She’d been planning to stay for longer, but her mum had called to break the worst news Sophie had ever received. Even now, Sophie could only remember some of the words her mum had said. She’d felt poorly. Had tests. Hospital. Doctors. Diagnosis. Pancreatic cancer. Sophie hadn’t even understood the severity of it, or the prognosis, but she knew she had to get back to her. To go home immediately. And that meant leaving Ash behind.

  The next day, before they went to the station for her train to London, then on to Reading, they’d gone to George Square, in the centre of the city, and every detail of that afternoon still played like a movie in her mind.

  The lawns and benches inside the square had been packed with people, and several of them had stopped to watch, as Ash pulled out a ring, a silver and jade band that he’d seen her admiring on the Beijing stop of their trip. Unconventional, but she’d adored the sentiment and the thoughtfulness behind it.

  Thankfully, he hadn’t gone down on one knee, because that was the kind of stuff that made it on to social media websites and stayed there forever. Instead, he’d leaned down, put his forehead against hers, holding the ring between them.

  ‘Sophie, I know this is soon, and probably grounds to have me arrested for stalking, but I don’t ever want to be without you. Every single moment since we met has been better than the one before. I am so incredibly happy with you and I never want it to end, so, Sophie Smith, please, will you marry me?’

  ‘Aw, hen, say yes!’ That came from two elderly ladies eating Greggs pies on the bench nearest them, who definitely deserved to be on social media for ever. Once Sophie got past the gobsmacking shock of the proposal, she was tempted to be rash, wild and romantic and say yes. She really was. For many reasons. The first was that she’d felt exactly the same way since her gaze first met his on a Balinese beach at sunset. They’d struck up a conversation and corny as it sounded, it was as if they’d known almost everything about each other instantly. Over the next few days, weeks and months, the stuff they didn’t know just added even more layers of excitement and fun. She’d adored him. He was the first – and hopefully the last – man she had ever been in love with. But…

  ‘I can’t,’ she’d whispered, answering his question, her voice cracking on the words. ‘Because if I say yes now, I’ll always remember that it was sad because I was leaving you.’

  It was too much of everything. Too much emotion. Too much confusion. Too many people needing her. ‘Can I take a raincheck? Can you ask me again later? In a while, I mean. When my mum is better?’

  He’d sighed, smiled, kissed her forehead. ‘I tell you what… Promise me you’ll come back, and I’ll ask you again in a year. Right here. And if you say no, I’ll ask you again the next year, and the next, and the next… I’ll ask you every year, on the fourth of May, until you say yes.’

  ‘I promise,’ she’d whispered, not sure if her heart was breaking or swelling so big it could burst.

  That’s when she’d realised that the two women on the bench had frozen, pies in mid-air waiting to hear her answer. And another four or five random people nearby were watching them, waiting for the big moment. She’d already disappointed Ash, and now she was about to disappoint them too.

  ‘But Ash…’ she’d continued, so quietly only he could hear. ‘We have an audience. So you’re going to cheer, and snog my face off, so that it doesn’t look like I said no. Because I didn’t. I just said later.’

  And that’s what they’d done. She’d nodded with joyous exaggeration, he’d punched the air, picked her up, swung her around, and then they’d kissed until the cheering from the audience stopped. The last thing she remembered hearing before they walked off into the sunset (actually only to Central Station to get her train) was one of the elderly ladies with the pies saying, ‘Och, Daphne, no wonder I comfort eat. This place is an emotional roller coaster.’

  As the train pulled out of the station, Sophie had no idea what was in front of her. She didn’t know the awful things that were about to happen, or that the pain of what was to come would force her to cut off all contact with Ash just months later, that they wouldn’t speak again, or that for too many reasons that she didn’t want to think about right now, she wouldn’t make it back to Glasgow until this weekend.

  Even as late as last night, she wasn’t sure that she would make the trip, but then she’d decided that it was now or never. School had closed yesterday for the half-term break, so what else was she going to be doing anyway? This was the second year in a row that she’d taught Year Two, so she already had the lesson plans for the next term organised and ready to go. Her class of six- and seven-year-olds were so excited about their break and it had been contagious. At least, if all this came to nothing, she’d be able to tell them about her trip to Scotland, and drop in some stories about castles and legends of monsters that lived in lochs.

  Not that there would be any sightseeing this weekend. She was here for only one reason – to find Ash. Although, now that the taxi had left the airport and joined the slip road on to the motorway that would take her into the city, the doubts and fears were kicking in again. Did anyone ever find happiness chasing a regret? And would she be too late to make it right? All she wanted to do was to say sorry, to ask him to forgive her, to find out if he still felt the same, still loved her, still wanted her. And if he did, this time she wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let him go.

  The taxi driver grunted in the front. ‘Where in the city centre are you going to?’

  ‘The George Square Grand Hotel.’

