It hasn’t really gone like Julia or Suzanne thought it would. At different times they said that they would write on alternate days; that each would write their own character; that they would write every other chapter. They talked about how they would act out their characters’ conversations and then one of them would write them down.
In the end it’s almost as though the story itself decided.
Julia has been writing for a week. Each night, before going to sleep, she has asked Suzanne if she would like to see what she has written so that she can check if it’s any good and whether she’d like to take over. Suzanne has always made the same answer: ‘If it’s flowing, keep going.’ But after two full chapters, Julia can’t wait any more. She needs somebody to read it. She needs to know. So on the last day of January, they sit on the edge of the mattress, knees up and blankets around them. Suzanne reads. Julia waits and watches her face nervously
Shortly after she turns the first page, Suzanne looks up and smiles.
‘“Like a fat woman scrambling over a wall” – I love that.’
Eventually, she is finished.
‘Well?’ asks Julia.
‘I like it. I want to know what happens next.’
Julia looks at her expectantly. She needs more and Suzanne seems subdued tonight.
‘It’s so authentic. There was no point in it where it jarred, where it didn’t seem real and I was back there in Ancient Britain.’
‘You gave me good information,’ says Julia.
But she still needs to know about the writing. She looks expectantly at Suzanne who finally says, ‘It’s a book I’d buy and once I’d bought it, if I’d read this far I wouldn’t stop until I’d finished.’
Julia is pleased. No, it’s more than that. She’s overwhelmed. Especially when Suzanne finishes by saying, ‘I couldn’t pay you any greater compliment, Julia.’
‘So will you take over now?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ says Suzanne. ‘And no, I don’t think so.’
‘No?’
‘No. I’ll meet you in Pompeii.’