His mum was peering over, reading it again.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’ he asked.

  His mum hesitated, then: ‘Answer her. Maybe she’s just being genuinely nice. Or maybe her aunt and her friend are hurt and want to sue your father. In which case, they deserve every penny.’

  He clicked on to the message and replied. ‘“Hi Carol, thank you for getting in touch. My father is… is…”’

  He turned to his mum. ‘What should I say?’

  ‘Recovering.’

  ‘Recovering. Okay. This is like when you used to dictate my English homework because I’d forgotten to do it and it was due in twenty minutes later.’

  ‘“Recovering, thanks. I hope your aunt and friend are okay? Were they in the car when it crashed? Please pass on my best wishes to them both and thank your aunt for her concern. Cheers, Rory.”’ He pressed ‘send’, then shrugged it off and closed the app, fairly sure he’d never hear from her again.

  Right. Holidays. He wasn’t one for lying in the sun all day, so maybe New York? His mum had loved to wander around Central Park last time they were there.

  Ping! One new message: @CarolCooperMiddleAgedModel.

  ‘Go on,’ his mum encouraged him. ‘I’m curious now.’

  He opened it. ‘“Thanks for your reply, we really appreciate it. Glad your dad is doing well. Our friend was in the taxi when it crashed. She was taken to hospital, but she’s out now and she’s okay. My aunt had just left the car before it happened, so she’s unscathed. Although, she’s very upset because she left something very precious behind. You’ll see what I mean if you look at my profile. Perhaps when all is well again, and honestly no rush, we could speak to your dad? She would be so grateful to have her belongings returned. Thank you so much, Cx”.’

  His mum had been reading it at the same time as him. ‘What did she leave?’

  He went on to Carol’s profile page and clicked on her Stories. Every single one had a link to a podcast, with a photo of Carol and an older lady, with headlines like PLEASE FIND AUNT VAL’S RINGS. And RIGHT, SQUAD, WE NEED HELP TO MEND VAL’S BROKEN HEART.

  He clicked on the first one. It began with Carol introducing her aunt and saying they were trying to track down jewellery that meant a lot to her.

  ‘Earlier today, we told you about two of the rings on the podcast and the Instagram live. Now, Aunt Val, tell us why the third one means so much to you.’

  The camera panned to the other lady, whose eyes were filled with tears, and she seemed to be finding it difficult to speak because she was so upset. She blew her nose, then finally spoke…

  ‘Our Dee was the most incredible young woman. She had a good job, a lovely husband, a smashing future all mapped out. And she was funny. Lord, she could make us laugh. Most of all, though, she loved her friends and her family. She would sit here, at this kitchen table all afternoon, drinking tea and gabbing, like she had all day just to keep me company. If you were lucky enough to be loved by Dee, well, you knew it. And I knew it every day until she was thirty years old. That’s when she died because she ran on to a road to save a little boy who was about to be hit by a car, driven by a guy who was high on drink and drugs. Dee managed to get the child out of the way, but there was no time to save herself. That bastard hit her with such force that she never stood a chance. He killed my girl.’

  His mum gasped, her hand went to her mouth, as if she couldn’t bear the woman’s pain and he understood why. It was gut-wrenching. And there was way too much synergy between what had happened to the woman’s daughter, and the fact that his father had just been caught driving someone around while off his face on drugs.

  They carried on listening, as Val told the rest of the story, about how they’d grieved, how she missed Dee every day, how the most precious thing she’d had left of her daughter was the ring they’d bought her for her twenty-first birthday. White gold. Little diamonds in the shape of a D.

  ‘The ring was in the pouch that I lost yesterday,’ Val was saying now, her voice hoarse. ‘And I really hope you can help me because I can’t replace it. Just like I can’t replace Dee.’

