20
Madeleine honestly could not believe it.
She twirled a finger through one of her curls as she listened delightedly on the other end of the phone line. The woman’s name was Joanne, and she was an editor for one of the big UK book publishers with offices in Ireland. And she (along with everyone else in the company, apparently) wanted to publish Mad Mum’s articles in book form.
“We’re all just really big fans of Mad Mum and we would absolutely love it if you would consider publishing all your blog posts together in one collection with us.”
Madeleine forced herself to breathe. She was so excited she thought she was going to fall down. “Wow,” she replied. “That is...that is just incredible. I’m a little taken aback, to be honest. This isn’t a joke or something?”
Joanne laughed. “No, Madeleine, this is absolutely on the level. One of our publicity managers has been following your blog since she was on maternity leave last year, and she was talking about you all the time when she came back. Of course, we’ve seen a couple of your appearances on Morning Coffee, which, as I’m sure you know, have had a phenomenal response. We also think you’ve hit a bit of a zeitgeist with your funny, down-to-earth approach to motherhood—women are sick of being lectured to—and we want to introduce your writing to a whole new audience. Which we know we can do in book format. Mother’s Day of next year would be an ideal time to publish with the obvious gift element, but, to be honest, I think it’s the kind of thing that would do well at any time of the year.”
Madeleine was seriously flabbergasted. She’d known that visitor numbers to her blog had spiraled upward following her recent TV slots, but she’d had no idea that her errant ramblings would attract the attention of a top publishing house. It would be amazing to see all of her blog posts and articles together in one tome, let alone see what the kudos of publishing a book would do to her overall profile.
“So what do you think?” Joanne continued. “Naturally, you’ll want some time to think it over. And of course have your agent look over the offer. Do you have someone representing you at the moment, and if not would you like me to make any introductions?”
Crikey. Now an agent was being suggested, too. This really couldn’t have gone any better. All those hours slogging over pieces she had no idea would ever end up being read, let alone cultivate a following like the one she had now. And eventually growing that audience enough to attract offers from businesses. And now, it seemed, publishers.
She relished the thought of a top publicist bringing her name up at an editorial meeting because they, of all people, happened to love her blog.
She wanted to punch the air like a teenager. A really excited teenager. But instead, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat so as to come across like the serious businesswoman she was. “That would be brilliant, Joanne, thank you. This does sound like a very interesting opportunity for Mad Mum. And I look forward to reviewing all the details.”
“Absolutely,” agreed Joanne. “And just so you know, I dropped my daughter on the head once, too.” She chuckled. “I think every mother has at one time or another, but none of us were prepared to admit it until now. I’ll have the offer couriered over to your home today as well as a list of contacts for some great Irish agents we work with.”
As she hung up the phone, Madeleine felt like dancing. This was unbelievable!
Her entire day—her entire future, even—had changed just like that.
* * *
I scrawled my signature on the line that Declan indicated and then pulled my hand back, as if I had just been burned. I noticed how messy my writing was—usually my cursive script was much more precise and orderly. This looked like it was written by someone else entirely.
Perhaps it had.
“You all right?” Declan asked me with a questioning look on his face and I nodded without making a sound.
“So what’s next?”
He pulled the papers back to the side of the desk where he sat. He stacked everything neatly together then pressed a button on the very complicated-looking phone positioned nearby.
“Alison, I have the signed plenary summons. Can you come and get it?” He turned his attention back to me. “Now we file it at the courts. I’ll get a registered letter out to the Coopers outlining the action, which they’ll have by the end of the week. At the absolute latest.”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t believe I was really doing this, but I was.
Declan and I had talked again at length after our first meeting, whereupon I reiterated that I didn’t care so much about victory, or even getting as far as any court, so much as I wanted to send the Coopers a message.
Thankfully, he seemed happy to go along with that, rather than suggest any sort of gung-ho approach. Right from the beginning Declan Roe had struck me as the kind of guy who would be happy to be in my corner whatever I decided, and I appreciated that.
Unlike his cousin, who I think was secretly hoping I would march down Knockroe Main Street with a megaphone announcing that I planned to take the Coopers for everything they had.
But this wasn’t about money.
“OK, then we’ll go through the usual legal motions to start the process and take it from there.”
I spent all my days and nights at the hospital now, while the doctors monitored Rosie’s brain activity, waiting for her to show even the slightest sign of improvement.
But she didn’t. And with each passing day, I became more and more despondent, knowing that the longer she stayed under, the greater the chance she would suffer permanent brain damage. But there was nothing else the medical team could do.
If this didn’t work and the seizures returned, the doctors were out of options.
As was Rosie.
I think if there had been even the slightest change for the better in her condition since that awful episode, I wouldn’t be in Declan’s office now.
But I was, because there hadn’t.
Now I supposed all I could do was wait for the Coopers to get the letter detailing my suit, or as Declan referred to it in legal terms, the plenary summons, and see how they reacted.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t feel good about this. But I knew I needed to do it—had to do something to hit back at the wave of misery and misfortune I’d been drowning in.
I was tired of bad things “just happening” to me.
It was time to fight back.