‘It’s almost finished. Actually, they’re waiting for it in London and I’d been about to send it over a few days ago… Then I thought that perhaps you should have a read first.’ He smiled again, but there was a hint of embarrassment about his eyes. ‘I stayed up all night formatting it, so…’
‘But why me?’ She was a little incredulous, and frankly quite chuffed. ‘I mean, I feel very honoured, but surely there are people who know far more about books than I do.’ She nodded towards the book at his elbow. ‘All I ever read are romances…’ She laughed thinking of the little bookshop and the hours she’d spent there too many years ago now.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ he said gently. ‘My mother reads exactly the same and she is my best critic. She could spot a missed emotion a mile off and thankfully she’s not afraid to tell me either.’ His smile remained, but his eyes saddened, and she had a feeling that occasionally, he must miss having his own family close by. ‘Anyway, I don’t want you to edit it, or anything like that; I just want to hear what you think of it.’
‘I’d be delighted to do that…’ She looked down at it again. ‘Is it almost finished?’
‘The first draft almost is, but this is a cleaned-up copy of the first third of the book…’ he said a little casually, but then he leant forward. A playful look about his eyes made her lean in closer to hear his next words. ‘Okay, well this is between us, it’s slightly longer than I’d planned, but how can you contain all of this…’ He waved his arms about and she assumed he was talking about the landscape and not her rather gloomy kitchen. ‘I’m hoping my agent will pitch it as a movie idea.’ He exhaled as if it was something he’d had to keep to himself, and then he picked up his brandy and sipped it pleasurably.
‘A movie? How exciting – imagine, Ballycove on the big screen,’ she said and then she thought of something: ‘I wonder if they’d come and film here…’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that, it’s a long way off. Really, I just want you to tell me what you make of the characters and the story, nothing more. If you like it.’ He stopped. ‘If you’re okay with it, then I’ll send it off.’
‘If I’m okay with it?’
‘Well yes, you see…’ He looked out the window for a second and she could almost see a little emotion that might be exactly what she felt before Lucy took the idea of their fundraiser in her hands; it was apprehension. It crossed his features only fleetingly, but it was there. ‘It’s set here, in Ballycove.’
‘Yes, don’t tell me are we all in it?’ She was joking now, rubbing her hands together.
‘No, not all, but the main character is a lot like…’
‘Seriously, who?’ Elizabeth figured it had to be the new lady vicar or perhaps it was Lucy; how deliciously perfect if it was. ‘Please, you just have to tell me.’
‘Well, it’s… you, actually,’ he said, a small hint of a smile hiding at the corners of his lips confirmed that he wasn’t kidding; he was actually serious.
24
Lucy
By the grace of God, or perhaps just her own conniving and surreptitious evasion, Lucy had managed to keep herself so busy that she didn’t break down with the heavy sadness that weighed on her every time she thought about her mother. Still she felt as if she was teetering on the edge of having her heart broken once again – only this time, there would be no repairing the fracture losing Jo would cause.
Everything with Jack, well it was all too raw to compare, but she knew the only reason she survived it was because Jo had linked her through the worst. She was over him, well over him it turned out now that she had something so much bigger to worry about. She’d stopped crying for Jack months ago and now it felt as if she was too empty of tears to find them for her mother. Maybe, at times, when she was immersed in the surgery, surrounded by people who were beginning to mean more to her every day, she could convince herself that they would find a way forward.
She was, in spite of herself, enjoying her work. Even though most nights, she lay awake, listening to the waves crashing against the rocks, thinking about Jo, trying not to fear the worst, she still got up each morning and made the best of things. In the surgery, it was so busy, she hadn’t time to turn around, never mind brood about Jo or worry about Niall. If she was ticking off her list of priorities, he’d slid quite a bit down the scale. He seemed happier in himself, since she’d told him about Sydney – that was as far as she could let herself think.