‘I’d like to thank you all for coming to this little get-together to celebrate the end of a very big year, and the beginning of an even bigger one to come,’ she began.

Everyone clapped politely. Evie sipped her champagne, discretely checking the time on her phone.

‘You’ve all made this year just wonderful. From Annabelle Kraft’s third novel, Dancing with Her, which was one of our top sellers, to Auklet’s best year in sales yet, owed of course, to Hugo Hearst’s stellar debut novel, Henrietta’s Gift!’ Nancy gestured towards Hugo, who gave a small, modest bow of his head. Again, the table erupted into polite applause.

‘Hugo, we’re all dying to know—how is the film coming along?’ said Nancy, indicating with a long, drawn-out pause that it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

All heads turned expectantly to face Hugo.

‘Well,’ he began, clearing his throat. Then he looked around the room, soaking up the anticipation bubbling within it. ‘There’s a lot of activity chugging away with the end of pre-production. So, it’s all keeping me out of trouble.’

Evie sat up a little straighter and squeezed Hugo’s hand under the table. Working on the screenplay had been such a confidence boost for her. And getting to collaborate with Hugo had, mostly, been a unique bonding experience. Even when oceans separated them and time zones made it impossible for them to talk, they always had their shared passion to come back to. Despite everything they’d gone through, she really was proud of them, and proud of herself.

‘Writing the adaption is a real feat, but now that you’re done, we’re hoping you can concentrate on the second book,’ said Nancy lightheartedly.

Hugo smiled broadly. ‘Who needs sleep anyway? It’s a good thing I love what I do.’

Evie waited for him to go on, to draw her into the conversation and share how pivotal she had been in bringing the screenplay to life. But he simply lifted his wine glass and took a long sip.

‘Well, we’re all very proud of you, Hugo,’ Nancy said. Evie could practically see the pound signs shining in the woman’s eyes when she looked at Hugo.

‘Robert Coleman told me your adaptation of the screenplay is perfect,’ said the white-haired man next to Evie, who turned out to be the screen liaison person for the production company who optioned Auklet books.

‘Well, I know all the characters back to front,’ said Hugo. ‘And I was an actor before I started writing, so I felt relatively well placed to make the screenplay work.’

‘But still,’ the man pressed. ‘Robert said the script hardly needed any changes. He was most impressed.’

Hugo just shrugged in a ‘really, it was nothing’ kind of gesture.