‘It’s not your fault,’ Jo said. ‘God, how could we have known? Let’s wait for answers. We just have to be patient.’
Graham Westbury had emailed Jo to tell her he would call her at 4 p.m., so there was still an hour to wait until she spoke to him. Noah, Libby and Lorcan were trying to help her keep her cool. They weren’t being particularly successful, despite their best intentions.
Moments later, her phone beeped and five sets of eyes, including Paddy’s, darted to the kitchen table where her phone sat. Jo picked it up and saw, with more than a pang of unease, who the message was from.
‘It’s Ewan,’ she said. Her hand shaking, she unlocked the phone and clicked on the message icon.
All I can say is that I’m sorry for any distress I have caused you, or will cause you. It won’t be long until it’s all out. You have to know that I never lied about your writing. You have a great talent.
She read the message out loud, unsure of what to take from it.
‘What the holy hell is that supposed to mean?’ Noah asked. ‘“Distress I have caused you or will cause you?” What the hell? Call him back. He’s clearly at his phone, so call him back and ask him to explain.’
Jo read the message again and she did contemplate calling Ewan, but she realised she didn’t want to hear his voice. She didn’t want to hear any platitudes from him. He could’ve explained everything to her in a message, but he hadn’t. He had tried to butter her up with his talk of her talent.
She wondered how many other people, other writers, he was softening up at that moment. His text could’ve been a copy and paste of a message he’d sent to countless others for all she knew. He wasn’t genuine. Even when he had talked about his son, his life and his inspirations. It hadn’t been genuine and she didn’t want to give him any more of her time.
‘I’ll speak to him if you want,’ Noah said. ‘It wouldn’t take a wrinkle out of me to put him in his place.’
Jo just shook her head. As much as she was thankful for his offer, the thought of him going in all guns blazing made her cringe. He was loyal to the extreme and would take no prisoners. ‘No, it’s fine, Noah. Honest. I’ll talk to Graham and see what he has to say. I’ll make my decision about what to do as regards Ewan then.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,’ Libby said. ‘I’m going downstairs and I’m taking all of his books off the shelves. He’ll not be selling any more titles through Once Upon A Book.’
Jo thought of the table display of Ewan’s books, from his first novel to the latest, that was still well stocked after the reading. The thought that Libby was willing to remove them all from sale made Jo want to give her a huge hug. ‘You don’t have to,’ she said. ‘But I appreciate the sentiment.’
‘Oh, I do have to,’ Libby announced. ‘If these rumours are true, I don’t want anything to do with him. I’m just so sorry I interfered.’
Jo shook her head. She didn’t want Libby to beat herself up. ‘Libby, if you hadn’t interfered, I wouldn’t be waiting for a call from one of the best agents in the industry, who, as far as I know, still wants to represent me. So please don’t feel bad about this.’
Libby nodded and Jo went back to waiting for her phone to ring with the explanation she desperately needed.
The call came at exactly 4 p.m. Even though she had been waiting for it, Jo still jumped when the shrill ring sounded out. Noah and Libby had gone back to work – and it was just Lorcan who sat with her and had kept her teacup well topped up.
When the phone rang, he smiled at her. ‘Good luck,’ he said. ‘I’m going to wait downstairs and give you the privacy you need to talk.’
While Jo wouldn’t have minded him staying by her side, she was touched by his thoughtfulness. That feeling of gratitude buoyed her as she answered the phone to hear a refined English accent on the other end.
‘Jo? This is Graham Westbury. Thank you for taking my call,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry this isn’t under the circumstances we both hoped for – but, first of all, I just want to let you know that offer for representation still stands.’
A tidal wave of relief washed over Jo and she muttered a ‘thank you very much’ before Graham continued talking.
‘As you may know, the Westbury Agency will no longer be representing Ewan McLachlan and I can let you know in confidence that Ewan has been dropped, with immediate effect, by his publishing house. I want to reassure you that your material has not been compromised in any way or disseminated widely. I, of course, have seen it and Ewan’s former editor received a synopsis, but it has not gone any further than that.’
