‘Really? Wow! Who?’ Ewan was saying the right words, but his voice sounded funny. Something was off, although, if asked, Jo wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint exactly what.
‘Graham Westbury!’ she said, and threw in a little jazz-hands-style wave too – something she’d never done before in her life.
‘Wow!’ Ewan said while he rubbed the stubble of his chin and shook his head in disbelief. ‘That’s… well, that’s incredible.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Jo beamed. ‘He wants to chat to me on the phone ASAP and has invited me over to London for a face-to-face – at his expense!’
Jo watched as Ewan reached for his coffee cup and lifted it to his mouth. There was a slight tremble to his hands. This was not quite the reaction she had expected, but then it was still early and he was probably still feeling the effects of all the alcohol the previous night.
‘I can’t get my head around it,’ she continued. ‘I mean, he says there’s work to be done, but we know that. With what we’ve talked about, I already know where I can make it better. He says he thinks he’ll have no problem placing it with a publishing house! You might be getting a mention in my acknowledgements sooner than we thought.’
‘That’s incredible, Jo. I’m delighted for you,’ Ewan said, but now there was a dullness to his voice which Jo struggled to understand. After all the pep talking he had done over the course of the previous two days, she thought he’d have been hitting the ceiling with excitement along with her. Maybe being so established brought with it a reserved response to good news. Or maybe he didn’t think securing an agent was that big a deal. After all, it wasn’t as if she had scored a major book deal or a TV series, or even actually any kind of book deal yet. Jo felt herself start to deflate, but Ewan must’ve seen the disappointment in her eyes. ‘God, Jo. I’m sorry. This is amazing news. Really incredible. I’m delighted for you. But I think, maybe, the lack of sleep and the overindulgence in alcohol is catching up with me. I’m not feeling the very best.’
Now that he mentioned it, she noticed he had gone very pale.
‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked. ‘A glass of water? A piece of toast, maybe? That might settle your stomach?’
He shook his head, his eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them again, he looked directly at her, and she longed for him to say it had passed and he felt better and to join her in the mother of all cooked breakfasts to bring them both round. ‘Actually, I think I need to go and lie down in my room. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do our session this morning.’
Disappointment nipped at her core, but she could see that he was ‘well shook’, as her mother would say, and that a lie-down and a couple of hours’ sleep would do him the power of good.
‘Do you want me to help you back to your room?’ she asked. ‘Or see if they have paracetamol at reception?’
‘No. Honestly, it’s okay. I’ll be okay. You sit here. Have your breakfast. I just need a lie-down, I think. But well done, really, well done. Graham is a brilliant agent. You’ll be in good hands.’
She watched as he stood up and walked from the dining room – his shoulders hunched, his frame diminished in some way – and she took a deep breath. This was disappointing; there was no doubt about that. But she had much to celebrate. And she absolutely intended to do just that after she’d eaten her fill of bacon and eggs and buttered toast. She’d call her mum first, then Erin, then Noah and Libby. She might even jot a quick message off to Lorcan.
No, maybe she needed to have that conversation with Lorcan face to face once they had cleared the air between them.
Hopefully, Ewan would feel better in a couple of hours and they could at least have a short chat before they left for Derry. It would all work out. It was already all working out. She grinned and walked to the buffet queue to get her breakfast.
28
Homeward Bound
Jo didn’t get the chance to wait a couple of hours though. Shortly after she returned to her room, she got a call from Ewan to say that he’d had to change his flight and would be leaving earlier than planned. He didn’t explain why, he just told her that he needed her to be ready to check out by eleven.
Nor did he offer any further explanation when she met him at the reception of the hotel for the journey home. Ewan didn’t look much better than he had done at breakfast. In fact, Jo was quite sure he looked worse than before. His pallor was grey, his eyes rimmed red and tension emanated from every pore.
‘Do you want me to drive?’ she asked as they walked to the car. ‘You don’t look so great.’
