What happened in Georgia’s past that makes her who she is today?
Which lover defines her?
Who is worthy of her love?
Liv chewed her pen and still didn’t know. She crossed heroes off her list that reminded her of Ted Mason.
After rewriting a scene where Georgia finds her old family home burned to the ground, Liv felt as emotionally drained as the heroine herself. She took a break to make a cup of tea.
When she saw a pink envelope lying on the hallway carpet, she felt a coolness rush over her body. Essie’s mail was usually left in the foyer mailbox for her to collect.
Her name was written on the front of the envelope in neat capital letters, and she opened it up.
Hi,Liv,
So, I find my meeting with Ted Mason was cancelled and no one will answer my queries at Lioncorp. Anything to do with you or Essie? I felt like an idiot waiting for him to show up. You’re just making Essie’s story even more intriguing.
I’m only doing my job. (Looks like we’re both strong women working for strong women.) In fact, my editor now wants me to write a longer piece, and has given me more time. I’ve always wanted to switch up from the gossip columns, so you’ve done me a huge favour, hon.
I admire Essie and what she’s achieved. Nineteen books and an amazing penthouse? Wow! I bet her readers are crying out to know more about her. Is it so bad to give it to them?
If I don’t write her story, someone else will. So why not make things easier for us both? I think you’re the woman with all the answers.
Let’s do coffee sometime.
Chloe x
Liv screwed the letter into a ball. She scratched her neck and wondered how Chloe had got into the building again. And how did she know Liv’s name? She felt like she was being watched. She had a gut feeling the journalist might try to contact Hank Milligan next, and she carried out her own research online.
She discovered Hank had recently opened several crime-themed bars in the US. He hoped to bring Hank’s Bar to the UK soon. A photo showed him holding a bottle of beer against a lined wall, as if part of a criminal line-up. He still lived in Los Angeles and had never spoken publicly about his divorce from Essie,so he’d be unlikely to grant an interview to Chloe. Liv breathed a small sigh of relief.
When she recalled all the photos of Hank and Essie draped over each other, in front of their luxury houses and cars, they looked so in love. What had gone so wrong for them? She hoped Chloe wasn’t in the process of finding out.
Liv looked up Hank’s PR company. She sent an email asking if they could put her in touch with him. She didn’t really expect them to do it, or for him to reply, but there was little else she could do.
When she left the flat that evening, Liv triple-checked she locked the front door properly. As she broke into a jog away from the building, a shiver ran down her spine.
Each time Liv wrote, she couldn’t help thinking about Chloe nosing around. So, she jumped out of her skin when the desk phone rang. ‘Hello, Marlon,’ she said, with her pulse racing.
‘How do you know it’s me?’ he boomed.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Because everyone else knows never to call Essie.’
‘Ha, yes, got me there. Look, Meg’s been on my case again, asking when those golden pages are going to land. So, go on, hit me with it, Liv. Give me an update and please don’t say the first of November.’
Liv glanced at her work on-screen and the amount of notes she’d written to herself that morning. She noticed the date on the computer was 1 July, exactly two months since Essie died. ‘She’s got her head down and is working hard,’ she said. ‘If you’re lucky, you may get it on Halloween.’
‘Ha, very funny,’ Marlon said. ‘Remember our partnership, Liv. You keep cajoling Essie, and I’ll try to keep Meg out of her hair. When you get a chance, ask her about Dubfest. It’s in one month’s time and Meg’s desperate for her to go. We don’t need to be psychic to predict her answer.’
Liv quickly googled Dubfest. It was the Dubrovnik Book Festival, three days of literary events on the Croatian coast, taking place 1–3 August. Photos on the festival website showed hundreds of publisher display stands and bookshelves. Goosebumps rose on her forearms when she saw all the rows of books and authors she’d heard of. It looked like her idea of heaven.
‘Tell Essie if she goes, you can accompany her,’ Marlon said.
Liv took a sharp intake of breath. She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘Me? Why?’
‘You’re her assistant, aren’t you?’
‘Well, yes.’
