Charlotte would have met this with a modest smile if they had been face to face. Before she could think of a verbal equivalent, Ellen said 'I was going to ask if you still don't think I've got it right, would you have time to rewrite it for me?'
'Let's hope that won't be necessary. Let's see how well you can do.'
'Have there ever been cousins who collaborated on a book? By Charlotte Nolan and Ellen Lomax.' A silence suggested she was dreaming of the prospect until she said 'Would you get half the money?'
'Of course not, Ellen. I'm being paid to edit.'
'Do you think I'll be seeing some soon?'
Charlotte heard how casual Ellen was trying to sound. 'As long as you're happy to work on the changes I'll look into what can be done.'
'We'll stay in touch, shall we? Not just us.' Ellen might have paused for thought, but all she said was 'Anyway, I've kept you away from your date long enough. I hope you'll be pleased with me.'
With that she was gone. Charlotte folded up her phone and dodged through the crowd to the Vivaldi. How had she overlooked the lowness of the ceiling? The room hardly seemed to have space for so much clamorous dimness, let alone for her. She might have indicated that she would wait for Glen outside if he hadn't been sitting with his back to the door. As she struggled alongside the table he reached for the grappa. 'Anything to celebrate?'
'Maybe, but do you think we're finished here? I'm feeling a bit closed in.'
'Let's chase that, then. I've got the check.' When Charlotte made to take out her purse he said 'No, I mean I got it.'
'Well, thank you for a very pleasant evening.'
As they emerged into the crowded thickening darkness he said 'Can you use a coffee?'
'If I'm buying, Glen.'
'Everything's bought,' he said and steered her by the elbow towards Kentish Town.
As they left the crowd beyond a side street where three-storey houses propped up the black sky, he let go of her arm. He turned along a narrower street and then down one that might be narrower still. All at once his height dropped inches, followed by twice that. 'Going down?' he said.
Charlotte tried to find the sight of his lean face smiling up at her as comical as he might intend, but it made her less than eager to descend the steps. 'This is it, then.'
'It's worth a whole lot more than I paid for it back when.'
'I wasn't putting it down,' she said and ventured onto the first step.
It was dark in the cramped stone yard at the bottom, and darker beyond the door Glen unlocked. As she waited for him to switch on some light Charlotte had the unwelcome fancy that he was about to encounter an intruder in the blackness. She heard a beeping that suggested Glen was trying to summon help on a mobile phone, but he was switching off an alarm. In another moment the hall lit up, and he looked out of the doorway. 'Are you OK on the steps?'
She felt less so with each one she took. 'I didn't drink that much,' she said, wishing that were the problem, whatever it was.
The click of the latch reminded her how she was shutting herself in. The short hall was decorated with Cougar posters as if, she felt unfair for thinking, Glen anticipated a visit from their bosses. Past the bathroom and a bedroom where a double bed lay low in the dark, the main room managed to contain a leather suite and a home cinema system with a plasma screen, as well as bookshelves and a hi-fi and a desk bearing a computer. Glen crossed the room to a panelled kitchen largely occupied by fitted units and a pine table with six chairs. 'Sit anywhere you're comfortable,' he said.
'Can I open the curtains?'
'Handle whatever you like.'
Was she hoping for a sunken garden? When she parted the black curtains they revealed French windows, but these opened onto a subterranean brick enclosure where a round metal table and four chairs were surrounded on three sides by boxes spilling blossom. 'What do you think?' Glen called.
Charlotte retreated to the farthest leather chair in case at that distance the enclosure could be mistaken for the edge of a darker garden. It couldn't, and she was thrown by her desire for the illusion. 'It's neat,' she had to say. 'You must be quite a gardener.'
'I'm not. My girlfriend was.'
'Oh dear, are you going to have to learn?'
'That's one option. You any good with that stuff?'
'I don't think any of my family have much to do with the soil.'
'Pity,' Glen said and stayed quiet while the percolator did its work.
Charlotte's last remark echoed like an unwelcome voice in her head for no reason she could grasp, unless it was reminding her that she was under the earth, except that she was nothing of the kind. 'You've made a lot of your space,' she said.
'It's my burrow for sure. The girl I mentioned, she used to say it was like some animal's home in a fairy tale. Guess which animal.'
'I really couldn't say, Glen.'
'OK, well, you haven't seen it all yet.'
Before she could think of an answer he carried in two mugs, each advertising a Cougar million-seller. Having handed Charlotte
'I'd very much like to offer her a deal.'
'We haven't seen any rewrites yet, have we?'
'She's committed to them, and I'll give her any help she needs, on my own time if I have to.'
'We may not have so much of that, the way things are shaping up.' He took time to swallow a mouthful of coffee and said 'So you don't think it's going to call for too much of a favour.'
'I think together we can come up with a book that'll sell the way you thought it could.'
'I guess that's good enough for me. I'll back you when you talk it up. How much are you looking to offer?'
He'd lowered his head as he put down his mug, and yet she felt watched. 'As much as we reasonably can,' she said.
'Go ahead, give me your figure.'
As he raised his eyes she had the disconcerting idea that it wasn't his attention she had been sensing. Of course nobody was spying through the windows behind him; there was certainly no room for anyone to hide beneath the sill. 'We've been paying twenty-five for some first books, haven't we?' she did her best to concentrate on saying.
'Maybe, but I'd expect a whole lot more for that now, more than I figure you're going to give me.'
She felt not just eyed but trapped. The room seemed to have grown constricted, whether by its contents or the earth that must be pressing against the walls of the apartment, and dimmer. She tried a gulp of coffee, only to feel the caffeine seize her by her nerves. 'What would you suggest?' she said.
'I'd say ten tops.' Perhaps he sensed her disappointment on Ellen's behalf, because he added 'Did she say any more about her next book?'
'She asked me to help her develop it.'
'So what's your take?'
As Charlotte searched her mind she felt as if she were reaching down into a lightless place where she was awaited. That was just a dream she'd once had, but it made her feel more confined than ever, unless Glen's insistence did. 'I haven't had a chance to work on it yet,' she said. 'I'm sure it has potential. Don't call me unprofessional, but maybe it's too late in the day right now for me to give it what it deserves.'
'Listen, forgive me. This was meant to be a fun evening, not an editorial session. Let's make the most of our free time while we have it,' Glen said, leaning forwards to take her hand. 'OK, maybe I should put your mind at rest. Why don't you pitch twenty for both books at the meeting and I'll back you on that.'
She might have felt more at ease if she'd known why he had apparently changed his mind. 'Well, thank you,'
