On that special morning, he’d woken up in bed at a sumptuous, eye-wateringly expensive five-star hotel on the banks of Loch Lomond, with Albie’s feet in his face, after a few drinks at the bar the night before with the attendees of the rehearsal dinner had somehow turned into a late-night pre-celebration. His mum and dad had been on unusually good form that night, chatting and celebrating with Julia’s parents, raising toasts and thrilled to be joining the two families. Larry McLenn, Member of Parliament, and Roger Fieldow, founder and CEO of the Fieldow Financial Group, generally regarded as one of the most prestigious financial companies in the country, were both cut from the same Master of the Universe cloth.

  Julia had, of course, been gorgeous. The hen holiday at a spa in Marbella the week before had given her a caramel tan and her copper waves fell down the back of the white, knee-length, off-the-shoulder dress that she’d worn for the practice run up the aisle. Rory remembered thinking he’d never been happier.

  That feeling was surpassed the next day when, all nerves forgotten, he’d watched her coming down the aisle towards him, with everyone they loved looking on, in a room that was bedecked with white flowers, with the string quartet playing ‘Evergreen’ by Barbara Streisand.

  Turns out they weren’t evergreen after all. The leaves fell right off that love tree only a few years later. Back then, though, he hadn’t even considered that they might not go the distance, not even when her family had insisted on a prenup. It was par for the course, especially when marrying into a family as financially astute and wealthy as the Fieldows. Julia had no desire to join her father’s company, preferring the relaxed hours of a part-time career in interior design, but she and her sister still stood to inherit the business. At that point, back in the summer of 2019, Rory had already been a forensic accountant there for four years, since the day after he’d graduated from university, so marrying the boss’s daughter came with an in-depth understanding of the level of assets that were at stake. He’d been happy to sign, because he neither wanted nor needed any stake in Julia’s future fortune. He already earned a sizeable salary, so he wasn’t dependent on anyone. Changed days from when he and Albie lived on cheap beer and noodles while at uni. And besides, he was absolutely confident that their marriage would last until the ‘death do us part’ stuff.

  It was truly astonishing to him that it had all managed to go to absolute crap in such a short period of time. He’d left the house three months ago, but the derailment had happened long before that, as soon as his family’s name and reputation had begun the interminable slide into the gutter. For someone like Julia, who had lived a carefree, privileged life as the apple of her father’s eye, the scandal and embarrassment had been unbearable. She’d tried to ignore the shame caused by the downfall of the family she’d married into, but eventually she’d had enough and asked for a break.

  He didn’t even want to let his mind go back there right now, so he was just going to brush right over that. The reality was that when shit hit the fan, a marriage either forged together or fell apart. They’d fallen apart in spectacular fashion, but he hadn’t given up hope that they could glue their lives back together again.

  He finished shaving, thankfully injury free, rinsed off his face and then ran some mousse through his thick dark hair, pushing it back off his face the way she liked it. Every little thing helped. Next, he took a quick sip from his lukewarm mug of black coffee, as he flicked through the shirts that were hanging on the curtain pole, his makeshift overflow wardrobe. Sure, he could have checked into a hotel or taken out a short-term rental, but Albie was happy to have him in the spare room and Rory appreciated having a mate around that made him laugh. Suit on, he was adjusting his cuffs as he took his coffee mug into the kitchen and put it in the sink.

  Albie was already there, still in a state of semi-dressed superhero. He rolled his bloodshot eyes in Rory’s direction.

  ‘Bloody hell, I forget that you look like something off an advert, and then you walk in here and I think Tom Ford has invaded my kitchen. How come when I wear a suit, I look like I’ve borrowed if off a grown-up to go to a funeral and you look like David Beckham in his prime? The life lottery is shit, you know that?’

  ‘Yeah, but you got a sparkling personality,’ Rory teased him, pulling out a variation of the discussion they’d been having since they met in high school.

  ‘I’d rather have that jaw,’ Albie fired back. ‘Anyway, want a pep talk before you go? Some kind of emotional support? Maybe a hug?’

