“I’m not fussy,” Liv said. “Just so long as it’s hot, wet and brown.”

Anthony didn’t smile this time. His hand shook as he poured out two cups. “I’m afraid I have some bad news that I wanted to deliver to you in person. There’s no easy way for me to tell you...” His words trailed away.

“Tell me what?” she prompted.

“Essie Starling has passed away.”

He said it so quietly Liv questioned if she’d heard him properly.

“She died on Wednesday evening, May the first. I’m very sorry,” he said.

The world seemed to grind to a halt. Liv rubbed the creases between her eyebrows. “No, that can’t be right. She was going to a spa or something. I saw her suitcase.”

“She went into hospital for an operation. Things didn’t go as planned.”

A hot tear trickled down Liv’s cheek. Her heart felt it might burst out of her body. Why hadn’t Essie told her about the op when they had tea together? “N-no,” she spluttered. “That can’t be true.”

Anthony shook out his handkerchief and passed it to her. The spots were actually tiny printed bees with gold wings. “After her operation, an infection took hold. The surgeon informed Essie that the outcome was precarious. She left an instruction for you, and I’m here to pass it on.”

Liv couldn’t see through the tears swimming in her eyes. She hurriedly wiped them with the handkerchief. “Instruction? We were going to talk about her writing.”

He bent down and took the yellow notebook out of his case and opened it. He stared at the page for a while as if bewildered. “Her request is brief and it’s crucial you follow it precisely. I will read her exact words to you.

“Dear Olivia, if Anthony is speaking to you now, the worst has most likely happened. If you need to take a little time out from this job and your others, you will be paid.”

Liv shook her head, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. “Is that her request?” she said.

“No, it’s a precursor. Her main one is more, ah, unusual.”

Liv choked back an unsuitable burst of laughter. How could things get any stranger than this?

Anthony looked down at the notebook and continued.

“If I die, keep my passing a secret for six months. During this period, I want you to complete my latest novel.”

“Wh-what?” Liv stammered. She had never experienced vertigo properly before, not even from the heights of Essie’s apartment. Her body swooned, as if she was a pheasant shot out of the sky by a hunter. “That can’t be right. It must be a plot for one of her books.”

“It’s the precise message she left for you.”