‘Your grandmother’s jewels, I think.’ She smiled. ‘I thought they might inspire you for your upcoming exhibition.’ She stopped in front of Lottie. ‘Because of everything that has happened, I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you on being chosen.’

The colour drained from Lottie’s face. What should she say? She could just accept the congratulations and move on, postponing the inevitable problem, or come clean.

‘Are you feeling OK?’ Her mother tilted her head.

‘Mum . . .’ Lottie began but stopped. ‘Mum, I won’t be exhibiting.’

‘What?’ Her mother leaned against the wall. ‘You were selected.’

‘True. I was but there is a problem.’

Her mother’s eyes narrowed.

Lottie coached herself to just say what happened. It would all come out eventually. ‘Look, I trusted Paul, he . . .’

‘He what?’

‘He walked off with all my finished pieces and all my materials and designs.’

‘How did you let that happen?’

Lottie closed her eyes. The whole situation was far worse. ‘Because we worked together, he knew the safe codes.’ And he was my husband, she added silently.

‘You told the police?’

She nodded. ‘But because he knew the codes there was no theft, so to speak, or at least as far as my insurance goes.’

‘But you have time to remake the work?’

‘True but that would take a lot of money.’

‘Re-mortgage your flat.’

‘I’d extended my mortgage already to give him a loan.’

‘You what?’

‘I know. I was stupid and gullible yet again. But he’d been helpful to me, nurturing my talent.’

‘He was jealous of your talent.’

Lottie flinched. ‘So when he asked for my help, I gave it to him. But now he’s gone, and my flat is sold, and my debts will be paid.’

Her mother shook her head. ‘I never thought much of him and this proves I was right.’ She huffed. ‘You’re too bloody trusting.’ She paused then asked, ‘Did you say you’ve lost your flat?’

Lottie nodded.

‘Have you told your grandfather?’

Lottie looked through the nearest bedroom window to the sea. This was what she was dreading most. The deposit had been his gift to her. ‘Not yet.’

‘I see.’ She pressed her lips together and Lottie watched the thought process and prepared herself. ‘When were you going to tell me?’ She leaned closer and Lottie sympathised with all the people she’d interviewed.

‘You don’t make it easy.’ Lottie crossed her arms. ‘And there’s nothing that can be done now. There was no point mentioning it with everything going on.’

‘It’s your life. You should know better.’ Her mother put the box on the table next to the flowers Lottie had brought in on Friday. Could today only be Sunday?

‘One of the reasons I didn’t rush to tell you was just this.’ She took a deep breath. ‘You always take me apart. It’s not something I was proud of but it’s a fact.’