Page 45 of The Next Chapter

‘I don’t know,’ I babble, injecting a potent dose of false cheer into my voice. ‘I’m behind on Mr Vandergilden’s memoirs and I just don’t know if Seb will be able to spare me. Plus, there’s Elton, I need to get back for Elton. Cats get separation anxiety too, just like babies. But, well, I mean, I would like to write Lola’s memoirs, I think. And it’s, you know, money.’

‘She’s had a pretty interesting life,’ Noah replies. ‘Hard at times.’

Interesting. I add this information to the box in my brain labelled ‘LOLA’.

‘But for what it’s worth, I’d like you to stay.’ Noah doesn’t meet my eye and he works his bottom lip between his teeth. I think we’re flirting here. And a better woman than I might be able to resist that, you know, because he’s an adventurous traveller and I’m about as adventurous as a glow worm.

‘You’d like me to stay?’ I ask, my brain still tripping over the prospect of writing Lola’s memoirs. However, from what I can gather, flirting involves a lot of asking the other person a question you already know the answer to but in a slightly seductive way.

Noah nods, slowly. Peak flirt. ‘I really would. You could help me with more of my research.’

Oh. Maybe that’s why he wants me to stay. For research not ravishing.

‘I’ll talk to Seb and come back to you,’ I tell Noah, thumbing behind me to my cottage and breaking the maybe-flirt by talking about my fake brother.

‘Well, let me know what you decide. I, er, I’m not surprised that Lola asked you to write her memoirs. I mean, I’m surprised that she wants it all written down but not that she asked you. You’re really passionate, when you talk about it.’

‘I feel passionate about it.’ I can’t tell if we’re veering back into flirting territory and anyway, I need some space. A chance to clear my head. I manage to say ‘bye’ like a vaguely normal person but then stand and watch as Noah puts his hands in his pockets and walks back to his cottage. Me watching like that is possibly slightly less normal. Taking a deep breath, I pull open the doors to my cottage.

Seb is sat on his bed, the theme tune to America’s Next Top Model playing out of my laptop. We always turn to nostalgia TV when we’re hungover, stressed or in today’s case, both.

‘Lola wants me to stay and write her memoirs,’ I tell him, my back against the doors.

Seb shuts the laptop.

‘Ohmygod, you did it!’

‘I know.’

‘I don’t want to be dramatic but ohmygod.’

‘I know. She wants me to stay for the summer.’

‘Ohmygod.’

‘I know.’

‘You have to stay!’ he says. ‘I can’t believe our evil plan came off!’

‘Hang on, is it evil?!’ I’m pacing up and down the living area of the little cottage, looking around and trying not to panic. I’m doing a rubbish job of that by the way. ‘You never said it was evil. I can’t stay! We should do the meetings on Zoom. Same as we do for everyone else. I’m behind on Mr Vandergilden’s memoirs – I’m not happy with the chapter on his fourth divorce.’

I’m talking at a hundred miles an hour. ‘And the game hunting stuff won’t write itself. Plus, Elton needs me, he’s probably already wondering where I’ve gone. I’ve never left him for this long already! How can I stay?’ I’m the human equivalent of an exclamation mark at this point.

‘Relax,’ Seb says, then laughs as if the idea of me relaxing is completely ridiculous. He’s not wrong. ‘I’m in the group chat with Mr Cains. I’ve seen the pictures. Elton is showing zero trauma from the separation. Seems happier than ever, in fact, and you know Mr Cains loves to have him. He’s lonely on his own. They’re probably both better off without your whole stressy vibe.’

I purposefully unclench my hands.

‘And this isn’t any old client,’ Seb says, ‘this is fucking Lola Starr. You have to stay.’

‘But six weeks here.’ I try to bring the conversation back to the reasons why me staying is a bad idea. ‘I never go on impromptu holidays. I had an itinerary ready for two months before we had that day in London last year.’

Seb taps a finger against his chin.

‘The way I see it, it’s only six weeks. People survived in the Gulags for decades. And you can come home at any point in that time if it all gets a bit much, right?’ I nod, trying not to recall the eight-hour vomit marathon that was my journey here. ‘And you’d probably regret it, if you didn’t hear her out.’ I nod again, knowing that he’s right. At some point this weekend, things have changed. I’ve been confronted with a totally unexpected version of Lola. And I want to know more, because right now, the whole thing is making no sense. ‘Plus business,’ Seb finishes. ‘That’s why we came up with this whole evil plan. Okay, she doesn’t know who you are, but you get to hear the whole lot and if at the end of it, you like her, you can tell her who you are. If you think she’s a bit of a knob, well, then you can slink back off to Manchester and never grace the shores of Skye again.’

‘You said evil plan again.’ My mind is whirling. Everything Seb has said is right, though. It would give me chance to get to know Lola in a safer way.

‘Okay, we should stay,’ I tell Seb.