Jo listened and tried to take in what Graham was telling her. She also tried to make sense of it, because while she knew Ewan’s career had imploded, she wasn’t entirely sure how her work factored into it.
‘Mr Westbury…’ she said.
‘Please, call me Graham,’ he answered.
‘Erm… Graham. I think I need you to talk me through this a bit. I have seen the reports, but I’m not aware of where I fit in the picture.’
‘Oh…’ he said. ‘You don’t know?’
‘I’m pretty sure I don’t,’ she said, now desperate to know every detail.
She heard Graham take a large intake of breath. ‘Well, as you know, your colleague Ms Quinn sent me a copy of your wonderful manuscript for consideration last week, and I read it, and loved it. That still stands. It’s a wonderfully original piece of work.’
Jo nodded at her phone, before muttering an ‘okay’ and waiting for whatever bomb was going to land next.
‘Your book is so original, in fact, that when early on Sunday morning, Ewan emailed me a very detailed synopsis of his next work, along with the opening three chapters, I immediately recognised that the work was yours and not his. There was a change to one of the character names, but, apart from that, it was almost verbatim what you had written.’
‘Shit,’ Jo muttered before she immediately apologised. ‘Really?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Graham told her.
‘And when did he send you this?’ she asked, trying to put together all the pieces of the very strange events in the hotel at breakfast.
‘Early. Really early,’ Graham said. ‘But I didn’t see it until later. I contacted him immediately to ask what was going on.’
‘And what did he say?’
She listened as Graham cleared his throat. ‘Well, first of all, he, erm, said that maybe you had stolen the work from him.’
‘The bastard!’ Jo said, immediately embarrassed at her outburst.
‘Quite,’ said Graham. ‘Look, I’ve represented Ewan for a long time. I know his writing style. I’ve been badgering him for weeks for some of his new material, and he fed me a line about a new book, something about a photographer. Even if I hadn’t just read and loved your submission, I’d have known something was off with what Ewan had sent me. It’s a completely different style and, dare I say, the writing is of a higher quality.’
Jo allowed herself a moment of smugness at this comment before her anger returned. ‘The internet is filled with reports that this isn’t the first time he’s done this,’ she said. ‘Did you know something was up before?’
There was a pause. ‘Jo, a lot of people are jealous of success. I always thought that’s all that was happening. People were jealous and stirring the pot. Ewan doesn’t always endear himself to people,’ he said. ‘Besides, there was always just enough of his own style to convince me he was telling me the truth. McCreadie was always there, you know. But I think he got lazy. Or arrogant. Actually, knowing Ewan, I’d say it was arrogance. But he can’t cover this up and I won’t let him.’
Even though it was still raining, Jo decided she wanted to walk home all the same. She needed the fresh air and knew that the walk would do her good.
‘I can drive you home if you want?’ Noah offered, after she and Lorcan had called into The Ivy Inn to fill him in on the phone call, but Jo shook her head.
‘Honestly, Noah. I re
ally would prefer to walk. I’m not made of sugar and I won’t melt in this rain.’
‘I could walk with you,’ Lorcan offered. ‘I’m going at least partially in the same direction.’
‘Yes,’ Jo said, as she realised she would actually like that, ‘that would be nice.’ She felt as if they had shared a lifetime of secrets in the last few hours and while she did quite desperately want to be cosy in her bed with the duvet pulled up to her ears, she also quite liked the thought of spending just a little bit longer with this man, who made her feel safe and listened to.
‘That’s it settled then,’ Noah said. ‘And I’m happy that you’re not walking alone.’
‘I’m okay, you know,’ she said. ‘It’s very strange and all, but I am okay.’
‘I know,’ Noah replied. ‘But I still like knowing you’re being looked after.’
As she walked home a few minutes later, with Lorcan by her side and the rain thankfully having passed, she tried to harness those feelings of being okay and feeling safe.
‘It’s been quite the day,’ Lorcan said.
‘You could say that,’ Jo replied.
