‘Is that possible?’
Liv shrugged. ‘Maybe I should have flattered her instead. I didn’t sleep well last night, thinking about it.’
Carol took a fork and dug it into the cake. ‘Do you remember what your dad’s advice would be?’
A rush of warmth mingled with sadness washed over Liv as she thought about him. Grant Cooper had been an English professor who died when she was young, and she could still summon up his smell, of books and musky cologne. Liv smiled. ‘He’d probably ruffle my hair and say,There’s no point guessing how a story will end, sweet pea. Keep turning the page until you reach the next chapter.’
Carol nodded firmly. ‘He always said it to his students. Worrying never changes anything.’
Liv sipped her coffee. She wished she could follow her dad’s advice, but it wasn’t that easy. ‘Me and Jake, well…’ She looked down at her cup. ‘We’re struggling with our finances a bit.’
Carol clicked a tongue behind her teeth. ‘Sorry about that, love. Is Paperpress still in a pickle?’
Liv nodded. ‘I’m sure it’s just a rough patch.’ She sat up straighter, wishing she’d kept this to herself. ‘Everything will be fine. Jake said I should speak to Essie and ask for a pay rise. I suppose I could ask her for more hours…’
‘Well, why not? Be brave.’
It was something Liv could only manage by pretending to be Georgia Rory. ‘It’s just that, well, Essie has thispresence. It makes me feel like a child when I’m near her.’
‘There’s no need to put her on a pedestal.’ Carol rolled her eyes. ‘Essie Starling is made of flesh and blood. She’s a human being, not a bloody deity.’
Her expression made Liv laugh, and she welcomed the light relief. She knew Essie was just a person. So why did she feel like such a mystery?
Chapter 3
The Floral Teacup
Liv loved the city when it sparkled at night and also its daytime bustle. She particularly enjoyed when it was blinking to life early on Monday morning, when the people who propped it up emerged from the shadows – the street cleaners who swept up nightclub flyers and last night’s pizza crusts, the coffee vendors and the newspaper sellers. She felt a spirit of kinship with this unsung army of field officers. She nipped along back alleys and side streets, avoiding shop windows displaying things she couldn’t afford, until she emerged amongst the shiny office blocks in the heart of the city.
Her first job of the day was for Platinum, a large accountancy firm, where she worked five mornings a week from six thirty, for two hours. While most people were still in bed, Liv and her teammates changed loo rolls, wiped the inside of fridges, disinfected desks and emptied bins. They had to use branded cleaning products purchased by the company, so Liv couldn’t make her own natural products. She was careful to wear rubber gloves so the alcohol and bleach didn’t make the skin on her hands as dry as papyrus. All Platinum cleaners had to wear a navy tunic emblazoned with the company logo.Liv wondered if the uniforms indicated to the office staff who they could ignore.
The camaraderie of her co-workers almost made up for the horrible things she found in the bins, like holey socks, mouldy bread and worse. There were always funny stories flying around about online dating, in-laws, people’s holiday plans and silly things their kids had said. She learned which new films were out on Netflix, and updates about celebrity love lives. By 7 a.m., Liv’s face and sides ached from laughing so much.
Half an hour later, the cleaning team’s conversation filtered away to a hush as the office workers arrived and sat down at their desks, probably thinking the surfaces shone as if by magic, or not noticing them at all. When the cleaners’ work was done, they slipped away like melted ice cream down a crack in the pavement.
Liv’s next job was for the Cardinal family, a thirty-minute walk away in the wealthy suburbs. She worked for Walter and Hannah five mornings a week also, and did Monday, Thursday and Friday afternoons for Essie.
Walter and Hannah Cardinal schooled their eight-year-old twins Tarquin and Julietta from home. What this really meant was Walter, a graphic designer, and Hannah, a beauty vlogger, escaped to their garden offices while the kids sat at the dining table flicking paint at each other. Hannah called it theirartistic freedom time.
Usually by the time Liv arrived, the kitchen floor resembled a Jackson Pollock painting.
‘Hey, Liv, sweetie. Come in,’ Hannah said, opening the door while she nibbled avocado on toast. She stood barefooted in a khaki linen boiler suit and called back over her shoulder,‘Tarkers, Jules, look who’s here,’ as if Liv was a favourite aunt who’d come to babysit.
The kids looked up from their painting. Tarquin had black circles around his eyes like a panda, and Julietta had painted a red heart on her own white Moschino T-shirt. They smirked at Liv as if silently plotting to hide her sponges and pour her solutions down the sink.
Hannah pulled an apologetic face. ‘I’ve got a crucial Zoom at eleven, and Walt’s chiropractor is working on his neck. It gets dreadfully tight when he’s designing. Could you possibly make an early lunch for the kiddos?’ She flashed her puppy-dog eyes. ‘Pretty please.’
Liv tightened her grip on her box of cleaning stuff, thinking how much she needed to keep this job, too. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘What will they eat?’
‘You’re a lifesaver, Liv, you really are.’ Hannah fluttered a hand to her neck. ‘Just give them something organic and healthy. Oh, except no falafels or hummus for Jules, and Tarkers isn’t keen on raspberries. Can you make Walt a little sandwich, too, and take it to his office? There’s some gluten-free bagels in the bread bin.’
Perhaps you’d like me to stand on my head and play the trumpet to entertain everyone, too, Liv thought to herself. ‘Sure, I can do that,’ she said, grimacing as a blot of orange paint landed in her hair.
As she mopped the floor, she listened to an audiobook ofGarden Spellsby Sarah Addison Allen and was transported to a magical garden in North Carolina instead.
After Liv had spent a couple of hours cleaning the house then feeding the family, Hannah appeared again. ‘Oh, sweetie, just before you go, could you hang out the washing for me? And plant Walt’s new shrubs in the garden?’
By the time Liv escaped, she was almost an hour late. Her back ached and the knees of her jeans were grubby with soil. In her rush to leave the Cardinals, she left her packed lunch behind. The idea of Walt eating her ham sandwiches by mistake and suffering a gluten rash gave her a tiny thrill.
