My publisher called and asked me what day I would like my book to be published on. 'Saturday!' I said for no reason other than she'd caught me unawares.
'Oh no, no, no,' she said. 'Saturday's not a good day. I was thinking about a Wednesday or Thursday; do you have a preference?'
'I was thinking Thursday.'
'Okay, Thursday's fine.' I don't know why she bothered asking me if she'd already decided. Then I had an idea.
'I'll ask Jane tomorrow at dance class.'
My publisher asked, 'Why? Who's Jane?'
Honestly, you'd think my publisher would have read my book. I said, 'I mention her in my book. She's very ...' I paused, looking for the right word, 'you know, into signs and omens and stuff.'
'Oh,' my publisher didn't sound impressed.
'Well, it's dance class tomorrow so it won't hurt to ask her, will it?'
After I'd put the phone I began to doubt the wisdom of my decision. The only person from dance class who knows I've written a book is Nic. He 'lurrrves' it but then he would. But everyone else is bound to find out one day - when I'm on the Richard & Judy show promoting my runaway best-seller. (Do Richard & Judy still have a show? I should send a copy of my book to Judy; she's the sort of woman who would appreciate it, I'm sure, being of that age herself.) So I might as well get it over with and tell them. I don't think I've said anything nasty about Jane. She must be used to people being sceptical.
(Oh dear, I had to look sceptical up in the dictionary because when I said it aloud to myself it didn't sound like a real word. How can I be a published writer when I don't even know if words exist or not?)