‘I can’t. Not yet.’
He was quiet for a while. ‘Look, I know I messed up. You don’t have to leave. I’ll go if you want me to.’
She shook her head at her phone. ‘No, it’s not that…’
‘Are you there with someone else?’ His voice was full of pain.
She cupped a hand to her face, too shattered to deal with this. ‘Of course not.’ Her words sounded vacant to her. For almost six months therehadbeen someone in her life. Essie. Focusing on the author had stolen her attention away from her husband and family.
‘How long will you be?’ Jake said.
‘I’m not sure yet. For as long as it takes.’
‘You’re speaking in riddles.’
‘And that’s what it feels like talking to you, Jake, about Paperpress.’
He sighed before he answered. ‘I probably deserve that, and I’m trying. For what it’s worth, I put forward your ideas to Mum and Dad and they want to explore them further. They’re delaying their retirement for a while, so we can focus on the business as a family. And that includes you, if you want to be more involved. We’d love to hear your thoughts.’
She was too tired to think about Paperpress, her potential job at the museum or anything else. ‘I’m sure Katrina won’t agree with all this,’ she said.
‘My sister has got her own way for too long. Me, Mum and Dad all agree on the business and she’ll have to get in line. There’s not going to be a big rebrand. We won’t be printing any celebrity autobiographies.’
Liv closed her eyes. She’d wanted to hear something like this for such a long time, but she was still reeling from the revelations about Essie.
‘At least give me your address, so I know you’re safe,’ Jake said.
With reluctance, she told him.
Liv got out of bed and padded through to the bathroom again. She was pleased to find shampoo and a fresh towel in a cabinet next to the shower. Everything looked clean and the water was hot when she ran it. As it bounced off her face, her thoughts rumbled in her head like an earthquake.
She remembered Essie once saying that being a writer meant putting yourself inside different people’s heads, imagining how they think and feel.And she tried to do this now, with the author.
She pictured Essie as a young woman, clasping letters from a handsome witty professor to her heart. His interest in her mind and talent were enthralling. Liv imagined Essie’s heart pattering as she raced to the lecture theatre, yearning for a glimpse of Grant, not realizing that her youthful exuberance was taking gradual steps towards being overbearing.
It must have been painful to receive the cufflinks back from him, and to be crushed by his final letter. Grant Cooper could never be a lover, nor a friend. Liv saw Essie crying herself to sleep night after night, after Grant died, not being able to share her devastation with anyone.
Liv wondered if Essie escaped her gilded life to return to her old flat, to pretend she was young again. Did she come here as Ted tried to make her more sophisticated, taking her to parties as if she was a show pony? Did Essie dream of her dingy little flat as she lay on silk sheets with Hank in LA, while their driveway was full of cars and she wore diamonds on her fingers?
Liv could never know for sure. But over the last few months she had developed a writer’s imagination and intuition. She had battled temptation when Hank’s lips were close to hers. Just a few seconds more could have changed everything. The wrong decision could have damaged her marriage further, and swamped her with guilt.
Had Essie faced a similar temptation with Grant?
Had the author made the wrong choices?
Liv turned off the shower and stepped back into the bathroom, naked and dripping wet. She shivered and grabbed a towel, rubbing the fabric across her skin. Although she had pieced things together, she still felt there was a black hole inside her body.
What about my story?she wanted to shout at Essie. How are things supposed to end for me? What happens to the young girl who dreams of becoming a writer?
As she dressed in the clothes she wore yesterday, an answer came to her. The only one she could find.The girl has to write her own story.
Liv’s stomach groaned and there was no food in the flat. She traipsed to a corner shop where she bought a sandwich, crisps and an apple. She sat down at the desk to eat.
As the rest of the house came to life, she listened to an audiobook on her phone,Heartburnby Nora Ephron. It was about the breakdown of a marriage, and it seemed apt. Doors banged around her, hairdryers roared, and the smell of toast filled the air. It reminded her of being at home with Jake and the boys and she felt homesick.
Liv had known the ending she’d written for Georgia Rory wasn’t the right one. The hero she’d created wasn’t her Mr Right. To distract her thoughts from Essie, Liv took a taxi back to the penthouse. She asked the driver to wait outside.
In the hallway, Liv crunched over chipped crystal to pick up Essie’s original manuscript, her own rewritten version and the laptop. She took clothes from Essie’s wardrobe before returning to the student flat.