  The two of them just stared, absorbing the horror of what they’d just heard. Rory’s mind flicked back to Carol’s message. ‘My aunt had just left the car before it happened… she’s very upset because she left something very precious behind.’ His thought process hit the conclusion and he groaned, ‘Oh shit. Oh no. No. Don’t tell me…’

  He rushed straight back on to the messages to check he was reading this all correctly. ‘“Carol, we just watched your post. Was it the pouch of rings that your aunt left behind? And do you think it was in my father’s car when it crashed?”’

  Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

  ‘“Yes. It was. But I didn’t want to pressure you by mentioning it earlier. I know it’s a terrible imposition, but we wondered if you could tell us where the car is? Or give us any help to track them down. Again, totally understand if this isn’t a good time.”’

  Rory groaned again, then turned to his mum. ‘That blue bag. Did you say it was the personal effects from the car?’

  His mum was biting her lip when she nodded with visible apprehension.

  ‘And we put it in the wheelie bin?’

  All the colour that had come back into her cheeks earlier was now gone. ‘We did. I didn’t even check what was inside. Oh God, Rory, that poor woman.’ She was already on her feet and he could see she was thinking and fretting at the same time. ‘We have to go back and get it.’

  Rory was on exactly the same wavelength and was reaching for his car keys when she said, ‘Son, ask them to meet us here tomorrow morning. Whether the rings are in the bag or not, we have to help find them. And given that your father nearly killed their friend, she deserves to hear the truth about the state of him.’

  Christ, his dad was just the toxic gift that kept on giving.

  Rory fired off a quick reply. ‘“We are going to try to locate them. Are you in Glasgow? Would it be possible to meet both your aunt and your friend? Say 10 a.m. tomorrow at the St Kentigern hotel?”’

  The response was instant. ‘“Yes! We will see you there. And thank you.”’

  ‘Okay, let’s go, Mum,’ he said, already on the way out of the door.

  They were back in the car in five minutes, and in his mum’s street twenty minutes later.

  ‘So much for not wanting to ever come back here again,’ she sighed. ‘We didn’t even make it until the end of the day.’

  ‘It’ll be the last time, I promise,’ he told her, meaning every word, before he was distracted by a noise, a siren and then lights behind him.

  At first, he thought it was the police, but he quickly realised it was something different altogether. ‘Oh no. No. Shit, no.’

  The fire engine pulled right up behind him and he quickly veered to the left to let it pass.

  ‘Mum, what did you say about kids setting fire to the wheelie bins?’

  ‘They might not be here for that,’ she said, but there was more than just a hint of doubt and dread in her voice. ‘We’ll know if they turn left up here…’

  He was right behind the fire engine, only fifty metres or so from the road that would take them up the side of his mum’s house to the back alley. He willed the fire engine to go straight on. Thirty metres from the house. Go straight on. Fifteen metres from the house. If psychic pleas could make something happen, he needed it to be now. They reached the front of his parents’ home. Go straight on.

  The fire engine turned left.

  ‘Oh no,’ his mum whimpered beside him.

  Rory followed the flashing lights, sticking right behind the vehicle. Don’t stop at the alley. Do. Not. Stop.

  He already knew that he was going to lose this one. Even with the car windows closed, he could smell the fire, and he could see a big cloud of smoke coming from the left.

  The alley.

  The fire engine stopped and there was a chaotic rush of bodies as firefighters jumped out and started pulling out hoses from the side of the vehicle, while two others ran into the alley, presumably to see what they were dealing with.

  Rory slammed on the brakes. ‘Stay here, Mum!’ But he was wasting his breath.

  Alice was already out of the car and running towards the end of the alley, where a small crowd of youngsters and adults – presumably neighbours – had formed.

  A firefighter had blocked the area and wasn’t letting anyone past, but Rory could see the flames about thirty metres behind him.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he shouted to the elderly gent he’d spoken to earlier in the day.

  ‘Och, some wee buggers have set fire to the wheelie bins again. It’s like Chicago Fire up there. Whole lot of them have gone up in smoke.’

  SUNDAY

  29

  VAL

  ‘You might have warned me that it was this posh in here. I would have worn my sequinned mules instead of the fur ones. Much more elegant,’ I whispered to Carly, pointing to my blue, fur-clad toes.

