anything to say.'
She wouldn't have minded deciding for herself when she was ready to talk. She was moving to sit on the chair at the desk when a receptionist's voice announced 'Firebrand Books.'
'Kerys Thorn, please.'
'I'll put you through to her secretary.'
The receptionist had barely paused, but Ellen had noticed. 'I think something may be up,' she whispered to Ben, who knelt by her and brought his face alongside hers. Momentarily she felt as if he was kneeling before the dark forest. 'Hello, can I help?' Kerys' secretary said.
'It's Gail, isn't it? This is Ellen Sterling.'
'Who did you want to speak to?'
'Would you believe Kerys?'
'She isn't here now. Alice Carroll is if you want a word with her.'
'I think I should.'
Ben was hearing both sides of the conversation as far as she could tell. He'd leaned his face closer to hers and was gazing at the forest. She had never seen trees so still. She felt as if the stillness had invaded the telephone receiver, which was emitting none of the usual restless electrical sounds. When a new voice spoke it seemed such a violation of the silence that she jumped. 'Who is this?' the woman's voice said.
Her emphasis on the first word was light but unmistakable. 'Ben and Ellen Sterling,' Ellen said.
'Of course, the husband and wife team,' Alice Carroll said briskly. 'What can I do for you?'
'We were wondering what happened to Kerys.'
'We decided I should take over now so that Ember can move forward.'
Ellen wondered if 'we' included Kerys. 'When are you next in town?' Alice Carroll wanted to know. 'We should meet and talk about directions you might take.'
'From whom?'
'Not that kind of direction,' Alice Carroll said with a token laugh. 'Avenues for exploration. Ideas in keeping with Ember's new image.'
'Our books aren't, you mean.'
'I like your snowflake book. I think that could point you the way you might want to go.'
'Which is?'
'Developing the ecological theme which you were hinting at there. I felt you could have foregrounded that more, made your concern about it plainer. No need to be afraid of alienating your readers, if that was your problem. Today's children want relevance.'
'You think so?'
'I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Have you talked to your readers lately?'
'Some of them.'
'Let's hope we can make contact with many more. You've the talent. All it should take is an awareness of their needs,' Alice Carroll said more briskly than ever. 'We'll be putting out the book you delivered to Kerys Thorn, of course, assuming that you don't have second thoughts, but I really think we should get together for a drink and a chat before you start work on your next. How's your diary looking?'
'Kerys said we'd be wanted in London to help promote The Boy Who Caught The Snowflakes.'
'That's up to Publicity. I'll have you put through to them and then you can let me know your plans.'
The line went dead, which presumably meant she was having the call transferred. Ellen sat up, massaging her arms, which had stiffened with tension, but Ben stayed as he was. 'Can you hear?' she said.
'What?' He seemed startled by her question until he glanced at her. 'Yes, don't worry. You're doing fine.'
She wondered fleetingly if he'd thought she was asking about something other than the conversation, but what else could he have heard? 'Publicity,' a voice said. 'Cynth speaking.'
'Could I have a word with Mark Matthews?'
'What's it concerning, please?'
'The Boy Who Caught The Snowflakes. This is Ellen Sterling.'
'Who do you review for?'
'Not for anyone. I'm the artist.'
'You'll want the art department, then. Hold on.'
As Ellen drew breath to protest, Ben jerked his head towards the mouthpiece, so roughly that his cheekbone bruised her cheek. 'This is Ben and Ellen Sterling. We wrote and illustrated the book. We want you to connect us with Mark Matthews while you've still got a job. Regard this call as a valuable lesson. One day you may be grateful.'
'Don't take it all out on the poor girl,' Ellen murmured as he withdrew from the mouthpiece. He blinked at her as if he didn't understand why she was rubbing her cheek, then gave it an apologetic kiss. She was turning her mouth to his when another voice separated them. 'Mrs Sterling?'
'I'm here.'
'Mark Matthews. Sorry if Cynth got it wrong. She's new here, like me. How can I help you?'
'We were wondering about publicity for our new book.'
'Let me just find the publication date.' She heard pages turning, and then he said cheerfully 'End of November. One of our Christmas books. I'm sure it will sell itself.'
Though he wasn't infuriating her as Alice Carroll had, Ellen still felt vulnerable, unsure how important she and Ben and their books were. 'Can't we give it a push?' she said.
'What do you feel singles it out from the rest of the season's books?'
'The advertising, I hope.'
'Spoken like a true writer. We're holding over most of our advertising budget to relaunch Ember next year. I'm sure we'll have point-of-sale advertising for your next book.'
'Aren't we supposed to be helping to promote this one?'
'Will you be free around the publication date?'
'One or both of us.'
'I'll make sure our reps and the press know.' He cleared his throat. 'Sorry if I seem at all vague. I'll be in touch nearer publication, scout's honour.'
His pleasantness seemed to have left her no honest response. She handed Ben the receiver in case he had anything to add, but he let it drop onto the cradle. 'It sounds to me as if they're going to leave us on our own out there,' she said.
'They must know how good we are.'
'Are we really, though?'
'Believe it,' Ben said, his eyes glittering fiercely. 'If they don't know yet, they will when they hear my story. I'd like to see Alice Carroll turn this one into her kind of ideological sermon. The unimaginative always want to reduce imagination to a level they can cope with.'
'Are you going to tell me the story?'
He turned back to the window. True night had fallen; it had seemed to spread out from the forest and across the landscape. 'I need to spend more time on it,' he said. 'I don't want to write it until I've got it clear.'
'Don't tell me if you aren't ready to.'
'No, I want you to hear. Telling it to you and the children may help me see what I'm conjuring up.' He gazed ahead as if the dark might show it to him, and said 'Suppose that in the coldest places on earth the spirits of the ice age are still there in the snow and ice, waiting to rise again.'
'Not much chance of that, the way the climate's going.'
'It isn't the climate that keeps them dormant, it's the sun.'
'I expect it would.'
'The midnight sun, I mean. It shines so many nights each year that they can never build up enough power to leave the ice.
'So how do they, if they do?'
'They do, I promise you. I'm not quite sure how, but I know I've something in here,' he said, tapping his
