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Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. Chapter Fifty-Five
  59. Chapter Fifty-Six
  60. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  61. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  62. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  63. Epilogue
  64. Acknowledgements

‘You are so full of shit.’ I pick up a pillow and throw it at him.

‘Seriously, it was impressive. You’re a very talented writer.’ Oh, how I love hearing that from Sam Strong—and how I hate myself for it.

‘The trouble is,’ I say, absent-mindedly picking up the pillow, patting it for feather points to pluck, ‘I have to write another one.’

‘Imogen, don’t do that. They get in the bed and they scratch. What do you mean, another one? They want you to be some sort of threesome columnist? A ménage monthly? Hey, if ever you want to bring a friend…’

‘SAM. No, it’s just…I’m worried that it might be a onetime deal. I’m only ever going to be as good as my last piece, and that might be it. I can’t connect with the writing, like I used to, because I’m so overwhelmed by the other stuff. It was fine when I was just a blogger, and you were the only person who read it, but…I feel as though I’ve accidentally told all of these lies, and misled people, and I’m wrong for The Know. I’m a fluke. I’m going to get caught out. But I’m so, so lucky. I’m finally getting paid to write. I’m starting to think there might be something wrong with me.’ Why am I telling him all this? Oh, yeah. I don’t have anyone else to tell any more.

‘What are they paying you?’ I don’t know why I tell him the truth, but I do, and he shakes his head. ‘That can’t be market rate. How do you live? I’m about to do some editor-at-large stuff at The Gentleman, I’m sure they’d give you a decent staffer salary.’

‘You have offered me—what—three, four jobs over the last couple of years? And the offers have come to literally nothing.’

‘Yeah, it’s different now, though. You have cachet.’

And that is the word I eventually come to nuzzle against, cling to, and self-soothe with, as I drift off to sleep in a bad man’s feather-filled bed.

Chapter Thirty-One

The Fear

Harri

Harri is starting to feel The Fear. It’s almost March. Is time too fast, or is The Know too slow? Her one real inheritance from Panache is that she can think across multiple time-lines—for her, autumn begins immediately after Christmas, and if someone asks her what day it is, she has a tendency to ask ‘Do you mean the on-sale date, or the civilian one?’ But The Know doesn’t follow the old publishing calendar, or even the Gregorian one. Does a firefighter care what time it is, when the flames are licking the side of the building and they appear to be the only person who bothered to learn how to work the hose?