‘Yeah, yeah, it’s all grand.’ Hugo paused, rereading the text. ‘Liam wants me to meet with the publisher at ten. It sounds like they’ve had a huge response to the article in the Bookseller magazine about them winning the auction and they want to talk publication dates. They’ve also had some interest from different film producers!’ he said. ‘My god, I can’t believe this is all happening. I’m sorry, I have to dash.’

‘Wow Hugo, that’s incredible.’ Evie sat up slowly. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. She would have loved a day in bed, talking and kissing and generally being present together, but this news was amazing.

‘Meet me for dinner tonight?’ Hugo asked as he made his way to the bathroom.

She called out her agreement and lay back down. An idea for a short film had been germinating in her head for a few days, and she tried to feel grateful that she now had the time to work on it. She’d been thinking about ways to distil the screenplay she’d dropped out of university to write into a short for the competition—perhaps simplifying it in a condensed form would help her figure out how to write the long-form version. Her main character, Frankie, could place her absolute favourite book on a chair at Camden Town Station, rather than planting several books all over London … Grabbing her laptop out of her bag, Evie leaned back against the headboard of the bed, opened her existing screenplay on an old version of the Final Draft, and began to chop and change it, moving scenes and cutting dialogue.

‘Hey.’

Evie turned to find Hugo’s head poking around the bathroom door, his damp hair clinging to his forehead adorably.

‘Why don’t you come with me?’ he said, removing the towel from his waist and drying his hair.

‘To the publishers?’ Evie replied, confused. ‘Wouldn’t that be weird?’

‘Well, you don’t have to come into the meeting. You could wait somewhere nearby and we could go for brunch after. There’s this great little cafe just around the corner.’

Evie thought about it for a moment. She could work on her short while Hugo was in his meeting. And she could do with a nice strong coffee.

‘What the hell,’ she replied, leaning over to grab her bra from the floor. ‘Count me in.’

SIXTEEN

Sixteen

Evie sat on a bar stool in a cute terrace café with her laptop perched in front of her. She was facing the window, which looked out onto the street. She liked the idea that people could watch her write. It felt as if she had an audience to her screenplay already. She read through the pages she had written for what felt like the hundredth time. It needed work. Lots of work. But there was enough there to discuss with Ben. She picked up her phone.