Happily Never After, page 7
‘Yes, please. How were they?’
‘Looking very happy, according to Bella. She wondered out loud if they were having sex yet, but then the image of “old people doing it”, to use her phraseology, gave her the ick. I think she’s a little bit obsessed with them. Do you think I should have a word? I don’t want her being intrusive and putting them off.’
‘I’m sure she’s very discreet,’ I assure her. ‘It’s just Bella’s thing – psychoanalysing the customers. It’s harmless and keeps her entertained. Actually, it keeps me entertained too. I might use some of her backstories in future books.’
‘And how is the book coming?’ Liv asks as she gets two mugs and a teapot out of the cupboard. ‘Any better?’
‘Not really. I had my agent hassling me about it on the phone earlier. She wants me to go on a writers’ retreat because she thinks it might help.’
‘Sounds sensible. Are you going to go?’
‘I’d rather drill holes in my head, and what would I do with Meg?’
‘I could look after her.’
‘You’re at work all day.’
‘I’m sure there must be dog sitters and people who can come and spend time with her while I’m not here.’
‘There probably are, but she was so upset when Angus left, and I don’t want her thinking I’ve abandoned her too. Anyway, it’s academic as I don’t want to go.’
‘Why not?’
‘It just sounds cliquey and rarefied. Every time I think about it, all I can see is sniffy authors looking down on each other and being generally insufferable.’
‘Is that what they’re like then?’
‘I don’t know. It’s just what I’ve imagined. Some haughty so-and-so telling me my writing is nothing more than commercial doggerel.’
‘Umm, sorry. But your commercial doggerel, as you put it, is probably outselling their weighty tomes by thousands to one. If anyone should be looking down on anyone, it’s you on them.’
‘I’m not sure, Liv. Do you remember exams at school?’
She laughs. ‘I hardly took any, remember?’
‘Good point. OK, when normal people, who aren’t you, take exams, there’s this moment at the end where everyone checks in with everyone else. “What did you put for question three?”, that kind of thing.’
‘What’s this got to do with writing retreats?’
‘I’m getting to that. The point is, I hated that moment, because all it did was make you second-guess yourself. You’d put the answer as twelve, for example, and you’d find out everyone else had written down fourteen. Then you’d spend the rest of the day riddled with self-doubt.’
‘Still not seeing the connection.’
‘It’s the same thing, don’t you see? People ask you what you’ve written today, and you tell them all about how your serial killer has chopped up their latest victim, only for them to rip into you and tell you all the anatomical reasons why that wouldn’t work.’
‘That sounds pretty unlikely, unless they were either in the medical profession or a fellow crime writer. Anyway, I’m sure a bit of online research would clear that up, and better to be corrected during the writing process than having some smug reader leave a shitty review because you’ve got something wrong. That always winds you up.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘It so does. What was the last one you got? Someone had the arse because they thought a fall from a second-floor window wouldn’t cause the type of injuries you’d written. You obsessed over it for days, looking up stuff online and poring over your medical textbooks.’
‘I was sure they were wrong. I just needed to make certain. Anyway, we’re getting off the point. I’m not going on retreat.’
‘Has she sent you the details?’
‘Yes, but I haven’t looked, because I’m not going.’
‘Can I see? I’ve always wondered what goes on on a writers’ retreat. Oddly, nobody seems to run retreats for pâtissiers. I know, I’ve looked.’
‘Maybe there’s a missed business opportunity for you there.’
‘Where would I get the time? I’m flat out as it is.’ She pours water into the teapot, swirling it round to warm it before emptying it out and spooning in the tea leaves. ‘That’s why I want to see yours, so I can live vicariously through you.’
‘I’ll go and get my laptop. Hang on.’
It only takes me a minute to fetch it from upstairs but, by the time I return, she’s already placed two chocolate éclairs on plates.