He shook his head. ‘No. Honestly. I’ll be fine when I’m behind the wheel.’
She nodded, but couldn’t help but feel increasingly nervous when she saw just how much effort hefting their bags into the boot of the car seemed to take out of him. He was moving as if he was stuck in treacle. Slow, laboured movements. Big sighs.
‘Ewan… I really think…’ she started.
‘I’m fine, Jo,’ he snapped. ‘I can drive. Besides, you’re not insured to drive this car anyway.’
That was true, she thought, but that didn’t make her feel any better about his fitness to drive safely. Maybe she should offer to pay for a taxi, or see if she could get Noah to come and pick them up. Surely they’d be able to make some arrangement with the car-hire company regarding the collection of the car.
Just as she was about to open her mouth to speak, Ewan climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door with such force that the car shook. Jo climbed into the passenger seat, gingerly closed her door and turned towards him.
‘Do you have to get your flight early? I could get Noah to come and pick us up…’ To her shame, she realised her voice was a little shaky. There was something about Ewan’s manner which unnerved her. The intensity that had bubbled under the surface for the last few days was now threatening to boil over, but this time it wasn’t a sexual tension. It was something darker.
Ewan turned the key in the ignition and slammed the car into first gear. ‘I am honestly fine to drive,’ he said. ‘And I do have to catch my flight. I have a meeting with my editor and Graham, as it happens, in London tomorrow to discuss my new book.’
His voice was flat, any enthusiasm he had for the story he had been so excited about at breakfast was gone.
Jo took a deep breath and decided that she should maybe try and lighten the mood just a little. ‘Okay. Cool,’ she said. ‘That must be very exciting for you, especially since you’ve been writing so much and you have all these new ideas. Tell me, what’s Graham really like? Is he very intimidating? He seemed lovely in his email, but…’
‘Jo,’ Ewan interrupted, ‘I’m fine to drive, but I have a sore head and I really need to concentrate. Especially on these unfamiliar roads, so would you mind if we just didn’t talk for a bit?’
Chastened, Jo faced forward again and looked at the road ahead while confusion danced around her head. Yes, he was feeling unwell. Yes, he was the colour of ‘boiled blooter’, as her granny used to say. (Jo didn’t really know what blooter was, or how you boiled it, but it was fair to say it wasn’t something pleasant, and implied a grey, almost dead appearance.) Yes, he might even be tired, but he was being so sharp with her she couldn’t help but feel she must’ve done something wrong.
Was he angry that she hadn’t run down the corridor after him the previous night and returned his kiss and maybe a bit more? Had he expected a quick kiss in the dining room before breakfast? He’d been in good form when she walked in, she remembered. They’d bantered a bit until she’d told him about Graham. That’s when everything had changed. She could see it in her mind’s eye now – how the colour had drained from his face at her news.
Surely that couldn’t be it? Why on earth would he be upset at his agent offering to represent her too? It made no sense.
Jo shifted in her seat, afraid to speak in case he told her to be quiet again.
Ewan didn’t speak though. Not for the entire drive back, except for when
he stopped at a garage and bought them both coffees which she thought might have been a good sign. Maybe he felt better and was up for chatting more. But when she tried to engage him in any conversation, his answers were brusque and came in the form of one- or two-word replies.
She was almost relieved when they drove into Derry. By that stage, the whole sorry episode had started to upset her and she was afraid she might burst into tears. She couldn’t wait to see her mum, and Clara. She couldn’t wait to hug them. They had both cheered down the phone when she had called them earlier to tell them the news about the email. While she suspected Clara didn’t really understand what she was cheering for, it was just so lovely to hear her so excited. When she saw them in person, they would make her feel better, she was sure of it.
The closer they got to home, the more eager Jo was to be out of the car and away from the frosty atmosphere that now existed between her and Ewan. Relief flooded her when she saw the street sign which heralded she was just a few houses away from home.
