14

14

When Ripley checked his phone as he left court, he saw five missed calls and three voice messages from his mother, and one message from Petra. Bloody hell. What the hell had happened? He waited until he was on the train, cup of coffee in front of him, before he listened to the messages in the order they'd been received.

One of those men who came to the house to value our belongings stole my diamond ring. Do something about it.

Ripley gritted his teeth. Stolen not lost? Because this wasn't the first time his mother had claimed someone had stolen something from the house and it had turned up shortly after. The first message had been sent at ten this morning. The next arrived at noon.

I've called both companies and demanded an explanation. It's appalling. Call me, Ripley! I shouldn't be having to deal with this. You chose the companies. You were supposed to be supervising.

Of course it was his fault, even though he'd told his mother and Petra anything of value should be put in the safe.

Petra said Your mother is very distressed. I think she's right. The ring has been stolen from her dressing table. I remember seeing it yesterday morning.

The final message had been sent at four.

In your absence, I've sorted it out. The ring was found in the backpack of the young man with the crutch. It's being returned tonight. I'm going to contact the police.

Ripley sucked in a breath. What the hell! He called his mother.

"About time. Why didn't you answer your phone?" she snapped.

"Because I was in court."

"There's no point phoning me now. I've reported the crime to the police."

"If you have the ring back, why bother?"

"He's a thief! He's been sacked anyway."

Oh God, Fen! "He didn't take it."

"Don't be ridiculous. It was found in his possession."

"I was with him almost the whole of the time he was in the house."

"Well, you just said it. Almost. Not every minute."

"He didn't take it. It was far more likely to be the other young man."

"Ripley, you're an idiot. I saw the way you looked at him. I'm not a fool."

She cut him off. He called Fen. When Fen didn't answer, Ripley left a message.

"I know you didn't do it. Call me. Please."

By the time he was back in London, an hour and half later, there had been no contact from Fen. All of Ripley's calls to him had gone unanswered. He dropped his briefcase off at the office, then went to Peckham. There was a light on in the flat above the betting shop but no answer when Ripley rang the bell. He banged on the door, then called through the letterbox. "Fen! It's me! Let me in. I'm not leaving until I've seen you."

Ripley stood up and leaned back against the door. He tried calling Fen again, but it went straight to voicemail. Ripley kept ringing the bell and banging but Fen didn't appear. He didn't want to go home until he'd spoken to him. Ripley looked around for a place where he could get something to eat and still see Fen's door.

Fen used his key to get into his mum's flat, and called, "Are you there?"

If she wasn't, he'd go back to his place but she shouted, "I'm in here!"

He left his bags and coat in the hall and went through to the kitchen. He'd wondered if Alistair had called to tell her what had happened, but she had her usual wide smile on her face, so he guessed not. Fen walked into her arms and she hugged him. He didn't want to pull away.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she whispered. "Is it your BMD?"

"No." Fen pressed his face into her hair, and breathed in his mum whom he loved so much.

She took hold of his fingers. "You're cold! Sit down. Let me make you a drink. Do you need something to eat?"

"No to food but I'd love a drink. In a minute." He didn't want to let go of her hands.

They both sat down.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I've been sacked." As Fen told her what had happened, her mouth dropped open.

"Oh no, no," she whispered. "How on earth did the ring end up in your backpack?"

"It has to be Scott. My guess is he took it, hoping the ring wouldn't be missed, but once he was asked about it, realised he had to hide it. I think he went into the workroom once they'd called me into the office, put it in my backpack, then persuaded Tara to say if asked that he hadn't been in there. I didn't steal it."

"Of course you didn't. The very idea! What did Alistair say?"

"Not much."

"He didn't stand up for you?"

"You're not to blame him. I know how it looks. The ring was found in my bag."

"But he knows you. You're not a thief. You've never stolen anything in your life. You didn't keep the medal and you could have done. He surely can't think you pocketed that ring. But why would Scott have taken such a risk? He must have realised the ring would be missed."

"He probably didn't think through the consequences of taking it. Maybe he imagined the other valuation company would be blamed, or the lady would think the ring had been temporarily misplaced. But the person who did the valuation after us was accompanied around the house so it couldn't have been him and how would it have ended up in my backpack? Scott gambles online. Maybe in real life too, I don't know. He might owe money. My guess is he saw an opportunity and took it, then panicked when he knew we were both going to be searched. Anyway, Charles sacked me, so that's that."

