hand and glances over her shoulder, excited.
We can terminate your contract.
She pushes open the door to the formal dining room.
I cannot believe they have rejected all three pitches.
‘CONGRATULATIONS!’
I jump, startled by the bright burst of noise. By the roomful of people. I blink and blink and blink. Trying, and failing, to make sense of the situation, of the sea of faces and their champagne flutes raised in celebration.
Mum and Dad are standing together, glasses held high. I scan the room; I see Ruby and Uncle Gregory and Ethan. I see friends from university – Katie, Olivia and Ivy. Jack’s mum Kathryn is standing with her eldest son Charlie and his husband Tobin. And in the back, I spot Jack. Everyone is staring at me with huge, jubilant grins. Everyone except Jack who is mouthing, ‘What the fuck?’ at me. I feel as though I’ve just staggered on stage in the middle of a play without a script to follow.
Ada squeezes my arm. ‘Surprise!’ I tear my gaze away from Jack and look at my sister. Her smile is white and wide and radiant. ‘You didn’t have a clue, did you?’
I shake my head dumbly. ‘What …’ I lick my dry lips. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You didn’t think you could keep it from us, did you, love?’ says Mum, rushing forward and pulling me into a hug. ‘We are so proud, Elodie. So proud.’
When she lets go, my hands are clammy, and I can’t catch my breath. What the fuck is going on? I glance around the room. There are flowers and food and congratulatory balloons and bunting.
Then I see it.
I see it and my heart stops.
A white banner strung high above our heads, personalised with gold embroidered thread reading: ‘Congratulations on your book deal, Elodie!’
Chapter Ten
14 Days Before
Elodie Fray
For several seconds, I just stand there in silence. They descend on me; I am hugged and congratulated and handed a glass of something pale and bubbly which I down in one. I’m half expecting a cameraman and a TV host to spring from a cupboard and shout, ‘Gotcha!’ because it’s the only possible explanation. Why does everyone think I have a book deal? I glance at Ada, wondering if this is some cruel elaborate joke, but her smile is honest and joyful; there isn’t a speck of malice in it.
Jack has not come forward to congratulate me on my non-existent success. He is watching this entire charade with a bewildered expression that would be comical if it wasn’t happening to me. There’s music playing and Ethan is encouraging everyone to help themselves to the food.
Ada takes my hand and leads me towards the table. ‘Your face!’ she squeals, then turns to Dad. ‘I think she’s in shock.’
I smile weakly; that’s all I can manage because my words are lost in a swirling tempest of confusion.
‘So,’ says Dad. He is wearing his best shirt. ‘When were you going to tell us?’
I swallow. ‘How did you know? Who …？’
Mum is by my side, holding a plate loaded with savoury canapés and sweet macaroons. ‘The other week, Dad went round to yours to fix that security light,’ she says with guileless delight. ‘And—’
‘Took the wrong bloody bulb though, didn’t I?’ he interrupts.
Mum shoots him a look of annoyance before continuing, ‘And while he was there, a delivery man turned up with a huge bouquet of flowers.’
Oh god.
Oh fuck.
The bouquet from Margot. The one I found on my doorstep after my run, with its cream sash congratulating me on my book deal in looped rose gold script. I didn’t even wonder if the flowers had been signed for, I just scooped them up and took them inside so no one would see.
‘Dad took a lovely photo,’ she says. ‘I called you all week to talk about it, then Ada suggested throwing a little get-together.’ She pops a macaroon into her mouth. ‘We invited Margot, but it was a bit last minute and she has a wedding in Gloucester tomorrow.’
I’m nodding but I’m not breathing. I can’t. All I can do is stare at these people who have come together. For me. I’m in a room with my sister and for the first time in years, I am the one people are paying attention to, I am the one people are praising and celebrating. But this victory rests on a shaky foundation of deceit. On one throwaway lie. One small mistake.
‘You’ve done us proud,’ says Dad. His smile is soft and crinkles his eyes at their corners.