Edward looked sheepish and he rubbed his head and then grimaced. ‘Six months.’
Eve let out a deep breath. ‘Then maybe you need to tell Serena you can’t deliver next year?’
‘I can’t. I need the money – this place is a sponge for cash.’
Eve looked around the room. ‘It’s a lot of house, isn’t it?’
Edward gave a small laugh, ‘My ex-wife wanted it and then left me holding the baby, so to speak.’ Then he clapped his hands. ‘So fifteen hundred words a day minimum, and you edit as we go. I write every day?’
‘Yes.’ Eve laughed. ‘Every day. Maeve Binchy wrote every day, even Christmas Day. She probably wrote the day of her own funeral.’
‘Bully for Maeve.’ Edward stuck his tongue out at the ceiling and then looked at Eve. ‘I usually write on Christmas Day also. I’m as dedicated as anyone; I’m just in a bit of a lull at the moment.’
‘Then you need someone to shake you out of the lull,’ she said.
‘I would need a schedule. You would need to boss me around. Order me to sit and write, challenge me, push me.’
The way he spoke, Eve wasn’t sure if she was turned on or surprised.
‘I can do all of those things,’ she heard herself saying. ‘I can be very dominating if I need to be.’
‘Good to know,’ he said and their eyes met for a moment and Eve felt the flicker of something inside her.
Don’t you even think about it, Eve Pilkins,she told herself.He’s too old, he’s too wealthy, he’s too arrogant and he’s far too successful. Stick to your own kind. Those dreadful boys you met at the pub last week, the one who asked for your number and who said his favourite writer was the Guinness Book of Records.
‘I can do this, Eve, I can. I mean I want to but I will need your help,’ he said and he stood up and walked towards her. ‘Will you help me?’
She found herself nodding, trying to remain professional but instead thought briefly of her mouth on his.
‘Yes, Edward, I will. I’m here.’ She paused. ‘Now sit your bum down and write for your life.’
10
The rules of the day were laid out for Edward.
7am – wake, breakfast, shower, etc.
8am – sit with Flora and play, read, etc.
9–12pm – writing
12pm – give pages to Eve to edit
1–4 – writing
6–7 – dinner with Flora
8–10 – go through edits with Eve
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
Part of Edward was horrified at the structure and prescriptive routine but Eve reminded him that it existed to get his book finished.
‘Routines support creativity,’ she informed him when she presented the idea to him.
He had grumbled and huffed but he had agreed with some caveats that if he wrote extra on some days he could have a lesser word target the next day.
Eve had agreed because he needed to have some control of his day.
