Sophie does a double take. She scrolls through the comments and sees that Lexie’s followers are under the impression that these are the doors to her house. That this is her home. And Lexie does nothing to correct these misapprehensions. She lets her followers believe that yes, this is where she lives.
Sophie sees a comment from @kerryannemulligan:
And your mummy is so happy to have you back!
She blinks. Kerryanne appears to be supporting the illusion that Lexie lives in a Georgian mansion.
She’s about to start scrolling deeper into Lexie’s feed when she hears a knock at the back door. She closes her laptop and walks through the cottage. She calls out hello.
‘Hi, Sophie, it’s me, Liam.’
Sophie’s breath catches. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Hi. Just one minute.’
She checks her reflection in the wall mirror and pulls her hair away from her face. Then she opens the door and greets Liam with a smile.
He stands before her clutching a novel in his hands.
She glances down and sees that it is her book, the first of the series, the one she wrote when she was still a teaching assistant, the one she had no idea anyone would ever actually read. And now here it is, being held in the good, strong hands of a handsome boy called Liam and her words, she realises with a jolt, have been inside his head.
‘I’m really sorry to disturb you,’ Liam says, breaking into her train of thought, ‘but I finished your book, last night. And I just – I loved it. I mean, I really, really loved it. And I just wondered, if you had a minute, I’d love to ask you a question about it. But I can come back another time if you’re busy?’
She stares at him for a second; then she shakes her head a little and says, ‘Oh. Thank you. I wasn’t expecting … I mean, yes, sorry. Please come in.’
He follows her into the kitchen and pats the spine of her book against the palm of his free hand a couple of times. ‘I won’t keep you. I just, er … But your book, there was something I wanted to ask you. Susie Beets. Is she you?’
Sophie blinks. It’s not the question she was expecting.
‘I mean,’ he continues, ‘you have the same initials. And she’s blonde and in her thirties and comes from south London and used to be a schoolteacher.’
‘No,’ she says. ‘No. She’s not me. She’s more like a really good friend. Or the sister I never had.’ It’s a stock answer, but she continues: ‘If anything, Tiger has more of my personality traits and opinions in him.’
‘Really?’ says Liam, his face lighting up. ‘Wow. That’s so interesting. Because, I don’t know, I felt like I was reading about you, when I pictured everything in my head; I just saw you doing everything that Susie does. Even down to your shoes.’
‘My shoes?’
They both glance down at her feet. She’s wearing white trainers, as she nearly always does.
‘I mean, you never describe her shoes, but I pictured her in white trainers. Because that’s what you wear.’
Sophie doesn’t quite know how to respond. ‘Do I not describe her shoes?’ she asks.
Liam shakes his head. ‘No. Never.’
‘Well,’ she says, slightly breathlessly. ‘Thank you for pointing that out. Next time I describe what she’s wearing I will put in a description of her shoes, just for you.’
‘Seriously?’ he says.
‘Yes. Seriously.’
‘Wow. And which book would that be in? Are you writing one now?’
She glances behind her towards her laptop on the desk in the hallway. ‘Well, technically, yes. But I haven’t written a word since I moved here, to be truthful. Despite my best intentions.’
‘Writer’s block?’
‘Well, no, not strictly. Writer’s block is a serious psychological malaise. It can last for years. Forever in some particularly tragic cases.’
‘So why do you think you haven’t been able to write?’