‘They were left over,’ she explains when she sees my raised eyebrows. ‘It seemed a shame to waste them. We’ve got a couple of minutes before the tea is ready, so let’s have a gander.’
I click the links that Tamara has sent me, loading each one onto a new browser tab, before handing the laptop over to an eager Liv.
‘Don’t get tea or éclair on it,’ I warn her. ‘That thing is expensive and doesn’t react well to liquids or baked goods.’
‘Relax, I’m being careful. OK, so number one is in Tuscany. Looks like a nice place, and all your meals are provided. They even give you wine with dinner.’
‘Not being funny, but I eat and drink pretty well here.’
‘Of course you do. I’m a fabulous chef, among my many other talents.’
‘Modesty being chief among them,’ I say with a laugh.
‘Ha. Modesty is overrated in my opinion. If you’re good at something, be honest about it. First rule of marketing. How successful do you think my business would be if my advertising was modest? Come to Maison Olivia, where you’ll get a tolerable macaron and hopefully leave without being poisoned? No. Come to Maison Olivia, because it’s the best bloody pâtisserie in East Kent. Anyway, brilliant chef as I am, I still think eating genuine Italian food in Italy would be worth the trip on its own.’
‘Mm-hm. What about the writing retreat bit?’
‘Let me see. It says there are a number of places for writing, including their very own library, tables and chairs in the garden, or your room if you prefer. That’s OK, isn’t it? Sitting under an olive tree, typing away. Sounds blissful if you ask me. There’s also a retreat leader on hand to give guidance and feedback, and each day starts with a session on story arcs, character journeys and keeping the reader engaged, whatever those things mean.’
‘See, that’s what I’m talking about. If there’s anything guaranteed to send me down a rabbit hole into analysis paralysis, it’s someone telling me how to write a story arc or questioning my character journey. Having confidence in your writing is difficult enough without someone standing over your shoulder and telling you you’re doing it all wrong.’
‘OK. We’ll rule this one out. The next one is in Croatia. Oh, hang on. Same problem with the daily sessions, although they’ve upped the ante by saying the person running the daily sessions is a leading industry professional.’
‘That’s even worse.’
‘This one looks interesting. South of France – nice – and no daily sessions. There’s a mentor if you want one, but other than that it looks like you’re left to your own devices. They also lay on trips to local markets and other activities to give you breaks if you want to recharge. Again, all your meals are provided, including dinner with wine and a bar with an honesty box. Fuck it, Laura. If you don’t go, I’ll pretend to be you and go instead. Have a look.’
She pushes the laptop over to me and focuses on pouring out the tea. She’s right; it does look nice. The house is large and decorated in a very French style, although the website states that the owners are English. There are artistic shots of delicious-looking plates of food in the dining room, the well-stocked bar, the bedrooms and gardens. The text makes it clear that the owners are aware that writers are a diverse bunch, so you can be as social or antisocial as you want. The only time you all have to be together is for meals.
‘What do you think?’ Liv asks.
‘I’m still not sure.’
‘Why don’t we let fate decide?’
‘What have you got in mind?’
‘It seems to me that you have two fundamental blocks where this retreat is concerned. One is the fact that you’re convinced you’re going to hate it. But, as we’ve already agreed, you won’t know that until you try it, so we’ll mark that one as resolved. The second is Meg.’
‘Yes.’
‘So, I’m going to challenge you to investigate doggy daycare options. If they’re all terrible, then you stay. But if you find one you like, that’s the universe clearing a path for you and you have to go.’
‘I don’t know, Liv.’
‘Look, she’s not going to feel totally abandoned. Apart from the fact that, love her as I do, her emotions just aren’t that complex, I’m still going to be here for her in the evenings so she’ll have continuity. Just do a bit of research, will you?’
I sigh. ‘Fine. I won’t find anywhere though, I’m certain of that.’
