Free The Finishing Touches by Hester Browne Page B

doorbell rang before I could answer, and Liv swung her legs off the table. “Think about it while I get the takeout,” she said.
    I reached into my bag for my purse. “Liv, here’s my half, at least—” I started, but she waved my money away.
    “My treat,” she said.
    Liv padded down the hall, and I heard the door open and the sound of distant flirting as I pulled open drawers in search of forks and spoons. I wasn’t really listening, though—I was quailing at the prospect of marching back into the Academy, in less than a week’s time, and telling Miss Thorne where she was going wrong.
    In the drama of Nell Howard’s revelations, and the weird half-dream of seeing inside my childhood memories, and the warm glow of helping out the Phillimores, I’d sort of forgotten I’d be expected to do something. Lord P had a huge amount at risk, not just financially, and then there were the employees. And the students who were there! More to the point, I’d have to deliver the bad news myself—once I’d worked out what it was. I mean, how was I meant to know why they weren’t making any money? I didn’t even know what the Academy did these days.
    And it didn’t look as though Mark the Bursar was going to be much help, if he thought it was all a useless waste of time.
    I chewed my lip.
    On the other hand, it was my last chance to get back in there and do some detective work…
    The front door banged, and Liv reappeared with three bursting bags of Chinese food.
    “You know what? I think I’ve overordered again,” she said, dumping them on the granite counter. “I never know how much rice is enough…”
    My silence must have unnerved her. She stopped unpacking the cartons and looked me in the eye with a remorseful expression.
    “Was I out of order just then? I was,” she said. “Sorry. It was really insensitive, to go on at you, about work and stuff, when you’re only just back from the memorial. I just thought…well, helping out and stuff—isn’t it what Franny would want? You saving their bacon by being practical and smart?”
    “I know,” I said. “But that doesn’t actually make me feel better. It just makes me wish I’d told her the truth before…before she…”
    Liv grabbed my hand as my eyes filled, and I went on quickly. “There is…another reason why I said I’d go back to the Academy. But it’s completely secret, and you can’t let on to a soul. Not even Nancy or Kathleen. I might…” My stomach felt quite fluttery, saying it aloud. “I might have found someone who knows who my mother might have been. Be.” I told her what Nell Howard had said about the 1980 glamour girls and their out-of-control aristo boyfriends. “I didn’t get a chance to ask her any more. She’d left. But I can get her address from the office, I bet. If I go back…”
    “You’re going to trace your mother, finally! I always knew you were seriously posh underneath!” said Liv breathlessly. “Abandoned by a cad in a Miami Vice jacket! Or a top hat and tails! That is like a romance novel! Nancy’s going to be thrilled !”
    “Yeah, well, don’t get carried away—it doesn’t sound like any of the girls were exactly Mother Superior material,” I said. “And don’t tell anyone just yet. I’m not sure how Nancy and Kathleen would feel about me looking. I don’t want them thinking I’m going to trace my parents and abandon them. Neither of them have families, you know, apart from me.”
    “As if! Oh, you definitely have to go back now,” said Liv. “I need to know how it ends.”
    “This isn’t a detective novel,” I said faintly. “It’s not going to be Lord Farquhar in the billiard room with a candlestick and Miss Scarlett. This is my life .”
    “I know. I’ve been there for the last fifteen years, watching you pretend you’re not really interested. It’s been the longest trailer in existence.” Liv pointed a chopstick at me. “I will do everything I can to help you.”
    I looked at her