filling small plates with quails eggs and stuffed cherry tomatoes for them to snack on. ‘And in case you didn’t already know, she’s a woman.’
Graeme looked surprised. ‘I’d always assumed it was a man,’ he admitted. ‘Have you read the books?’
‘I’ve been working through the “Moths” as they’re known, these past few weeks,’ Joely replied.
Graeme frowned. ‘Moths?’
‘It’s what the literary world calls her best-known novels, because they focus on nonentities who lived, loved, worked, schemed around the great luminaries of history. Moths to candles. They’re pretty heavy going, but once you’re into them the drama and unusual slants on well-known stories can be quite gripping.’
Graeme nodded thoughtfully. ‘Have you met her yet?’
Joely shook her head. ‘To be honest, I’m slightly nervous about it, though don’t ask me why. Maybe it’s because I’ve never met a recluse before.’
Irony shone in his eyes and she laughed.
‘OK, I get that’s the point with recluses.’
‘She wants Joely’s help to pull together a memoir,’ Andee said, carrying a loaded tray to the table, ‘and we’re guessing that it might throw light on the tragedies plural,’ she glanced to Joely for confirmation and, receiving it, continued, ‘she’s experienced in her life. Whatever, she’s planning to right some sort of wrong, presumably by telling the real story of something that happened?’ Again Joely nodded, enjoying having her task outlined with more clarity than she’d managed herself so far. ‘And maybe,’ Andee said, ‘we can assume it’ll be sensational in some way, or what would be the point of it?’
As intrigued by that as if she’d not already thought of it herself, Joely said, ‘So will it involve someone famous? Or retell an event that everyone believes happened one way, but in fact there was some awful government cover-up to make it look like something else?’
Graeme said, ‘There was a disastrous flood in 1952 that devastated Lynmouth and killed over thirty people.’
Andee regarded him curiously.
He shrugged. ‘I’m only saying, if there’s going to be a retelling of a big event, could that be it?’ Realizing he was losing his audience he said, ‘OK, maybe there was a major extra-terrestrial incident that’s been passed off as some kind of special forces activity?’
Andee said, ‘And F.M. Donahoe knows about it because …?’
‘Well how do I know? I’ve never met the woman and I know absolutely nothing about her life or her tragedies. I thought we were searching for ideas.’
Laughing, Joely said, ‘I think it’s safe to assume that her own experiences and what she knows, or at least believes, to be true will be paramount to the memoir. And as we know, tragedies have a way of reshaping our lives, so writing a memoir can often be about revisiting past traumas to try and exorcise them.’
Andee looked faintly alarmed.
‘Bad choice of word,’ Joely smiled, ‘but you know what I mean. Although I have to say, Graeme, I like your theory of UFOs if only because it’s not something I’d thought of myself. Is there a lot of that sort of activity around the moor?’
‘Depends who you talk to,’ he replied drolly.
Joely’s smile faded as her phone buzzed with a text. She knew it wouldn’t be from Callum – and if it was she needed to tell him to stop contacting her.
It turned out to be … she froze in furious astonishment. It was Martha the meat-eater wanting to know if she could share any details of her mystery assignment yet.
As if she’d share them with bloody Martha.
‘Is everything all right?’ Andee asked curiously.
Joely put away her phone. ‘The minor-role actress, aka my ex-best friend, seems to think she still has the part,’ she replied smoothly. ‘Sorry,’ she said to Graeme, ‘nothing worse than a bitter female. Now, enough about me and my next job, let’s talk about you.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Have I already told you that I call my parents the weekend hippies? It always makes them laugh; I think it’s a label they’re quite proud of. They’re very easy-going and probably over-indulgent where I’m concerned, but they work hard during the week at jobs that call for a lot of discipline, so they make it a rule for us all to let our hair down at weekends. I’m not allowed to be at most of their parties, it’s all too grown-up for me, they say, but I’m usually in the house so I know what’s going on. They smoke a lot of weed and trip out on acid, and everyone seems happy and in love so they take off their clothes