9
Claire stared at the bedroom ceiling as she ran through the checklists in her head. Although she couldn’t see it in the darkness, she was acutely aware of the crack that ran from the tatty light fitting to the corner of the room. How many hours had she spent lying here, tracing its contours while planning her escape from Darren? She glanced across at him, his rhythmic snoring the only sound in their otherwise silent house. She’d never known she was capable of such hatred until these last few months.
Of course, the shove in the kitchen had just been the beginning. Since then, the violence had escalated and, although he’d been pitifully apologetic afterwards each time, buying her flowers and showering her with gifts, the gaps between outbursts were getting shorter and she needed to get away before he did something really serious to her. The problem was that he controlled virtually every part of her life now; even her passport was locked away in a filing cabinet ‘for safe keeping’. Still, he didn’t know about the shoebox at the back of the wardrobe where she was slowly starting to build her getaway kit. Any cash tips from work went straight in there, along with the replacement passport she’d ordered because she’d ‘lost’ the original and the card for the secret bank account she’d set up. She just had a few more things to get, and then she’d be ready.
Thankfully, the threat of having to go on retreat appears to have unblocked me a little. The book has started to flow slightly better and I’m making good progress towards the climax of the first half. It’s always tricky, this bit. You want to accelerate and get on to the next part of the story, but you know that the reader wants to savour the journey without feeling rushed. I’m reviewing the last couple of chapters, checking the pace, when my phone rings.
‘Hi, is that Laura?’ a female voice asks when I answer.
‘Yes.’
‘This is Donna, from Donna’s Doggy Daycare. You left me a voicemail message this morning. How can I help?’
I glance down at Meg, curled up asleep in her basket. If I’m ambivalent about the idea of going on retreat, that’s nothing compared to the guilt I feel about potentially dumping Meg on strangers while I’m away. Liv has been very firm with me and I do understand that I can’t let Meg dictate my whole life but, as I’ve pointed out several times, she is a living being and I am responsible for her welfare. I’ve looked at all sorts of options for her while I’m away and, up until now, I haven’t liked any of them. There are plenty of dog walkers who will call in once or twice a day to take her out, but she’s used to being around people for most of the time and I worry she’ll be lonely.
‘I’m thinking of going away for a couple of weeks,’ I explain to Donna. ‘I’ve not left my dog before and I usually work from home, so she’s used to being around people all day.’
‘Of course she is,’ Donna says robustly. ‘And you worry about her being on her own for long periods.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sure we can help. When would you be going?’
I give her the dates.
‘Yes, we could definitely squeeze her in. So, there are several options, depending on what you think would suit her best. She could either come to us as a boarder and stay for the duration of your trip, or she could come as a day-doggy.’
‘I was thinking probably the day-dog option. I think she’d prefer to be here overnight.’
‘I assume that there would be someone in the house at night-time to look after her?’
‘My flatmate Liv, yes.’
‘Perfect. So, with the day-doggy option, you have another choice. Either your flatmate could drop her off here before work and collect her afterwards or, for a small extra fee, we could collect her and bring her home.’
‘And what happens during the day?’
‘We have a number of activities for the dogs, depending on what they like. They’re encouraged to socialise with each other and we walk them in pairs. There are areas for play where we provide stimulating toys, as well as rest areas for them if they want some downtime. There are always humans on hand to supervise and also reassure where necessary. If you want to come and have a look, that’s something we definitely encourage. What’s your dog’s name?’
‘Meg.’
‘Bring Meg along too. We offer a free taster session so you can see how she fits in and we can check there aren’t any red flags from our side.’
I hadn’t considered that there might be an issue on their side. ‘What kind of red flags?’ I ask.
‘I’ll be honest with you,’ Donna says. ‘Doggy Daycare isn’t for everyone. How is Meg around other dogs?’
‘She’s generally fine. She likes a sniff and then moves on.’
‘Probably not an issue then. Some dogs are very anxious and can get aggressive around others. We tend not to accept those ones, not because we can’t handle them, but because it upsets the general atmosphere. We like happy dogs here.’
