He nodded at her. ‘Okay, let’s think about it,’ he said. ‘Writing nonsense sure pays well for Essie.’
Liv felt her body rock. Jake’s comment felt like a spear through her gut. ‘What did you just say?’ she said.
Pink tinged Jake’s cheeks. ‘Nothing. I just mean that she churns out her wild stories and gets paid a fortune, while the rest of us work proper jobs.’
When Liv thought about all Essie’s handwritten pages, her throat shrank so tightly she could hardly speak. She’d typed up seventy thousand words and now had to stitch them together like an intricate embroidery, plus add more of her own. How dare Jake call it nonsense. ‘So, in your opinion, gluing pages and leather covers together is more creative?’ she said. ‘It’s certainly not more lucrative.’
‘Most of the pages are hand stitched,’ Jake muttered, his face red at overstepping the mark. ‘It’s a skilled trade.’
‘And so is writing books, no matter what kind they are. Why should a book on politics be more highly regarded than a novel that entertains millions of readers? Without writers you wouldn’t even have any pages to assemble.’ Liv stuffed the cash back into her bag. She realized with a jolt that usually she wouldn’t have said anything.
Jake’s shoulders slumped and he held out a hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’m under a lot of pressure right now.’
‘You and me both,’ she said.
He took her into his arms and she reluctantly let him. ‘Iamreally proud of you,’ he said, kissing the top of her head. ‘The cake looks delicious and it’s great Essie is recognizing your skills. It’s been a long time coming. I knew you could do more than cleaning.’
Liv wanted to tell him that cleaning was an art form, too, but she was tired, and it had been a while since she’d felt the warmth of his body against hers. She inhaled the smell of ink on the neck of his shirt and within seconds imagined she was Georgia Rory in the arms of her mysterious hero.
‘Why don’t you go and get changed?’ Jake said gently, pulling away. ‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.’
In the bedroom, Liv’s cheeks were still fiery from his comments. She tugged off her clothes and pulled on fresh ones. She found her hairbrush in her bedside drawer and dragged it through her hair. As she placed it back inside, she saw the corner of a photo poking out. She picked it up and sank down onto her bed to study it.
Liv was around ten years old, standing between her parents and holding their hands. Her dad wore a black suit and striped tie, just as she always remembered him. He had a flock of wavy hair with the tips of his ears peeping through,and looked so formal compared to Jake. Carol was neat and tidy as always in a pencil skirt and tight sweater. Liv wore a cardigan with glass buttons, and a paisley tiered skirt. The three of them grinned for the camera.
They’d been such a happy family, the house full of laughter and books. Just how she, Jake, Mack and Johnny used to be.
Liv had been a carefree, if studious, girl back then. She loved the simple things in life, reading novels in bed, and eating crisps in the park, just like her dad.
Grant Cooper didn’t care for the trimmings that came with university life, the end-of-term drinks that lasted all afternoon, the glitzy balls and the glamour of big-name authors who visited his lecture theatre. His eyes shone brightest when he taught his students about character journeys, story goals and plot twists, and when Liv got great marks for her creative writing at school.
Liv’s heart ached as she remembered the day Peggy had been waiting for her at school, sitting in the headmistress’s office and wringing a handkerchief in her hands. As soon as Liv arrived, the headmistress closed the door quickly, her face drawn, and stood behind her desk.
‘Your mum’s at the hospital, lovey,’ Peggy said.
Liv stood with her arms glued to her sides. She could hear pupils chatting and laughing in the corridor. ‘Is she okay?’
Peggy didn’t nod or shake her head either. ‘There’s been an accident.’ She took hold of Liv’s hand, something she’d never done before.
‘Where’s Dad?’ Liv said, her voice weak and raspy.
Peggy swallowed and clasped her handbag. ‘Let’s get you home and I’ll make us a nice hot drink.I’ll tell you everything then.’
Liv felt queasy as she followed her aunt through the playground and out of the school gates. She felt like the ground was quaking beneath her feet. Something deep inside told her that her dad wasn’t waiting for her in the house. And her instinct was right.
Peggy burst into tears as soon as the front door closed behind them. ‘Your dad was on his way to meet your mum. He was rushing past a building site when a wall collapsed. He pushed a stranger out of the way, to safety.’
‘But where is he?’
Peggy’s face crumpled. ‘Gone,’ she said, her voice filled with pain. ‘He took the brunt of the accident. I’m so sorry, love.’
Liv fell to the floor, so shocked she couldn’t even cry.
Here, in the bedroom, her tears welled at the photograph. She gently touched her dad’s face. He was a real hero. Whenever she thought about him, her emotions were tainted with sadness, but she also felt his pride running through her veins. ‘I’m finally writing,’ she whispered to the photo. ‘I wish you were here to see me, Dad.’
Liv knew he’d be supportive of her new role. She could help her family out more financially, especially if Essie proved to be generous in her will. So why did Jake make her work for the author feel like a frivolity?
Chapter 12
