“Where did you get my earrings?” asked the wife, spotting them in her friends holiday photos.
“Grace, come look at these snaps Lucy sent from her trip!” called Victor from the kitchen, stirring sugar into his tea. “Shes tanned as a biscuit!”
Grace wiped her hands on her apron and walked over, where her husband sat scrolling through his phone, sipping his steaming brew.
“Show me,” she said, smoothing her dressing gown before sitting beside him. “Where were they again, Spain?”
“Egypt, she said. Lookheres the beach, and this ones from a restaurant” Victor flicked through the pictures, commenting on each. “Oh, this ones nicethey went on an excursion”
Grace studied the photos in silence, nodding. Lucy had always known how to present herself well, even back in schoolfull of life, the centre of attention. Theyd lost touch after university, then bumped into each other at the doctors surgery years later, striking up occasional calls since.
“Oh, I like this one,” Victor paused on a shot of Lucy at a café table, smiling at the camera.
Grace glanced at the screen and felt her stomach drop. Glinting in her friends ears were familiar earringstiny golden roses with pearls. The very pair Victor had given her for their anniversary.
“Where did she get my earrings?” Grace asked quietly, eyes fixed on the phone.
“What?” Victor looked up, confused.
“The earrings. The rose ones with pearls. You gave me a pair just like them, remember?” Her voice trembled.
Victor squinted at the photo, frowning.
“Oh, come off it, Grace. Theyre probably just similar. You can find those anywhere.”
“No, not similar. Exactly the same.” She took the phone, zooming in. “Lookhere, on the left rose, theres a tiny scratch. You remember, I caught it on the wardrobe door?”
Victor sipped his tea silently. Graces pulse quickened.
“Vic, where are my earrings?”
“How should I know? Youre the one who keeps track of your jewellery,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.
Grace stood and marched to the bedroom, yanking open her jewellery box. She rummaged throughno earrings. She checked every drawer, even peered under the dresser, then the bathroom. Nothing.
“Vic!” she called.
“What now?” he grumbled.
“Theyre gone. Not in the box.”
“Maybe you left them somewhere? Lost them on holiday?”
“What holiday? Last summer we visited your motherI didnt take them. This year we havent gone anywhere.”
Victor walked past her, flipping on the telly.
“Dunno, Grace. Maybe you sent them for repair?”
“Why would I? They were practically new.” She crossed her arms in the doorway. “Vic, look at me.”
He reluctantly tore his eyes from the screen.
“What?”
“Do you know where my earrings are?”
“No, I dont.” He turned back to the telly.
Grace returned to the kitchen, slumping into a chair. The thoughts whirled. The earrings were goneand now Lucy had them. Coincidence? But theyd been specialVictor had spent ages picking them out at the jewellers.
She grabbed her phone, found Lucys number, and typed with shaky fingers:
*”Lucy, love the holiday pics! Gorgeous earringswhered you find them? Roses with pearls?”*
The reply came quickly: *”Thanks, darling! A gift from someone lovely. Wanted a pair forever.”*
Graces heart hammered. She wrote back: *”Where from? Might treat myself.”*
*”No ideadidnt choose them. Why, though? Thought your Vic was tight with gifts?”*
Grace set the phone down. The room felt stifling. She stood by the window, steadying her breath. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was nothing.
“Grace, whats for dinner?” Victor called from the living room.
“Sort it yourself,” she said without turning.
“Whats got into you? Over a pair of earrings?”
“Over *our anniversary* earrings. Twenty years, Vic.”
“So? Lost is lost. Ill get new ones.”
“Thats not the point.”
She turned to face him. He lounged in his armchair, flicking channels.
“Then what is?”
“That Lucy has them.”
“Fine, let her have them. Who cares?”
“Victor, did you give them to her?”
A long pause. The telly droned on.
“Dont be daft.”
“Then howd she get them?”
“How should I know? Maybe she bought her own.”
Grace stepped in front of him.
“Look me in the eyes and swear you didnt give Lucy my earrings.”
He met her gazethen looked away.
“Grace, enough. Making a fuss over nothing.”
“So you did.”
“I didnt!” His voice sharpened.
Grace sat opposite him on the sofa.
“Vic, twenty years. Ive always trusted you. If theres something going on, just say.”
“Theres *nothing*!” He shot up. “Youve lost the plot! Saw a photo and spun a whole tale.”
“Then why are you sweating?”
“Because youre *at* me! I work all day, come home to this nonsense!”
He stormed to the kitchen, slamming the door. Grace stared blankly. Twenty years. Their daughter, Emily, married and living in Manchester. Their son, James, at uni, visiting weekends.
She rememberedlast year, Victor started working late, preening in the mirror, buying new shirts. Shed thought: midlife crisis, just wants to feel young.
Then the distance. Fewer hugs, less talk of the future. Shed blamed work stresshis job at the construction firm was demanding.
Clattering came from the kitchen. Victor washing his mug, slamming it down.
Grace reopened the photos, scrutinising each. Lucy on the beach, at dinner, by the pyramidsalways those earrings.
She zoomed in. Lucy glowedtanned, styled hair, fresh nails. A proper holiday.
*”Whod you go with? Solo or friends?”* she texted.
No reply. Then: *”With a mate. Busy nowchat later?”*
Grace knewLucy was lying. Shed once moaned about having no close friends after her divorce.
Three years divorced, Lucy worked as a clinic receptionist, skint with a mortgage. Whered Egypt money come from?
“Grace, popping to the shed,” Victor called from the hall.
“Fine,” she said.
The front door shut. She watched through the window as he crossed the yard, lighting a cigarette. Hed quit five years agobut lately, shed smelled smoke on his clothes.
She opened social media, scrolled Lucys profile. Holiday shots, but others toocafés, the theatre, countryside.
One photo caught her eye. A familiar jacketnavy with a fur-lined hood. Just like Victors. But the woman wearing it wasnt Lucytall, dark-haired.
Grace peered closer. Not his. Similar. She closed the app, checked Victors wardrobe. His jacket hung therebut the light-blue shirt hed bought last year was gone.
“Dad back yet?” Jamess voice startled her.
She turned. Their son stood in the doorway, rucksack in hand.
“James! Love, hes in the shed. Hows uni?”
“Mum, you okay? Youre pale.”
“Just tired. Dads been odd.”
James frowned. “Heard him on the phone yesterday. All hushed, calling someone darling. Thought it was youbut you were at work.”
Grace sat on the bed. James joined her, taking her hand.
“Mum is he seeing someone?”
“I dont know. Maybe.”
“Did you suspect?”
“Not at first. But hes been distant.”
James hugged her. “Talk to him, yeah? Properly.”
“He denies everything.”
“What tipped you off?”
She showed him Lucys photos, explained about the earrings. James studied them, frowning.
“Mum, could be a coincidence?”
“James, I wore them daily. I *know* them.”
“Then find out. You cant live like this.”
The front door opened.
“Jimmy! Good to see you!” Victor boomed, clapping his sons back.
“Dad. We need to talk. All of us.”
Victor washed his hands, avoiding Graces stare. “Right. What about?”
“Honesty,” Grace said.
“Not this earring rubbish again!”
“Not just that.”
Victor sighed. “Fine. But lets eat first.”
Dinner passed in silence. James chatted about uni; Grace pushed food around her plate. After, they gathered in the lounge.
“Out with it,” Victor said.
“