  ‘Nope, that would crush my shirt. Right, mate, I’m off. I’ll phone you when it’s done. Hopefully to tell you that I’ll be vacating your spare room tonight.’

  Even saying it made his skin prickle. Was that where today was going to go? When Julia had texted him and said she thought it was time they talked, he’d been relieved and hopeful, but now he wasn’t so sure. It was complicated. There was a huge part of him that wanted to fix this, but he’d be lying if he denied there was a voice in his head that occasionally whispered his disappointment that she hadn’t stood by him in the first place. He wasn’t his father. He’d had nothing to do with the scandal. In fact, he’d been forced to walk away from his own family to protect her. Why wasn’t that enough for her?

  He shook that thought off as he stepped out into the warm May morning, and decided to walk, leaving his company Audi parked outside the building. The hotel they were meeting in, The St Kentigern, was a twenty-minute stroll away, but with the one-way system in Glasgow, and the morning rush hour, he wouldn’t be much off that if he drove from Albie’s flat on Miller Street, in Glasgow’s Merchant City area.

  He’d already let his office know that he was taking the morning off, so there was no rush to get this over with either. His secretary, Mandy, had raised an eyebrow when he’d told her what he was doing. She’d worked with him since he’d started there as a junior accountant and she was a part-time receptionist, and they’d risen through the company together. She’d been the first person who’d noticed that the boss’s daughter was dropping by more often than normal and making a point of stopping by his desk to chat. And she’d been the first person to warn him that marrying said boss’s daughter could either be a career-boosting or a career-wrecking move. Thankfully, their marital problems had been kept out of the office and Roger, Julia’s father, had not so much as mentioned it at work. Inside the company offices it was strictly business and Rory respected that, grateful that there had been no awkwardness or blurring of professional lines. The last thing he needed was to be talking about his personal life between analysing the accounts of major corporations on the hunt for evidence of a serious fraud or embezzlement.

  He wasn’t sure he believed in all that manifestation stuff, but he did his best to picture the rest of the day. Hopefully, by the end of the morning, he’d be in the office as normal, after resolving everything with Julia, and he’d be moving back into their house tonight, and celebrating their reunion.

  The streets were busy, and the temperature was higher than usual for this time of year, so he slipped his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder, then pulled his tie down a little and opened his top button. As he’d done every day for the last year, he thought about calling his mum to see how she was doing, to tell her how much he missed her, to talk about what they could do to fix their situation, but again, as he did every day, he put the thought out of his mind. She’d made her decision to sever all ties perfectly clear and he wasn’t going to cause her more grief by challenging it. Not today. One problem at a time.

  He’d planned this conversation with Julia out in his head many times over the last twelve weeks. There had been many texts and a few phone calls, but in all of them, Julia had just kept repeating that she needed time. Space. That they’d talk things through properly when she felt ready. Now that time was here, his mind blanked and his preparations for this moment were suddenly gone. He would just have to listen to what she had to say and then wing it.

  A tall doorman, about the same height as Rory’s six foot four, held the door open for him as he jogged up the steps to the hotel entrance. This had always been their favourite place for lunch on the weekends and drinks after work, so he felt like it was a good omen that she’d asked to meet him here.

  ‘Thank you,’ he nodded to the doorman, before turning left in the foyer and heading into the hotel restaurant, his footsteps dull thuds on the black and white marble floors. He scanned the stunning Art Deco room, with its ceiling-height windows and stone walls, and the corners of his mouth turned up when he saw her.

  His wife was undeniably beautiful. Her rich, deep red hair was pulled up in a ponytail today, and she was wearing a simple black T-shirt, with gold jewellery and barely any make-up. He hated to say it, but separation looked good on her. Hopefully she disagreed.

  She was staring at something on her phone, so she didn’t see him until he was almost at the table.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, instinctively leaning down and kissing her lightly on the lips.

