Unknown

y the time Jeanne had humped her weekend case up the three flights of stairs to Sally’s office in Sackville Street, she was so breathless that she struggled to announce herself to the P.A.

The girl took pity on her saying, ‘You must be Jeanne Le Page. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get you a glass of water before I tell Sally you’re here.’

Jeanne sank gratefully into the squashy chair which immediately swallowed her up, making her wonder if she’d get out of it again without a hoist. Sipping her water she questioned why Sally insisted on staying in an office without a lift. It was a good address and very central but if she moved just a bit further from the action it would surely be possible to rent an office on the first floor, or at least one with a lift, for a similar rent. She consoled herself with the thought that at least it would be easier taking her case down the stairs.

By the time her breathing was reasonably normal Sally came through and, after a welcome hug, led her into the office. Low-ceilinged but spacious, it was painted white giving an impression of airiness. Her battered partners’ desk was covered in piles of manuscripts and assorted papers. Sally was dressed in a smart suit, leading Jeanne to think lunch was unlikely to be at McDonalds, and she smiled inwardly.

‘It’s lovely to see you again, Jeanne. Must be what – two years? And it looks as if living in Guernsey suits you, you’re positively blooming!’ Sally smiled warmly.

‘Yes, it does, the sea air is wonderful after all those years in the Midlands.’

‘Hope you didn’t mind dragging yourself away from all that ozone, but it’s a fairly complex contract and I wanted to make sure you fully understood all the implications. As you haven’t actually written the book yet the publishers have included clauses to cover stage payments of the advance which are dependent on your producing a satisfactory MS at an agreed time. In other words, if you produced a load of rubbish they would want their money back!’ she laughed.

‘Well, I hope to do better than that and I can hardly mess up the recipes! So, may I ask what advance they’re offering?’

Sally smiled broadly and answered, ‘It’s actually very generous for a first time author. £20,000 in total, spread over three stage payments.’

Jeanne gasped, ‘£20,000! I never expected as much as that! You’re absolutely sure that’s the right amount?’

Sally was amused. ‘I can read, you know. But see for yourself,’ she said, pushing the contract over the desk.

Jeanne’s eyes swam as she looked at the words and figures dancing before her. After blinking a few times, she read the magic clause:

The Publisher shall pay to the Author or to her duly authorised representative an advance of £20,000 against all the Author’s earnings under this Agreement payable as follows:

a) £8,000 within 30 days of the signing hereof

b) £6,000 within 30 days of the Acceptance by the Publisher of the MS of the Work and as is later provided

c) £6,000 within 30 days of publication of the Work and as is later provided

Sally laughed. ‘Hold on, I want to cover all the main points with you first.’

They spent the next hour going through the contract paragraph by paragraph and Jeanne’s head began to spin. Sally, totally professional, had already earmarked some clauses for change, which she felt should be no problem. She also explained about the royalties and translation rights. By the time they had covered most things Jeanne was in dire need of a drink and something to eat. Sally was obviously a mind reader.

Leaving her case in the office, Jeanne followed Sally downstairs and out towards Piccadilly.

‘We can walk, it’s just down the road. I’ve booked us into Greens. Hope you won’t miss your burger!’

Jeanne was very happy at the choice. She had not been there herself but Freya had once said she loved it. Judging by Sally’s reception by the Maitre D’ it seemed that she was a regular and popular customer. There was a hug for Sally and a welcoming smile for Jeanne as they were ushered to a spacious corner table and fussed over in a way to which Jeanne could easily become accustomed.

Before she had a chance to get properly settled a bottle of Veuve Clicquot arrived in a silver ice bucket and two glasses were poured with due ceremony.

‘Santé! Here’s to Recipes for Love. May this be the first of many successful books!’ cried Sally as they clinked glasses.

‘Thanks, Sally.’ Jeanne was exhilarated and the champagne went straight to her head, making her giggly.

‘I’d better eat soon or I might disgrace myself and get barred for life,’ she grinned at Sally.

‘Don’t worry. They’ve seen it all before. The staff are used to my bringing up and coming writers here to celebrate their first contracts. And they’ll be particularly interested in your book, with its focus on food. Right, let’s order, shall we?’

The delicious meal soaked up the champagne so that Jeanne, although slightly squiffy, behaved herself, and welcomed a large cup of coffee, presented with chocolate creams.

Three flights of stairs seemed less steep when you were floating on air, Jeanne thought as they arrived back at the office. Once they had tied up the remaining points she was free to leave and Sally promised to send her the contract to sign as soon as the publisher returned the amended copy.

‘Should only take a few days. Just get it back to me by return and I’ll chase up the first payment. Now, have a great time with your friend and call me when you’re next in London.’

Jeanne made her way, gingerly, down the stairs with her case. Once outside she phoned Freya.

‘Hi, it’s me. Guess what? I’m being paid £20,000! Is that reason to celebrate or not?’

‘Sure is. My boss told me this morning but I wanted you to hear it from Sally. We can sure push the boat out, now! How did your lunch go?’

‘Thought you sounded a bit merry! It’s just as well I’ve booked us to go out tomorrow night and not tonight. You may need to take it a bit easy this evening, girl. How about coming to my office now and after I’ve sobered you up I’ll introduce you to my boss, who’ll be your editor. And it might be better to get a taxi in your condition!’ She rang off, still laughing.

Ensconced in Freya’s office, Jeanne drank all the coffee put in front of her and began to feel more compos mentis. Her intoxication wasn’t just from the alcohol but the sheer joy of being paid a large sum of money for her book. It would go a long way towards paying for the work on the cottage, she mused. Once Freya was happy that Jeanne was presentable she took her along to her boss, Louise Williams. Louise was delighted to meet her and they spent some time getting to know each other.