"Oh Fen!"

His heart felt like a stone in his chest. "I feel like I let you down."

"Of course you didn't. But what are you going to do?"

"I don't think there's anything I can do. I need time to get my head around it." Because he couldn't afford his bedsit for very long without a job, everything he'd saved would be quickly eaten up.

For one very brief moment, he wondered if the ring had always been in his bag, if Ripley had put it there and was then going to tell him he knew Fen hadn't done it so that Fen… No. Fen was angry with himself for even thinking it.

They both started when they heard the front door open.

"Daisy?" Alistair called.

Fen tried to get to his feet and his mother pulled him down. "In here," she called.

Alistair sighed when he saw Fen. "I thought you might come home."

"You let him get sacked?" His mum's tone was reproachful and Fen winced.

"Mum! Don't. It's not Alistair's fault."

"You didn't stand up for him."

"There was nothing he could do," Fen said.

"Why didn't you stand up for him, Alistair?"

"Daisy, I…"

"Get out," his mum said.

"No, Mum! Don't. What could he have done? The ring was in my bag. Scott is Charles's son. Of course Charles doesn't want to believe it was him. If Scott does have gambling debts, there's no way he'd want his father to know. Or anyone. None of this is Alistair's fault."

"Gambling?" Alistair asked. "Is that why he's always on his phone?"

"I caught sight of his screen a few times. It's only a guess that he owes money but…"

"Charles is always bailing him out." Alistair sighed. "Some excuse about his car or a new suit or… He made a mistake telling Scott we were going to search the pair of you. It gave Scott time to move the ring to Fen's bag."

"Maybe it wasn't a mistake," said his mum. "Maybe Charles was giving Scott the chance to blame Fen."

Alistair sagged. "Maybe, but when Tara said Scott hadn't gone to the workroom after he'd spoken to us…"

"She wants to go out with Scott," Fen said. "I think she lied because he asked her to."

"And now Fen has no job," his mum whispered. "How can he keep his flat?"

"What happened to the ring?" Fen asked.

"Charles called Mrs Belmont to tell her we had it and he's sent Scott to return it. I think if he thought there was any chance of us still getting the business, he'd have gone himself, tried to smooth things over, but…"

"But what?" his mum asked.

"She's reported the theft to the police."

Fen shuddered. "But she has the ring back."

"It doesn't matter that the ring is back with the owner," Alistair said. "It was taken with the intention of keeping it so they may pursue a charge of theft."

Fen clenched his fists. "I don't know if they can get fingerprints off the ring but I didn't touch it. Maybe Scott left fingerprints in the room he took it from. But I don't understand why the police would go to the trouble and expense of any investigation if the ring has been returned."

"I'll request they don't. I'll go and see Mrs Belmont myself tomorrow."

"Tonight," his mum snapped.

"Just let it go," Fen said quietly. "What's the point? What will happen, will happen. She's a very determined woman. I don't think you'll change her mind. It's a slam-dunk, isn't it? Ring stolen. Ring found. Guilt obvious."

His mum put her hand on his arm. "It's not fair."

Fen managed a little chuckle. "Weren't you always telling me life isn't fair? I'll sort something out. Don't worry." He pushed to his feet.

"Of course I'm going to worry. I'm your mum."

"Well, don't worry too much." He backed towards the kitchen door.

"Don't go, Fen," his mum said.

"I'm tired. I need my bed." He turned to Alistair. "Maybe you can find out if I'm right about Scott and the gambling. If he owes money, then that gives him a motive. It might make Charles think again."

"You could get your job back," his mum said.

"You know what? I don't want it back. I don't want to work with Scott or Charles. I'll find something else."

"Let me drive you home," Alistair said. "I'll drop you off, then go and see Mrs Belmont."

"No to both offers. Thank you. You'd be driving for hours. Let it go, please."

He left with his mum still trying to get him to stay. He might have if Alistair hadn't been there, but now he wanted to be on his own.

On the bus to Peckham, he checked his phone. A lot of missed calls and one message from Ripley and one from the police. Shit! He let out a shuddering breath.

He listened to Ripley say, "I know you didn't do it. Call me. Please."

He allowed himself a few seconds of fleeting pleasure before he listened to the police.

"Fen Wood? This is police constable David Standish. Would you come in to speak to us tomorrow. Any time after eleven."