‘If this was a book itself, no one would believe it,’ Lorcan said with a smile.
Jo grimaced. ‘Stop,’ she teased.
‘I wonder if they would get McCreadie to investigate it all?’ Lorcan asked.
‘The Case of the Gobshite Author?’ Jo offered in response and smiled. Although, if she was honest, she still felt a little bruised by everything. She had been tricked by Ewan McLachlan and used by him. Maybe she’d been foolish to trust him so implicitly and so quickly.
‘You’re still beating yourself up over it?’ Lorcan said.
‘It’s that obvious?’
‘Yeah, well. That and I know I’d be beating myself up over it too.’
‘I’m not sure how to let go of that bit,’ she admitted.
‘Well, first of all, maybe realise that all’s well that ends well. You have an agent. A really great agent. And he loves your book.’
She nodded. ‘I suppose.’ And that was the great thing. Perhaps the thing she should really focus on. After they’d talked about Ewan and his dastardly ways, the conversation had moved on to more enjoyable grounds. He did love her work and he was ‘desperate’ (his words) to represent her. So, she was now officially agented.
‘And you pulled a proper Scooby Doo and uncovered the villain of the piece,’ Lorcan said, and Jo felt herself smiling.
‘I always fancied myself as a bit of Daphne,’ she said.
‘I’d be Shaggy,’ Lorcan remarked. ‘If it was me, you know. I think Paddy would make a great Scooby too.’
‘He would,’ Jo grinned.
‘But, seriously, Ewan won’t be able to do this to anyone again. Everyone will know what he’s really like. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt in the process. You really liked him?’ Lorcan’s voice was serious again.
‘I did,’ she said. ‘He is very charming. And he seemed very genuine.’
‘And he looks like George Clooney in ER,’ Lorcan said. ‘I imagine that doesn’t hurt.’
Jo smiled. ‘Well, that’s true, but him being an arse cancels out any good looks he might possess.’
‘Yes!’ Lorcan said. ‘There’s hope for us less aesthetically pleasing men after all.’
Jo laughed and looked at him. Did he not realise how attractive he was? She might have told him had she not been concerned with not taking advantage of his broken heart. She quickly changed the subject and, before she realised it, they had already walked on past Lorcan’s street and were in fact closer to her own home.
‘God, you didn’t need to walk me this far,’ she said. ‘We were too busy chatting to notice.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Lorcan replied. ‘I’ve enjoyed our chat.’
All Jo could do in return was smile, until she heard a small, very excited voice call her name. She turned her head to see Clara running down the street towards her. Still in her school uniform, with her backpack bouncing up and down on her shoulders as she ran, in perfect time with her bouncy curls. Clara was grinning.
Jo’s mum was following behind, and raised her hand to wave.
As she prepared for the imminent high-impact assault, Jo crouched down and opened her arms wide. Clara, absolutely delighted to see her big sister, barrelled into her and wrapped her arms tightly around Jo’s neck.
‘Jojo! Mammy and I were just having a walk-home disco and then I saw you!’
‘A walk-home disco?’ Jo asked as she stood up, lifted Clara off the ground and rained kisses onto her soft cheeks.
‘Yes!’ Clara said, with such authority it was as if everyone in the entire world should know what a walk-home disco was. ‘Mammy and me sing songs and dance while we’re walking. Put me down and I’ll show you.’
‘Okay, my wee dote,’ Jo said, and she watched while Clara launched into a Little Mix song and started to walk back towards her mum, hips wriggling and hands waving. Jo couldn’t help but be filled with joy when she saw her mum join in and sing all the words as well as Clara. It was simply gorgeous to watch the two of them act so silly together.
‘Are all your family this mad?’ Lorcan asked.
‘Afraid so,’ Jo replied and watched as a broad smile broke across Lorcan’s face.
‘Jo Campbell, I would very much like to see your walk-home disco moves.’
‘Is that a challenge?’ she asked.
‘It is,’ he replied. ‘But I’m warning you. I have some pretty crazy moves myself.’
