‘Perfect. I’ll take one.’
Sam wrapped patterned paper around the stems and added tape. ‘Anything else?’
‘Actually, yes,’ Liv said, recalling phoning the florist and how they wouldn’t share who’d sent flowers to Essie. She had to think of another way to glean the information. ‘I believe Bloom and Dale sometimes deliver white roses to the author Essie Starling, but her most recent bouquet didn’t come with a message. I’m her assistant and she’s asked me to send a thank-you note to the sender.’
‘Oh.’ Sam hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. I’ll ask Belle, she’s the owner.’
At the mention of her name, a woman appeared, clutching a bunch of sunflowers. A multitude of grips pinned up her unruly auburn hair to display her large hooped earrings. ‘We’re really not supposed to give out—’ she started.
‘I completely understand,’ Liv said. ‘But I believe Ms Starling is a long-standing, valued customer, and she’s really keen to say thanks. I can call her, if you like.’ She gestured to take her phone out of her bag.
Belle paused before holding up a hand. ‘Please don’t bother her. I’m sure we can make an exception. We’re big fans in this shop, absolutely love Essie’s books.’ She took out her order book. ‘Let’s see… Essie Starling. Yes, she usually has white lilies, delivered each week, and yes, white roses, twice a year.’
Liv sucked in a breath and held it in her chest. Was this finally the moment she discovered the identity of Essie’s mystery man?
Belle’s laugh tinkled around the shop. ‘You won’t need a postage stamp for the thank-you card,’ she said.
Liv tilted her head. ‘What do you mean? Who sends them?’
‘Essie orders them for herself.’
‘Oh.’ Liv felt redness flourish from her neck, up to the roots of her hair. Damn it, she shouldn’t have lied about the thank-you note. She mumbled thanks and turned towards the door.
‘Shall I carry on sending them?’ Belle called after her.
Liv glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Um, yes, please.’ She reached out for the doorknob.
‘On the same dates?’
Liv stopped with her hand extended. She thought for a moment. Was there any significance to when Essie bought which flowers? Why did she choose roses instead of her usual lilies? She affected a nonchalant tone. ‘Can I just check what those dates are?’
‘Of course,’ Belle said. ‘Here we are, November the first, and a bouquet on June the seventeenth.’
The June date must be when Chloe showed up with the flowers, Liv thought to herself. Perhaps shehadintercepted a deliveryman, to bring them up to the flat for Essie. Unusually, she had a slight inkling that June might be Essie’s birthday month and she checked it out on her phone. Wikipedia confirmed her suspicion, it was listed as 17 June. Liv had never heard Essie mention her birthday before or seen cards displayed in her flat.
‘I read somewhere Essie’s debut novel was published in November, and she still celebrates it with flowers each year,’ Belle said.
Liv had a vague recollection of reading the same thing. It was something she’d forgotten about. A small chime went off in her head, telling her the date was significant for her, too. It was the date the manuscript was due, and that Essie requested for her death. And it seemed to be stalking her. Something cold tingled down her spine.
But, too embarrassed to stay any longer, she closed the door behind her and hurried away from the shop.
Chapter 23
Lilac Fingernail
The next morning, Liv brought her mum’s box of photos to Essie’s flat. She put them on the bookshelf, intending to look through them properly when she got the chance. Working on Book Twenty took priority. When she pressed her nose close to the laptop screen, she entered a dreamlike state where time didn’t exist. She wasn’t aware of Johnny lounging around on the sofa, throwing paper planes around the sitting room while she worked.
At home, she didn’t really listen to Jake’s chatter about the annual Paperpress staff awards. She absentmindedly promised to be there as usual, but didn’t make a note of the date.
She’d reached two-thirds of her way through the manuscript and was hurtling towards the eight missing chapters. The security of reshaping Essie’s existing work was getting ever closer to ending. Meg’s words about a film studio waiting forthe onecrunched in her head.
As Liv worked, she pictured the Georgia Rory fans in Croatia folding their arms, waiting and staring at her expectantly.
Georgia felt hundreds of eyes upon her as she stood on her own in the middle of the arena.She heard the gates rattling as bulls jostled together, waiting to charge into the ring. A red cloak rippled, and the crowd roared with expectation. Were they willing her to succeed, or urging her to fail?
The ultimate hero she was developing for Georgia had become a mishmash in Liv’s head and she struggled to set him down in words. He was polite and reserved like Anthony, with Sven’s good looks, and Ted’s wealth and confidence. She gave him a touch of Hank’s swagger, even though she hadn’t experienced it for herself. Liv also looked to Essie’s old characters, Mike the rugged aircraft pilot and James the marine biologist. They each had their appeal, but Liv knew Georgia wouldn’t choose them as her greatest love. She crossed their names off her list.
As the deadline crept closer, Liv grew tetchier at her dwindling shortlist. ‘You’re only characters,’ she hissed at them. ‘Play ball.’
