“Noah wants to sleep,” she says.

Poppy looks up. “Izzy will think you’re being mean to Ash, Sorrel. She doesn’t like mean people.”

Sorrel puts her thumb in her mouth; tears bulge then slide slowly down her cheeks.

“Jesus.” Poppy rolls her eyes.

Eve needs to hurry supper, everyone’s tired. “Wash hands, please, food’s nearly ready.”

The children jostle briefly at the sink and she washes her hands afterward, noticing with a little jolt that her ruby ring isn’t on her finger. And then she remembers, she left it on the bedside table this afternoon. She hurries upstairs and into their room, her hand outstretched, but she halts with a sick sense of shock; the ring is gone. She moves the pile of books and then the lamp to no avail; with growing panic she searches the floor under the table and then under the bed. Feeling breathless, she shakes out the duvet and the pillows. Nothing. Her precious ruby engagement ring that cost Eric all his savings twelve years ago has completely vanished.

“I’m starving.” Sorrel’s plaintive voice floats upstairs.

“Sit down at the table, sweetheart,” she calls back. “I won’t be long.”

She straightens the bedcovers, heart thumping. Eric knows she removes the ring only before lovemaking; did he find it on the bedside table on his return? Has he guessed? He might have taken it to punish her and be waiting to gauge her response. She stands quite still, trembling, forcing herself to stay calm. It’s far more likely it was knocked somewhere when Martin pulled the duvet off the bed; maybe he discovered it on the floor and put it somewhere safe, forgetting to tell her.

“Mum!”

She hurries downstairs. The children are sitting in their places; Sorrel looks unhappy, Poppy impatient, Ash is halfasleep. Eve puts the casserole on the table and lights candles with an unsteady hand. Eric enters and sits down silently, his expression serious. How can she ask him if he has her ring? If he doesn’t, his suspicions will be aroused; if he does, what then? He might begin to question her; what would she say? She needs an excuse, something convincing; her thoughts spin. She cuts the baked potatoes and slides in butter, then serves everyone the casserole, fragrant with wine, dark mushrooms, and onions.

“So how did it go today, Pops?” She forces herself to sound bright.

Poppy shrugs, pushing her food around her plate. It might be wiser not to pursue her with questions tonight. She looks tired, her face is closed; tomorrow would be better. Sorrel glances at Noah as she eats, she looks worried. Ash’s eyelids droop with tiredness. Eric smiles at the children; the kitchen seems as peaceful as it always does at supper, but below the table her hands twist in her lap.

“More food, anyone?”

“I’ll help myself,” Eric tells her.

She watches his face, trying to see if he is angry or upset; he seems preoccupied—what does he know? He looks up and meets her gaze calmly; she lowers her eyes, feeling helpless.