They return to Onslow Square not long after, strolling through Hyde Park, arm in arm. They talk of the restaurant, how they enjoyed the veal especially. Ralph jokes about the cream and her anxiety about gaining weight, but the delicious possibilities of carnality have vanished from Harriet’s thoughts now that she is sober, and she really does think that perhaps she ought to lose a few pounds. They talk of the wedding, of needing to decorate Ralph’s house in Mayfair before Harriet moves in. Anyone listening to the conversation would assume from the animated way they speak that they were a couple wildly in love, planning their future with good sense and careful thought.

That is exactly what we are, Harriet tells herself. But as they embrace on the steps of her parents’ house – before greeting Gerald and Isabel formally and properly – she feels a little flat. As though something is missing.

19

19

Wednesday morning

‘This ain’t no ordinary piece, Magpie.’

Solly sits in the kitchen above the shop, his eyeglass pressed into his socket, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip. He is examining Peter Lazenby’s pocket watch. The tiny stones on the case glisten in the morning light. Solly presses the catch, and the case opens. Ruby hears him murmur an appreciative curse under his breath. She has already seen it – the exquisite movement, so delicate and precise – and knows why he is swearing. It mesmerised her for a long time. He’s right: it isn’t ordinary. How long will it be before Peter realises it is missing? How often does he open the box that is lying among his socks and check that his family heirloom is still there? How often does he entertain thieves in his bedroom?

‘Where did you find it?’ He closes it and lays it on the table. The initials engraved into the back of the casing stare up at her, accusing her now that she can read them. P.F.G.L. They’ve been added recently, by the look of them, by the sort of man who might want to mark his property. Perhaps it wasn’t an heirloom, after all. Just something else he fancied.

Ruby stands, her back leaning against the sink, chewing her lip.

‘Fell into my hand. You know how it is.’

He drops the eyeglass onto the table and stares at her. ‘Come off it. What’s the story? I’m not an expert when it comes to watches, but it’s old and made by someone who knew what he was doing. Where did you find it?’

‘Alright. Man in Soho. Gentleman. Owns a nightclub in Gerrard Street. It’s his watch.’

Solly wipes a hand over his scalp and frowns. ‘If he’s rich enough to own something like this, and he runs a club in Soho, then he’s a crook. A real one. You know that as well as I do.’