Liv’s dad died on November the first.
She let out a strangled cry and all the blood seemed to drain from her body.
Taking her phone out of her pocket, she clicked on the link for the Constellation Prize afterparty and turned up the sound.
THE CONSTELLATION AFTERPARTY, YOUTUBE VIDEO
The footage is shaky and pixelated. The venue looks like a restaurant or function room with grand chandeliers and large circular tables strewn with cocktails and glasses of champagne. A banner on stage says, CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR CONSTELLATION WINNERS. The person recording seems to be testing out their technology, walking around. There are a few authors and people from the publishing industry remaining at the party, which appears to be winding down. The filming continues for fifty minutes. Not much happens until there’s a crashing noise. The camera pans across the room and back again before zooming in on some action.
Two women stand close to the stage. One of them is Essie. Her eyes are bleary and her lipstick is smudged. Her dress has slipped off one of her shoulders. She holds a glass of champagne in one hand and the bottle in the other.
‘Hank is a bastard,’ she slurs to the other woman, whose face can’t be seen. ‘He told me he never wanted children. Some bloody journalist has just told me he cheated on me, and fathered a child. I wasted ten years of my life with him.Ten bloody years.’
The anonymous woman leans in to say something in Essie’s ear. She tries to take the glass off her, but Essie swipes it into the air.
‘Why did this happen to me?’ Essie yells. Her eyes are wild and full of anger. ‘He’s stolen my chance of ever having a family.’
The woman takes hold of the bottle, but Essie snatches it back. The chunky rings on her fingers catch the woman on her chin.
The woman clamps her hands to her face and steps back in shock. Blood trickles through her fingers. The camera pans in closer. Her name badge can be seen clearly. She is the president of the Constellation Prize. Unaware of what she’s done, Essie swigs from the neck of the champagne bottle.
A man in black-tie appears. He places his hand firmly on Essie’s shoulder. Startled, she spins around and throws a punch that connects with his ear. The man’s head jerks to the side. Two more men arrive. They wear suits and look like bouncers. They try to reason with Essie before she shoves them both away. The champagne bottle goes flying onto an empty table.
The two bouncers take hold of Essie and march her towards the door. ‘I only ever loved one man and he’s dead,’ she yells, back over her shoulder. The camera zooms in on her mascara-streaked face. ‘Grant, I’m so sorry…’
Chapter 32
The Brass Key
Liv doubled over. She felt like she was going to vomit. She staggered along the hallway, scraping her shoulder against the wall. Finding herself in Essie’s award room, she clenched her fists. She’d stood here so many times, gazing at all the trophies and photographs, full of admiration for Essie and her spangled life. And the author had lied to her for three bloody years.
Did her dad and Essie really have an affair? She hated Anthony for suggesting it. Her parents had been happy, but Carol’s words about their arguments wriggled in Liv’s head like maggots in old meat.
In the video, Essie said she was so sorry. But what did she have to be sorry for? Something to do with the death of Liv’s father? It had been a terrible accident.
It didn’t explain why Essie gave her the task of finishing her final book and her belief that only Liv could deliver it.
She was only sure of one thing – that Essie Starling was a liar.
With her thoughts a whirlwind in her head, Liv let out an ear-shattering cry and lunged forwards. She swiped a hand along one of the shelves. The awards queued in a line before dropping off the end and crashing down.Crystal flew and smashed. It splintered and shards shot out in all directions. Thick black plastic bases bounced onto the floor.
Liv stood on tiptoes to reach the top shelf and pulled each of the awards towards her, as if using hand pumps to pull pints of beer. They hit the top of her socked feet, but she didn’t care.
On the next shelf down, she pressed her palms together and inserted them between two photographs. She flung her arms apart and a stainless-steel prize shaped like a book hit the wall and chipped the plaster. Photograph frames flew.
Liv didn’t stop until she’d swept every award and photo frame off the shelves. It did nothing to dampen the anger that still raged inside her. She kicked the wall for good measure and pain deadened her toes.
When she limped out of the room, she left a trail of glass chips shining like diamonds on the hallway carpet. She entered Essie’s writing room and trod towards her desk. Liv shoved all the things off its top.
She didn’t know what the hell to believe.
She looked down at her hand and realized she was still holding the key. She’d held it so tightly, it had made a red imprint on her palm. The expression on Anthony’s face told her he recognized the address.
Liv clenched her fingers back around it. She pulled on her shoes, left the flat and ran down all the stairs until she stood panting in the foyer.
Outside, she hailed a taxi and showed the driver the address on the slip of paper. She rammed her seat belt into its fastener, trapping a sliver of skin on the side of her hand. She cried out and rubbed the red weal.
Slumping down, she stared out of the window, unable to take in the roads and buildings as they rolled past. Her vision became a blur and she soon lost track of where she was in the city. It only seemed like seconds later when the taxi pulled up on a crescent of tall white houses. The driver said the fare was fifteen pounds and Liv pushed a twenty into his hand and scrambled out of the car.