‘Well, in that case, challenge accepted,’ Jo grinned before she set off down the path towards Clara and her mum, doing her best Soul Train moves and really trying not to think about the cars that passed. When she glanced backwards, she saw Lorcan, apparently devoid of all self-consciousness, as he followed and showcased some pretty special hip-hop moves.
By the time she reached her mum, and all four of them were dancing in the street, singing along to a pop song Jo only knew one line of, she was almost helpless with laughter.
‘I did warn you,’ Lorcan shouted as he attempted an impressive spin on one foot and wobbled a bit. Thankfully, he was able to right himself before anyone sustained an injury, but his silly stagger to a safe and upright standing position was enough to make Clara hoot with laughter.
Jo’s mum, on the other hand, just looked a little confused, which wasn’t surprising, given that she had never met Lorcan before and had no idea who he was. Jo was about to introduce him when he crouched down to Clara’s height and said: ‘Well, I’m guessing you are the wonderful Clara that I’ve heard so much about.’
Clara beamed and nodded, delighted to be the centre of attention.
‘Well, I’m Lorcan. I’m your big sister’s friend.’
‘You talk funny,’ Clara said, screwing her face up in concentration.
‘Well, Miss Clara, that’s because I’m from another country. One you have to get in a plane to go to.’
‘Is it Dubai, like my daddy? He has to go there to work in a plane,’ Clara said, excited that her new friend might come from somewhere warm, sunny and exotic.
‘Not quite as nice as Dubai,’ Lorcan smiled.
‘Oh never mind,’ Clara said with perfect six-year-old logic. ‘It’s not your fault.’
Lorcan grinned and Jo felt her heart swell. When he stood back up, she wasted no time in introducing him to her mother.
‘Why don’t you come and join us for dinner?’ her mother said. ‘It’s roast chicken with all the trimmings?’
Lorcan smiled and Jo realised it would be nice to have him there for tea. To have him seated at the table with them. To have him in her space doing nice normal family things.
‘I’d love to, but I’ve promised Grandad fish and chips tonight and he rarely gets chippy food any more, on account of his heart, so I really wouldn’t want to let him down.’
Jo was surprised at just how disappointed she felt.
‘Maybe another time?’ Lorcan suggested.<
br />
‘You’d be more than welcome,’ her mother replied.
‘Come tomorrow!’ Clara squealed.
Lorcan winked. ‘We’ll see,’ he said and then he looked at Jo. ‘I’d better be heading back before Grandad sends out a search party. And you know he would. And, remember, all’s well that ends well.’
‘Thanks,’ Jo replied, then stood awkwardly as Lorcan said his goodbyes and left, busting out a few more questionable moves as he walked away, much to Clara’s delight.
‘Josephine Campbell,’ her mother said. ‘You are going to have to tell me more about that man.’
33
The Notebook
Clara had chatted animatedly over dinner. The majority of her conversation seemed to be about Lorcan. Where was he from? What age was he? Did he get free sweets in Harry’s shop? What did he work as? What kind of computers? Had he ever seen The Princess Bride? Did Jo know what his favourite movie was?
If Jo had wanted to shoo him from her thoughts, Clara was making that impossible. Although she was surprised to find it was actually quite nice to talk about him. When Clara eventually went to bed, her mother picked up where she had left off.
‘Is there a thing between you?’
‘A thing?’
‘You know, a bit of romance? It would be nice to see you meet someone special.’
‘Well, it would, Mum. But no, this isn’t a blossoming romance. He has just had a bad break-up and is here to clear his head,’ Jo said, as she handed her mum a cup of tea before bed.
‘So it could be the perfect time to swoop in?’ her mother asked, as she blew on her tea.
‘God, Mum, no. I’ve no desire to be anyone’s rebound fling. Besides, I have my fledgling writing career to concentrate on.’
‘Your career that Ewan McLachlan tried to steal from under your nose, the big gobshite!’ her mother said. ‘Wait until I tell Mags this. She’ll be on the next plane to Scotland, or wherever he is, to box his lights out!’
In Pursuit of Happiness Page 22