  ‘Och, I don’t know,’ Carly replied. ‘I think nothing says elegance more than wearing emus on your feet.’

  I didn’t dignify that with an answer. For about twenty seconds. Then I said dryly, ‘There’s a reason I’ve always preferred Carol.’

  Which did, of course, make all four of us sitting at a round booth-style table for six in the very beautiful bar at the St Kentigern Hotel dissolve into very inelegant laughter. These lassies could dish out the jibes – a survival skill taught in childhood in their world – but oh, they made my heart soar.

  I leaned over and left a kiss of pink lipstick on Carly’s cheek. ‘You know I’m kidding, love. I adore you both equally and could never choose between you. A bit like Ariel and Daz.’

  ‘What time is it?’ I asked Carol, and argh, my nerves were on the outside of my skin again. I didn’t want to take my eyes off the door for long enough to rummage in my bag for my specs so that I could see the time on my watch.

  ‘Well, you know how two minutes ago you asked me and it was ten minutes to ten?’

  My jaw settled into a clamp and I stared at Carol, then quickly shifted my focus. ‘Sophie pet, you’ve always been my favourite.’

  ‘Yassss,’ Sophie exclaimed, punching the air.

  That set them off again and it was a relief to see Sophie laughing too. She was such a lovely lass and the poor soul was bearing up well, all things considering. Heart-breaking that she’d lost her mum. Nobody should have to deal with that kind of pain at that age. And then to come all the way up here, almost get killed, and then find out the lad she’d come to find was married? Oh sweet Jesus, the calamity of it.

  Carol reached over and playfully squeezed my hand. ‘You know we’re only messing with you to distract you. We’re worried your head will explode if they don’t get here soon.’

  I rubbed my chest bone. ‘I don’t think it’ll be my head. Can you die of heartburn? It’s always terrible when I’m anxious, and right now it’s on fire.’ I slipped a couple of Rennies out of my bag and popped them in my mouth.

  ‘They’ll come. I can feel it.’ That came from young Sophie again. She’d been happy enough to come along with us today after the McLenn lad asked to meet us here this morning. And then, the ex-boyfriend said he wanted to speak to her before she left Glasgow, and we weren’t letting her do that on her own, so she’d arranged to see him here later too. We’d appointed ourselves her official Scottish best pals, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Has that Rory lad messaged again, Carol?’ I asked, rubbing the middle of my chest again. Lordy, I’d be through the whole box of Rennies before the morning was out.

  Carol shook her head. ‘Still not since last night.’

  Uch, this was excruciating. The previous night Larry McLenn’s son had come back, said he was going to go and try to track down his dad’s personal belongings from the car. We hadn’t had a chance to ask if he’d found them because there had been no contact since. It was late at that point, though, so he probably hadn’t wanted to text again in the middle of the night. When we didn’t hear any more from him this morning, I took that as a positive. Maybe. Almost definitely… Or maybe not. Perhaps he just felt he had to deliver bad news in person. Or if the lad was anything like his dad, he’d probably sold them and buggered off with the proceeds.

  ‘There they are,’ Carly whispered urgently, and I swivelled round to see a very tall, very handsome bloke walking into the bar. I recognised the woman immediately, from the news on the telly and also from the papers. It had been the biggest political story in years and the press had milked it to death. I had paid no notice to it whatsoever because I was disgusted by the whole thing, but I remembered having a conversation with Nancy about the fact that the wife had stood by him. Not that we were judging. Actually, aye, we were definitely judging. You had to wonder what would possess a woman to stick by someone like that, someone who’d committed that level of betrayal. My Don would have been right out the door, not that he’d ever have done such a thing.

  Carol waved over and the tall guy returned the gesture.

  ‘Remember his name’s Rory,’ Carly whispered, reminding me just in time. I was so overwrought, I’d struggle to name my own son right now. ‘And the woman is…’ Too late.