He gave the address of the station. Fen sighed. He'd call Ripley once he was in his flat. Bad as it was to be sacked, getting into trouble with the police over something he didn't do was even worse.

By the time he reached Peckham, Fen was physically and mentally exhausted. He didn't feel like eating but he needed to put something in his stomach. It wasn't good for him to skip meals. He got off the bus a stop too soon and called in at the fish and chip shop. A bag of chips was a rare treat, mainly because of the cost. He added salt and vinegar and kept the wrapping open. He didn't want to take the smell back to his room.

Fen stood in the doorway of a closed charity shop to eat the chips and as he moved under cover, it started to snow, thick flakes fluttering down. It wasn't settling but it looked pretty. He watched it falling as he ate. He was halfway through the portion when a couple of guys walked past, glanced at him, said something to each other, then stopped and came back. When Fen recognised them, he mentally groaned.

"Look who's here," said the taller one.

"You hurt me," said the other.

"Where's your fuck buddy?" The taller one moved closer.

"You had your revenge shoving all that crap through my letterbox. Then pissing through it. Took me ages to clean it all up. I've had a really bad day. Please don't make it even worse."

"Oh he said please," the shorter one mocked. "Well, that makes it all right then."

The other knocked the food from Fen's hand.

Fen knew what was coming and also knew there wasn't much he could do about it. He didn't want them to take his tools, his phone or his keys. He pulled the crutch from his arm into his hand, took a deep breath and pushed past them onto the pavement. He couldn't run, but he tried to move as quickly as he could. A hand caught his shoulder and twisted him round.

"Let me go!" he yelled.

The taller one hit him in the shoulder and Fen tried to strike out with his crutch, but a kick to his knee brought him crashing to the pavement and he cried out in pain.

"Leave him alone," someone yelled.

As the blows continued, Fen curled up as best he could, trying to protect his face and stomach. Someone was wrenching at his bags, and he clung onto them. Then the pulling stopped and the taller man fell next to him, groaning. It took Fen a moment to register it was Ripley who was helping, slamming his fists into the other man. Where had he come from?

The two attackers ran off and Ripley crouched at his side. "Fen! Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay."

Ripley helped him to his feet, then picked up his crutch and handed it to him. "Let me carry your bags. We need to get inside your flat before they decide to come back."

Fen let him take them. He hobbled back down the road.

"Sure you're all right? You don't need an ambulance?" Ripley asked.

"No. I'm fine."

Once they were at his door, Fen pulled out his keys with shaking fingers. Once he and Ripley were inside, Ripley closed the door and checked it was secure. Fen was breathing heavily, more through the rush of adrenaline than pain, but then Ripley put his fingers to Fen's cheek and they came away smeared with blood and Fen groaned.

"Am I bleeding to death?" Fen tried to smile.

"Yes, don't get any blood on my coat," Ripley said. "Going to invite me up?"

Fen climbed the stairs slowly with Ripley right behind him. When Fen stumbled near the top, he felt Ripley's hand on his back, steadying him. Fen moved through his door and went to sit on his bed. Ripley put down the bags, then went over to the sink. He came back with a sheet of wet kitchen towel and sat next to him.

"It's just a scratch," Ripley said.

He wiped his cheek so gently, Fen found it hard to swallow.

"Good timing, Superman," Fen said.

"Even better timing if I'd got there before they touched you."

"And better yet if you'd saved my chips."

Ripley managed a smile. "Want me to get you some more?"

"No thanks. I've lost my appetite."

"You didn't answer your phone."

"I had it on silent. I listened to your message, thank you, and then one from the police telling me to go and see them tomorrow."

"Christ! I won't let my mother pursue this."

"Even if you manage that, I'll still have no job. I'm not devastated to have lost it, but I am upset about how I lost it."

"You could lodge a claim for unfair dismissal, I could—"

"No. I wouldn't want to go back there now."

Ripley took hold of his hand. "I will fix this. I'm a barrister. I can get you off."

Fen snorted.

"What—? Oh." Ripley huffed.

"Multiple times?"

"For those who don't learn the lesson the first time."

Fen managed an actual laugh.

"I know I said you could think about what I proposed and tell me on Friday, and that is still the case, but I want you to come home with me now. I want you out of this flat. You're not safe here. Those were two of the men who assaulted us before. I can call Harry and we can go to my place. We can get all your stuff later or we can take it with us as long as it's not furniture. I have three bedrooms not being used. You can stay with me until you sort things out. I'm not trying to push you into anything. I want to help, give you some space and time to get your head straight. You can still tell me your decision on Friday and I won't show you the door if the answer is no."

