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 crystalize in her mind like a jar of honey stored in the fridge.

Essie sent white roses to herself on November the first.

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 after-party and turned up the sound.

THE CONSTELLATION AFTER-PARTY

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.