Jojo lapsed into thought. ‘Wouldn’t it be horrible?’
‘Disgusting.’
30
Monday morning
Big day. Big, big day. The day the first-round bids for Love and the Veil came in. If it was a good auction, and Jojo hoped it would be, it could last all week, with bids and counter-bids, phone calls to and from editors, breath-holding gaps as they went to their publishers to get more money approved, plateaux when it looked like it was all over, until someone rode in with a last-minute bid and the entire process sparked into life again, the money spiralling up and up into the clouds…
10.45 a.m.
Tania Teal from Dalkin Emery was the first to throw her hat in the ring. Jojo held her breath and into the silence Tania lobbed, ‘Four hundred and fifty thousand.’
Jojo exhaled. Not a bad place to start. If all three came in around this level, there was a chance they would bid against each other until they got to over a million.
‘Thanks, Tania. Let me come back to you when I’ve heard from the others.’
She hung up. She felt great.
11.05 a.m.
Olive Liddy from Southern Cross was next.
‘Hit me,’ Jojo said.
‘Fifty thousand.’
Jojo froze and when she unfroze the first thing she did was laugh although, of course, it was no laughing matter.
‘Am I way out?’ Olive asked, in a small voice.
‘Not even in the same zip code.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Mmmm.’ Jojo knew she wouldn’t be hearing from her again. Her initial reading of Olive had been the correct one: her string of flops meant she’d lost her nerve.
11.15 a.m.
And then came Franz Wilder, Editor of the Year.
‘I’d like to offer three-fifty.’
‘Three hundred and fifty thousand?’ And not three pounds fifty? Probably as well to check, considering the way things were going.
‘Three hundred and fifty thousand.’
Thank Christ. There were still two players.
‘That’s a very healthy bid, Franz. Not the highest I’ve had but close. If you’d like to come back to me later with a higher –’
‘No.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘That’s my final bid.’
‘But –’
I could really knock this book into shape…’ Franz trailed off, his point made.
Her heart sank and sank and kept on sinking, through her body, through the soles of her shoes and into the graphic designers on the floor below. That was the trouble with those intellectual, black-poloneck-wearing, chin-stroking editors. Give them a couple of prizes and they start thinking they’re all that.
‘Thing is, Franz,’ she forced an uplift into her voice, ‘Nathan is very hot right now and everyone wants a piece of him.’
‘This is a great book, I could really do a lot with it.’
‘Oh, for sure,’ she agreed earnestly. ‘But –’
‘That’s my final offer, Jojo.’
‘Yes, but –’ If she could only get him up to Tania’s bid, then she could push it higher.
‘No, Jojo, that’s it.’
‘OK. Thanks, Franz.’ What else could she say? ‘We’ll consider what you said. And if Nathan decides that he’d prefer less money in exchange for your expertise, you’ll certainly be hearing from us.’
Like fuck, she thought, hanging up and feeling the life force drain from her. The full horrible truth kicked in and suddenly she was flailing in empty space. There was only one editor in play: Tania Teal. How can I have a bidding war with only one bidder?
How could this have happened?
Short of lying to Tania and telling her there were other parties bidding their heads off, there was no way of leveraging the money any higher. Not only was lying disgustingly unethical but there was a big chance it could backfire: Tania might be near her limit and decide not to go any higher – and Jojo would be left with nothing at all.
So, was this it? Going once, going twice, going three times – sold to Tania Teal for four hundred and fifty thousand? A mere five hundred and fifty thousand less than Patricia Evans had offered. Not even half. Oh my God.
Jojo couldn’t make the call to Tania; not yet. It was only eleven-thirty on Monday morning – this couldn’t be over already. Something had to be retrievable. There must be something she could do.
She swallowed, pushing down nausea. I screwed up, she admitted. I got it so wrong. I should have taken Patricia Evans’s offer.
