On Friday morning, Callum opened his bedside drawer and took out a blue biscuit tin.
He put it on the bed between us.
“There.”
I didn't pick it up straight away. The corners were scratched, as Ruby had said, and the lid had a picture of a sailing boat. It was small enough to carry under one arm.
“Open it,” I said.
He eased the lid off with both thumbs.
Banknotes lay on top of a folded grey cloth. He lifted the notes and put them beside the tin.
“Count them.”
I did. Nine twenty-pound notes. A hundred and eighty pounds.
Callum sat on the other side of the bed and waited.
“It's all there,” he said.
“Yes.”
I put the notes back. Callum reached under them and lifted the folded cloth.
“I'll keep this bit till she's spoken to me.”
I caught his wrist before he could put it in the drawer.
“We agreed the whole tin.”
“Lena—”
“You said she'd take it and leave you alone. If you keep something back, she won't.”
He looked at the drawer, then let me take the cloth. I unfolded it.
The watch was heavier than I'd expected. Its strap was a row of metal links. The face was pale, with little dark marks instead of numbers. I turned it over to see whether the clasp was fastened and found the engraving on the back.
Twenty summers. Yours, E.
I read it twice.
“What?” Callum asked.
“This.”
I held it towards him. He kept his eyes on my face instead.
“It's engraved.”
“I can see that.”
“Old present, I suppose.”
There was a small dent in the edge of the case, beside the little knob for setting the time. I ran my thumb along it.
“How long did you have it?”
He picked up the lid and put it down again.
“Since before she left things here.”
“That's not an answer.”
“A while, Lena.”
I looked at the back again. I knew the phrase, or something about it. That was the unpleasant part. Not knowing whether I remembered those exact words or only the way Mara had talked about someone's anniversary present.
“Ruby said it was her father's.”
“Then ask her about it.”
“Did you know her father?”
“Not really.”
“Did she tell you where he got it?”
“No.” He reached towards the watch, then stopped before touching it. “I don't know its life story. She left it with me. She took it back. I took it again. Now you're giving it to her.”
He had made it sound so simple that I almost put it away.
I turned it face up instead. The metal was cold against my palm.
“Was it in that drawer the whole time?”
“Mostly.”
“Why didn't you give it back months ago?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You heard her. She'd come round for one thing and stay to talk about something else. I didn't handle it well.”
“You could have posted it.”
“Probably.”
He didn't argue this time.
I laid the watch on the grey cloth, folded the cloth round it and put the notes on top. When I pushed the lid down, one corner wouldn't catch. Callum pressed it until it clicked.
“Don't force it sideways,” he said. “It sticks.”
I slid the tin into my canvas tote. It fitted across the bottom, leaving space above it for my cardigan and phone.
“You're meeting her at five?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we can eat afterwards.”
I looked at him. He was sitting close enough for our knees to touch. I'd thought collecting the tin would make me feel relieved. Now I couldn't stop thinking about the back of the watch.
“I'll let you know.”
“All right.”
He leaned over and kissed me. I let him, but only once. He drew back, looking at my face.
“Something else?”
“I need to get to work.”
I took my bag and stood.
At the door, he asked, “You're not going to hand it over and let her start telling you more things?”
“I'm going to give her what I said I would.”
“Good.”
He kissed my cheek before I went down the stairs.
On the pavement, I stopped beside the shop window. I opened the tote and checked that the lid was still on. The painted boat looked back up at me.
Six months ago, Mara had shown Ruby and me Oliver Reed's photograph. There had been writing on the watch in that photograph. I could remember leaning forward to look. I could remember being asked about a dent.
I had no reason to be good at watches. I hadn't been looking at it as something to buy. I had been trying to make a missing object appear by remembering where I'd cleaned.
Now I had one in my bag, and a boyfriend who didn't want to talk about it.
I took my phone out and opened Mara's number.
Ruby says there's a family watch that looks a bit like the one Mr Reed lost. Have you still got his photograph? Could you send it to me?
I read the message again. It made it sound as if Ruby had described a watch to me, as if I hadn't just weighed it in my hand.
I sent it anyway.
Then I closed the tote and took it upstairs to my room before starting my shift.