Chapter 15
“H hasn’t replied, it’s been almost a week,” Kate said, biting the edge of her nail. They’d decamped up to her flat for a cold glass of wine after a long, sticky day in the shop.
“Stop doing that, you’ll make it bleed,” Liv said. “Your hands need to be perfect for all the pics I’m going to take of you holding the book in various bookshops and supermarkets.”
“You don’t need to come with me to shelf-spot, it’s fine.” Kate had seen enough authors posting shelfies to know the publication-day drill.
Liv ripped the bag of licorice open on the coffee table.
“I do. Would I let you go to prenatal classes alone if you were pregnant? No. No, I would not.” She picked up a piece of licorice and sniffed it, then placed it down again, unimpressed.
“You’re about to give birth to this book, and I’m gonna be there to wipe your sweaty brow and take proud-sister pics of you cradling it in your unbitten hands. ”
“I’m not planning on being sweaty. Thank God supermarkets have air-conditioning.
” Kate flapped her T-shirt, too hot. The windows in the flat didn’t open fully, and there wasn’t a breath of cool air.
“Why hasn’t H replied? Did I say something wrong, do you think?
Was it the x at the end? I typed it, deleted it, then typed it again—it just felt as if we were on those familiar kind of terms. It’s a reflex after I type my name, I do it all the time. ”
She turned her laptop screen to her sister beside her on the sofa.
“Stop over-thinking everything. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Liv scanned the emails Kate had already read aloud twice. “Tell you something, though. Scotch and licorice? This is a guy.”
Kate chewed her lip and shrugged. She wasn’t certain, but she’d increasingly been of the same mind. Not so much from the breadcrumb trail Liv had pointed out, more the general turn of phrase and opinions.
“Unless they’re deliberately saying things to throw you off the scent, of course,” Liv said, warming to her theme. “Oh my God!” Liv’s eyes rounded. “Work with me here…Could it be Fiona?”
Kate’s double take was movie-worthy. “What? Why would you think that?”
Liv shrugged. “I don’t know, just throwing it out there. Maybe she has a secret soft side.”
“You wouldn’t think so if you’d met her.” Kate frowned. There was no way Fiona could be the mystery author, surely? The exposing vulnerability of the story just didn’t fit with Fiona’s iron-lady persona, it was unfathomable.
“Someone else then, someone younger. They might actually hate licorice and be addicted to watching makeup tutorials on TikTok.”
Kate frowned, closing her laptop. “I really hope not.”
The idea that H might be fabricating their answers hadn’t occurred to her.
She reached for the G&T Liv had mixed her, despondent at the idea.
The connection she’d built with H felt genuine and had bolstered her confidence about the whole project in a way she hadn’t realized she needed—as if they were a team, in this thing together.
It didn’t sit easy to think it might be yet more smoke and mirrors.
Liv flopped back against the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Kate.
“Forget I said anything. He, or she, is probably in a hut somewhere on a wild Welsh hillside, no reception to reply. You’ll hear from them tomorrow.”
“You reckon?”
Liv nodded. “They said Richard was an arsehole, so they must be genuine.”
“And that you should run the country,” Kate said.
“I’ll only do it if my cabinet can wear fancy dress,” Liv said.
Kate laughed into her gin, her mood lightened by her sister, as usual. “What would they be?”
“Stormtroopers on Mondays, cats on Tuesdays,” Liv said. “Wednesday, they all have to come as Harry Styles tributes, and on Thursdays they don’t get into number ten unless they turn up in full Bridgerton regalia.”
“Oh, I like that one best. Can I be in the cabinet on Thursdays?”
Liv clinked her glass against Kate’s. “You can be the minister for Thursdays.”
“What about Fridays?”
Liv took a second to think. “They all come in as Muppets.”
“Business as usual, then,” Kate said.
“Guess so.” Liv leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder. “You’re not a random piece of sky, Kate. Not to me.”
Kate relaxed and closed her eyes, exhausted.
“Have you heard anything else from Alice?”
“Nothing of consequence. She’s avoiding talking to me again, mostly just texts telling me to stop panicking and let her be, and that she hasn’t made any rash decisions.
” Kate huffed. “Bloody Flynn from bloody Australia. What kind of guy encourages his girlfriend to give up everything she’s worked for on a whim for him? ”
Liv’s cough of derision was sharp and instant. “Richard?”
“Exactly. I don’t want her with a Richard, someone who clips her wings rather than helps her fly.”
“Have you told her about the book yet?”
Kate shrugged. “Not yet. I don’t think she’s in the mood to listen anyway, it’s all Flynn this, Flynn that, Flynn the other. I hate the name more every time I say it.”
“Don’t mention that to Alice,” Liv cautioned.
“Oh, I know. I won’t.” Kate sighed. “She’s lucky I have the book keeping me busy or I’d be on the next train up there.”
“Which would make things a million times worse,” Liv said. “Show her you trust her, she’ll come through.”
“You think so?”
“Well, I tried to talk sense into you all those years ago, if you remember, and look where that got me.”
It had been the closest they’d come to falling out as adults, awful for them both until Liv held out the olive branch. At the time Kate had felt as if everyone in her life wanted to stick their oar in because they didn’t know Richard the way she did. She’d been determined to prove them all wrong.
“I know you’re right, but it’s so hard not to wade in and bring her home for the summer, make her see sense over endless plates of spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti or a surfer that looks like a Hemsworth brother and lives on the beach?” Liv said.
Kate screwed her eyes closed and burrowed into her sister’s shoulder, defeated.