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‘I’m surprised you didn’t want to stay there while you’re in between houses.’

He glanced sideways at her for a moment then said, ‘It was Drumkeldy I wanted to come back to. I need to…’ he looked back at the photos for a long time before he continued, ‘…try to sort out all the fuck-ups I made a long time ago.’

There was a look in Jay’s eyes, something of a tortured soul, and she guessed this was about Rocco. Frankie was determined that Jay and Rocco were going to work out their differences, even if it meant locking them in a room together. Even if it meant omitting to tell Rocco that Jay was coming to her party until it was too late and he couldn’t back out. It was a risky strategy that could result in Rocco being mad at Frankie’s interference, but it might just get Jay and her brother talking again.

But doing this meant not telling Valentina that Jay was coming to her party, as she’d be sure to let something slip.

They turned the next few pages of the photo album in silence until Frankie exclaimed, ‘Oh, Toffee as a puppy! Look at her little face!’ Hearing her name, Toffee sat up, alert.

‘I’m still surprised your mum got a dog.’

‘Me too! After years of telling me no. She hated living alone. It was bad enough when I went to university but when the band took off and she knew I… wasn’t able to come back here, she replaced me with a four-legged fluffy thing.’

‘She is a lot cuter than you,’ Frankie said with a cheeky smile.

‘Yeah, thanks. I’m well aware.’

Jay turned the page of the scrapbook.

Frankie recognised many of the articles. After Jay had left, Frankie had followed his career ascendance. Slightly obsessively.

And secretly too. It was a kind of exquisite torture for Frankie as she desperately searched out information on Jay, yet whenever she read anything she felt monumentally sad knowing she couldn’t talk to him about it.

This behaviour went on for almost two years. And when Drive With Care had their third hit, Frankie decided to cut herself off. She went cold turkey and deleted the gossip websites from her laptop and stopped searching articles about Jay and the band.

The first little while had been torture. But it became easier with time.

Frankie turned the page and was met with a photo of Jay and Astrid, his wife. They were standing outside the Elvis Chapel in Las Vegas. Although Frankie had long stopped following Jay Costello’s career by that point, even Frankie couldn’t avoid knowing Jay had married Astrid d’Arcy just over two years ago.

They made a stunning-looking couple. Jay so handsome, every inch the rock star, and Astrid was truly breathtaking; so petite and dainty, her waist-length white-blonde hair giving an almost ethereal quality to her beauty.

‘That’s a lovely photo,’ she said, unsure of the etiquette of pleasantries to say when looking at wedding photos of a bride and groom now in the middle of a divorce.

‘We were drunk as lords. Straight off a massive concert and high on adrenaline. Next thing I knew we were there, having an Elvis impersonator read us our vows. If it wasn’t for the photos and the licence as proof, I wouldn’t have remembered it had happened.’ There was no bitterness in Jay’s voice, but he sounded detached, as if it had happened to someone else.

There was another photo of the newlyweds along with the rest of the band and an older gentleman.

‘That’s Roman d’Arcy, he’s on the board of our label, acts like a kind of manager to us. He’s also my father-in-law, well, soon to be ex-father-in-law but still very present in all our lives.’

Now Frankie picked up an edge to Jay.

‘I’m sorry,’ Frankie said, a little lamely.

‘Don’t be. Getting married was a stupid thing to do. Astrid and I argued more than we ever got on. Less than six months after those photos were taken, we were already separated. The ceremony took about ten minutes but the legal disputes are taking forever. What’s the saying; marry in haste, repent at leisure? So true.’

He looked at the photograph for a long moment.

Frankie had no idea how to respond to that.

A pounding on the front door negated the need to say anything.

CHAPTER 24

FRANKIE

Toffee jumped up and ran over to the door with a low growl as Gilbert let out a deep boom of a bark at the intrusion. The slightly deaf Storm slept on.

‘I’ll just be a minute. Toffee, stay,’ Jay commanded the little dog.