He didn’t catch her answer because his eye was drawn to something sparkly on her wrist. A silver bracelet with white gems and tiny pearls. Not her usual style. Not the kind of thing she’d ever buy for herself.

He was still staring at it after she’d finished speaking. She tugged down her sleeve and walked away into the kitchen.

Chris followed. He knew he had to be careful with his words, his tone, but it was hard not to grab her arm and yell.

“New bracelet?” he said casually.

She had opened a cupboard and was gazing at rows of jars and tins. She swiveled a couple so their labels faced her and Chris heard the bracelet slide along her arm.

“Di gave it to me.”

“Oh, right.”

“I should take it off before I go back on shift.” He saw how she couldn’t help touching it, couldn’t resist a quick look before she smoothed her sleeve back down.

“Real diamonds?”

She snorted. “Di’s not made of money. More so than we are, for sure, but not diamond level.”

With a small dissatisfied noise, she closed the cupboard she’d been peering into and opened the next one along, contemplating a pack of biscuits. Chris didn’t know what she was searching for, what she wanted but apparently hadn’t found.

As he turned to leave, she said, “Did you know the girl from upstairs is missing?”

Chris wheeled back to face her. She was looking at him, her posture and eyes suddenly alert, like a different person. He nodded.

“I feel awful now,” she said. “For calling them those names when we first moved in.”

“We didn’t mean anything by it.”

We were just developing our in-jokes, he wanted to add, back when we still had them. Back when we used them to cling together if we felt like fishes out of water.

—

He did have lessons booked for the rest of the morning—Saturday was always busy—and there was nothing to do but forge on with his routine. The sense of a street made of eyes was more oppressive than ever as he left the house for the second time. Still he couldn’t look up at the Harlows’ even for an instant. He ducked his head into his car like a celebrity—or a criminal—avoiding the press.