  That brought on an exaggerated sigh. ‘Right in the centre. Of course it bloody is. The traffic round there is insane now, especially with all the ridiculous twenty miles per hour limits. I’d be quicker getting out of the car and bloody walking. All that bloody green nonsense. Speed restrictions and low emission zones. Arsehole councillors, they’re destroying this city. Idiots, every last one of them.’ He was agitated, and even from the back seat, she could see that his face had reddened with irritation. Maybe if he opened a window or put on the air con, he’d get rid of the sweat that was glistening on the back of his neck too.

  Sophie sighed. She should have waited in the original taxi queue. Or found a bus. Or walked. Fricking anything but this. Her mum used to tell her that she attracted waifs and strays. When there was a new kid in school, Sophie brought them home for tea. If there was a dog wandering in the street, she’d pick it up and spend her pocket money on a tin of food before smuggling it into their kitchen. Apparently, she also attracted intolerant, mean-spirited blokes who wanted to rant about anything and everything. She briefly contemplated telling him that she was Greta Thunberg’s big sister to see if his head exploded, but she didn’t want to cause a motorway pile-up.

  Twisting around, she was about to slip her phone into her bag on the seat beside her, when her eye caught something on the floor behind the driver’s seat. The button of her jeans groaned as she stretched down, then almost immediately recoiled when her fingers touched the bristles of a hairbrush. Since the driver’s greasy, straggly hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a while, she figured it was a safe bet that it wasn’t his. Someone must have dropped it. She pulled it up, and it was only when she got back to a seating position, that she realised there was something tangled in the bristles. Two thin black strings, attached to a little black velvet pouch.

  Curious, she picked the strings out of the brush, and opened the pouch, then emptied it into her hand, letting out a gasp as four rings tumbled out.

  Her reaction caught the driver’s attention. ‘Something you want to say?’ he challenged her, meeting her gaze in his rear-view mirror. He clearly thought she was still on his conversation about Glasgow City Council’s green policies. His face was even redder now. She thought about suggesting he get his blood pressure checked, but decided her input wouldn’t be welcome and it would probably send him off on a rant about the NHS.

  ‘No, it’s just that… I found something on the floor back here. Has anyone reported anything lost?’

  In the mirror, she could see the suspicion written across his brow. ‘No,’ he answered, cagily. ‘What is it?’

  ‘A hairbrush. And one, two, three, four rings,’ she said, peering at them more closely now. The plain gold band was definitely a man’s ring as it was bigger than the others. Two others were also gold – one had a trio of diamonds, and the other, a single large rectangular emerald stone. They both looked pretty old, so maybe they were vintage. The fourth ring was silver or white gold, she couldn’t tell, with an exquisite little cluster of diamonds. At first glance, she’d thought it was a circle, but now she could see that it was a D. That made something in her head ping. Diana. That was her mum’s name. If she believed in cosmic signs, this would be considered a pretty big one that she’d been meant to come to Glasgow. As for the rings… It wasn’t a stretch to work out what had happened here. The brush must have fallen out of a bag or a backpack and taken the rings with it. Someone, somewhere, would be missing these.

  ‘Right then. Just toss them into the front seat here and I’ll report that I’ve found them to our control room, then hand them in to the police.’

  There was something in his tone, or maybe it was just the fact that he’d been the height of rudeness since she’d clapped eyes on him, but hackles of distrust were rising on the back of her neck. ‘Can you radio into your control room right now? Just in case someone is worried and has already phoned to ask about them.’

  A pause, and she could see that he was irritated at being challenged. ‘Meter’s not on,’ he said, enunciating every word, as if he was speaking to a child. ‘I’ll radio in later, when they think I’m back on the clock.’

  He was lying. She was aware that she had absolutely no evidence to back that up, and emotional perception wasn’t her strong point, but she just had a feeling. An intuition.

  In most of the confrontational moments in her life, she’d backed down and gone with the easy option, but something in her wasn’t giving in today. There were cars whizzing by, so the fact that his gaze kept going to the rear-view mirror to see what she was doing was making her nervous. She’d be much happier if he was concentrating on the road.

  ‘I tell you what, just drop me at a police station when we get to the city centre – I’ll pay the extra fare – and I’ll run in and drop them off. I’m sure someone will be desperate to get these back.’

  He didn’t like that suggestion and his low, pedantic tone made that clear. ‘I said just toss them into the front. This is my taxi, sweetheart – that’s how it works. Something gets left here, I decide what to do with it.’

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Sophie closed her eyes, took a breath. What did it matter? These weren’t her rings. She had no idea who they belonged to. They could be stolen. Or maybe someone was on the way to a pawn shop to swap them for drug money. Or maybe…

  No. She stopped herself. Even though she was a twenty-six-year-old woman, in times like this she always heard her mum’s voice, nudging her on, encouraging her to fight her corner.

  ‘Well, you said you were going to hand them over to the police, so come with me then. If there’s a reward, you can have it. I just want to make sure they get put on a database or something, so they’re returned to whoever lost them.’

  ‘How fucking dare you… Are you suggesting I can’t be trusted to do that on my own?’

  ‘No!’ she lied. She popped the rings back into the pouch and pulled the strings tight, then tugged on her seat belt, which suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. This car ride was taking a turn she really didn’t like. She’d ask him to stop and let her out if she weren’t on a four-lane motorway.

