they'd been vicious. As a result the public shunned it, so the bookshops ended up returning it by the truckload. She'd been devastated. Inconsolable. How could she have got it so wrong? Everyone in the business knew who she was, so how was she ever going to find the courage to face them all again? Her grief was so profound it was as though she'd lost a child to some hideous disease. Shannon and Daniel tried to comfort her, and in turn she tried to reassure them, but the rejection had all but annihilated her.
For once in his life Josh had been lost for words. In the end he'd taken them all to the tropics where they'd swum, dived, snorkelled, waterskied, sailed and relaxed with magazines, never books. Gradually, mainly thanks to him, she'd managed to pull herself together, and as they'd reboundedand rebonded as a family, she'd promised herself that when she got back she'd write to every author she'd ever treated to a harsh review and apologise for the hurt she'd caused.
Of course she hadn't. What good would it do them now to know she was suffering from a belated fit of guilt? And if they'd read what had been said about her book, they'd feel the sweet dessert of justice had been royally served. Which it had. And now here it was again, a bitter second helping, for having forced herself back to the computer, she'd written another, even better book than the first - at least in her and Josh's opinion - but clearly no-one else out there thought so.
'So what's wrong with our judgement?' she said bleakly. 'Why doesn't anyone agree with us?'
Josh shook his head sadly. 'I wish to God I knew,' he murmured.
Looking searchingly into his eyes she saw the pain of her rejection reflected in their depths, and realising how hard it must have been for him to break this news, she squeezed his hand and lifted it to her lips. 'It doesn't matter,' she said, making herself smile. 'I've got so much to be grateful for, you, Shannon, Dan, a beautiful home, plenty of money. What more could I ask for?'
He regarded her uncertainly.
She continued to smile. 'Anything else is icing,'
she insisted, and since I've never had a sweet tooth I'm happy with just plain cake.'
Irony arched his brows. 'You try to give your wife the world,' he said drolly, 'and she calls it plain cake. What I want to know is, when will she call it enough?'
Her eyes went down. 'You are enough,' she told him in a whisper.
'Are you sure about that?'
Knowing he was referring to their lack of intimacy, she felt the ghastliness of it starting to engulf her. It wasn't that she didn't want him, there had never been a time when she didn't, she simply needed to try and make him understand the terrible fear that overcame her at the very peak of their lovemaking, but how could she, when she barely understood it herself?
In the end she lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were steeped in concern, and as her heart filled with gratitude for these few precious moments with no bickering or biting, she leaned across the table to kiss him. 'Tell me everything'll be all right,' she said. 'Tell me there isn't anyone else.'
A fleeting look of exasperation crossed his face. 'Darling, you're the one who put a stop to our sex life,' he reminded her gently. 'You know it's not what I want.'
She nodded and lowered her eyes again, horribly aware that he hadn't denied it, and knowing that even if he had it wouldn't be enough to dispel the fear and make her feel safe. She wasn't sure what could do that. If she were to achieve success, maybe that would at least mean she'd
never have to depend on anyone again, not even him.
Much later that night, after the usual round of snatched dinners, fights for the phone, homework, flute and violin practice, and the protracted journey to bed, Julia was standing in her and Josh's bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her short dark hair was framing her face in curled feathery wisps, her almond-shaped eyes seemed almost feverish. Her mouth was