Free The Editor's Wife by Clare Chambers Page B

or later?’
    â€˜More or less straight away, I think. I was desperate to get my toe in the door of a publisher’s. I hadn’t even finished the book then. I went to his office at Kenway & Luff in Bloomsbury.’
    â€˜What was it like?’
    â€˜Untidy. Chaotic. Piles of papers on the chairs, stacks of manuscripts and proofs everywhere. It was a very old-fashioned, dusty sort of place.’
    â€˜What was your first impression of him?’
    â€˜I liked him straight away. He was very friendly and genuine. Intelligent and well-read, obviously, but modest with it. And polite, too, to absolutely everyone. Unlike Herman Kenway, who owned the place. He was rude and obnoxious to everyone.’
    â€˜Yes, I’ve heard that from several sources,’ Alex smiled.
    â€˜He asked to see the rest of my novel when it was ready, and gave me lots of encouragement, without making any promises. And then we talked about books and stuff – Ravi Amos mostly. I was a big fan, and Owen was his editor. You know that already. Anyway, a while after that he asked me to dinner to meet Ravi Amos.’ I handed her the invitation, written on a postcard. ‘Exhibit B.’
    â€˜Did you think that was unusual?’
    â€˜I didn’t know what was usual or unusual. I hadn’t a clue about the literary establishment. I didn’t have that sort of background. I was working at a fish warehouse at the time. Or was it a bookie’s? Something menial anyway.’
    â€˜Who else was there?’
    â€˜His wife, Diana. And some fashion journalist called Leila Ferris. I think she was a college friend of Diana’s.’
    â€˜Oh. She was there. That’s interesting. What did you think of her?’
    â€˜I found her a bit intimidating. Whereas Owen andDiana would do everything they could to make you feel at ease, she seemed to enjoy making people feel uncomfortable.’
    â€˜Did Owen and Diana seem happy to you? Happily married, I mean?’
    â€˜Yes, of course. They were a perfect couple. Devoted to each other.’ I stopped, aware that the clichés were piling up.
    â€˜Where does this cheque come into it?’
    â€˜I was living in a bedsit in Brixton, doing various casual jobs to make ends meet. Owen knew I was hard up – he’d seen what a hovel I was living in, and—’
    â€˜So he’d been to your place?’
    â€˜Yes. I went to hear him give a lecture at the Powys Society, and he and Diana gave me a lift home afterwards.’
    â€˜The what society?’
    â€˜John Cowper Powys. He was Owen’s favourite writer, I think. One of them.’
    â€˜I never knew that. I’ll have to read his stuff. Sorry. The cheque.’
    â€˜Oh yes. Well, he turned up one day out of the blue with a cheque for two grand. He said it was a gift, no strings attached, so that I could give up working for a few months and get the book finished.’
    â€˜You mean it was from him personally, not Kenway & Luff?’
    â€˜No, it was nothing to do with Kenway & Luff. It wasn’t an advance or anything like that. It was his own money.His and Diana’s. He made it very clear that it wasn’t a loan and I mustn’t feel under any obligation.’
    â€˜So it was pure philanthropy?’
    â€˜Absolutely. He was a genuinely kind person.’
    â€˜It seems incredible. Was he in the habit of giving handouts to struggling authors?’
    â€˜I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me.’
    â€˜Would it be fair to say he had quite an impact on you?’
    â€˜Yes. Yes, that would be fair,’ I said evenly, quailing inside myself at the memory of the ‘impact’ I had had on him.
    While this conversation was going on I had gradually become aware of a low growling noise, which turned out to be Alex’s stomach rumbling. Remembering the burnt croissants, and my manners as host, I offered to buy her lunch at the Crown in Hutton. She had