Please don’t stop cleaning if that’s your destiny. However, if anyone can refresh Georgia Rory and her story, I think it’s you. I’ve lost my passion for her, just as I’ve done for my own life. Maybe you can help it to return.

If you’re reading this letter I may have disappointed you beyond measure, and it makes me sadder than you’ll ever know. My student flat was the only place I could ever find any peace of mind and I’d like you to be its new owner someday, to sell it, or to use as a writing space, as I did.

I’m deeply sorry for any hurt I’ve caused, and I hope you don’t carry your anger with me around forever. If you ever think about me, one day I hope it will be kindly.

Live splendidly, Olivia.

Love,

Elsbeth x

A lump swelled in Liv’s throat so large she had to rub it away. She thumped the top of the desk, and it sent shock waves through her body.

She welcomed an ache of hatred toward Essie. Yet, she couldn’t help still loving her, too. And it was impossible to separate the two streams of emotion. They were both part of her, tangled and knotted together.

She could feel Essie’s pain and longing for Grant, because she shared it, too. It was all-consuming and never-ending.

Is a meeting of minds greater than a meeting of bodies? she asked herself.

Was Anthony wrong to believe her dad and Essie had an affair? Could she blame the solicitor for how he acted, especially if he loved Essie?

Liv couldn’t think straight. Somehow, she knew Essie’s letter was only part of the story and there had to be more.

She scoured the walls again, taking in more photos. Here was Essie sitting on a wall with a dog in her arms, and huddled in a towel after swimming. An image showed her holding a bouquet of white roses. It sat alongside an acceptance letter from a publishing house. Liv wondered if her dad had sent Essie congratulatory flowers.

There were a couple of photos Liv had never seen of him before. It was surreal seeing the face she missed so much in this setting.

She thought of him ruffling her hair and holding a finger to his lips as she sneaked into his lecture theater. “Pick a good seat, sweet pea.” When Liv closed her eyes, she could feel his hand, warm and reassuring on her shoulder, and the tickle of his hair against her cheek. And she couldn’t help smiling to herself. Seeing him again, and sensing him beside her, made her feel that not everything was broken.