Free Losing You by Susan Lewis Page B

Bristolians. It was a young girl who wrote them, I forget her name, but they were really good, kind of relevant and funny, even tragic sometimes. Something happened to her, I can’t remember what it was now, but she ended up moving away. Anyway, the point is, she was going round interviewing people at a time when things weren’t nearly as dire as they are now and there were still stories to be told. So think how many must be out there now.’
    ‘So what are you suggesting, that I go round knocking on people’s doors asking if they’ll tell me their saddest stories?’
    ‘Not exactly, or not at first, anyway. What I’m saying is why don’t you get hold of someone at one of the local papers or magazines and offer to write a similar series, on spec, but if they run them they have to pay.’
    Emma was cautiously liking the sound of this. ‘I’d have to go in with a sample story,’ she pointed out, ‘or how will they know I can write? How do I know, when I’ve hardly done any since I left uni, or not of the creative or journalistic variety.’
    ‘I have every confidence in you, and even though I say it myself, I think I could be a pretty interesting start. If I tell you the story of what happened to Jack, and how I got myself back together, only to be floored again by this recession ... Well, I can think of worse options to get going on.’
    ‘So can I,’ Emma agreed, starting to run with it. ‘I’ll need to think it over some more, but in principle it could be a great idea. I could do the interviews in between looking for a full-time job, and if I do manage to start work, I might even be able to carry them on in my spare time. Polly,you’re amazing. I really think you might have come up with something here.’
    ‘Delighted to be of service. We can get together at the weekend to make a start, if you like.’
    ‘Absolutely. I might even splash out on a couple of steaks if you’d like to come for dinner.’
    ‘In that case, I’ll bring the wine. Or can we possibly stretch to dinner at the pub?’
    Emma baulked. ‘I guess if it’s just the two of us ...’
    ‘The girls are bound to be going out,’ Polly reminded her, ‘though at some point I’ll have to get round to telling Melissa I won’t be able to go on funding her social life the way I used to – or her wardrobe.’
    Already hearing the explosion, Emma said, teasingly, ‘Unless Mr Wood has a plan.’
    ‘Oh, don’t get my hopes up, please, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if he has?’
    ‘Fantastic, and I’m staying optimistic so you should too. Now, I have to go, I’m afraid. Someone’s been trying to get through for the past ten minutes so I ought to find out who it is.’
    After clicking off and picking up again she barely had time to say hello before an irritable voice came down the line saying, ‘About time too, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half an hour. Who the hell have you been talking to?’
    Tempted to slam the phone straight back down again, Emma somehow managed to keep her tone smooth as she said, ‘Hello Will, what can I do for you?’
    With a grunting sound as he tried to get past his umbrage he said, ‘Lauren tells me there was a problem with her car. It’s still under warranty, Emma, so why didn’t you take it into a Peugeot garage?’
    ‘As a matter of fact I did,’ Emma retorted through her teeth, ‘and it turned out that the fault wasn’t covered. Does that satisfy your query? Good, I’ll ring off now then and next time you call ...’
    ‘Just a minute, I haven’t finished yet. I don’t want my daughter thinking I’m landing you with bills that ought to be mine, so if you can let me know the cost of the repair ...’
    ‘It doesn’t matter.’
    ‘I want to know.’
    Remembering that she really did need the money, she was fleetingly tempted to double the amount. In the end she said, ‘It was just under a hundred quid.’
    ‘OK, I’ll send a cheque to cover it.’
    Still wishing she