  ‘Hi.’ She didn’t look particularly uncomfortable. Another good sign. But then, Julia Fieldow – she’d dropped her married name off the end of her title as soon as the scandal had broken – had that easy confidence of someone who came from money and who knew exactly where she was going in life. She always had. It was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. That, and her undeniably gorgeous face, her fierce intelligence, her quirky sense of humour and her absolute determination to make the most of every day and have a wonderful life.

  The waiter interrupted them and Rory ordered a coffee, to match the one that was already sitting in front of his wife.

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ he said truthfully. Okay, ease into this. Take it slow. It’s been a while. ‘You look great.’

  ‘Thanks. You too.’ Her eyes were the kind of blue that made Caribbean shorelines glisten.

  ‘How have you been?’ From him. Small talk. They had to start somewhere.

  ‘I’ve been…’ She stopped, their eyes locked, and he instantly felt that recognition, the connection they’d always had, that invisible pull of attraction. He was sure she must feel it too, and that meant they were going to be okay. Didn’t it?

  His hopes lasted no longer than a spilt second.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rory, I can’t do the small talk. I want a divorce.’

  5

  VAL

  I’d been pacing back and forth on the white granite floor of Carly’s huge open-plan kitchen since we’d arrived at her house an hour ago. On the car ride back from Heathrow, I emptied that damn bag ten times, then put everything back in and I even had Carly stop at Heston services on the M4, so I could rake through both my cases, even though I knew, with absolute certainty, that I’d put the rings in the pouch and then put the pouch in my handbag. And, oh dear God, I’d felt sick to my stomach. Tearful. Panicked. And I could barely think straight because all I could hear was thunder inside my head.

  Sitting at the breakfast bar, Carly lifted her gaze from the laptop in front of her. ‘Okay, so the Glasgow Airport Lost and Found is on a website and I’ve checked it, but there’s nothing there for today yet. According to the British Airways website, if anything is found on a plane, it gets handed in to the arrival airport. I’ve checked the Heathrow Lost and Found website, but there’s no mention of anything there either. I’ll keep checking though.’

  ‘Can’t I just call someone? Explain to them? Tell them how important these are?’ I pleaded. This bloody online world was a nightmare. I missed the days when I could just phone and explain a problem to a human. Now it was all bloody AI and chatbots and I didn’t even know or care what those actually were.

  Carly shook her head, two little lines of anxiety between her brows. ‘I’ve tried, but there are no contact numbers. It’s all done online.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ I blurted.

  Carly nearly choked on her coffee, then dabbed at a couple of drops of spluttered Nespresso on the white marble of the countertop. ‘Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before. That used to be Josie’s superpower.’

  I bit my bottom lip, trying to make it stop quivering at the mention of my dear pal’s name. What would Josie say if she were here now to see me being so bloody careless and losing the one physical thing I had to remember her by?

  Josie’s daughter, Avril, had given the ring to me on the day of her funeral. ‘Mum would have wanted you to have this. I mean, she actually wouldn’t, because that would mean she was dead, but it’s this or her Billy Idol record collection.’ Avril had managed the same smile as her mother, but hers was tinged with heartbreak. ‘I’m going to go out on a limb and say take the jewellery.’

  I’d cried and hugged her and we’d hummed Mr Idol’s ‘White Wedding’ as we poured wine for the other mourners. Josie would have approved. I just hoped she wasn’t looking down on me right now, because she would definitely not approve of this.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m just so bloody mad at myself. How could I have been so stupid? There’s a wee zipped compartment in the back of my bag and I always put anything valuable in there and zip it straight away, yet this morning I didn’t. I have no explanation. None. Other than I was tired, and stressed, and so bloody wrapped up in my own head that I wasn’t concentrating.’ I choked on a sob and gulped it back down. ‘I mean… you know I’m not materialistic. I couldn’t give a toss about anything like that. But, but…’ I couldn’t go on. My brain wouldn’t let me put into words that it wasn’t about the metal and the stones. It was about the people they represented. It was about folding my fingers around something that the people I’d lost had touched, that they’d held, that still had the imprint of their existence on it. And now I’d as good as tossed them away. How could I ever forgive myself for that?

