“Where did you get my earrings?” asked Emily, her voice trembling as she stared at the photo on the phone.
“Em, come look at these pictures Lucy sent from her holiday!” called David from the kitchen, stirring sugar into his tea. “Shes tanned like a bronze statue!”
Emily dried her hands on a tea towel and walked in, where David was scrolling through his phone, sipping his tea.
“Show me,” she said, sitting beside him and adjusting her dressing gown. “Where did they go, Spain?”
“Egypt, she said. Lookheres the beach, and this ones at a restaurant…” David flicked through the photos, commenting on each. “Oh, this ones gorgeous! They went on a tour…”
Emily studied the pictures in silence, nodding. Lucy had always known how to present herselfeven back in school, shed been the life of the party. After uni, theyd lost touch, then bumped into each other at the GPs office years later, rekindling an occasional chat.
“Oh, I like this one,” David paused on a shot of Lucy smiling at the camera, seated at a café table.
Emilys stomach turned to ice. In Lucys ears glinted a familiar pair of earringstiny golden roses with pearls. The very ones David had given her for their twentieth anniversary.
“Where did she get my earrings?” Emily whispered, eyes locked on the screen.
“What?” David glanced up, confused.
“The earrings. The rose ones with pearls. You gave them to me, remember?” Her voice wavered.
David squinted at the photo, frowning. “Dont be daft, Em. Theyre probably just similar. Jewellers sell loads like that.”
“No. Not similar. Exactly the same.” She took the phone, zooming in. “Look, hereon the left rose, that tiny scratch. Remember when I caught it on the wardrobe door?”
David sipped his tea silently. Emilys pulse thudded in her ears.
“David. Where are my earrings?”
“How should I know? You keep track of your own jewellery,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
Emily marched to the bedroom, straight to her vanity. She yanked open the jewellery box, sifting through necklaces and brooches. The earrings were gone. She checked every drawer, even peered under the dresser. Nothing.
“David!” she called.
“What now?” he grumbled.
“Theyre not here. Theyre gone.”
“Maybe you lost them on holiday?”
“What holiday? Last summer we visited your mumI didnt even take them. And this year we havent been anywhere!”
David walked past her, flopping onto the sofa and switching on the telly.
“Dunno, Em. Maybe you sent them for cleaning?”
“Why would I? They were practically new.” She stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “David. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the screen. “What?”
“Do you know where my earrings are?”
“No,” he said, turning back to the telly.
Emily returned to the kitchen, slumping into a chair. Her mind raced. The earrings were missingand now Lucy had them. Coincidence? But they were custom-made. She remembered David spending ages picking them out.
She grabbed her phone, opened contacts, and tapped Lucys name. Her fingers shook as she typed:
*”Lucy, hi! Just saw your holiday picslooks amazing! Those earrings are gorgeous. Whered you get them? The rose ones with pearls?”*
A reply came fast: *”Thanks, Em! A gift from someone special. Wanted them forever!”*
*”Where from? Might treat myself.”*
*”No ideadidnt pick them. Why? Thought your hubby was tight with gifts, lol.”*
Emily set the phone down. Her heart hammered. She stood, pacing to the window, trying to steady herself. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it *was* just a coincidence.
“Em, whats for dinner?” David called from the lounge.
“Sort yourself out,” she said without turning.
“Whats got into you? Over a pair of earrings?”
“Over a pair of earrings,” she echoed. “Our twentieth anniversary gift.”
“So what? Lost is lost. Ill buy new ones.”
“Thats not the point, David.”
She turned to face him. He lounged in his armchair, flicking channels.
“Then what is?”
“The point is, Lucy has them.”
“So? Whats it to you?”
“David. Did you give them to her?”
A long pause. The telly droned on.
“Dont be ridiculous.”
“Then how did she get them?”
“How should I know? Maybe she bought her own.”
Emily stepped in front of him. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didnt give Lucy my earrings.”
He met her gazethen looked away.
“Em, enough. Turning a molehill into a mountain.”
“So you did.”
“I didnt!” His voice sharpened.
She sat on the sofa opposite. “Twenty years, David. Ive always trusted you. If somethings going on, just say it.”
“Nothings going on!” He shot up. “Youre losing it over a bloody photo!”
“Then why are *you* so rattled?”
“Because youre exhausting! I work all day, come home to thisthird degree over *nothing*!”
He stormed to the kitchen, slamming the door. Emily sat frozen. Twenty years of marriage. Their daughter, Sophie, married and living in Manchester. Their son, James, at uni, visiting weekends.
She rememberedlast year, David started working late, preening in the mirror, buying new shirts. Shed brushed it off as a midlife crisis.
Then came the distance. Fewer hugs, fewer plans. Shed blamed work stresshis high-pressure job at the construction firm.
The clatter of dishes sounded from the kitchen. David washing his mug, banging cutlery.
Emily reopened Lucys photos, scrutinising each. There she wason the beach, at dinner, by the pyramids. Always with *those* earrings.
She zoomed in on one. Lucy glowedtanned, manicured, hair styled. A perfect holiday.
*”Whod you go with? Solo or with friends?”* she texted.
No reply. Then: *”With a mate. Busy nowchat later?”*
Emily knewLucy was lying. Shed once complained how hard it was to make close friends after her divorce.
Three years single, working as a GP receptionist. Howd she afford Egypt?
“Em, popping to the garage!” David called from the hall.
“Fine,” she said.
The front door slammed. She watched from the window as he crossed the drive, lighting a cigarette. Hed quit five years agoyet lately, shed smelled tobacco on his clothes.
She opened Instagram, found Lucys profile. Photos from the holiday, others from cafés, the theatre.
One caught her eyea familiar navy jacket, fur-lined hood. Just like Davids. But the woman wearing it wasnt Lucytall, dark-haired, slender.
Emily squinted. Not his. Just similar. She checked the wardrobehis jacket hung there.
But the blue shirt was missing. The expensive one hed bought last year.
“Dad back?” A voice behind her.
She turned. James stood in the doorway, duffel bag in hand.
“James! Oh, love. Hes in the garage.”
Her son hugged her. “Mum, you okay? Youre pale.”
“Just tired. Hows uni?”
“Fine. But whats up here? Dads been weird on the phone. Heard him yesterdayall hushed, calling someone darling. Thought it was you, but you were at work.”
Emily sank onto the bed. James sat beside her, taking her hand.
“Mum… is Dad seeing someone?”
“I dont know, love. I just… Hes been distant.”
“Did you suspect?”
“No. Well… lately, hes changed.”
James pulled her close. “Mum, talk to him. Properly.”
“He denies everything.”
“What set you off?”
She told him about the earrings, showed Lucys photos. James studied them, brow furrowed.
“Mum, could it *be* a coincidence?”
“James, I wore them every day. I *know* them.”
“Then find out. You cant live like this.”
The front door opened.
“James! Good to see you, son!” David boomed.
James stood. “Dad. We need to talk. Family meeting.”
“About what?” David hung his coat, heading to the sink.
“Honesty,” Emily said.
“Not this again!” David called from the kitchen. “Emily, drop it!”
“Its not just the earrings.”
He walked in, drying his hands. “Fine. Lets
