He placed a hand on the back of hers. “Don’t believe everything you read. Essie went to university. Being self-taught was a little myth her original PR team cooked up. They thought readers would relate to her more.”

“Oh.” Liv’s shoulders fell. She felt like she’d been hoodwinked somehow. Not having a higher education was something she had thought she and Essie shared.

“It does not matter. If you want to write, you must do it. Essie has seen something in you,” he said. “Do you enjoy working with her?”

“It’s a bit like an obstacle course.”

“Yes. I found this also. Yet, we still want to take part, even if we can never win.” Sven stood up and shook Liv’s hand. “It was good meeting you again, Liv. Please say hello to Essie for me.”

Liv ordered a sandwich for lunch and sat thinking about Essie for a while. No one could tell her what happened the night of the Constellation Prize. At least she had found out that Sven wasn’t Essie’s mystery man.

After eating, Liv looked at her watch and realized more time had passed than she thought. She whispered a quick farewell to the waves, before climbing the steps and squeezing back through the gap in the wall. She panted as she jogged to the bus stop and waved at the driver who was already pulling away. The brakes of the bus screeched and the doors hissed open. “Hvala,” she croaked breathlessly and sunk into a spare seat.

The bus set off again and she flicked on the air-conditioning above her seat, letting the cool breeze lift her hair.

Back at the hotel, Liv wanted to make sure Marlon wouldn’t be around to notice Essie’s absence when she came to leave. She explained to the man on reception that Ms. Starling would like her car to arrive thirty minutes earlier than planned.

He clicked a few buttons on his keyboard. “Ms. Starling would like this, or Ms. Green?” he said, fixing her with a stare. “It’s very strange because Ms. Green’s hotel room hasn’t been slept in whereas Ms. Starling’s suite has been used. My fiancée asked me to get her autograph, but I haven’t seen her once. She is like the Invisible Woman.”

“Some writers like to maintain an air of mystery,” Liv said.

“Hmm,” he said quietly. “Do you have Ms. Starling’s passport for me yet?”

Liv held his gaze, guessing he knew of her ruse. Usually, she’d try to bumble out an excuse or apology. Instead she shook her head. “If she is the Invisible Woman, you wouldn’t be able to check her photograph anyway.”

“This is true.” He shrugged.

Liv tapped the desk. “Let me ask Ms. Starling for a signed bookplate for your fiancée. And perhaps a special edition of one of her books, to prove that she really does exist.”