Fen was shocked by Ripley's generosity and kindness. It made him feel differently about the six month offer. Something had made Ripley wary of commitment and maybe Fen could…

He wanted to smack himself. If he accepted the proposal, he shouldn't go into it thinking there was a happy ever after within reach.

"I didn't think you'd still want me after the business with the ring. If I say yes, you might think I'm desperate because I've lost my job and with it a place to live."

"Take the week I offered to make up your mind. I know you didn't steal that ring. I don't care where they found it, you didn't take it."

"You hardly know me."

"I know you well enough to be sure you're not a thief. You could have kept quiet about the medal and you didn't. You wouldn't even take more than you'd paid for the auction lot. Not many people would have given me change for the hundred and refuse more. You're honest, Fen. I trust you. I'm a good judge of character."

You're breaking my heart already.

"I'm still giving you until Friday. Have a taste of life with me. See if you can cope with my terrible habits. But give your notice on this place and move out. If you want to rent somewhere else, that's fine, but take a moment to breathe." Ripley squeezed Fen's fingers. "Will you come home with me? Tonight?"

Fen nodded.

"Right decision." Ripley spoke into his phone. "Harry. Can you do me a favour? … Peckham, where you picked me up the other night… Great. Thanks." He looked at Fen. "Forty-five minutes. Do you want to pack your stuff?"

It should have felt too fast, but it didn't. Fen didn't feel safe here anymore. If it didn't work out with Ripley, he could always go and stay with his mum and Alistair.

"Okay."

Fen had a case on the top of his wardrobe and when he went to lift it down, Ripley caught hold of the handle and did it for him.

"I can pack your clothes. Do you want to pile up anything else that's yours?"

The flat was rented fully furnished, but Fen had bought a few extra things. He took off his coat and worked through the cupboards, putting everything he wanted into bags. It didn't take long because he didn't have much.

"Sure that's it?" Ripley asked.

Fen went round and checked. "Yes."

"I'll move everything to the bottom of the stairs."

"Thank you."

While Ripley did that, Fen wiped down surfaces in the kitchen and bathroom, swept the floor and took a few photos to show he was leaving the place as it looked when he'd moved in. He didn't want to lose his deposit. He also took pictures of the meters.

When Ripley came for the last items, he said, "Harry's outside. Come and stand by the door downstairs while we load up."

Fen nodded.

He fell asleep in the car and only woke when Ripley nudged him. He realised he'd been leaning against Ripley and pushed himself upright.

"We're here," Ripley said.

Fen looked out of the window. "Where's here?"

"Islington."

Fen climbed out of the car and looked up at the town house. "Is all of it yours? The whole house?"

"Yes."

A few minutes later, the house alarm was deactivated, Fen and all his belongings were in the hall and Harry had gone. The place was much more modern inside than he'd expected. White walls and a wide-planked wooden floor. Stairs rose ahead of them and there were rooms on either side.

"Is the house listed?" Fen asked.

"Grade II. It's over two hundred years old. An extra-wide Georgian town house with four bedrooms." Ripley hung up his coat and held out his hand for Fen's. He put them on a hook by the door.

"Do you want something to eat? Drink? Or shall I show you round first?"

Fen nodded. "Better tell me what I can't touch."

"Touch what you like, just don't break anything." He hesitated. "I'm joking."

"You want me to break something?"

"I want you to be comfortable and if you break something accidentally, don't worry about it. Unless it's my coffee machine. Then you need to worry. That was a joke too. Sort of."

"Pity you can't kintsugi everything." Especially hearts. And coffee machines.

Ripley smiled.

His home was like something out of a magazine. Most of the walls were white but some had been painted in a striking blue. The kitchen was twice as big as Fen's bedsit and the room it was in stretched across the back of the house, separated from the garden by a bank of tall sash windows, and bifold doors.

"Is that the garage?" Fen asked.

"No, it's a summer house. Luckily, I managed to rent a garage a short distance away."

Lucky to have a garage? Lucky full stop. Fen was only half-taking in what Ripley was telling him. He'd already forgotten how to switch on the TV. The coffee machine looked too complicated and was definitely nothing he'd touch until he'd watched Ripley use it a few times. And maybe not even then. Fen was overwhelmed by everything: the pictures on the walls, the geometric metal wolf and bear heads, the tiles in the bathroom, the soft furnishings. The kintsugi globe sat alone on a side table. Hello, old friend.