I’m finding Donna very reassuring and, by the time we disconnect the call a while later, I’ve agreed to visit with Meg in a couple of days.
‘I think I may have found a solution to the Meg problem,’ I tell Liv as we’re sipping a cup of tea later that afternoon. Thankfully there are no treats from the pâtisserie today; I haven’t dared weigh myself lately but I can definitely feel the effects of her baking in the tightness of my trousers.
‘Oh, yes?’ She’s only half listening, as she’s flicking through one of the trade magazines she loves at the same time.
‘Someone called Donna. She runs a daycare centre for dogs, a bit like a crèche. She sounded really nice, so we’re going to have a look in a couple of days. Want to come?’
‘It’ll have to be an afternoon. Flat out in the mornings,’ she says listlessly.
‘I thought of that. I booked us in for four o’clock on Friday.’
‘That could work. I’ll ask Bella to lock up.’ She finally moves her gaze from the trade magazine to glance down at Meg’s head on her lap. ‘Auntie Liv needs to make sure naughty Mummy isn’t sending you to some horrible hellhole, doesn’t she? We don’t want you all traumatised.’
‘It’s not a hellhole. It sounds really nice, actually. They’ll even pick her up and drop her off if we want them to.’
‘Hmm. That’s probably so we can’t see the pound she’s going to spend all day locked up in. Have you thought of that? It’s like boarding school all over again. When you’re looking around, it’s all sunshine, roses and “of course your child’s welfare is our top priority”. Then, no sooner have your parents turned out of the driveway than it turns into a Victorian workhouse.’ She turns to the dog again. ‘Don’t worry, Meggie. Auntie Liv has plenty of experience and can smell out a rotten boarding school from a mile away.’
‘Liv!’
‘What?’
‘This was your idea, remember? You’re not being helpful right now. Plus, I’m pretty sure you said your schools weren’t that bad.’
‘You’re right. They were fine, actually. Sorry, I didn’t mean to guilt trip you.’
‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes, fine. I think I’m just having one of my existential crisis days. Nothing to worry about.’
‘Do you want to share?’
‘It’s not very interesting. I’m sure you have days where you wonder whether your life is going in the right direction, don’t you?’
‘What’s brought that on?’
‘Dad was asking me the other day if I had any expansion plans for the business. He thinks I lack ambition, that I should be looking to centralise production in a commercial kitchen somewhere and open multiple outlets. I can see his point, but it’s not really where I want to go. I love my little pâtisserie, and I love Margate. Does it make me a bad person for that to be enough? Should I want more?’
‘Your dad is always going to be looking for the next thing, Liv. It’s the way his mind works.’
‘I know, but he was basically saying I’m vulnerable because my business is too small. What if one of the big players moves in next door?’
‘And what if they don’t? You’ve got a great business with a loyal customer base. People travel to come to you. Did Bella tell you we had a couple in the other day who’d read the reviews online and come all the way from Tonbridge to sample your Tarte au citron?’
Her face brightens. ‘Really?’
‘Really. So yes, you could expand the business if you wanted to, but there’s risk in that as well, isn’t there? If you became more corporate, people might not love you so much. It’s the personal touch, your passion for what you do, that makes you special.’
She looks like a weight has dropped from her shoulders. ‘Thanks, Laura. I needed to hear that. I know Dad means well, but—’
‘He doesn’t understand your business like you do. Remember that.’
‘You’re right. So, tell me more about this doggy daycare then.’
‘It’s nice, isn’t it?’ I say to Liv as we load Meg into her car a couple of days later at the end of our test visit to Donna’s Doggy Daycare. ‘Meg certainly seemed to like it.’
‘Donna was really good with her, and I like the way she introduced her to the other dogs gradually. I think she’d have freaked if she’d been confronted by that German Shepherd off the bat.’
