Read Online Katy Carter Keeps a Secret by Ruth Saberton - Free Book Online Page B

Instagram, what he doesn’t realise is that this is all a major part of the creative process. All the famous writers are on the Internet – and very busy they are too, tweeting and Facebooking and pinning things on virtual pinboards. Reading what they put there is like attending a digital masterclass, and there are loads of funny video clips of cats too (although I only look at those as a break from research, of course). But honestly, I can spend hours just getting into the writing zone.
    Anyway, Saturday’s usually a relaxed day of writing and chilling out and generally just enjoying some spare time together, although recently Ollie hasn’t had much of this. He’s been spending Saturday afternoons planning lessons or grading coursework while I pop over to see Mads or to visit Holly. I hadn’t realised quite how much his job had been eating into our time together until I started to really think about it, but now that I have noticed I’m worried.
    Ollie is working far too hard.
    Take this Saturday, for example. It’s one of those beautiful crisp and sunshiny days, without the usual rain and sea mists that tend to be wrapped around Tregowan like a scarf for most of the winter. Even I woke up feeling eager to go for a walk. I didn’t bark or jump around on the bed like Sasha but I did share her enthusiasm for going out along the cliffs and letting the cold air blast the cobwebs away. I’ve been working pretty hard on my sample chapter too, and unless I want to contract a bad case of writer’s bum, going for a walk is a great idea – especially if we make it as far as the next town and can buy pasties. A pasty always motivates me to do some exercise.
    “I can’t,” Ollie says. Even though it’s not yet nine o’clock he’s already settling down at the kitchen table and spreading out folders and books. “I need to get this A-level coursework ready for moderation on Monday.”
    “But it’s Saturday!” I exclaim. “Ol, you need a day off.”
    He laughs bleakly. “I can’t have a day off; there’s far too much to do. Anyway, I didn’t work last night, did I?”
    “Only because you fell asleep in front of the telly!”
    “That’s because I was exhausted after three hours spent trying to fix the electrics in this place,” he reminds me with a wry smile. “Don’t blame St Jude’s for that one, Katy Carter! Blame your lava lamp.”
    Ah. Yes. My lava lamp. It seemed like such a good idea at the time…
    “There was a very good reason why somebody donated it to a jumble sale,” my boyfriend continues, fishing out a red pen and flipping open his mark book. “They probably weren’t huge fans of having all their wiring blown up either.”
    “I didn’t know that at the time! I just thought it looked like fun and would cheer up the kitchen,” I protest. “And in fairness to me I was right; it looked brilliant.”
    Ollie nods. “It certainly did until it shorted out the entire house and melted the circuit boards. Then we couldn’t see anything. Not even our hands in front of our faces. And I’d hardly describe the bill from the emergency electrician as fun , although he’s certainly laughing all the way to the bank!”
    He’s got a point. I never knew an electrician could put so many noughts onto a bill. He said he’d put together a quote for having the whole cottage rewired too, which apparently is what we need to do if we don’t want the place to go up in flames. All this makes the advance from Throb look even more attractive. I must give Mads the final draft of my first chapter, for the bonk queen’s seal of approval before I email it across to them – because, thanks to me and my jumble-sale find, Ollie and I need some extra cash. And fast.
    Ollie’s rubbing his eyes and replacing his glasses, which always heralds a bout of serious concentration. So, feeling dreadful for being the cause of yet more financial woe, I fetch Sasha’s lead and allow her to drag me out into the stinging cold. We