My lips stretch wide, impressed but unsurprised. Natalya is talented, and Sophie Hyatt is known for discovering the next big thing.
‘This is huge!’ I cry, throwing my arms around Natalya. It takes me a few seconds to realise that I haven’t reached out to hug someone in so long. It feels nice. Alien, but nice.
Pulling back, I turn to Katherine.
‘Wow,’ she says, two pink dots colouring her cheeks. ‘Well done, Natalya. I’m happy for you.’
I watch as Natalya hugs Katherine gratefully. There’s friendship to the move but tension, too. However much Katherine meant her congratulations, I know that there’s no pain quite as sore as watching someone else living your dream. Every time I see my sister and her daughters, there’s an edge of torture to it.
‘What’s Sophie said?’ I ask, taking a sip of my drink when they pull apart.
‘Just that she loved the idea and can’t wait to read the rest of it. Then she – well, this is where I need your advice,’ Natalya says, chewing the corner of her lip. ‘Sophie asked about my future book ideas.’
‘That’s a good sign,’ I say. ‘Publishers will want to know if you’re a one-hit wonder, or if you’ve got more ideas in the bank.’
‘Sophie said that, too. The problem is, I don’t have any more ideas. Not fully formed ones, at least, and not ones Sophie liked.’
‘Did she say that to you?’
‘Not exactly, but when I went through stories I’ve made notes on, she was silent. That’s when I told her about Alexa Clarke.’ Natalya dips her head, shamefaced.
I look from Natalya to Katherine and back again. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘I said one of my ideas is to write about the disappearance of a local woman and how it impacts a community,’ Natalya explains. ‘I told Sophie about what’s happening here, and she loved it. She said people love reading about how people turn on each other in trying times. Plus, she said a novel inspired by a real-life case would be a great hook for promotion.’
‘If Sophie’s talking like this, that’s great,’ I reply. ‘She clearly sees a future for you as an author.’
‘I know, it’s amazing! It’s just…’ Natalya bites her lip, looking as young as she is underneath the heavy eyeliner. ‘Is writing fiction about someone who’s actually missing ethical? I mean, the story I pitched is exactly what’s happened to Alexa Clarke. Missing wife, mysterious clues, a husband the police think is a suspect.’
‘Is that what Otis is now?’ I ask, but Natalya barely hears me.
‘The worst part is that Sophie asked how the story would end and I… well, I said it ends with Alexa Clarke dying.’
I’m not prepared for the effect Natalya’s words have on me. It’s like a ghost passes through my body. Of course, a part of me has wondered if Alexa could be hurt – or even worse – but to hear it out loud, as if it’s been confirmed, makes me shudder.
‘I feel awful,’ Natalya confesses. ‘I’ve essentially killed Alexa Clarke.’
‘Stop,’ Katherine says. ‘Unless this is you confessing to her murder, you’ve hardly done that. You’re just using reality as a source of inspiration, something all writers do. Besides, who gets to decide what’s ethical and what isn’t? Publishers think it’s ethical to release a book pretending someone famous has written it just to sell a few extra copies. If they’re happy to dupe the general public, theycan’t suddenly grow a conscience and say you can’t write about a real crime.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Natalya teases. ‘Not this rant again.’
‘I’m right to be angry after spending years working for something that probably won’t happen because I’m not a self-appointed social media guru,’ Katherine snaps.
A blush singes Natalya’s cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, Katherine. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Katherine inhales to steady herself. ‘No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t get annoyed. I just don’t want you to give up on your dreams because of a few insecurities, that’s all. Besides, being creative means pushing boundaries. If that means blurring the line between fiction and reality, then so be it.’
‘I guess,’ Natalya replies, but she still looks uncertain. ‘I’d set the book somewhere different and change parts of what happened, too. If I do that, maybe people in Bramblethorpe won’t mind?’
‘Maybe they will, maybe they won’t – who knows? I’m not sure I’d tell anyone about it yet, though. Murdering Alexa, even in fiction, won’t win you any village brownie points,’ Katherine comments.
‘That’s my worry – will everyone hate me if I copy what’s happened? People complain when someone writes a bad review of the pub, never mind a book that brings up a potential crime in the village,’ Natalya says, then she looks at me through her hair. ‘What do you think, Janine? Would you write about it?’
It feels as if my body splits in two as I look at Natalya, coming to me for advice, all the while knowing that if Alexa Clarke is dead, something inside me will die with her.
Urging myself to be present, I sit forward. ‘Natalya, you are not the first person to write about a missing woman, and, sadly, Alexa Clarke is not the first woman to go missing. Otis is not the firsthusband to be suspected of hurting his wife, and this village is not the first place where bad things have happened. These are facts of life. They are building blocks of stories. Most fiction is inspired by real events. Yours just happens to be a little closer to home, that’s all. If people have an issue with you writing this, maybe they should think twice about spreading the fiction they do when they gossip.’
‘I knew you’d both understand,’ Natalya says. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’