  ‘Hello, I’m Alice. It’s very nice to meet you. This is my son, Rory. You must be Val.’

  ‘I am. And these are my nieces, Carol, Carly and our friend, Sophie.’

  At the other end of the booth, Carol had got up and she was already giving Rory a hug, while saying, ‘Thanks so much for returning my messages last night. It honestly means the world to us. Please, sit down with us.’

  Carol shuffled around the booth, so that they all fitted in, Rory at one end of the semicircle, then Carol, Carly, Sophie, me, and I’d budged up to let Alice sit right next to me.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ I said, and I felt the croak in my voice as I spoke. ‘And I’m sorry to get right to it… but did you… did you…’ Suffering Moses, I was so utterly terrified of the answer, that I couldn’t get the words out.

  Alice could apparently read my mind though, and I saw a sad smile loaded with so much sympathy that I knew immediately that they hadn’t been found. My chest tightened even more, my whole body began to shake, and I felt like maybe my head would combust after all. I couldn’t take my eyes off Alice, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

  But just when I couldn’t take it any more, Carly, on the other side of me, nudged me. ‘Aunt Val,’ she murmured. I couldn’t bear to listen to her trying to make me feel better right now. Not when every bit of me was dying of disappointment.

  ‘Aunt Val, look,’ Carly said again, more urgent this time.

  It was like the whole world slowed down, like one of those films where the action heroes run in slow motion. Somehow, I found the strength to move my head round and…

  A black velvet pouch.

  Sitting in the middle of the table.

  And a lovely big smile on that lad, Rory’s face. ‘I think this belongs to you. Sorry, we didn’t find it before you contacted us, but we hadn’t checked my dad’s belongings.’

  Still feeling like I was in slow motion, seeing that all the eyes around the table were staring at me, I reached over and picked it up. It felt lighter than I remembered.

  I sent up a silent prayer to the patron saint of friendship and sweary sarcasm. Josie, love, if I ever needed you, it’s right now. Please let them be inside. Please let them be inside.

  Slowly, terrified, hands shaking, I loosened the strings, pulled open the top of the bag, and tipped it over, then watched as one, two, three rings fell out and on to the table.

  My lungs were still refusing to inflate, when a fourth one fell out and rolled right off the marble surface, and Rory, had to chase it under the next table.

  When he stood up, he was clutching a gold band with a rectangular emerald on the top. Josie’s ring. That woman always had to have the last laugh.

  My teary gaze returned to the table, where I saw my original engagement ring, Dee’s magical diamond D ring, and – a gasp of sheer joy escaped me – Don’s wedding band. I hadn’t had the strength to tell the world about that one yet. I couldn’t say out loud that he’d worn it every day of his life. That one day, years ago, before Alzheimer’s had robbed his brain, we’d agreed if something happened to one of us, the other one should wear their ring on a chain around their neck until the end of time. Of course, I’d agreed. That’s why, on the day before he was buried, I’d taken his ring from his finger before his coffin was closed and I’d slipped it on to my gold chain. But that night, the chain had broken under the weight of the ring, and that was when I’d put it in my jewellery box, telling myself I’d buy a thicker chain when I felt up to going shopping. Just another thing that had gone out of my head in the last few weeks.

  The thought of sharing that story with the world had almost broken me. And now I wouldn’t have to. Don had sent it back to me. And for the first time since I closed that casket, I felt him here, felt him touch my hand, the one that held the ring he’d worn for over forty years.

  No one spoke. No one said a single word. And then, I felt something crack and I burst into torrents of unstoppable sobs that robbed me of any words other than, ‘Thank you. Oh thank you. Thank you. Thank you.’

  Carly’s arms came around my shoulders and squeezed me, and I took a moment to let my niece’s support calm me, to breathe again.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. You’ve got this, Val, I heard him say.

  Still trembling, I picked up all four rings, and held them in my clenched fist like I was never going to let them go. Which I wasn’t. Not bloody ever. I was even going to wear them in the bath.