Ripley had one room full of books, shelves floor to ceiling with a sliding ladder, and a desk in front of the window. There was even a basement with exercise equipment.

"I just bought this bike," Ripley said. "You can cycle in the Alps or down the Big Sur."

"Along city streets too? You could pretend you were dodging traffic."

"I'd not thought about that. Bit like playing a game but exercising at the same time. Can you use any of this stuff?"

"In moderation." But not while I'm aching head to foot.

On the next floor there were two bedrooms with bathrooms.

"This one is mine," Ripley said. "There are two more upstairs and a large storage space. You can have the room opposite mine or go up a level."

"Opposite you is fine."

"I'll bring your things up. I'm going to make myself something to eat. Probably bruschetta if the bread's not mouldy. Would you like some?"

"Maybe a little."

"Come on then."

They went back downstairs. Fen sat on one of the stools that lined the granite work top and watched Ripley.

"You have a beautiful home. Was it like this when you bought it?"

Ripley froze for a moment with his back towards him, his hand on the fridge.

What did I say?

"No, it wasn't. Would you like a glass of wine?"

Not really, but maybe it would help him sleep."If you're having one. Thank you."

Ripley poured out two glasses of red from an already open bottle.

"Do you have a cleaner?" Fen asked.

"Three hours once a fortnight. I don't make much of a mess."

"Do you dare?"

Ripley laughed. "Your place was neat and tidy."

"And very small. No room to swing a cat." He winced. "I know that's referring to a cat o' nine tails but I have to admit, when I say it or read it, I think of an animal being swung around in a room and it makes me cringe."

Ripley cut a ciabatta loaf in half lengthways, then began to chop up tomatoes. "Doesn't it make you shudder at the thought of a man being whipped?"

"Strangely enough not as much as the idea of a little cat being swung round by its tail."

"I think there might be a lot less crime if the punishment was physical."

"Whatever the crime you get your hand chopped off? For going through a red light, littering, peeing in public, flashing?"

"Would that be enough of a deterrent? Having a death penalty in many American states doesn't stop people doing awful things."

"That's true. I don't like the idea of capital punishment. Innocent people are sometimes found guilty."

"That's also true. And you're not going to court." Ripley turned on the grill.

"Will you defend me if I have to?"

"Yes."

"It wouldn't be a conflict of interest?"

"No. But it's not going to happen. Are you okay with mozzarella?"

"I'm fine with a small amount."

"Are you allergic to anything?"

"Not that I know of. I have to be careful with dairy products. Do you have any allergies?"

"No."

"Can I cook for you one night? Is there anything ordinary you won't eat?"

Ripley shot him a look. "Define ordinary."

"White truffles, Beluga caviar, Kopi Luwak coffee, Densuke watermelon?"

Ripley raised his eyebrows. "I haven't heard of Densuke watermelon."

"Black rind, bright red interior, only grown on the island of Hokkaido and they're very sweet. I don't think you can buy them here."

"What do they cost?"

"One once sold for six thousand dollars but usually a few hundred pounds at least."

"Good grief."

"I'm full of Japanese trivia. Have you ever eaten Wagyu beef?"

"Yes." Ripley put the bread under the grill.

Fen grimaced. "It looks so fatty. There's 300% more monounsaturated fat in Wagyu than in normal beef. I don't like fat, unless it's part of smoky bacon, and then not too excessive and crisped to extinction. I like bacon you can break in half."

"I prefer mine well done too. I've only had Wagyu once. It was delicious. Melted in the mouth. It didn't taste fatty."

"Do you know what the word means?"

"No idea."

"Wa means Japanese. Gyu means cow."

"Japanese cow. I won't forget that."

"You could have said that without smirking."

"Probably." Ripley pulled out the bread and topped it with the chopped tomato. "Don't forget to tell the council you no longer live in Peckham. And whatever utility companies you're registered with."

Fen nodded. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"I do have an ulterior motive. But no pressure."

"Do you have a swimming pool?"

"No."

Fen gave a heavy sigh. He was only joking but then worried Ripley might not realise.

"A hot tub?" Fen asked.

"I'll get one."

Fen gaped at him.

"If you say yes."

"That's not pressure?"

"Incentive."