Market Stalls
When Anthony finally arrived back from Bologna, he messaged Liv, asking to meet her at the Pentecost and Wilde offices. Liv arrived too early and meandered around outside the cream stone building for a while. There was an engraved brass plaque on the wall and three besuited men talked together in the reception area. It all looked very stuffy. Anthony had been gone for two and a half months and she wondered if he’d be pleased to see her or not.
Liv kept glancing at her watch and struggled to breathe in the early September heat. After Chloe’s intrusion, she couldn’t bear the thought of being hemmed into a small meeting room. She fingered the scarf she wore around her neck. It belonged to Essie and its tag made her itch.
Market stalls stretched along the road in front of the building. She could smell watermelon-scented soap, and glass beads glittered as they hung down from an umbrella. A busker played something by Arcade Fire on his guitar, with a terrier at his feet. People sat in striped deck chairs to listen to him and tossed pieces of bread to the dog.
Liv wiped her forehead with her hand and texted Anthony.
Can we meet in the market instead? I’ll be near the hot dog stand.
I’ll be there in 10, he replied.
Liv’s stomach growled when she saw people carrying hot dogs striped with ketchup and mustard, but her nerves meant she couldn’t face eating one. She sat down in a deck chair and soon glimpsed a cobalt jacket weaving through the crowds towards her.
‘Gosh, it’s hot,’ Anthony said.
‘I know. I needed some fresh air,’ she said. ‘Is your father-in-law okay? And Harriet?’
‘He’s doing well.’ His eyes flicked away.
And your wife?Liv wanted to ask, but didn’t.
‘How are you getting on?’ he said.
She attempted a smile. ‘Oh, you know, the usual. Frantic, confused, working hard, lying to my family…’
He smiled sympathetically. ‘I do know that feeling, and I’m sure you’re coping admirably.’
‘I’m trying,’ she said. ‘But I’m running out of time… for everything.’
‘There are two months left.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Will you complete the book?’
‘I’m determined to. For Essie’s sake, and all her readers. And because I’ll lose my inheritance if I don’t.’ She eyed him for a reaction, but his face was expressionless. ‘It’s strange that Essie gave me something, and also threatened to snatch it away…’
Anthony didn’t speak. He tilted his face towards sunshine.
She wished she could twist a key in his back to make him more animated. ‘Time’s moving on,’ she said, making a ticking motion with her arm. ‘What happens when the deadline is up?’
It was a question that made her toss and turn in bed at night. When the news of Essie’s death was set free, would she have to return to the recruitment office, or beg the Cardinals for her job back? Essie’s book would be complete, and no one would know about her huge contribution. Like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight, would her new world turn back to rags?
‘I’ll probably be in a position to share the contents of Essie’s will with you before her death is announced,’ Anthony said. ‘I’ll work on her obituary, too.’
Liv recalled his attempt to write a sonnet and pursed her lips. ‘It sounds like you’ve thought of everything. Will there be any kind of service, or a celebration of her life?’
‘No. She wouldn’t have wanted that,’ he said. ‘Now, tell me about this journalist. Is she still snooping around?’
Liv pictured the lilac acrylic fingernail lying on Essie’s hallway carpet and Chloe prowling around the flat. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘Good. Well done for sorting it out,’ he said.
Liv’s face felt hot, as if sunburnt. ‘Do you remember I mentioned Dubfest to you, the book festival in Croatia?’ she said.
‘Ah, yes. That.’
When he didn’t admit to attending, Liv took the phone from her bag. ‘I found a photo on the website of you and Essie.’ She acted breezily, showing it to him.
Anthony took the phone. He stared at it for a long time until his jaw cricked.
