"Well, there it is," Caroline says, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the display window at Waterstone's. "Look at that."
Gillian catches up with her a few seconds later. My god, she thinks, Caroline must have the longest stride of any woman in Yorkshire! She stares at the pyramid of books in the window – Last Tango in Halifax, by John Elliott. John's smiling face peers back at them from the poster next to the pile of books: "The author will read from his new book and take your questions today at 3pm."
"Are you still up for stopping in to hear him?" Gillian asks.
"Absolutely," Caroline answers with a mischievous smile. "I wouldn't miss the opportunity to watch him squirm for anything in the world."
"Okay, then. Good. Let's get some lunch."
A few minutes later they are in their usual café, sitting at their usual table overlooking the sidewalk. They place their orders. When the wine arrives, Caroline takes a big sip, then grabs some papers from her handbag and slaps them on the table.
"I brought some of the reviews that came out this past week. Have you seen any of them yet?"
"One or two", Gillian answers. "There was a big one plastered across front page of The Inquisitor last week. Well, it wasn't that big, and it was on the lower part of the front page. Not … It wasn't as big news as the Queen driving her Jaguar across the grass, apparently."
"Oh, really! What did it say?"
"Oh. Well, you know The Inquisitor. They, um, they rather liked the book's melodrama. But they did say that he writes some lovely prose about Yorkshire landscapes. 'Vivid', I think they said."
Caroline scowls and shakes her head. "Well, what could we expect of the tabloids, really? John's book probably looks good in comparison to the rubbish they print."
She rummages through the pile of papers and pulls one out.
"Here's The Independent: 'In remarks at the Hay Festival in Wales last week, Elliott said that he had originally written another version of the novel in which his ex-wife's new wife is run down by a car but that he was ultimately persuaded by editors to change the plot line, although he still wonders if the death would have served the story better."
"Wow", Gillian's voice trails off. "I suppose you, Kate, and your solicitor are 'the editors'?
"I suppose so!"
"I would love to hear him explain why he still thinks killing off Kate – what's she called in the book? - why killing her off would serve the story better."
"She's called Lucy. And that would be a good question to ask him at three o'clock, wouldn't it?". Caroline smiled, imagining John's discomfort answering the question.
"But the best of all, I think, is from The Guardian," she says, flipping through the papers. "Listen to this. It also refers to John's comments at the Hay Festival. 'Thanks to his editors, Elliott narrowly managed to avoid the 'dead lesbian cliché' to which so many other writers have unimaginatively resorted.' I particularly liked this passage: 'In drama, characters will die. It is the least lovable who generally survive, because they're also the most intriguing. But is privileging a toxic biological relationship' – they're referring to my, er, Alison's relationship with her mother, whom John has made out to be a latter day Godzilla. 'But is privileging a toxic biological relationship over a happy queer marriage really worth winning readers?'"
"Ha-ha!" Gillian chuckles.
Caroline folds up the reviews and slips them back into her handbag. She looks at Gillian, beaming with excitement.
"But, here's some good news about the book. Great news, really. I got a call from my solicitor yesterday morning."
"Yeah?"
"You know how I was able to press John to make some changes? Or, perhaps I should say how I was able to suggest some editorial improvements? Well, my solicitor was able to persuade John and his solicitor to share the book's profits with us. He described it as a sort of compensation for our editorial input, but I have a feeling he strongly implied that John is lucky we didn't block him from publishing the book altogether. The solicitor dropped off the signed agreement yesterday afternoon."
"What?" Gillian's jaw drops open.
"I know! It's wonderful. Well, it's at least something to compensate for all the agony John has put us through. So, the solicitor was able to negotiate half of whatever profits the book earns! For our family! Of that fifty percent, my mum and your dad will get one-third, Kate and I will get one-third, and you will get one-third."
"That's … that's just amazing, Caroline. I can't believe it. That will really, really help with the farm."
"Yes, it's ironic, isn't it? All those times John offered you some input into the farm, and here it is."
"I'm … I'm speechless. For once."
"Well, you have ten minutes to get over it," Caroline says, waving for the server to bring the check. "John's reading is about to begin. Let's go watch the show!"