nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose rude, self-satisfied twat would cover it. And we have to put up with it all week. We’ve always wanted to get a really famous author too. What a pity we got him.’
She finished loading the dishwasher and shut the door. She turned to me, her face thoughtful.
‘It’s a bit of an opportunity though isn’t it? I don’t suppose he would do a workshop, do you?’
‘What on? Being obnoxious?’ I said. ‘You must be joking – you heard him just now. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking. He’d only say no and do the sneery thing he does.’
‘I haven’t seen a sneery thing,’ Helena said, puzzled.
‘It’s just me then. Come on, let’s get this coffee into the dining room although, let’s be honest, he’s had enough caffeine today to run the Grand National.’
I took the tray back into the dining room and found Oliver Forest, or Ross Black, or whatever he wanted to be called, had gone.
‘He’s in his room,’ Nancy said. ‘He said he wants his coffee in there.’
‘Oh does he? Right then.’
I went stamping back into the kitchen and set out a tray for him with a second cafetière I had found and a second unattractive mug.
‘Here,’ I said to Helena, ‘can you take this to his majesty? I’ll start on the saucepans.’
Scrubbing saucepans was the job both of us detested and we went to considerable lengths to avoid doing them, so my offer was unusual in the extreme.
‘Bloody hell, are you OK?’ Helena said.
‘Perfectly,’ I said, rolling my sleeves up and getting stuck in. ‘I’ll get rid of some of my irritation this way. God I wish we could go to the pub!’
Going to the pub was out of the question, of course. We had to be on hand in case there was a food crisis or wine bottle needing to be opened. It would have been very bad form to leave our guests, and anyway it was usually fun to get to know new people and enjoy hearing their writing stories. Adding Oliver Forest into the mix seemed to have affected everything somehow. No it hadn’t; it had ruined it. Helena and I were going to have to work hard to get everyone relaxed and cheerful again.
*
We ploughed on, and gradually everyone began to enjoy themselves. This might have had something to do with the unexpected bonus of Oliver taking his coffee and staying in his room for the rest of the evening. Occasionally I went into the kitchen to fetch something or stack a few more dirty dishes on the worktop. Once I heard him shouting into his phone but on the other occasions it was eerily silent.
I tiptoed around as though there was a sleeping tiger behind the door and put the crockery down with exaggerated care. I dropped a teaspoon and waited with bated breath in case he came out roaring, but nothing happened and I slunk back into the sitting room.
‘No sign of our celebrity?’ Nancy said in a stage whisper.
I shook my head. ‘Perhaps he’s writing.’
‘Or maybe he’s gone to bed.’ Helena said.
I fought back the mental image of Oliver Forest in bed and asked Nick how his novel was progressing.
We all chatted happily enough until after ten-thirty, which was plenty late enough for me, and then Helena and I set the breakfast table in stressed silence in case we disturbed him. Shortly afterwards I went upstairs. I was quite exhausted. And this was just the beginning.
Helena came up a few minutes later and rummaged around in her suitcase for her pyjamas and her sponge bag. We were sharing a bathroom with Elaine, so we did a bit of polite dodging backwards and forwards until we were sure she had finished her nightly rituals and was safely tucked up in her bed.
I wanted to talk to Helena but as usual she was snoring gently in minutes, the product of an untroubled mind, whereas I lay in bed, unable to sleep at all.
I tried to put Oliver Forest out of my thoughts, but instead I remembered what we’d talked about at lunchtime. I knew everyone was right. My life did need an adrenaline shot. What could I do to make my life more exciting?
I needed a list.
I know, a ten-point plan!
I sat up and reached for my notebook and the pen that lights up in the dark that Helena had given me for my last birthday. What would someone put on an ‘adventure list’? Climb mountains? Hmm I’m not really great with heights. Explore foreign lands? That takes money. Learn how to do something dangerous … Did adventurous have to mean dangerous? I’d prefer it not to. Not only was my budget limited, if I was honest, what I really needed was to take a few more adventurous leaps in my own life. Maybe if I kept to things that were easy to achieve I might actually do it … because there was no way I was going cliff jumping! Right then …
1) Go on an expensive unexpectedly cheap holiday. Somewhere I’ve never been. Take masses of brilliant photos that are not obscured by other people’s heads, own finger, or phone case. Win photographic competition.
2) Lose a stone before 1) happens by starting a new clean-eating regime. Raw vegetables instead of chocolate. Fruit instead of ice cream.
3) Declutter wardrobe in manner of impossibly stylish woman. Put all remaining clothes into order using limited colour palette so I don’t look as though I’ve dressed in the dark. Become known as elegant, sophisticated person whose clothes fit. Get measured for bra.
4) Declutter kitchen cupboards. Check use-by dates on all items and discard where appropriate. Do not replace on the off chance I will be using a lot of ground nutmeg any time soon.
I paused to think and chewed the end of my pen.
5) Get second bedroom cleared of all junk. Ditto garden shed. Do not scream and hop about; woodlice are harmless. Find out what purple flower thing in garden is.
6) Find a proper job that pays proper money, has a pension scheme, and paid holidays.
7) Do 6) first. Before all the other things.
8) Get a tattoo. A really small one I can hide.
9) Consider eyebrow waxing.
10) Rethink shoes. Ugg boots – while comfortable and cute – are only suitable for children and people who go to the supermarket in pj’s. Wear heels more often so am forced to be elegant and stand up straight and not scuttle around like a beetle on speed.
I read back through the list. It sounded manageable, but also a bit outside my comfort zone – when was the last time I had allowed myself to imagine I could ever be stylish? I’d never been stylish. But wasn’t that the point? And a tattoo? I wasn’t even sure I approved of them.
And could I start a new career? Even just thinking it made me shiver with anticipation.
Maybe it would be possible. But doing what? For the moment I needed to concentrate on tomorrow. I was going to make a Victoria sponge and a chicken carbonara sauce. And two quiches for