‘This is me,’ she said, as Ewan pulled over. ‘If you want to come in, for a cup of tea or a coffee or whatever, you’re more than welcome,’ she told him while at the same time she prayed with all her might that he wouldn’t say yes. The roller-coaster ride of their weekend together had now hit another low point and despite the laughter and fun of the day before he now felt even less familiar to her than a stranger.
‘I really do have to get going to get to the airport on time. I’ve to return this car and, you know, that all takes time.’
She nodded, not convinced he was telling the truth.
‘Well, thank you for everything,’ she said. ‘I learned a lot and I really appreciate your generosity. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again. Especially if we have the same agent.’
‘Maybe,’ he said. He had manners enough to get out of the car and help Jo take her bag from the boot, but as soon as her case was dumped on the footpath he muttered a cursory goodbye and ‘Good luck with Graham’ before he was back in the driver’s seat and the car was moving at speed away from her house.
Jo lifted her case and when she turned around, she saw her front door open. She could see her mum, Auntie Mags, Clara and Noah, all grinning at her as Cliff Richard belted out ‘Congratulations’ from someone’s phone. Her mood immediately lifted, and the excitement she had felt first thing started to return.
A huge roar of ‘Woooohoooo!’ rang out, and Clara practically hurled herself out of the door and into Jo’s arms. ‘Mammy says to say well done on writing a good story!’ Clara said earnestly and Jo revelled in pulling her tight and smelling her gorgeous apple-shampoo-scented hair.
‘I’m so very, very proud!’ her mum called, which prompted a chorus of ‘We knew it!’ ‘Delighted for you!’ ‘Right, who wants a glass of fizz?’ from the assembled masses.
To her utter joy, Jo found herself swept into the bosom of her beloved family, and the whole picture was complete when Paddy nonchalantly padded into the living room and jumped up to say hello, before curling at her feet in a contented lump.
Or at least she thought the picture was complete until a rather nervous Libby poked her head around the door and said, ‘Can I come in? Am I forgiven?’
‘Of course you can,’ Jo said, with a broad smile. ‘I know I should be cross, but how can I be all the same? Thank you so much for having courage for me when I didn’t have it for myself.’
Libby brushed away a few tears and smiled. ‘Thank goodness. And you are so very welcome. You deserve this. All of this.’
‘Right, my love,’ her mum said. ‘We want you to tell us all about everything.’
‘Especially about that Ewan McLachlan one,’ Mags chimed in. ‘I looked him up on that Google thing and my oh my. He’d have me thinking impure thoughts and then some.’
Jo laughed as she saw her mother raise her eyebrows at Mags before she gave a warning nod towards a blissfully ignorant Clara. Impure thoughts was not a conversation any of them wanted to have.
Mags raised her hands and mouthed ‘sorry’ before she said, at her normal volume, that she had only been telling the truth.
Jo coloured as she wondered what Mags would think if she told them all how he had kissed her.
‘It was… good,’ she said. ‘The weekend. I learned a lot. And we visited a few places for his research. He gave me some good guidance.’
He had also said he would read her work in the future, but she wasn’t sure at all if that offer still stood or even if she wanted it to.
‘Yes, never mind him. What about Graham Westbury? What did he say? What did Ewan say about it all?’ Libby asked, her face beaming with pride.
Jo plastered on the biggest smile she could and said, ‘I think his exact word was “Wow!” To be honest, I was on such a high, it’s all a bit hazy.’ She laughed, but she had been lying. None of it was hazy. She could remember it all too well. Every last detail.
‘I can’t believe he emailed you on a Sunday,’ Noah said. ‘I bet you weren’t expecting that this morning!’
‘There’s absolutely no way I would expect anyone to contact me on a Sunday morning and tell me they’d been up all night reading something I’d written. I never would have thought it was ready to send out to agents, never mind that an agent would actually love it.’
‘Well, clearly it was, and Graham Westbury isn’t just any agent. He’s the agent! Don’t forget where you got your start once the big deal comes rolling in,’ Libby teased. ‘The launch will have to be at Once Upon A Book.’
