The plumbing work proved to be more extensive than Liv and Jake imagined, wiping out her new salary for this month and the next, so she couldn’t afford to buy new clothes yet. The house became like a scrapyard full of pipes, rolled-up carpets and loose floorboards. Liv embraced her escape to the peacefulness of Essie’s apartment even more.

She attempted to rewrite Essie’s first few chapters several times over, never quite pleased with the results. Her progress felt slow, as if there was a roadblock in her head stopping her words from flowing. Spraying Fracas and wearing the green Hermès scarf didn’t help.

After spending yet another morning reworking just a couple of paragraphs, Liv stopped to study a red dint in her stomach. Her trouser button cut into her belly, and she entered Essie’s bedroom to see if she could find something more comfortable to wear.

Liv’s own wardrobe at home was a secondhand oak monstrosity with more clothes thrown in the bottom than hanging up. Essie’s was an entire room, with rows of spotlights and an illuminated full-length mirror. There were sections for blouses, skirts, trousers, and a huge space for long and short dresses. Each pair of shoes had their own transparent box with a Polaroid photo taped to the front.

Liv recognized things Essie wore in the award room photographs. Her fingers lingered on the beautiful blue Constellation dress with birds on the shoulders. The author had looked so beautiful and composed at the ceremony.

She took the dress out and held it up to her chin, imagining wearing it, too. She could almost feel the heat of spotlights on her skin and hear the applause of the crowd. What story could the dress tell about the night of Essie’s disappearance from the public eye? It was disappointing the YouTube footage hadn’t revealed any clues.

Liv noticed something had fallen to the floor, a striped burgundy-and-mustard necktie. It looked old with a yellowing label on the back. The fabric was frayed as if handled or tied many times, and it smelled a little musty when she picked it up. She tied it around her neck anyway, wondering who it belonged to.

She browsed through Essie’s clothes again, discovering a floral summer dress and a black blazer. She changed into them and laughed when she saw Georgia Rory looking back at her in the mirror. She’d have loved to own these clothes when she was twelve years old, and they were much comfier than her trousers.