‘Oh yes, indeed, sir. An exquisite piece.’ The jeweller obligingly picked up the sapphire ring in his deft, white-gloved fingers, giving it another unnecessary buffing with his small cloth before handing it to Heidi for re-examination. ‘Circa 1880. Reputedly made for the coming of age of the eldest daughter of one, long-forgotten, Lord Hastings. He had seven greedy daughters, the poor man, which may in large part have contributed to his seeing out his years in a debtors’ prison.’ As he tittered, Heidi carefully set the ring down. Her eyes roamed around the rest of the dazzling selection, while both men watched her avidly. Every gem in every combination anyone could wish for was there, surely, Lucas reflected grimly, except of course the one she had originally accepted, back when life was simple and the summer sun bright. Heidi had repeatedly insisted she didn’t want a replica made – it wouldn’t feel right she said – but now it seemed she didn’t want a new one either.

‘Lucas… I am sorry… can we go?’ she murmured, stepping back from the counter, and pulling him with her in a bid not to be overheard.

‘Of course, darling.’ Lucas spoke brightly, wary of the salesman hovering, and cheering himself up with the fact that Heidi had, just that morning, after some much-needed, mutually satisfying love-making, agreed not only to the visit to the jeweller’s, but to a date for the wedding. Mid-June. The summer solstice. He had already written to Claire Moore venturing to ask if the chapel might be available.

The door gave its little chime as it released them back into the street. ‘There is no urgency, darling. We have eight months, remember?’

‘Assuming the college says yes and that there’s no danger of Moira being around.’ She spoke sullenly, concentrating on her hands as she fed them into her thick leather gloves.

‘Term will be over, and Moira will be long gone.’ Lucas slid his arm across her back as she zipped up her thick coat, trying to provide a comfort that he could not himself feel.

‘Okay. Now I must go.’

‘To do your Flaubert turn. Bringing Goethe in where you can.’ He smiled at her fondly.

‘That is my hope for the lecture, yes.’

Lucas could sense she was eager to head off, even though it was still only four-thirty and the lecture hall just a five-minute stroll away. ‘Then, tonight you—’

‘Tonight, like I told you already, I have my spin, then I’m dining in college, and after that I must do more planning for my supervisions next week, and tomorrow morning I have a faculty meeting, then I shall do my own work in the afternoon.’

‘You could always work at mine?’