Patricia Evans! she thought, like a light bulb going on over her head. I could try her again. She mightn’t come in as high as before, she mightn’t come in at all, but she might bid something. Anything to kick this back into life.
Suddenly she felt insanely hopeful but it took three fumbly attempts to open her address book. As the number rang she rehearsed the call; she’d be casual and friendly. ‘Hey, Patsy,’ she’d say. ‘Just to remind you that today’s the day for the bids for Love and the Veil.’ No need to mention the £1 million pre-empt and Patricia’s anger when it had been turned down. Over the years she’d learned that if you act like things are a certain way, sometimes people are confused enough to play along.
But Patricia wasn’t available. She could have been any number of legitimate places – in a meeting, at the dentist, in the loo, but Jojo was so paranoid, she was convinced that Patricia was mouthing elaborately at her assistant, ‘Tell her I’m dead.’
Jojo hung up and tried hard to get things in proportion. Four hundred and fifty thousand pounds was a phenomenal sum of money; it would change Nathan Frey’s life for ever.
But she could have got him so much more – and the higher the advance, the higher the marketing and publicity budgets as the publishers sought to ensure they recouped their advance.
And this terrible feeling of loss wasn’t just to do with the money. It was because she’d fucked up. She’d been so sure of this book, so certain it would break records, she would have staked her career on it. A horrible thought – perhaps she had. Without realizing it, maybe this had been the biggest chance she’d ever get, and she’d blown it. A million quid was so much money, and she’d turned it down. What had she been thinking?
What if this ruined her chances of being made partner? What if Richie Gant beat her to it? He’d only joined Lipman Haigh eight months ago and Jojo had been there for two and a half years – but he was doing so well. And Jojo wasn’t…
The panic was closing about her and threatening to choke her and she made herself think reasonable thoughts. No one died, no one got hurt. We’ll all be dead some day and it’ll all be irrelevant. And the old favourite of losers: you win some, you lose some.
But it wasn’t nice to lose some and even less nice when people heard about it… She’d have to try to contain this – if Richie Gant found out, she’d never hear the end of it.
Manoj came in and took one look at her face. ‘Oh no.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Not now. I’m going out to buy something.’
‘What?’
‘Anything.’
31
Jojo almost bought a bin for her bathroom; it was blue plastic and had little dolphin shapes cut out of it, but when it came to picking it up and queuing at the cash desk, she was just too disheartened.
She traipsed back to the office and ate a ham and cheese croissant, watching hopelessly as the flakes floated down and stuck to her desk.
When Manoj buzzed with a call her heart nearly jumped out of her jacket – could it be Patricia Evans?
‘Olive Liddy on line one.’
‘I only have one line.’
‘So? It doesn’t mean she’s not on line one.’
Jojo sighed heavily. Tut her through.’
‘Olive? What can I do for you?’ Want to add another fiver to your bid?
‘Love and the Veil? I hope it’s not too late. I’d like to make an o
ffer.’
‘Have you had a knock on the head, Olive? You already made your bid. I laughed, remember?’
‘I want to increase it.’
‘To what?’
‘Six hundred thousand.’
‘Wha –? Hey, what’s going on, Olive?’ How did you manage to get another five hundred and fifty thousand approved in three hours?
‘I misread the worth of the book. I got it wrong.’
Then Jojo got it. Olive had been hoping no one else was interested and that she’d pick it up cheap. Some nerve! But so what? Everything was back on! Thank Christ.
‘I’ll get back to you on that.’
Monday 3.07 p.m.
‘Tania? We’ve had some bids higher than yours.’
‘How much higher?’
‘You know I can’t really say…’
‘Jojo!’
‘Six.’
‘OK. Seven.’
‘Thanks, I’ll get back to you.’
3.09 p.m.
‘Olive? I’ve had another bid. Higher than yours.’
‘How much higher?’
‘You know I can’t really say…’
‘How much?’
‘Seven.’
‘Eight, then.’
3.11 p.m.
‘Tania? We’ve had another bid.’