‘Is there a princess in your story?’ Clara asked and Jo could see she had her fingers crossed.
‘Well, darling, no. Not this one. But I will write you your very own princess story, starring Princess Clara and her best friend, Buttercup Bear. Maybe you could help me?’
‘My handwriting isn’t very good yet,’ Clara said, looking sad. ‘And I’m only learning my words.’
‘That’s what you’ll have me for,’ Jo said, opening her arms wide to pull Clara into a hug. ‘We can help each other, because I think you probably know a lot more about princesses than I do.’
That was enough to appease Clara and the pride and enthusiasm in the faces of her family and friends were enough to almost take the sting out of Ewan’s bizarre change in behaviour.
29
A Quiet Place
When everyone had finished celebrating and gone home, and Jo had put a load of washing in the machine and helped her mum tidy up, she slumped onto the sofa and suddenly found herself completely overwhelmed with exhaustion. The hangover that she had expected to floor her all day crashed in and she wondered whether it was too early to go to bed at six in the evening.
Ewan should’ve been home by then, if his flight had left on time. She wondered if he would message her to let her know he’d arrived safely. If his demeanour towards her earlier was anything to go by, she would likely never hear from him again.
A strange melancholy overcame her. Twice in the space of a week, men she thought she had made some sort of a connection with had undergone personality transplants right in front of her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed, despite the high of the day.
‘You look sad,’ a small voice broke through her thoughts and Jo opened her eyes to see that Clara was standing incredibly close to her, her face crinkled in concentration.
’Oh, sweetheart, I’m not sad. I’m just very tired right now. It’s been a busy few days.’
Clara screwed her face up tighter, before standing back and crossing her arms. ‘I don’t think you look tired. I think you look like you could really do with a hug.’
‘You know what, Clara, I could always do with a hug from my best girl,’ Jo said, her mood soothed by the sweetness of this little girl.
A broad smile broke out over Clara’s face as she scrambled up onto the sofa and curled herself into the nook made by Jo’s legs. She wrapped her thin pale arms around Jo, and rested her head on Jo’s chest.
‘I missed y
ou,’ Clara said. ‘But Mammy and I had so much fun. The best fun. And she let me sleep in her bed! And we went for an ice cream. And we did art. But I still missed you.’
‘Well, I’m home now,’ Jo smiled. ‘I missed you too. Sure, aren’t you the best wee sister in the whole entire world?’
She looked down to see Clara nod her head vigorously. ‘I am.’
There was a pause and Jo revelled in feeling the weight of Clara’s body against hers, the strength of her squeezy hug. She kissed the top of Clara’s head and counted her blessings.
‘Jojo,’ Clara said, her voice quiet, ‘I was worried you were going away for a long time and I wouldn’t see you again.’
‘Clara, I promise you that you will always see me again. I will never go away for a really long time. Even when I move back to my flat, or move to live somewhere new, I will visit all the time. And you can come and have sleepovers with me. You can even bring Buttercup.’
‘I heard you tell Mammy you had to go on a plane to meet the book man. Will you go away for weeks and weeks like Daddy? Or go away and not come back like my other mammy?’
Jo felt her heart ache for this gorgeous little girl who was still confused and hurt by her past. It made Jo’s own self woes pale into insignificance. She also felt a little impressed by her bat-like hearing. No conversation took place in that house without her hearing it, it seemed.
‘Oh, darling heart,’ she said, pulling Clara even closer. ‘Yes. I do have to go on a plane to see a man about my book. He’s called Graham and he wants to help me get it made into a real book you can buy in a shop. But it’s only a meeting. I’ll be gone for maybe one or two sleeps. That’s all. I promise. And you will always, always have us. Mammy and Daddy and Noah and Libby and Auntie Mags and all our friends. And we have so much to look forward to. Like Daddy coming back, and Noah and Libby getting married. We’ve got to pick your flower-girl dress too!’
In Pursuit of Happiness Page 19
