Evie tipped the contents of the tray out onto the duvet and set about refilling it, picking out all the bracelets first, concentrating on untangling the slender gold and silver chains, picking gently at the knots and shaking them free. ‘What’s the occasion?’ she asked. The earrings were an anniversary present, she knew, but her parents’ anniversary was in February.

‘Oh, there’s no occasion,’ said Carolyn. ‘I’d almost forgotten I had them, but they’re hers, you see.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Nell Galilee’s. She designed them.’

‘Oh.’ Evie digested this new information. ‘Right, so you want to wear them now?’

‘Well, I’d like to find the second one, if I can. Then I’ll worry about finding an occasion to wear them.’

Evie moved on to the earrings, a jumble of silver wire, beads, pearls and sparkles, pairing them up carefully, putting them in place, in their plush blue nests. So many birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries, so many surprises.

‘Is she famous, then? She didn’t seem to like the idea much.’

Her mum smiled. ‘No, maybe not famous, not in the way you think. But she’s certainly done better for herself than most of the girls I was at school with. She made the jewellery that was used in that TV show you liked, the one with the actress.’

‘I think you’re going to need to be a bit more specific.’

‘Anyway, because of that, there was quite a bit of attention.’

‘The Sunday Times?’ Evie might have read the article, she followed stuff like that, fashion, design, although she didn’t remember it, or recognise Nell.

‘Right.’

It was quite restful, sorting everything, picking up the odd broken bits and pieces. Maybe, if she was lucky, her mum might pass on something she’d got bored with, something she no longer cared for. If she managed to find the missing earring, then that would certainly earn a couple of brownie points and these things were important.

‘Could you tell?’ Evie asked. ‘When you were at school, could you tell she was going to be successful?’

‘Ha.’ Carolyn darted forward, then held up the second earring, smiling. ‘Got it.’ She slid it through the hole in her ear. ‘What do you think?’

‘Nice,’ Evie said, automatically, but the earrings were more than nice; they were – stylish. There was nothing difficult or complicated about them, they were simple lengths of polished silver, with turquoise beads clustering at each end. But there was something about them, something elegant and considered, something about the way her mother, who was inspecting her reflection in the mirror, turning her head this way and that, seemed to light up because of them that made Evie want to try the earrings for herself. ‘They’re lovely,’ she said.

‘Hmm.’ Carolyn was barely listening now.

Evie went back to her task, unpicking the mess of her mother’s discarded finery. ‘Was she, like, arty, then?’