‘I need more time. I’m not authorized to go any higher.’
‘When will you get back to me?’
‘Soon.’
Tuesday 10.11 a.m.
‘Jojo, it’s Olive. Is the book mine?’
‘I’m waiting to hear back from another interested party.’
‘I need to know soon.’
‘Gotcha.’
10.15 a.m.
‘Tania, I’m going to have to hurry you.’
‘Sorry, Jojo. We’ve been trying to get hold of our publisher. I need him to approve more money, but he’s sailing around the Caribbean.’
‘How soon can you get back to me?’
‘I’ll try for close of business today.’
4.59p.m.
‘Olive, it’s Jojo, can you give me until tomorrow morning?’
‘Well, I don’t know…’
‘Please, Olive. We’re old friends.’
‘OK.’
Wednesday 10.14 a.m.
‘Tania?’
‘Jojo! Look, um, sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. I still haven’t been able to get hold of him.’
‘I’m sorry, Tania, but the other party is really leaning on me.’
‘Give me until after lunch. Please, Jojo, we go back a long way.’
2.45 p.m.
‘Jojo?’
‘Tania?’
‘Nine hundred!’
2.47 p.m
‘Olive?’
‘Jojo?’
‘Nine hundred’s the figure to beat.’
‘Fuck! I thought it was mine. Well, I’ll have to go further up the feeding chain to get more money approved.’
‘When can you get back to me?’
‘Soon.’
2.55 p.m.
‘Jojo, it’s Becky. I fell asleep at lunchtime and dreamt all my teeth fell out. What does it mean? Fear of what? Commitment? Death?’
‘Fear of all your teeth falling out. I have to go now, Becks.’
Thursday 10.08 a.m.
‘Jojo, it’s Tania.’
‘Still waiting to hear from the others.’
‘I need to know, you know. Nine hundred is a huge sum and I know Olive Liddy is the other editor…’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Word gets around. And she’ll never get anything higher authorized. They’re hopeless over there.’ (Tania had been made redundant from Southern Cross after a bitter falling out. Feelings still ran high.)
‘Please, Tania, can you just give me until after lunch?’
‘Two-thirty, but then I’m pulling out.’
10.10 a.m.
‘Olive, Jojo here.’
‘Yes, sorry, look, we’re having an emergency meeting this afternoon with the heads of sales, marketing and publicity. I’ll call you back as soon as it’s over.’
‘Can’t you have the meeting any sooner? It’s just I’m being leant on…’
‘Not really. Our Marketing Manager is having an ingrowing toenail removed this morning, he’s been waiting months for the appointment and he won’t be out of surgery until twelve-thirty. Then he’s coming straight in. Please, Jojo, like you said yesterday, we’re old friends…’
‘Yes, I know but I need a quick decision. Otherwise I’m going to have to give it to the other party.’
‘It’s that bitch Tania Teal, isn’t it? And you don’t want to listen to her, she hasn’t the guts to walk away.’
‘Look –’
‘Three-thirty. I’ll get back to you then. It’s the best I can do.’
2.29 p.m.
‘It’s Manoj. I’ve Tania Teal on the line.’
‘It’s not even two-thirty!’
‘What’ll I tell her?’
‘Something. Anything. Buy me an hour.’
‘Broken leg?’
‘Maybe not so serious.’
‘Suspected broken leg?’
‘Go for it.’
3.24 p.m.
‘Jojo, you’re not going to believe it.’
‘Becky, hi, I –’
‘I was in a meeting this morning and guess what? One of my teeth fell out. I was just about to speak when a tooth began rattling around in my mouth like a cola cube. Just like my dream!’
‘How could a tooth just fall out?’
‘It wasn’t exactly a tooth, it was a crown, but this could mean I’m psychic.’
‘Has the crown been wobbly lately?’
‘No. Well, just a little, ha –’
‘Becky, I’m sorry, sweets, I’ve got to go.’
3.31 p.m.
