‘While I was writing her obituary, Essie’s death hit me hard. We had something between us, and could have had it again. If we’d got back together, I could have helped to save her. I wanted to remind myself of our time together, so I looked at old photos and letters. I watched videos of her, too…’ He paused and gulped his water. ‘I found something and things suddenly made sense. I know why she chose you.’
‘What things made sense?’ Liv demanded. ‘What do you mean?’
Anthony smiled tightly. ‘You know, you havehiseyes,’ he said.
Liv was getting fed up with all this. She shook her head at him, not understanding.
‘Grant Cooper,’ he said. ‘Essie’s English professor.’
Liv scowled at Anthony. Anger ignited inside her. ‘My dad didn’t teach Essie,’ she said. ‘I didn’t even know she went to university until her ex-agent told me.’ However, as she said it, something flashed in her head like a warning beacon.
Three and a half years ago, she’d written a letter to Essie sharing lots of things about her life, including losing her dad. The author invited her to an interview out of the blue and told Liv she reminded her of someone. Years later, when they’d had afternoon tea together,Essie studied her napkin when Liv mentioned her dad. She’d mistaken the author’s gaze as distraction. Had she been recalling old memories instead? Had Essie really been lying to Liv all the time she’d been working for her?
Butwhy?
Unless…
Blood rushed to Liv’s brain. ‘What are you inferring?’ she demanded.
‘I think the striped tie you wear belonged to your father,’ Anthony said. ‘When I was looking at the old photos, I noticed lots of the university professors wore them. Burgundy-and-yellow stripes. Where did you find it?’
‘In Essie’s wardrobe,’ Liv spluttered. She took it out of her pocket and examined the worn fabric. ‘Lots of people wear striped ties.’
Anthony took a deep breath. ‘Just before Essie died, she said there was only one man she ever really loved,’ he said. ‘My ears pricked. I thought she meant me. I asked myself why she’d leave her cleaner such a monumental task, and for her death to be kept a secret…’
Liv clenched her fists. ‘I kept asking myself the same thing. YouknowI did.’
‘It’s because you’re Grant’s daughter.’
Liv sprang out of her chair, knocking it over. ‘That doesn’t make sense. You lied about the proviso in her will, and now you’re lying about this,’ she barked. ‘Where’s the evidence? You have a tie that could belong to anyone, and some cufflinks Essie didn’t give to you.’
‘I found a video on YouTube, from the Constellation afterparty—’
‘I’ve seen it. There’s only one film and it’s nothing.’
‘Did you watch it all the way to the end?’ he said.
Liv’s scalp prickled. She felt dizzy and then nauseous. She picked up her chair and sat down again, slumping forwards. ‘I didn’t need to. I stopped it part-way through.’
Anthony stood up and clutched his briefcase. ‘Should I send you the link again?’ he said quietly. ‘There’s something you should see.’
‘Get out,’ Liv yelled, gripping the edge of the table to stop herself from lunging forwards. ‘Getout.’
Anthony hurried out of the room. She heard the front door open.
Liv followed him along the hallway, squeezing the key in her hand. ‘Why six months?’ she called after him. ‘Why did you insist we follow her last wish through?’
Anthony paused in the doorway, his face in the shadows. ‘Because when someone you’ve loved for a lifetime asks you to do something for them, you promise to do it. No matter how big or how strange it seems. Essie was dying. She thought you could finish her novel.’
Liv shook her head at him, stunned. There had to be more to this. Anthony might be happy with that reason, but she wasn’t buying it. There was still something missing.
When he closed the door behind him, she flung the key at the door. She crashed against the wall, tears falling hot onto her face.
Had Essie and her father really been in love? Surely it had to be a figment of Anthony’s imagination. It was crazy, and she’d already proved he was a liar. He was a spurned lover making up a story.
Liv saw something lying on the carpet and picked up the rose that had fallen from Anthony’s jacket lapel.As she lifted it to her nose, dates began to crystallize in her mind like a jar of honey stored in the fridge.
Essie sent white roses to herself on November the first.
