Monica was silent, presumably flicking through her busy social calendar. ‘I’ve been so frantic, trying to get bands to confirm for the festival,’ she murmured.

‘Me too,’ said Laura. ‘I must have spoken to every publicity department in every publisher there is, trying to get people to confirm. Then I’ve been on to the sales people to see if they can produce multiple copies for reading groups and put it all through Henry.’ She paused. ‘And I’ve got all these manuscripts to read as well.’

‘Manuscripts? What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Oh, it’s all Dermot’s fault,’ said Laura and was about to explain when Monica interrupted her.

‘You know something?’ She sounded amused and happy. ‘A lot of what’s happened to you recently is Dermot’s fault. You gotta love him.’

‘No you haven’t!’ squeaked Laura, whose feelings for him were very confused. Did lust combined with huge liking and a touch of obsession equal love?

‘I suppose I haven’t, as long as you do.’ Monica paused, to give this little barb time to find its mark. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘we can talk about all that when we meet. What about Friday?’

‘Hang on, I’ll just call him on my mobile. Friday?’ Laura asked Grant when he answered.

Luckily he had read her mind, as he was so often able to do. ‘Fine. Where and when?’

It was agreed to meet Monica in a wine bar in one of the better parts of Bristol. Grant said he’d drive home as it would be one of the last times he could. Once Laura had paid him the money, the car would be hers. Laura, however, had to drive there. She wasn’t a very experienced town driver and the thought of the Bristol traffic terrified her. She wasn’t going to let on to Grant though – he might decide not to sell her his car after all.

Meanwhile the manuscripts kept arriving. Mrs Ironside took them in if Laura was out and Laura took to calling at her flat before going upstairs to her own. Mrs Ironside had the kettle on and Laura had a cup of tea and a chat with her before going upstairs with her parcels. Relations had improved between them and Mrs Ironside was a lot less frosty these days. She told her about the festival and she became quite enthusiastic.

‘I’d definitely come if Kathryn Elisabeth was going to appear,’ she said, mentioning one of the most successful romantic novelists ever.

Laura dutifully wrote the name down, wondering if it would look rude to invite an author at this late stage. ‘She’s very popular,’ she said warningly. ‘She’s probably booked up for years ahead, but I’ll definitely ask her publishers.’

‘She’d be a very big draw,’ said Mrs Ironside.

‘I know, and I’ll try, but – well, we mustn’t get our hopes up too much.’