‘Go on and find Georgios, darling,’ Gran says. ‘We’ve got everything handled here.’
‘OK.’ I spot Zorba behind the bar rearranging the bottles. ‘Oh, Gran, Leo’s not going to be able to find anything if Zorba keeps shifting the bottles around like that.’
‘Zorba!’ Gran calls. ‘They’re already inalphabeticalorder.’
‘No, understand.’
She turns to me. ‘He likes order in a disorderly world. I can’t relate but I can empathise.’
I laugh. ‘Yes, you’re opposites in that respect. Why does he pretend he doesn’t understand when he’s got a better grasp on the English language than most people?’
‘Because then he can get away with murder.’ She flashes an innocent smile.
‘You told me sixteen pigs can eat a dead man in eight minutes. Zorba owns a pig farm. I’m not one for jumping to conclusions but you can see how I’m joining those dots, right?’
‘Darling, you hold a gold medal in jumping to conclusions.’
I give her that. I’m a big fan of figurative jumping rather than the more physical kind. ‘Promise me there will be no deaths on the island tonight?’
‘This isn’t a cosy mystery, Evie. Sometimes I think books have addled your brain.’
‘How could feeding a dead person to sixteen pigs ever be classed as a cosy mystery? Sometimes, I think men have addled your brain!’
‘Oh that they have!’
I give Gran a peck on the cheek and spin on my heel to search for Georgios. I find him in the history room chatting to a scholarly type. ‘Hi,’ I say with a smile. It’s quieter down this end of Epeolatry. The thick velvet curtains block a lot of the din.
Georgios waves me over and loops an arm around my waist. For some reason it feels natural, as if we do these kinds of lovey gestures all the time. It gives me a little buzz, a sense of belonging. ‘Hey, Evie, this is Joe, a local science-fiction author. I’ve just been telling him about my new publishing company Eros Books, and he’s going to submit his manuscript to me.’
I keep my face neutral. At least I try to. He’s already named his publishing company? ‘You’ll be in great hands. Georgios is a wonderful editor.’
‘Thank you. I agree. I’ve been following his career for some time, us being born on the same island and all.’
We chat for a bit about Joe’s writing before he takes his leave to replenish his drink.
I turn to Georgios. ‘You’re definitely going ahead with your very own publishing company then? Did you secure finance? What’s the plan? Tell me everything!’
Georgios grins at my sudden burst of questioning. ‘I spoke to my financial adviser and drew up a business plan. He suggested I sell off some shares and I take a small loan. Let’s hope the gamble is worth it.’
‘Of course it will be! And the name: Eros?’
He ducks his head as if he’s suddenly shy. ‘God of love. Love is at the base of every good book, so it seems fitting.’
Anticipation shines in his eyes. I recognise the look from when I first got the call from Gene about becoming a book scout. There’s nothing like that feeling of exhilaration when you’re chasing your dreams and they’re within touching distance. The goose-bumpy sensation that you’ve finally hit the jackpot with your career and you can pour your passion into something tangible, something that matters.
‘We need to celebrate this milestone! I believe in you, Georgios; now you’ve got to believe in yourself. You’ve already got your first submission! Have you read Joe’s work?’
‘I have and it’s brilliant. Groundbreaking for the genre actually. If I can sign him, it’ll lead to great things.’
‘What do you meanif? He trusts you already. He believes in you. Not if, but when!’
‘Right. Right. When. It’s daunting to have their careers in my hands and my hands only. What if I mess up? What if they don’t get the sales they expect? What if no one else submits? What then?’
‘Won’t happen. You hire a gun marketing person, maybe Roxy, and you have your strategies in place before each book is launched. You take your time with each release so nothing is overlooked and each book has its best chance at success. You know the world of publishing – no book is guaranteed success. Who knows why some fly and some fall? But you’ll do your level best to give them every chance to soar up the charts.’
‘Wow, Evie, do you want a job? I mean, really, do you?’ There’s a real happiness in his voice when he speaks of his new venture. It’s nice to see that excitement radiate from him again after this spell of him being quiet the last day or two.
‘No, I’m good. But thanks for the offer. I’ll be cheering you from the sidelines. Speaking of being hands-on with your … umm authors, though – is there anything you want to tell me about Lucy? She was shooting daggers playing the ultimate part of celebrity author brat when she arrived.’