  The back door opened, and I felt a rush of warm air as our Carol swept in, dropped her bag at the door and rushed at me, folding me into a bear hug. Although both these women lived in London now, they were Weirbridge born and bred and had never lost touch with their roots. It was one of the many reasons I adored them both. Technically, Carol was my niece-in-law by virtue of her marriage to Carly’s brother, Callum, but I’d known this lass since she was Carly’s best friend in primary school, so we were every bit as close. Back in the day, Carly had been thrilled when one of her closest pals had got hitched to her brother. We all had. They’d been joined at the hip ever since, and now Carly and her husband, Sam, had bought a house next door to Callum and Carol, so they were all practically cohabitating. It was far less confusing than it sounded. The gist of it was, blood related or not, this lot and a few of Carly and Carol’s other lifelong friends were one big family and I auntie’d them all. They’d had their fair share of heartbreak, but they’d also built smashing lives for themselves and raised lovely families. Despite all their success, though, and even though they were now circling fifty, they were both the very same girls who were climbing out of bedroom windows to go to parties when they were teenagers. No airs and graces. No trying to pretend they were something else.

  ‘I got Carly’s text about your rings, and I’m gutted for you, Aunt Val. What can I do to help?’ Carol asked, and I could see the concern on her perfect face as she released me.

  I shook my head. ‘I honestly don’t know. Nothing. I’ve phoned Amir next door and asked him to check the path and the walkway down to where the taxi was parked, but he’s not phoned back yet.’ Amir and his wife, Nish, had moved in a few years ago, when our lovely neighbour, Chrissie, had got married and gone to live with her new husband. Chrissie still popped over most weeks for a cup of tea, so we hadn’t lost touch, and Amir and Nish had become firm friends too.

  ‘And I’ve called the taxi company, but they said they can’t contact the driver right now,’ Carly added.

  The ring of my mobile interrupted us and I snatched it up. ‘Hang on, that’s Amir. Hello?’

  At first, I fell quiet as I listened, but I was sure that the tremble of my chin and the crack in my voice gave away the news when I finally spoke.

  ‘Okay, thanks Amir. I appreciate you doing that, love. No, I’m not sure when I’ll be back. I’ll knock on the door when I get home and let you know I’m there. And thank you again.’

  In reality, I knew it would have been near miraculous for them to have been sitting on the front step just waiting for Amir to come and scoop them up. That would have been too easy, but even so it was crushing to hear him say they weren’t there.

  A sob escaped my throat as I hung up. Somewhere in my body, I felt a twinge of pain, and I realised my feet were killing me. These mules weren’t made for an hour of pacing on a solid stone floor. After pulling out one of the stools at the kitchen island, I sat down, elbows on the marble, my head in my hands.

  ‘This is my fault,’ Carly groaned, making me raise my head again. ‘If I hadn’t talked you in to coming down here, this wouldn’t have happened. I know you just wanted to stay home, but we thought the change of scene and the company would help. We just wanted to take care of you for a change, since it’s always the other way around.’

  Shaking my head, I reached over, put my hand on Carly’s. ‘I know that, and I appreciate it, my love. This is no one’s fault but mine. And maybe on another day, at another time, I would be handling this better but…’ My words trailed off as I realised that if I kept on speaking, I was going to dissolve into a tsunami of tears and that wouldn’t help anyone.

  This wasn’t just about the rings. It was about Dee. It was about Josie. It was about Don. It was fifty years of living one way and having absolutely no idea how I was going to go on in a solitary existence without waking up next to the man who’d been my whole heart. Our bed was empty, our house was empty, my entire bloody world felt empty without him. Even in the last few years, as Don had descended further into the grips of Alzheimer’s, there were still glimpses of him in there. It had been hard, and it had made my soul ache, but even on his worst day, I would wait until he was asleep in bed, then wrap my arms around him and just for a minute or an hour or a night, I could pretend that he was fine, that he was still the gorgeous, kind, stoic, funny big man he’d always been. That was all I had, but I was grateful to take it, because at least he was there. Now there was no pretence. He was gone. And so was the ring he’d worn every day of our married life.