“You don’t seem pleased to see him.”

“He’s still sore Essie moved to my agency. She was with him for many years.”

Liv stole another look. “Why did she leave him?”

“They had a big row. She can tell you more about it. I believe it was awkward.”

Or I could just ask him myself, Liv thought to herself. She wondered if her next question might sound odd to Marlon. “Were Sven and Essie ever romantically involved?”

“What?” Marlon said, his brow furrowing. “I mean, I wouldn’t know for sure. They worked together for a long time. Why would you ask that?”

“I’m not sure.” Liv flushed.

“Look, have a wander around, check if Essie’s okay. I’ll see you both on stand B52,” he said.

Liv eyed Sven again. He must have been a big part of Essie’s life once. She meandered toward him, pretending to look at a few books on the way. How on earth could she approach an important literary agent and quiz him about his ex-client?

She was racking her brains when she overheard him wrapping up his conversation. “So, I will see you in Bar Boca in the city, tomorrow at 9 a.m., yes?” Sven said in a Scandinavian accent.

As he walked away, Liv wanted to speed after him and tap him on the shoulder. Instead, she wrote down the meeting details on her hand, plotting to catch him the next day.

When she made her way along the middle of the aisles, exploring the festival, Liv couldn’t help grinning to herself. There were so many new books around her, they looked like postage stamps. The twelve-year-old girl inside her wanted to run around and stroke all the covers. The forty-two-year-old version felt pretty much the same way.

Liv pictured Essie and Anthony holding hands and walking together in the photo on the Dubfest website. In her head, they looked very much in love.

She felt guilty about interrupting his time with his family in Italy but wished he’d reply to her message. She wanted to feel everything was okay between them.

When she saw a large banner featuring a peregrine falcon, Liv steeled herself and headed toward the publisher’s stand. Rows of Essie’s novels, English and foreign editions, lined the shelves. Marlon sat on a stool talking to a woman with short chestnut curls and huge diamante clustered earrings.

The woman stood and flung her arms open. “Livvy, darling. Marlon’s told me all about you. I’m Meg, Meg Stuart. So wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

Liv felt sticky lip gloss press against each of her cheeks.

“Marlon says your understanding of Essie’s creative temperament is akin to a sixth sense,” Meg gushed.

“Thanks,” Liv replied, not entirely sure what this meant.

“I simply can’t wait to read her latest work. Has Essie allowed you the pleasure?”

“Yes, it’s been...eye-opening,” Liv said.