Lifesaving for Beginners by Ciara Geraghty

preview. Clooney has refuted allegations that he’s too old to play Darker. Looks like the studio’ll have a catfight on their hands between himself and Matt Damon for the job. Either way, it’s a winning combination for us, am I right? Gallons of other stuff too. There’s an app in development. Merchandising is going to town. There’s talk of a special-edition packet of Durex.’
    ‘Declan Darker doesn’t use condoms.’
    ‘That’s not the point.’
    I wait for her to tell me what the point is.
    ‘The point is, it’s ready, steady, go here and I’m just wondering . . . you know . . . when we can expect delivery.’
    This is not the usual kind of conversation I have with Brona. For starters, she hardly ever rings me. I ring her. From payphones, mostly. Just in case. And if she ever does ring me, it’s never to ask about delivery. There’s never been any need. Before now.
    I ring her. I tell her when the manuscript will be ready. Set up the drop. That’s what Brona calls it. The drop. She thinks it’s funny. Over the top. Not that she’d say it. But I know she thinks it all the same.
    Because nobody knows who I am, there’s no need for her to ring me to talk about launches or press releases or interviews or magazine articles or appearances on cheesy chat shows, thank Christ.
    When I don’t answer immediately, Brona presses on.
    ‘We’ve been thinking . . .’
    ‘We?’
    ‘Relax. Just me and Jeremy.’ Jeremy is Brona’s boss and the only other person in the publishing house who knows. Jeremy partly owns the company. Mostly owns it now, I suppose, since his father died. People say ‘died’ but the truth is he was killed by a Wii. Collapsed when he was doing a Wii Fit slalom jump. Which adds further weight to my hypothesis about the dangers of physical exercise.
    He left Jeremy everything. Even the Wii. Brona says he never uses it.
    I say, ‘I don’t like the sound of this.’
    ‘At least hear me out.’
    ‘No.’
    Brona ignores me. ‘This is the tenth book. It’s time for the fans to meet the writer. It’s time to unveil Killian Kobain.’
    I didn’t come up with that name, obviously. Killian Kobain. Brona calls it her ‘brainchild’. Publishers are mad about alliteration.
    I say, ‘No.’
    Brona says, ‘Why not?’
    ‘For starters, Killian Kobain is a recluse, remember?’
    ‘Yes, but maybe he feels differently now.’
    ‘He doesn’t.’
    ‘The tenth book, Kat. We could have a ball. Spill the beans. The journos would lap it up. The publicity would be gigantic.’
    ‘There’s enough publicity.’
    ‘There’s no such thing as enough publicity.’
    ‘No. I’m not doing it.’
    ‘Come on. It’ll cheer up Jeremy.’
    ‘What’s wrong with Jeremy?’
    ‘Harold broke up with him.’
    ‘Harold’s always breaking up with him.’
    ‘No, he means it this time. He moved out. Just before Jeremy’s birthday. He’d promised Jeremy a trip to Tuscany. They were going to do this Italian cookery course. Now Jeremy’s on his own, having Findus Crispy Pancakes for his breakfast, lunch and dinner, from the looks of his recycling bin.’
    ‘Poor Jeremy.’
    Brona pounces on my moment of empathy. ‘Yes, Kat, that’s precisely why we need to go all out for this launch. It would give darling Jeremy such a lift.’
    ‘I’ll send him flowers.’
    ‘At least say you’ll think about it?’
    ‘Roses. Yellow ones. They’ll do the trick.’
    ‘Listen, I’ll call you next week and see where you are with the manuscript and we can talk some more about the launch, OK?’
    ‘Can we talk about something else?’ I haven’t written anything in months but I’m not ready to let Brona know that yet.
    ‘Of course. How are you?’
    ‘Grand.’
    But she knows me too well. She says, ‘Tell Brona what’s the matter. Is it Thomas? Has he been in touch at all?’
    ‘He has a new girlfriend,’ I say and I am appalled to hear a crack in my voice. A sliver of a crack but a crack all the same.
    Brona