“Publishers and other authors always want her to read their books and write blurbs. You know, ‘This is masterful storytelling’ kind of stuff, and I ended up doing it. I handled some of her financial admin, too, like trade subscriptions and expenses. And I sometimes wrote her answers to interview questions. It was so embarrassing to keep making excuses when she refused to do them.”

Perspiration pooled in Liv’s collarbone at what covering up Essie’s death might entail. She hadn’t expected all this and she shifted in her seat. “You pretended to be her?”

Matilda tapped her nose. “Some big authors use ghostwriters, you know?”

Liv smiled knowingly to herself. Essie said she never asked for help with Georgia, and she felt a trickle of pride that the author had chosen her. Picking up her bag, she put it on her knee. “Did Essie tell you anything about her latest book?”

“A little. I know she was struggling with it. It’s her twentieth one, a totally big deal for her publisher. She missed her deadline several times and Peregrine were totally miffed. I think they gave her extra time to finish it.”

“When is it due?”

Matilda thought for a while. “I think Essie mentioned November 1. She wanted to finish it by then.”

When Liv tugged the manuscript out of her bag, the pages looked even more battered. “I found this copy. Do you know if there’s another version anywhere? The last eight chapters are missing.”

Matilda scoffed. “I’m surprised she’s even got that far with it. Does she know you’ve got that? She guards her work like Cerberus.”

“Perhaps she typed it up?”

“Please.” Matilda batted a hand. “I did all that stuff, inputting hours of handwritten Georgia Rory for her last book, before Essie edited it all. I didn’t do anything on her latest one.”

Liv didn’t speak. Her stomach lurched when she realized she was holding the latest, unfinished and only version of the manuscript. She carefully put it back in her bag, its existence to her more precious than ever.

“Why’s she asked you to do her work anyway?” Matilda narrowed her eyes. “You’re a cleaner, not a PA.”

Liv bristled. The faith Essie had shown in leaving her a last wish made her feel unusually defiant. “I’m sure I’m more than capable,” she said.

“So, you’re experienced in communication and organization and diary keeping and administration?”

Liv straightened her back. “I’m a mum to two teenage sons, so I’m an expert in all those things, and more.”

“Well, just be careful.” Matilda sniffed. “When Essie’s nice to you it’s like being on the sunny side of the street. Then you turn the corner and an icy wind smacks you in the face.”