“She read an article I wrote for a magazine, about my career. She gave me a call, one of the few times she actually talked to me.” He laughed.

As Marlon started to talk about deadlines again, Liv searched for his article online and read it.

Years ago, I was down on my luck, relying on bottles of vodka to get me through the day. A close friend had died and drink helped with my pain. One day, I woke up under a bush and found a copy of The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho left on a park bench. It felt like a message and after reading it I knew I had to change and follow my dreams. I took night classes and begged anyone in the literary world for experience, often working for free. I eventually opened my agency.

Liv found a lump in her throat. She realized she hadn’t caught the last thing Marlon said to her and she cleared her throat to speak. “You should know a journalist has been in touch with me. Her name’s Chloe,” she said. “She’s writing a piece about Essie.”

“Humph,” Marlon replied.

“You don’t sound too concerned.”

“Nope. Essie won’t collaborate. Meg only managed to get her to do one interview in ten years. Others have tried writing about Essie’s life, and the last decade will sound extremely dull. Unless this Chloe person finds a new angle...”

Like the fact Essie died two months ago, Liv thought to herself.

She said a quick goodbye to Marlon and hung up. When she looked at the Dubfest website again she felt the strongest pull toward the festival. But how could she possibly accompany a dead author to Croatia?

She browsed the conferences, seminars and awards with a seed of excitement growing in her stomach. It reminded her of when she was little and her dad used to usher her into his lecture theater. She sat at the back of the class ignoring the inquisitive glances from his students, and attempted the exercises he set on crafting character journeys, motivation and flaws. He marked her work, too. A+ Excellent attempt.

Liv clicked on the webpage labeled “History” and read the festival had been running since 1980. It broke for the Croatian War of Independence in the nineties, before resuming again in 2000. There were lots of photos from over the years, and Liv spotted a face she recognized.

A much younger version of Essie walked along an aisle, alongside a tall handsome man. He was speaking into her ear, his face pressed close to hers. Essie laughed and smiled up at him. It looked like they were holding hands.

When Liv saw a patch of light in his hair she thought it was a flash from a camera. But then she frowned. Surely it couldn’t be... Anthony?

The solicitor’s hair was shorter and unrulier. It had the distinctive daub of white on the side.