Bookplates
Liv woke to sunlight dappling on the ceiling and the faint smell of cooked bacon and eggs. At first, she thought she was still at home until she saw the sea glistening through a gap in the curtains. The beautiful view made her heart race, beating harder as she thought about what today held in store. She sat up in bed and used the Sharpie to fashion Essie’s signature on the bookplates.
After a quick shower, she dressed in a cream linen dress, tan wedged sandals, and added one of Essie’s blue scarves around her neck to match the Coach handbag. She pushed the striped tie into her pocket, to add a touch of Georgia, too. She placed both versions of the manuscript in the tote bag and heaved it onto her shoulder, planning to work on them if she was at a loose end.
When she stood at the top of the staircase, the activity in the foyer below made her skin feel clammy. People were already bustling around, and she felt like it was her first day in her new school. She reached up and rubbed her back, where elbows had once drilled into her ribs. Too nervous to eat breakfast, she headed directly to the exhibition area where she registered at the desk and received her own name badge.
Liv’s right shoulder hung low from her bag as she entered the football pitch-sized room. The ceiling was high and arched with colourful banners hanging down. There were rows of stands for publishers and literary agencies, and her eyes skirted around in wonderment. She was so busy looking at all the books that she didn’t notice Marlon heading towards her.
‘Morning, Liv, all set for today?’ he blasted. ‘How’s Essie?’
Liv smiled faintly.
‘Oh, no, a migraine still? Awful things. Has she taken anything for it?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Don’t forget she’s due on the Peregrine stand in an hour. Meg can give you a copy of her agenda.’ He paused and his eyes fixed somewhere behind Liv.
She followed his gaze to see a tall grey-bearded man who she recognized from somewhere. He held his phone to his ear, and when Liv spotted the rose tattoo on the back of his hand, she caught her breath. ‘Who’s that?’ she whispered to Marlon, remembering the hidden photo she’d found in Essie’s award room. The man looked older now. Had he left the white roses outside Essie’s suite?
Marlon nervously stroked his goatee. ‘It’s Essie’s ex-agent, Sven.’
‘You don’t seem pleased to see him.’
‘He’s still peeved Essie moved to my agency. She was with him for many years.’
Liv stole another look. ‘Why did she leave him?’
‘They had a big row. She can tell you more about it. I believe it was awkward.’
Or I could just ask him myself, Liv thought to herself. She wondered if her next question might sound odd to Marlon.‘Were Sven and Essie ever romantically involved?’
‘What?’ Marlon said, his brow furrowing. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t know for sure. They worked together for a long time. Why would you askthat?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Liv flushed.
‘Look, have a wander around, check if Essie’s okay. I’ll see you both on stand B52,’ he said.
Liv eyed Sven again. He must have been a big part of Essie’s life once. She meandered towards him, pretending to look at a few books on the way. How on earth could she approach an important literary agent and quiz him about his ex-client?
She was racking her brains when she overheard him wrapping up his conversation. ‘So, I will see you in Bar Boca in the city, tomorrow at 9 a.m., yes?’ Sven said in a Scandinavian accent.
As he walked away, Liv wanted to speed after him and tap him on the shoulder. Instead, she wrote down the meeting details on her hand, plotting to catch him the next day.
When she made her way along the middle of the aisles, exploring the festival, Liv couldn’t help grinning to herself. There were so many new books around her, they looked like postage stamps. The twelve-year-old girl inside her wanted to run around and stroke all the covers. The forty-two-year-old version felt pretty much the same way.
Liv pictured Essie and Anthony holding hands and walking together in the photo on the Dubfest website. In her head, they looked very much in love.
She felt guilty about interrupting his time with his family in Italy but wished he’d reply to her message. She wanted to feel everything was okay between them.
When she saw a large banner featuring a peregrine falcon, Liv steeled herself and headed towards the publisher’s stand. Rows of Essie’s novels, both English and foreign editions, lined the shelves. Marlon sat on a stool talking to a woman with short chestnut curls and huge diamante-clustered earrings.
The woman stood and flung her arms open. ‘Livvy, darling. Marlon’s told me all about you. I’m Meg, Meg Stuart. So wonderful to make your acquaintance.’
Liv felt sticky lip gloss press against each of her cheeks.
‘Marlon says your understanding of Essie’s creative temperament is akin to a sixth sense,’ Meg gushed.