‘Jojo, it’s Olive. OK.’ Deep, deep breath. ‘A million.’
3.33 p.m.
‘Tania, they’ve bid a million.’
‘A million! How can they authorize that dodo that kind of money? She couldn’t edit her way out of a paper bag –’
‘Are you in or are you out?’
‘In, but I have to try to loosen those purse strings a bit more. By the way, how’s your leg?’
Now that she’d got the offer back up to a million, the original pre-empt, Jojo was as high as a kite.
‘What happens next?’ Manoj asked.
‘That’s it for today, but they’ll be back tomorrow. They both love the book – and it’s a grudge match, which can only be good news for us.’
‘How are you going to celebrate tonight? Yoga?’
‘Yoga, my ass. Rampant sex with my boyfriend.’ Fuckkkkk. Shouldn’t have said that. Soaring spirits had made her careless.
Manoj moaned. ‘Who is he?’
‘Never mind.’
‘It’s Richie Gant, isn’t it?’
‘No. He’s your boyfriend.’
‘He was yours first, but he dumped you and you were heartbroken and kept calling round to his house and begging him to take you back.’
Jojo pulled a brush through her hair. ‘How d’I look?’ ‘Bend over and shake your hair upside down.’ Jojo looked at him coldly. ‘You must take me for a total idiot.’
‘No! It gives it more volume. It wasn’t so I could look down your shirt.
‘OK,’ he admitted, ‘it wasn’t just so I could look down your shirt.’
7.15 Thursday evening, outside Jojo’s block
The first she knew of Mark blowing her off was when she bumped into the flower-delivery boy at the communal front door.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked. ‘I’m just about to go home. I finish at seven, you know.’
‘These are for me?’ She looked at the flowers. ‘Ah, shit.’
‘Thanks a bunch!’
Tucking the flowers under her arm, beside the bottle of champagne that it looked like she’d be drinking on
her own, she switched on her mobile. There were three messages from Mark; his little girl Sophie’s pony had stood on her foot and broken two of her toes. He was incredibly sorry. (First message) He was beyond sorry. (Second message) Was she ignoring him? (Third call)
She rang him on his mobile.
‘Cassie could have taken her,’ he explained. ‘But she was so upset she asked me to come with her.’
She heard the agony in his voice: his little girl was in pain and she wanted her dad. She sighed; how could she stay angry?
‘Saturday? Sunday?’ Mark asked.
‘Can’t you do tomorrow night? I’ve got my smoking hypnosis thing and want a get-out.’
‘Sorry, Jojo, I’ve got to take those Italian publishers out. But if you don’t want to be hypnotized, don’t go. You don’t need an excuse.’
‘You’re right. OK, how about Saturday? Tell Sophie to stay away from that damn horse and barring any other broken limbs, you’re on.’
At a loose end she rang Becky but both her home and mobile numbers went to voicemail, so she rang Shayna.
‘We’ll go out,’ Shayna said.
‘Can you get a babysitter at such short notice?’
‘Babysitter? I don’t need no babysitter, I got me a Brandon. Oi! Brandon! I’m going out for a few drinks with Jojo.’
‘Shall I come to you?’
‘Nah! Believe me, you don’t want to go in a pub round here. Not unless you fancy getting shot. How about Islington, the King’s Head, in an hour’s time, yeah?’
‘See you then.’
They talked about the auction, about how much Jojo hated Richie Gant, about Brandon’s impotence, then, a few drinks in, Jojo made the mistake of spilling to Shayna about the broken date with Mark.
‘It’s not good, girl.’ Shayna shook her head in contempt.
Contempt of her, Jojo realized and, laughing, pushed her. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’
‘Just telling you what I see. You don’t like it, you change it. You know what you ought to do?’ Shayna decreed. Without giving Jojo a chance to reply she said, ‘You ought to bring him out to meet us – me and Brandon, Becky and Andy. That’s what people do, they meet each other’s friends.’