‘What do you want?’ he asks. ‘What road are you taking?’

‘I thought I was taking the well-travelled road,’ I say. ‘The safe route that everyone takes. But then Eva slashed my tyres and Daniel set the car on fire.’

‘A real writer’s metaphors,’ Freddie says. ‘Beautiful.’

‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘I wanted to get married. Daniel and I had already bought a house, we’d talked about filling it with kids. I saw myself spending my days writing books, looking after my house and my kids, cooking fantastic-looking family meals on an evening – of course, I’d have to learn how to cook before I could get to that stage, but it feels like the least of my worries now. Just pure domestic bliss – but the kind where I am also a strong independent woman with my own income.’

‘That sounds good,’ Freddie says.

‘Too good to be true,’ I reply.

‘It sounds like we want similar things, doesn’t it?’ he points out.

‘Yeah, it’s a shame we live on different continents,’ I reply. I don’t know why I’m making a joke of it, when all I want to do is tell him that I think I’m falling for him, that I don’t want to go back to my miserable life without him. I just can’t muster up the guts to tell him. So much for being a strong woman.

‘Well, we’re on the same continent now,’ Freddie says, lightly brushing my bare arm with the back of his hand.

‘We are,’ I reply.

With the inexplicable confidence Freddie fills me with, I find myself running my hand down his body.

In one swift movement, Freddie lies back on the sofa, pulls me down on top of him, and whips the cover over us. Movie-worthy choreography.

This moment, here under the stars, with this incredible man who I’m sure I don’t deserve the attention of, might just be the most perfect moment of my life… at least were it not for the sound of Ali and her plus one grunting.

35

Day 12

‘Have you ever noticed how time passes much quicker when you’re having a good time?’ Freddie asks.

‘Oh, definitely, I’ve definitely noticed the opposite too – how slowly it moves when you’re bored at work or feeling under the weather.’

‘Yeah, sometimes when I’m on set, there’s lots of waiting involved and it can drag on forever,’ he continues. ‘Or when I’m supposed to be learning lines. I’ve got the script for the Eden sequel hidden away in my case. I’m supposed to be reading it – I told Marty that’s what I needed this break to do – but I just never seem to get anywhere.’

I shuffle up to Freddie on the sofa. He places an arm around me and pulls me closer, even if it is already roasting hot this morning.

‘I totally get it though,’ I reassure him. ‘It’s like me, with this book I’m trying to write. I never wanted to be working on my honeymoon. At first I convinced myself that it would be a good distraction, something to keep me busy, and then I realised that I needed to start again, which only tightened the noose. Everyone thinks I must have it so great with my job. No boss watching me work, no office to drag myself out of bed to every day… I wish it were that simple. No one stops to think that, actually, being self-employed is a nightmare. I never know how much money I’ll be earning from one month to the next; I never know if my last contracted book might be my last ever book. And then there’s the fact that, no matter what is going on in my life, I pretty much have no choice but to work. No matter how messed up my head feels or how unwell I am – times when being creative is the hardest thing to imagine – I know that I have no choice but to make myself work. And there are no bank holidays, no maternity leave. Just me, alone, knowing I’ve got to get this work done, no matter what. No one has my back.’