“Most people might send nettles instead.” He raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

Liv paused for a moment. She was here with Ted and might never have this opportunity again. “Just that... I’ve always wanted to be a writer, too,” she said, wondering if it sounded pathetic. After keeping her dream locked inside her for so long it felt freeing to release it.

He took time to consider her words. “In that case, you may find an old article Essie wrote to be of interest. I’ll ask my assistant to send it to you. Please get in touch with your email address.”

Liv nodded. “Thanks for everything.”

When she stepped out of the car, Liv felt somehow taller and wiser for spending an hour with him. She also felt she knew Essie a little better, though she still remained an enigma.

As soon as she stepped foot in the hallway, Jake appeared. “What were you doing in that posh car?” he said.

“Essie’s ex-publisher offered me a lift home,” Liv said, avoiding using the words ex-husband in case it raised more questions.

He squinted at her. “Are you wearing a new blouse?” he said. “It looks expensive.”

“Yes.” Liv touched the fabric and smiled, expecting he might compliment her outfit and makeup.

Instead he folded his arms and raised a wry eyebrow. “You’re mixing in high circles recently,” he said. “You’ll be too grand to be seen with me soon.”

Liv forced a smile. “Never.” She touched his arm.

However, as she went upstairs to change her clothes, she wondered if her husband actually meant what he said. And if her reply was strictly true.

Ted Mason was true to his word. The following day, an article from Writer’s World magazine landed in Liv’s inbox.

HOW I WRITE

by Essie Starling

Writer’s World Magazine

I place myself in my characters’ heads and think of their goals and motivations for the scene, so I can draft out the action. It’s like putting skeleton bones and vital organs in place. I can then flesh out the dialogue and sentences, forming the muscles and veins. Other than that, I don’t plot. I let the story take me on a journey.

My first draft will be a Frankenstein’s monster of a thing. My story might have the equivalent of a head and torso, and also three legs and one arm. I keep operating to bring the book to life. The finer details, the equivalent of the eyelashes, fingernails and birthmarks take much longer to appear. I delve deep into my own experiences to breathe life into my characters. They allow me to say sorry when I can’t do it, and to be brave when I’m not. I know what it’s like to nurse a broken heart and live with regrets.