Free Forty Things to Do Before You're Forty by Alice Ross Page B

suffocating him.
    â€˜â€¦ assuming of course, that’s okay with you.’
    Okay with him?
Jake had no idea what she’d been babbling on about the last few minutes but he doubted any of it would be okay with him. ‘I’m afraid it isn’t, Tanya. I’m not interested,’ he managed to croak.
    A brief hiatus ensued.
    â€˜But … you … you have to be interested,’ she eventually stammered. ‘This is huge. Massive.’
    â€˜I don’t care.’
    â€˜How can you not care?’ she snapped. ‘It’s every author’s dream.’
    â€˜Not this one’s.’
    Tanya fell silent. Jake could hear whispering in the background. He could imagine them all crowded around the phone, advising her on what to say next. A few seconds later her voice, laced with a poor attempt at empathy, floated out.
    â€˜Look, sweetie, I know it’s a lot to take in. Particularly in your … circumstances. How about we give you some time to think about it? I’ll call you again tomorrow.’
    â€˜There’s no point. I won’t change my mind.’
    â€˜Just think about it overnight,’ she instructed, an edge of impatience creeping in. ‘This is an opportunity that could catapult you right up there with the big boys. Don’t dismiss it lightly.’
    And she hung up.
    With the phone still to his ear, Jake couldn’t move. His heart raced. But not with excitement. With sheer unadulterated terror. Tanya was right. This was most authors’ dream. But for him it would be a nightmare. A nuclear bomb blasting to smithereens his newly-constructed life. A hurricane whipping away his protective cocoon. A scalpel slicing through his clumsily patched wounds. It didn’t matter how much money they threw his way. No amount was worth that.
    *
    Back at the cottage, Annie shoved her apron in the washing machine, then stood up and ran a hand across the back of her neck. She really hadn’t had a good day. Hardly surprising given she’d barely slept a wink the night before. Every time she’d closed her eyes, images of wedding cakes, gold playsuits and floral shift dresses had whizzed around her mind. Consequently, she hadn’t been in the best of moods. A situation exacerbated by Lydia Pembleton’s visit to the shop that morning.
    â€˜How was your quiz night, darling?’ asked Lydia, her condescending tone hacking a significant amount off Annie’s already short fuse.
    â€˜Great fun, thank you,’ lied Annie. In truth, she hadn’t enjoyed the quiz at all. Following Jake and Lydia’s departure, she’d wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl under her duvet.
    â€˜How sweet,’ said Lydia, a disingenuous smile on her orange face. ‘Jake and I do think it’s so considerate of the pub to provide entertainment for middle-aged women with limited social lives.’
    Annie’s hackles rose. ‘Isn’t it? Without it, we’d all be at home watching our false teeth float around a jar.’
    â€˜Something along those lines, I’m sure,’ said Lydia with a saccharine smile. ‘Now, I’d like half a dozen chocolate chip cookies, please. It’s a little treat for Jake. He has a very sweet tooth you know.’
    Annie didn’t know. Nor did she want to. Only marginally less than she wanted to know what Jake had done to deserve a treat. The less she dwelled on that, the better. Battling the urge to throw the biscuits at Lydia, she used her tongs to slide them into a paper bag.
    â€˜He’s writing a book, you know,’ informed Lydia, in a voice which implied she were party to some great secret.
    â€˜Who is?’ asked Annie, feigning disinterest.
    â€˜Jake, of course. Isn’t it exciting having an author in residence?’
    Annie rolled her eyes. She’d bet her shop that Jake wouldn’t make it to Chapter Two before boredom set in and he moved onto the next