Liv’s nostrils flared. ‘That was a lot of money back then.’
‘I suppose it was. And they’re worth three or four times that amount today.’
Liv gulped. She wondered who Essie had commissioned them for. She must have only been in her early twenties when she bought them. It was a lot of money for a young woman to spend. Had she bought them for Anthony, or someone else? And why had she pushed them under her pillow before going into hospital?
‘They’re very special,’ the man said. ‘If you ever consider selling them, please do think of us first.’
‘I will do, thanks.’ Liv placed the box in her pocket, keeping her fingers wrapped around it. This time, she left the shop with her chin held high.
When she returned to the writing desk again, more new feelings raced inside her. Acting like Georgia had given her a thirst for adventure. It was the same feeling she got when she read books, except she was no longer pretending to be a heroine in a story. She was acting like one in real life.
Essie seemed to have left her the task to complete in true Georgia Rory fashion, with a mystery, an impossible task and a ticking clock. A random ghostwriter or editor couldn’t deliver it like she could, and she replayed Anthony’s words in her head,Essie said only you could do this. And perhaps he was right. But what plot twists and turns lay ahead in the story?
Liv worked on redrafting yet another chapter. Her work was a little disjointed and she stumbled over words, but she kept pressing on, looking forward with her writing and not back.
She was checking over her work when a knock on the flat door startled her. She’d never known Essie to receive a visitor before, and she wondered why the person hadn’t used the intercom system to call first. Liv hunched her shoulders and stayed very still. She planned not to answer, but the pounding came again.
Liv padded along the hallway to look through the spyhole in the door. With her imagination still inhabiting a fictitious world, she imagined Georgia’s lost love, or Essie’s mystery man, standing on the other side of it. Instead, she saw the woman with the caramel hair and tight jeans, who’d nipped past her into the building a few weeks ago. She held a huge bouquet of white roses in her arms.
Liv frowned as she tentatively opened the door and peered through the gap. ‘Yes?’
The woman flashed Liv a toothy smile, as if they’d been friends since childhood. ‘Hi, hon. These flowers arrived for Essie Starling. The delivery guy asked me to bring them up,’ she said.
Liv relaxed a little. ‘It looks like someone’s bought the entire shop.’ She opened the door further and reached out to take the bouquet. But the woman kept a firm hold of it.
‘Yeah, I’m thinking I should give them to her in person,’ she said.
Liv noticed a tag on the flowers and tried to glimpse who’d sent them, but it was turned over. The woman didn’t look like a stalker, or the type to make blankets out of cat hair, but she still felt a prickle of unease. ‘I’m sorry, she’s not here,’ she said.
‘You sure about that, hon?’ The woman raised herself on her toes and looked over Liv’s head, in the direction of the writing room. ‘I can see her laptop’s on. I’ll just pop in and pass these to her. Only take a min.’ She stepped a pointed snakeskin shoe over the threshold.
Liv’s heart rate shot up. She pressed a hand to the doorframe and blocked her entry. ‘Excuse me. Who are you?’
The women sucked in a breath before holding out a slim hand with tapered lilac nails. ‘Chloe Anderton,Sheenmagazine.’
Blood rushed to Liv’s brain, making her light-headed. ‘You’re ajournalist?’
‘Hey, don’t say it like that. I’m one of the good guys.Sheenis a new mag. ImagineVanity FairmeetsThe Times, with a focus on media. We have a great online presence, too. I’m ahugefan of Ms Starling, and I’m writing a feature about—’
‘I’mverysorry, she’s not here,’ Liv interrupted. ‘The laptop is mine. Ms Starling is working away at the moment. She’s not contactable and she doesn’t give interviews.’ She tried to close the door but the journalist’s foot stopped her.
‘I see.’ Chloe puckered her lips and stepped back. ‘It’ll be a classy piece, published ahead of her twentieth masterpiece. My working title is, “The Enigma of Being Essie”.’
Liv performed a slow blink of disbelief.
‘Are you her PA?’ Chloe said. ‘What’s it like working for a bestselling recluse? I’ll be discreet andSheenwill pay for your time.’
Trying to emulate one of Essie’s steely glares, Liv narrowed her eyes. ‘I’d prefer to pull out my own teeth.’
Chloe’s face set like concrete. ‘No worries, hon. I’ll find out what I need from my other sources,’ she said with a sniff. ‘Ted Mason’s already agreed to meet me.’She said Essie’s ex-husband’s name as if it was a shiny coin on the pavement for Liv to pounce on.
Liv pretended to think for a while, biding her time. She fixed Chloe with a disarming smile. ‘Ted Mason? Wow. Well, I suppose if he’s going to—’ As the journalist hung on to her words, Liv shot out a hand and grabbed the roses, pulling them inside the flat. ‘I’ll make sure Essie gets them,’ she said. ‘There will be no interview.’
She slammed the door shut and double locked it. Her heart pounded wildly as she returned to the writing room. The roses left a trail of white petals along the hallway.
The bouquet was from Bloom and Dale florists, but the sender’s name was missing. Liv wondered if Chloe had bought them herself and engineered the delivery. Or had she hijacked a gift from Essie’s man?
‘Hey.’ Chloe rapped on the door. ‘I’m only asking what everyone wants to know. What happened to Essie Starling? And why are you dressed like Georgia Rory?’
