Page 38 of Beautiful Ugly
At this stage in the process I would normally print the book out before starting a second draft, but I don’t have a printer, just my laptop. I stand and feel dizzy. The edges of my vision blur a little and I have to lean on the desk to steady myself. I’m so tired but I can’t sleep, I mustn’t even try. And I mustn’t let my mindwander to thoughts of other things. Like my wife. She isn’t here. How could she be? Why would she be? I need to focus on my work and move on. I can’t slow down until the book is ready.
I must keep writing.
Abby was always my first reader.
Mustn’t get distracted.
This will be the first book of mine she hasn’t read.
Need to focus on the work. Only the work.
Columbo is staring at me and I think I might have been talking out loud. It doesn’t mean I’m crazy. Just tired. I think I always lose a few marbles when I spend this many hours at my desk. I haven’t had a haircut for a couple of months, and I haven’t shaved for weeks either. Being cut off from the real world for this long is liberating, but I’m not even sure what day it is anymore. In the hope that it is a weekday and the shops might be open, I head into the village.
“Hello, Grady,” says Cora as I hurry into Christie’s Corner Shop. She’s one of the few people I have seen and spoken to lately, and I’ve seen her only because I need food and this is the only place to get it. I seem to bump into Sandy almost every time I leave the cabin too, but that has been a happy coincidence. I like Sandy. In another life I think we could have been friends. “How is the book?” Cora asks, interrupting my daydream. My mind has been drifting more than normal.
“That’s why I’m here, actually. You said that if I ever needed anything that wasn’t in the shop you could get it for me.”
“Of course.”
“Well, I need a printer.”
“A printer?”
“Yes. So that I can—”
“I might be old but I’m not daft. I do know what a printer is.” Her face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Does this mean the book is finished?”
“Yes and no. It’s just a first draft.”
Her smile fades. “How many drafts do you need to do before it is done?”
“Three, usually. If the book behaves itself.”
She looks completely crestfallen. “How long do drafts two and three take?”
“That’s a bit like asking how long a piece of string is.” I laugh, she doesn’t. “But they normally take less time than draft one. A few weeks at most.”
“Then good for you.” She beams as though she is genuinely happy for me. “And good for us,” she says beneath her breath.
“What do you—?”
“Did you have a printer in mind?”
I do and I’ve already written it down for her. It’s the same model I had back in London. It’s basic but it will do the job and it’s all I can afford. I grab some more food while I’m here, a few more lamb ready meals, some milk, and two boxes of bog myrtle tea. When I count out my cash I realize I don’t have much left, but hopefully there’s enough to feed myself and Columbo until the book is ready. Cora takes a KitKat from the chocolate stand by the checkout and adds it to my bag of groceries.
“That’s on me,” she says. “I know they’re your favorite.”
I don’t know why she is being nice to me but I like it.
It almost makes me sad to be leaving the place, but that’s exactly what I plan to do as soon as the book is ready to send to Kitty.
“I’ll miss this little shop when I leave the island,” I say.
Cora frowns. “Why would you leave the island?”
“Well, as fun as it’s been, my work here is nearly done.”
Her smile returns. “We’ll see.”