Chapter Eight Laura had phoned Fenella the moment she got back from Ireland with the good news. She had followed it up with the bad-that Dermot didn’t want anyone to know he was appearing until the last moment-almost immediately. ‘I can’t believe you got Dermot Flynn! Tell all. Did you have to offer Dermot Flynn your body to get him to agree to come?
Laura wondered how on earth Fenella could have know this Laura wondered how on earth Fenella could have know this. Monica, the only other person apart from Dermot who knew, wouldn’t have told her. She decided the truth would be a good disguise. ‘Practically, but you’ll be glad the hear he didn’t take me up on it. ‘So, what did you have to do to persuade him to come? Eleanora said for years you couldn’t drag him out of Ireland for love nor money, but now he’s doing this course as well.’
Laura found herself oddly put out Laura found herself oddly put out. It was nothing to do with her, but somehow, after the enormous lengths she had gone to just to get Dermot to give a talk at a literary festival, let alone the lengths she had been willing to go to, she felt affronted that he had actually offered to teach a writing course, which would be a fat bigger deal. ‘ I must say, I am a bit surprised, I had to go all the way the Ireland to get him to do an hour sitting on a stage being asked questions by a sycophantic interviewer. Piece of cake compared to actually setting exercises, thinking up a course, all that stuff. And he offered to do it? It doesn’t make sense.’
They talk about the music and literature festival. Laura said, ‘ I’ve had quite a lot of ideas about things we could do in the run-up for the festival. A reading group for instance, or a children’s writing competition would be good. And invited some writers.’ They had agreed that in order to be invited the authors had to (a) be still alive and (b) live either in the UK or near enough so their travel expenses wouldn’t use up the entire budget.
On Sunday afternoon, Dermot called. This was the first time she’d spoken to him since Ireland. ‘Hello, Laura.’ ‘Great for me, anyway, The reason I need to speak to you is, I want you to do a job for me.’ ‘So I want you to read all the scripts and pick out the ten best.’ ‘All right.’
Chapter Nine When Laura got home from the shop after its last day of business she was very tired. If she’d had to say, yes, it was very sad the shop’s closing, and no, she didn’t really have another job yet, but there was going to be this literature and music festival. When Laura backed home, Mrs Ironside said, ‘There are a great many parcels for you. The moment she had seen them she’d realized what they were: manuscripts for his wretched course.
There was a letter, it was from Eleanora. ‘Darling, you’ll be getting the manuscripts any day now. I’ve had them redirected. Any more will come direct to you. Don’t feel you need to read every word. If you’re not enjoying it, stop. The first few pages should tell you if they can write, less even. Then just check the synopsis to see if there’s any sort of plot on offer. Make a pile of the possible, and then weed and weed.’ Some had dialogue so stilted it could have been examples from a grammar textbook. Others had characters who were not even dislikeable, let alone engaging; they just didn’t have enough substance to be anything. Not one of them had a plot. She was very depressed. She decided to ring Eleanora. Eleanora said, ‘Just stick on the return labels and bung off to the post office.’
Next day Laura and Grant set off to meet Monica Next day Laura and Grant set off to meet Monica. They talked about the festival. ‘I’ve just had an idea.’ said Laura. ‘Dermot has some poems, but many but very good. Supposing we ask him to read them, and have Seamus’s band playing Irish music in between.’ Monica looking at Laura. ’You’ll probably have to offer Dermot your body again to get him to do it.’
Fortunately for Laura’s peace of mind, the subject changed and they went on to have a great night out. And suddenly it was midnight and time to go home. They were barely in the car before Grant piped up. ‘You didn’t really offer Dermot Thing your body to get him to come to the festival, did you?’ ‘Would I do a thing like that? How long have you known me?’ ‘No, I suppose not. In some ways you are a bit of a professional virgin.’ ‘I wouldn’t throw away my virginity on a one-bight stand with a drunken Irishman, now would I?’ Laura knew Grant wouldn’t let the subject drop completely. He was just biding his time. But she was grateful to him for not mentioning it again.