‘Fifty pence says I win more than you.’

‘You’re on.’

Chapter 19

I don’t like not knowing where she is, or when she’s coming back.

There are still so many things I need to know; things only she can tell me. I just have to work out when, and how – and if – she is ever going to do that. But why should she? Unless I can find a way to make her.

It’s not easy looking for clues. Alone in the dark, padding about with bare feet, not wanting to leave any trace. What would I expect to find anyway? It’s not as if I need evidence. She was the one. I know that now, only too well.

But I’ve done it again anyway. Crept in here, while the place is empty. The girl went out, and I came in. At least the nights fall early at this time of the year. Darkness and silence cover my tracks.

This is her territory, her space, and being here gives me a special sense of satisfaction. Keep the enemy close, that’s what they say. And while she’s away … well, she’s never going to know, is she? Until I decide to tell her.

The flowers have gone, but there are necklaces, lying neatly, side by side, in a tray. Not in their usual tangle. As if she’s sorted through them, rearranged them. Deciding what to take with her, perhaps, and what to leave behind? One by one I pick them up, run my fingers over the chains. I can’t help wondering where they came from. Whether he bought her this one, or that one? All of them? None of them?

I’ve never done it before. I’ve rearranged things, hidden things, even turned on a tap once, but I’ve never taken anything away. But this time, I will. Just the one. She won’t miss it. Not one, among so many. And if she does, she’ll tell herself she’s lost it, put it down somewhere and forgotten where, the way she so often does. Especially since I’ve been playing my little games. Working my magic. She’ll expect it to turn up again, but it won’t. Not this time.

I have so little that was his. I’m just taking something back, that’s all.

I pick up a thin chain, with what feels like a pearl hanging from it. I lift it to my face, feel its roundness against my skin, its smoothness. He used to say I was precious, his pearl, his little gem. I thought then that it meant he loved me best. More than anyone. I believed I was the centre of his world.

No, not this one. Not the pearl. I lay it down again. He would never have bought her a pearl. He knew how much that would have hurt me. It would be too cruel, and he was never deliberately cruel.

But this next one … a locket. Thick, flat, oval. I wonder what’s inside. His picture? A lock of his hair? Or nothing to do with him at all? I try to prise it open with my fingernail. Whatever it holds, I will remove it, destroy it or keep it, depending on what it might turn out to be, leave her just an empty shell. But it’s locked tight, holding its secrets close. I take it anyway. Whatever it contains, it will be precious to her. That’s what lockets are for, holding the mementoes, the memories you want to cling to, the ones you never want to lose. But she didn’t even take it with her. That’s how little he means to her now. Left on a cupboard, lost in a pile of tat. She didn’t have to take him from me. She robbed me, and now I am robbing her. I slip the chain over my head, around my neck, clasp it to my skin. Her loss, my gain. It feels good to turn things around that way, to turn the tables, take something from her for a change.