‘Are you actually serious?’ I say, raising my voice. ‘Is this some sort of joke?’

‘We can’t think of any other explanation, Grace,’ Dad replies.

I stand up and push my chair in, looking at them both.

‘Well you’re wrong,’ I say. ‘Tom didn’t take it. And do you know how I know? Because he’s never even set foot in her house, that’s why. How dare you come round here and accuse him of doing that? After everything that’s been said and done over the past few days!’

Mum stands up and moves towards me. ‘Darling, we just—’

‘No, Mum! I’ve had enough. Get out. Both of you. Just get out!’

They look at each other, Mum giving Dad a look that says I told you this was a stupid idea, before they both leave.

23

Tuesday 7 January

I didn’t dare tell Tom what Mum and Dad said. I know he’d have been supportive and told me they were just under stress, didn’t know him that well and had no other option, but it doesn’t matter. How on earth do you tell your own partner that your parents suspect him of stealing your dead Nan’s jewellery?

I really don’t know what they’ve got against Tom. Maybe they’re just hell-bent on me staying single. They were broken when Matt left and they realised it was over between us. If they ever have realised, that is. I still don’t think they’ve come to terms with it. Part of me wonders whether they want me to be happy because there’s a chance it might go wrong again. Maybe they’re just waiting for Matt to come back into my life, or for me to go chasing him and asking for him back because things were so much better before.

I’m pretty sure Tom can tell something’s up, but he doesn’t say anything. He probably just thinks I’m still upset about Nan and the work thing.

Cath’s wedding is next month, and I’m desperately hoping I’ll be able to put on some sort of a brave face for it. At the moment it feels as though the whole world is crashing down on me.

While we’re busily watching some rubbish on TV, Mum texts to ask if they can come over. My heart sinks. It didn’t exactly go all that well the last time they did that. But she adds a caveat: she wants to apologise.

Having them over would mean telling Tom about what happened, the things they’d accused him of, and I really don’t want to have to do that. But Mum’s follow-up text tells me I might not have much choice.

Please. We’re outside x

I daren’t open the curtains and peer out, because they’ll see me. Not that they don’t already know I’m in here, of course. But the fact they’ve turned up and parked outside the house without even contacting me first really pisses me off.

‘What is it?’ Tom says, noticing something’s wrong.

So I tell him. I have to. I’ve got no choice.