  ‘Bitch.’

  It was almost inaudible. Almost. He whispered it under his breath, but Sophie heard it loud and clear. The hard shoulder was suddenly a safer and more appealing option than sitting in this car.

  How the hell had this happened? On her previous visit here, she’d encountered nothing but lovely people and taxi drivers who liked to have a chat and came out with entertaining anecdotes about the people they’d picked up and great suggestions for places to go. This time, she’d been in the city for less than an hour and she was in a full-blown dispute with a guy who’d just called her a bitch while driving at 70 mph on a motorway.

  If Erin were here, she’d soon put him in his place and she’d blow the roof right off this car, but that wasn’t Sophie’s way. She’d always been the peacemaker. The quiet one. The one who stood back and thought things through – usually for far too long.

  Well, not today. As soon as they got off this motorway, she was going to insist that he stop at a police station. In fact, she was going to look for one so that she was prepared. She pulled her phone back up in front of her. A quick glance to the mirror told her that the driver’s eyes were now firmly on the road in front of him, but the scarlet face and the pulse on the side of his jaw made it clear he was furious.

  Her thumbs worked overtime as she consulted Google for the location of the nearest police station and she worked out that they were just about to come up to one in a place called Govan, a couple of slip roads ahead. Even if he came in with her, she could ditch him and call another taxi from the police station. There was no way she was getting back in this car. Yep, that’s what she⁠—

  ‘Idiot!’ came a hiss from the front.

  Sophie’s head jerked up, just as the car swerved to the side, in an aggressive move, accompanied by a snarl in the direction of the white transit van that had just overtaken them. It was the kind of thing that happened on the roads every day, but this taxi driver seemed to be taking it personally. This was the worst morning ever. She’d come here with the intention of putting her heart on the line. She’d lied to her dad about why she was coming to Glasgow. And now she felt like she was in the next Fast & Furious movie: Lethal Taxi.

  She’d barely finished that thought, when she saw the driver’s head fall back. Felt the car begin to slide. And sway. And then, oh no, no, no, they were spinning.

  There was a bang.

  The thud of a collision.

  The terrifying sensation of being thrown to the side, then forward, then back.

  Then the pain. The awful, searing pain.

  Sophie had the instant realisation that this wasn’t going to end well.

  Her dad would never forgive her for this. For lying about why she was here. For coming back for Ash. For dying on him.

  Those were the last thoughts she had before everything went black.

  3

  ALICE MCLENN

  This was Alice’s favourite time of the day. She’d just come in from her dawn shift, cleaning over at the local school in the centre of the small town of Bankston, about fifteen miles from Glasgow. As always, she’d walked the mile from her dilapidated home in a run-down housing scheme through the town’s streets to her work and back: at 5 a.m. on the way there it was deserted, at 7 a.m. on the way back it was busier. Not that she had a choice, because her car-owning days were long behind her. Anyway, according to the fitness thingy on her wrist, she already had almost half of her 10K steps done for the day.

  As always, the solitude had relaxed her, and now she got to have her morning coffee in peace. At least, that’s what she’d planned. She’d barely flicked the switch on the kettle when the phone rang, and through the cracks in the plaster on the ceiling, she heard the sound of her husband’s disgruntled muttering as he answered the extension that sat on the ancient bedside table next to his head. Peaceful morning interlude ruined.

  She listened for more signs of movement upstairs and heard his footsteps as Larry got out of bed, then drawers banging shut, wardrobe doors squeaking as they opened before thudding closed. Yes, he was getting ready to go out. He must have been called in to work and agreed to go. She could do nothing to stop the sigh of contentment that gave her. The house to herself for even longer today. Every hour without him here was an absolute treat. Maybe she’d go down to the swimming baths and do some laps. Or perhaps go over to Weirbridge, a lovely village only a couple of miles away, visit the library or treat herself to a cup of tea in one of the little cafés on High Street. Or maybe she’d just go for a walk and get the rest of her daily steps in, before it was four o’clock and time to go to her early-evening cleaning shift down at the Town Hall.

  She worked six hours there, then returned home and slept for five hours until it was time to get up and do it all over again. It wasn’t the career of her dreams, but she liked the women she worked with in both places, appreciated their non-judgemental camaraderie, and the hours didn’t bother her. She’d never been much of a sleeper. And anyway, it was worth it, because her unsociable hours meant that she and Larry were ships that passed in the night, rarely in the same place at the same time. This tiny house only had one bedroom, but by the time she got home at night he was often sleeping, and she was up and away again before he woke up. She’d trained herself to sleep on the edge of the mattress so that they never touched, and she never glanced in his direction unless to check that he was already asleep. Although, his snoring usually gave that away.

  If she were lucky, they only crossed paths once or twice in the day – for a brief few minutes when he was on his way out in the morning, and then on the occasional nights he was still up when she came home from her evening shift. It was more than enough, and it was only made bearable by her absolute certainty that she’d soon be in a position to leave him. As long as she kept her mind on the fact that her freedom would come, then she could tolerate sharing this space with a man she utterly despised.