“Oh.” Liv felt redness flourish from her neck, up to the roots of her hair. Damn it, she shouldn’t have lied about the thank-you note. She mumbled thanks and turned toward the door.

“Shall I carry on sending them?” Belle called after her.

Liv glanced back over her shoulder. “Um, yes please.” She reached out for the doorknob.

“On the same dates?”

Liv stopped with her hand extended. She thought for a moment. Was there any significance to when Essie bought which flowers? Why did she choose roses instead of her usual lilies?” She affected a nonchalant tone. “Can I just check what those dates are?”

“Of course,” Belle said. “Here we are, November the first, and a bouquet on June the seventeenth.”

The June date must be when Chloe showed up with the flowers, Liv thought to herself. Perhaps she had intercepted a deliveryman, to bring them up to the apartment for Essie. Unusually, she had a slight inkling that June might be Essie’s birthday month and she checked it out on her phone. Wikipedia confirmed her suspicion, it was listed as June 17. Liv had never heard Essie mention her birthday before or seen cards displayed in her apartment.

“I read somewhere Essie’s debut novel was published in November, and she still celebrates it with flowers each year,” Belle said.

Liv had a vague recollection of reading the same thing. It was something she’d forgotten about. A small chime went off in her head, telling her the date was significant for her, too. It was the date the manuscript was due, and that Essie requested for her death. And it seemed to be stalking her. Something cold tingled down her spine.

But, too embarrassed to stay any longer, she closed the door behind her and hurried away from the shop.

23

LILAC FINGERNAIL

The next morning, Liv brought her mum’s box of photos to Essie’s apartment. She put them on the bookshelf, intending to look through them properly when she got the chance. Working on Book Twenty took priority. When she pressed her nose close to the laptop screen, she entered a dreamlike state where time didn’t exist. She wasn’t aware of Johnny lounging around on the sofa, throwing paper planes around the sitting room while she worked.

At home, she didn’t really listen to Jake’s chatter about the annual Paperpress staff awards. She absentmindedly promised to be there as usual, but didn’t make a note of the date.

She reached two-thirds of her way through the manuscript and was hurtling toward the eight missing chapters. The security of reshaping Essie’s existing work was getting ever closer to ending. Meg’s words about a film studio waiting for the one crunched in her head.

As Liv worked, she pictured the Georgia Rory fans in Croatia folding their arms, waiting and staring at her expectantly.