Liv waved, smoothed down her T-shirt and strode towards the front door.
Later that afternoon, when she arrived back at Essie’s flat, she sat at the writing desk and reluctantly typed out a reference on Essie’s headed notepaper.
I, Essie Starling, am writing this letter as a personal reference for Matilda Hennessy. She is a most excellent worker and I recommend her wholeheartedly…
Liv sat back and read what she’d written. Pretending to be the author hadn’t been as difficult as she’d thought. Reaching down, she adjusted the height of the chair and repositioned the backrest so she felt more comfortable. If she could channel even more of her inner Georgia, perhaps she could do this after all.
She searched online for the blog Matilda mentioned, to look for clues where things went wrong for Essie.
THE BOOK AHEAD BLOG
Let’s say a big Book Ahead hello to book queen Essie Starling! Since hitting the bestseller lists in her twenties, über-writer Essie has scribed nineteen novels featuring her have-a-go heroine Georgia Rory. Let’s find out what makes her tick.
Q. Readers everywhere can’t wait for Georgia’s twentieth outing. Is it difficult to keep writing new, fresh adventures for her?
A. Georgia says what people are thinking and does what they’re afraid to do, so her readers expect more of the same. She’s more popular than I ever expected, maybe even outgrown me, but we both keep on going.
Q. Do you base your characters on anyone in your life? How can we find our own writing inspo?
A. I’m no different from other writers who draw upon their own lives for their work. I find inspiration from everywhere, including people I know. It’s not that difficult.
Q. Your characters are often emotionally damaged with hidden secrets in their past. Is there a particular reason you write about them?
A. My characters sometimes make big mistakes that shape their lives. They have to live with their guilt and try to make amends. Calling them ‘emotionally damaged’ is unhelpful and insensitive.
Q. What’s a typical day in your life?
A. I get up, I write. Repeat.
Q. You’ve not been seen in public since winning the Constellation a decade ago. Are you planning to step back into the spotlight for your new release?
A. My job is to write the book, and my publisher’s role is to print and market it. I have no desire to tell everyone what wine I drink, or where I purchase my bed linen. My privacy and personal life are of no relevance to my work.
Q. If you had a time machine, where would you go and why?
A. The late eighties, to make different decisions.
Q. If you could give your younger self any advice what would it be?
A. Life is too short to answer inane questions.
Chapter 8
Green Parakeets
After the weekend, Liv headed to Essie’s flat and noticed the May sky had brightened as if Photoshopped. She even spotted green parakeets flying around the park. She bought a macchiato from the park café, rather than a flat white from a cheap coffee stand, and a new notebook and pen from a stationery shop.
She opened all the internal doors and window blinds in the flat, to let light flood into the cavernous space. Sitting down at Essie’s desk, Liv took the manuscript from her bag. She wanted to spend the entire day reading it properly and making notes, and had warned Jake and Johnny she might be home late for dinner.
As she sipped her coffee, Liv considered the importance of the story in front of her. This was Essie’s legacy, and she couldn’t disappoint millions of Georgia Rory fans by making a hash of the author’s last ever book. Her cheeks burned when she thought about her tipsy call to Anthony. When they met at the museum, she wanted to prove to him that Essie hadn’t made a big mistake leaving her the novel to complete.
The pages of the manuscript curled like autumn leaves, and she smoothed a hand across the paper. Liv felt a familiar leap of excitement as she started to read,even if she needed the Rosetta stone to interpret Essie’s handwriting. Sentences trailed off to nowhere, and there were holes in the pages where the author had scrubbed out words. The notes she’d scribbled to herself in the margins were tiny, written at angles and even upside down. For now, Liv ignored them to concentrate on the story.
She found Essie’s twentieth book to have the bones of a good tale. Her pulse sped when the tension ratcheted up, though not as much as usual. Tears didn’t spring to her eyes during the emotional scenes. Her heart radiated hope the story would come together as she kept turning the pages, but there was something terribly wrong. Liv sucked on the end of her pen and realized she couldn’tseeherself in the book. She couldn’tbecomeGeorgia in the story.
The heroine’s usual sweet but determined persona had a weary bitterness about it, and her jovial, whip-smart banter was tired and tetchy. Georgia had always been teetotal, to appeal to her teenage audience as well as adults, so Liv raised a disappointed eyebrow when she reached for a whisky bottle to drown her sorrows. She spent lots of time alone rather than throwing herself into new adventures.
Hmm, rather like Essie, Liv mused.