‘I’m really looking forward to working with you, Jeanne, and would like to think that this is the start of a long and rewarding relationship. Now, I think it’s time that Freya took you off and showed you the sights. Hope to see you again soon.’

Freya was only too happy to finish a bit earlier than usual and they took the Tube to Covent Garden where Freya had a third floor one bedroom flat in a side street off Long Acre. The flat was tiny, but it did have the advantage of a lift and was well placed for the theatres and restaurants of the area.

‘I thought we could go out for a quiet meal tonight at a local bistro. We can take in a film as well, if you like,’ Freya suggested as they sprawled on the sofa.

They decided on a film and enjoyed a quiet, but happy evening out, catching up on each other’s lives over dinner. Jeanne was still full from lunch and chose the lightest choice on the menu and drank only a couple of glasses of wine. They walked home, arm in arm, chatting contentedly. By the time the sofa bed was made up they were both yawning and Jeanne fell asleep immediately, images of giant fifty pound notes pervading her dreams.

Saturday was designated for shopping and they didn’t have far to go to find enticing boutiques. In a generous mood, Jeanne not only bought herself several items but treated Freya to a new dress.

‘Jeanne, you shouldn’t have! Paying for a night out was the deal, not a new outfit as well,’ Freya said, taken aback by her friend’s generosity.

‘Nonsense, I might not have got my contract without your help. Now, we can both dress up in our new glad rags and London won’t know what hit it when we finally venture out – after we’ve put our feet up first, of course!’

That evening the two girls arrived at an upmarket fish restaurant, and the waiters were like bees to nectar as they hovered around, solicitously helping them into their leather seats.

Freya laughed, ‘I don’t get this attention when I’m with Rob! I guess it’s the sight of two gorgeous girls on the loose that sets their testosterone soaring!’

The evening was rounded off with a visit to a small night club in Covent Garden. They were soon invited to dance and happy to oblige. Even though her partner was attractive, in a Brad Pitt sort of way, Jeanne wasn’t interested in getting to know him better and found her thoughts wandering to Nick. What would he be doing on a Saturday night in Guernsey? Having a drink with the lads, possibly. Or perhaps Sue had finally persuaded him to go out on a date? Not a pleasant thought. But why should it bother her? Not wanting to go there, Jeanne smiled at her partner and carried on dancing.

On Sunday morning Freya suggested they chill out by having a coffee first, followed by a late lunch in a local wine bar. Weaving their way through the jugglers and mime artists vying for attention, they settled for a café offering live jazz.

‘Mm, Freya, I’d like your advice on something. Can you play Agony Aunt for a while?’

Jeanne told her about Marcus and her feelings, or rather lack of them, toward him.

Freya’s eyes crinkled up in amusement. ‘Hello! It’s a no-brainer, girl. Stop seeing him! It’s obvious you don’t love him and any initial attraction seems to have evaporated. I’m sure you know this yourself. So what’s stopping you ending it?’

‘I don’t know. I guess I’ve been scared of ending up on my own. And after Andy… well, let’s say my self-confidence took a big dive. Marcus boosted me up again. But you’re right, it won’t work between us, I can see that now. I was just trying to force it to work, based on a schoolgirl crush,’ she grinned.

‘Jeanne, my girl, I’m sure there must be loads of men who will fancy you. Look at last night! You certainly could have scored if you’d wanted to! Isn’t there anyone in Guernsey who gives you the eye and melts your insides?’ she asked, head cocked to one side.

She flushed. ‘Well, yes there is someone who I’m told fancies me but he hasn’t said anything yet. Might be ’cos he’s gone off women a bit. But I do find him attractive, I guess.’

Freya demanded to know more and Jeanne found herself describing her various encounters with Nick and finished up by telling her about the planned use of his kitchen.

‘Aha! This will be your chance, girl. Flutter the old eye lashes as you serve up an irresistible meal. You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart, don’t you?’ She looked at Jeanne thoughtfully, before adding, ‘I’ve got good vibes about this Nick. I expect to be kept posted with all the gory details. Please don’t bother sparing my blushes, I’m a big girl now!’

They both laughed and after leaving the café sauntered around the shops and stalls before stopping at a jewellery stall displaying delicate necklaces of semi-precious stones on gold chains. Jeanne fell in love with a heart shaped rose quartz pendant with matching earrings and, with a little encouragement from Freya, bought them.

‘Rose quartz for love, eh?’ Freya grinned and then ducked as Jeanne aimed a mock punch at her.

Later that afternoon Jeanne had finally managed to squeeze her new purchases into her case and Freya went with her to flag down a taxi.

‘It’s been a great weekend. We must do it again sometime. Preferably when my liver’s in remission! And thanks for paying for everything, you were more than generous. Now, all you have to do is write that bestseller and snare that dishy man. Not too much to ask, is it?’ she said, giving Jeanne a hug.

‘I’ll do my best. On both counts!’ Jeanne waved goodbye as the taxi headed off towards Victoria. She sank back into her seat, a mix of emotions flowing through her –sadness at saying goodbye to Freya, excitement at her book deal and anticipation at what lay ahead for her in Guernsey. Would she indeed ‘snare that dishy man’? Did he even want to be snared? She sighed as she remembered Colette telling her how hurt Nick had been when Helen left him. He might not want to risk heartbreak again, she thought. And nor did she – once was enough in a lifetime.