She nodded, happy that he seemed pleased with them. ‘I like to sew. Go on. Open the other.’

He did as she asked, drawing from the wrapping paper a black silk pouch with a woven cord clasp. ‘What is it? It’s beautiful.’ He ran a finger over the Chinese dragons.

‘It’s a pouch for your tobacco.’

He shook his head and she saw his eyes were misted. ‘No one, no one, has ever gone to the trouble to make something for me. It must have taken you ages.’

‘I did it in the evenings when Jasmine was in bed. I wanted to give you something personal.’

‘Thank you, Evie. It means a lot to me.’ He looked sheepish. ‘Did you get something for yourself?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t need anything.’

‘I have something for you. It’s an heirloom I want you to have. Wait here.’

He disappeared into the study and she could hear him unlocking the door to the desk. He returned with a small leather box, slightly faded and worn around the edges. ‘It belonged to my mother and my grandmother before her. I’d like you to have it.’

Evie flipped the box open to reveal a gold ring with a pearl surrounded by tiny diamonds. She swallowed. ‘Did this belong to Felicity before me?’

Douglas looked aghast. ‘No, of course not. No one’s worn it since my mother. She died when I was ten.’

‘It’s beautiful.’ She put it on her finger and held out her hand. ‘So delicate and it fits perfectly. Thank you, Doug.’

Later that night as she lay awake in bed with a sleeping Douglas beside her, she remembered how he had looked horrified at the idea of Felicity owning the ring. She didn’t think he’d been appalled at her suggestion that he’d been insensitive enough to have given her something that had once belonged to his late wife. No, it was the idea of giving Felicity the ring in the first place that was abhorrent. Maybe things weren’t quite as she’d thought.

17

Jasmine was overcome with excitement on Christmas morning. It was Evie’s first Christmas in the presence of a child, and she found the little girl’s pleasure infectious. Jasmine cried out with delight when she opened a box to find a grinning Shirley Temple doll inside. Even Douglas managed to crack a smile, and was willingly drawn, once the Christmas dinner had been consumed, into assisting his daughter in the construction of a Bayko suburban house, with its own garage made of bakelite bricks held together by steel rods.

From time to time, Evie glanced at her finger where the ring Douglas had given her sparkled. She watched her husband playing with their daughter, and contentment suffused her. It had been a long and difficult road but she believed that at last she had arrived. She was home. Douglas may not love her, and she no longer thought she loved him either since her feelings for Arthur had surfaced. But they had reached an accommodation with each other. She was growing used to his unpredictability and volatility and he was beginning to show her some respect that might one day evolve into something more – especially once the baby arrived. Evie sent up a silent prayer that it would be a boy. But if it wasn’t, they would keep trying until he had the son and heir he longed for.