One Small Mistake

‘You didn’t think you could keep it from us, did you, love?’ says Mum, rushing forward and pulling me into a hug. ‘We are so proud, Elodie. So proud.’

When she lets go, my hands are clammy, and I can’t catch my breath. What the fuck is going on? I glance around the room. There are flowers and food and congratulatory balloons and bunting.

Then I see it.

I see it and my heart stops.

A white banner strung high above our heads, personalised with gold embroidered thread reading: ‘Congratulations on your book deal, Elodie!’





Chapter Ten


14 Days Before


Elodie Fray

For several seconds, I just stand there in silence. They descend on me; I am hugged and congratulated and handed a glass of something pale and bubbly which I down in one. I’m half expecting a cameraman and a TV host to spring from a cupboard and shout, ‘Gotcha!’ because it’s the only possible explanation. Why does everyone think I have a book deal? I glance at Ada, wondering if this is some cruel elaborate joke, but her smile is honest and joyful; there isn’t a speck of malice in it.

Jack has not come forward to congratulate me on my non-existent success. He is watching this entire charade with a bewildered expression that would be comical if it wasn’t happening to me. There’s music playing and Ethan is encouraging everyone to help themselves to the food.

Ada takes my hand and leads me towards the table. ‘Your face!’ she squeals, then turns to Dad. ‘I think she’s in shock.’

I smile weakly; that’s all I can manage because my words are lost in a swirling tempest of confusion.

‘So,’ says Dad. He is wearing his best shirt. ‘When were you going to tell us?’

I swallow. ‘How did you know? Who …?’

Mum is by my side, holding a plate loaded with savoury canapés and sweet macaroons. ‘The other week, Dad went round to yours to fix that security light,’ she says with guileless delight. ‘And—’

‘Took the wrong bloody bulb though, didn’t I?’ he interrupts.

Mum shoots him a look of annoyance before continuing, ‘And while he was there, a delivery man turned up with a huge bouquet of flowers.’

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

The bouquet from Margot. The one I found on my doorstep after my run, with its cream sash congratulating me on my book deal in looped rose gold script. I didn’t even wonder if the flowers had been signed for, I just scooped them up and took them inside so no one would see.

‘Dad took a lovely photo,’ she says. ‘I called you all week to talk about it, then Ada suggested throwing a little get-together.’ She pops a macaroon into her mouth. ‘We invited Margot, but it was a bit last minute and she has a wedding in Gloucester tomorrow.’

I’m nodding but I’m not breathing. I can’t. All I can do is stare at these people who have come together. For me. I’m in a room with my sister and for the first time in years, I am the one people are paying attention to, I am the one people are praising and celebrating. But this victory rests on a shaky foundation of deceit. On one throwaway lie. One small mistake.

‘You’ve done us proud,’ says Dad. His smile is soft and crinkles his eyes at their corners.

The bright red shame of what I’ve done soaks into my dress and skin before settling in my bones. This is awful. I’m awful. I look down so I don’t have to see their pride. I notice Mum’s shoes. Her best heels. The ones in blue satin with the little bow detail, which she wore to my graduation, reserved only for extra special occasions. It’s this detail, my mum in her best heels, that sends guilt ripping through my chest. I can’t be here. I need to get out, I need—

There’s a strong hand on my elbow and Jack leans forward, all charm and confidence. ‘Meredith, you look lovely tonight. Great shoes. Do you think I can steal your daughter for just a minute?’

Then he whisks me away. I’m grateful. He tugs me into the little alcove which is intended as a reading nook with its bookshelves and armchair and overhanging gold lamp. Neither of us sits down though. Jack’s eyes are searching my face. ‘What the fuck, Elodie?’

I swallow around the lump in my throat. ‘I let Margot believe I have a book deal.’

His eyes widen. ‘Why? Why would you do that?’

‘Because!’ I say, louder than intended. I glance over his shoulder at the party going on just a few feet away, then drag my gaze back to his furious one, and lower my voice. ‘Because Margot has a book deal. She’s never even wanted to write. I was so humiliated and I … I didn’t want her to see what a failure I am so I just … I …’

‘Lied,’ spits Jack.

I nod. God, it sounds ridiculous. That stab of regret is back, sharper this time. I should’ve corrected her. ‘I didn’t think it was going to get this far. I didn’t think—’

‘Well, it has.’ Jack is angry. ‘All these people. Your parents …’

‘I know.’

He sighs softly. ‘You’re trembling.’

‘This is my fault. I need to fix it. I need to tell them the truth, I …’ But my parents are so proud, so happy, how can I tell them it’s all a lie? How can I tell a roomful of people, everyone I love?

As though reading my thoughts, he shakes his head. ‘You can’t. We need to style this out.’

I blink, a mix of relief and guilt churning in my stomach, along with the glass of champagne I chugged.

He grips my shoulders. ‘What were you going to tell Margot when you couldn’t actually produce a book?’

Ashamed, I look down at my feet. ‘I was going to tell her the contract fell through.’

Silence. When he doesn’t respond, I look up and see his raised brow.

‘What?’ I say.

‘Just didn’t think you were that deceptive, Fray.’

I press my lips together. ‘Thanks.’

‘So we get through tonight, then, later, we tell them the contract folded.’

I nod.

‘You never know,’ he says kindly, ‘maybe Harriers will come back and want one of your pitches.’

A fresh wave of pain crashes over me. He doesn’t know all three have just been rejected. I open my mouth to tell him when Ada calls my name. Jack and I instinctively take a step back as she approaches.

‘You’re missing your party,’ she says. ‘Come join the fun.’

I spend the rest of the evening lying through my teeth. I haven’t seen Katie, Olivia and Ivy in months. People say misery loves company, but I’m not convinced company loves misery. We met up once after Noah’s death and it was too much for them.

‘I mean, you never think you’re actually going to get a book deal, but Lara’s always said I was a good enough writer to succeed,’ I tell them now, sprinkling my lie with a little truth.

Dandy Smith's books