Before I open the tin of paint, I go to Manon’s suite to check on her. I knock and receive no response, so open the door to find her and JP asleep curled in each other’s arms. It’s so unlike Manon to invite a date to stay over so part of me wonders if this could be the real thing for her. I creep backwards and let the lovebirds snooze. JP’s worked hard and I’m not going to begrudge him a lie in. Just as I’m sliding the door closed my mobile rings; I dash away so I don’t disturb them.
‘Allo?’
‘How’s the word count? What numbers are we talking?’ Why didn’t I check caller ID! At least to have given myself a moment to brighten my voice, to make myself sound upbeat, like everything is justfine.
‘Bonjourto you too, Margaret. I take it you’re well.’ I can’t help but tease her for her curt question and the usual lack of a greeting.
‘Cut the crap, Anais.’
I grin. ‘Now that we’ve got the pleasantries over with, I’m happy to report I have written three chapters and, while this is not ideal, or enough, at least it’s something. I can build from here, but it will be… messy.’
‘Three chapters? That’s it?’ Her voice is so loud I have to pull the phone from my ear. ‘What have you been doing since we last spoke to have only written three measly chapters? And don’t tell me it’s the renovations, when I know you’ve got a builder doing the heavy lifting. I’ve seen the social media posts.’
‘Well, we found…’ I am about to tell her about the secret library and think better of it. Margaret might just get on the next flight over if there was a hint of a hidden manuscript that might be of value. I can picture her, vape clamped between herlips, eyes narrowed in concentration as she tears room nineteen apart, looking for treasure.
‘Found what?’
‘Found that renovations are – ah – time consuming. Yes, JP is doing the “heavy lifting”, but we’re still sourcing items for the hotel and building the website and social media pages. Painting, cleaning, sorting fire extinguishers, safety protocols, all the fun stuff. There’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work that goes into such a project.’
‘And that affects me how? Come on, Anais. I need this done, OK?’
I sigh. ‘I’ll get there, I promise.’
‘Good.’
Less than a month to go for the deadline. I can write a messy first draft fairly quickly, but that was before I took it upon myself to maim and dismember all my heroes. Still, I feel like I’m finally past that now. I confess to my agent what I’ve discovered about the longest writer’s block of my career. ‘I figured it out! The block was caused by writing unrelatable heroes, heroes just like my former husband, all suave and showy with very little else going for them. Sure, those kinds of men are attractive but only on the surface. This new hero I’m conjuring, well, he’s got the soul of a poet, but he’s also good with his hands. He’s robust and wild and takes charge. Though he says stupid manly man things, but that’s because he’s hiding his own hurt.’
‘You’ve just described Noah!’ I jump out of my skin as Manon appears out of nowhere and yells over my shoulder. She’s got the stealth skills of a ninja when she wants to.
‘Noah, eh?’ Margaret says. ‘The guy next door? Maybe it’s time I paid you a visit, eh? Just to talk shop. Actually, it’s not a bad idea. It’ll get me out of a publicity tour with that two-bit celebrity creep Wells,’ she says, almost as if she’s musing to herself.
I push Manon away, who is intent on listening in on my phone call. ‘A visit won’t be necessary, Margaret. Not yet. Wait until the hotel is open and I can offer you a refurbished suite so you’re comfortable.’
‘OK, OK, all I’m suggesting is perhaps youdoneed a little inspiration of the romantic kind. Would it be so bad to have a quick fling with this Noah guy? Restart the clock, so to speak. Get your ex-husband out of your mind for good and get those words on the page.’
‘And you don’t think a quick fling would complicate matters and steal away what little writing time I have?’ Only I could have a job where my boss, or at least the person in control of my earnings, advises having a romp with a man to increase my workflow.
‘Of course not! It would inspire you! Call it research if you must.’
Now I’ve heard everything. ‘Ah, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.’
‘You will not. But you should. Call me in a few days and let me know what you’re up to.’
‘Will do.À bientôt.’
Margaret ends the call without a goodbye, on to terrorise her next author. While she’s sharp and short and can be brutal, she’s a force to be reckoned with and I’ve learned how to deal with her over the years. Under that acerbic demeanour, she’s a softy at heart. Well, sort of. If I don’t meet my deadline, I’ll certainly hear about it. Right now, I’m distracted by Manon, who’s leaning against the wall, eyes glazed, lost in a daydream.
‘Earth to Manon.’
‘Huh?’
‘That’s not exactly painting attire.’ I point to her black flannelette PJs that feature skulls, of all things.
‘Oh,oui. It’s just that I’m a little tired today, I’m coming down with a bug.’
‘Ah,punaise d’amour?’
She screws up her face. ‘A love bug? That is disgusting, Anais!’
