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This one contained jewellery. Delicate, expensive gold earrings and a matching necklace, exactly the type of intricate, sophisticated pieces that I loved.

‘Oh, Rupert, you didn’t have to,’ I said automatically, glancing up at him.

‘But I wanted to,’ he said, walking closer to zoom into the parcel with his camera. I noticed then he had clipped a small mic onto his shirt. I smiled for the camera, lifting the necklace in my fingers. ‘It’s gorgeous. Thank you.’

Then more boxes. More things; a coat, luxurious lace underwear, a photo of us smiling on our wedding day – like I didn’t already have enough of those. Each gift was lovely. Each one thoughtful, in its own way. But with every new thing that I unwrapped, that same strange feeling grew. Like I was watching all this happen from slightly outside myself. Like I should feel more than I did. Like I should feel more than completely empty.

‘OK, my precious,’ he said. I had to bite my tongue to keep from replying, No bother, Gollum. ‘Last one.’ He handed me a small box. I looked at it, then at him, excitement etched across his face. Inside was a stunning gold bracelet. Simple and elegant. I turned it over in my fingers, examining it. Then I spotted H&R engraved into the back. My throat tightened as I stared at it.

‘I thought it could be a fresh start,’ he said softly.

‘It’s really lovely.’ I gulped quietly. ‘Thank you, Rupey.’ He watched me for a second, like he was waiting for something more. I smiled, just a little, clasping it on my wrist. ‘I really love it! It’s so thoughtful.’

Relief flickered across his face. ‘Good,’ he said. The phone remained in place, still recording. I raised my wrist so the bracelet caught the light, instinct taking over before I could overthink it. And he came over for a kiss. Shit! I watched his face grow closer, and I swerved him to my cheek with a giggle.

‘I need to brush my teeth!’ I laughed, standing up and scurrying to the bathroom for some space to breathe.

Once inside, I closed the door and sat on the toilet pan with my head in my hands. Why did I feel so horribly guilty all the time? I wondered. I felt guilty about missing the community centre, as if I had let everyone down. I felt guilty about my mum and dad, who’d been so excited to spend Christmas with me. Fuck, I even felt guilty about Rupert, who was practically licking my arsehole to encourage me to show him some forgiveness. And Jamie, why did that handsome, lanky bastard keep coming to my mind? This moment with Rupert turning up and choosing me was the moment I had been waiting for, praying for even, but it felt like I was somehow resisting it, refusing the emotion of it, and I wasn’t sure why.

I lifted my phone and clicked on the video he had just posted directly to his account, which already had thousands of likes and comments. I scrolled down, reading them.

OMG plot twist! My Christmas is made!

Wait . . . she’s not in a basement?

Finally!!

Love you guys. Merry Christmas xxx

Eh . . . just me running to the comments!

She’s back, and look how happy they are! OMG!

Was this a publicity stunt? Bcoz whatever, I’m here for it.

I locked my phone, wishing I was stuck in a fucking basement for a second. Everyone was pleased. Everyone was relieved. Everyone was fooled.

And deep down, I knew Glasgow would carry on fine without me; I knew the soup kitchen would too. So why was I fighting this? He was my husband, and I’d made a life-long commitment to him, to us.

I paused, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I did have a good life, a great one. Maybe, I thought, I’ve just been away from it all for too long, and that’s why I’m having doubts. And if Rupert was serious about our relationship, then . . .

I swung open the bathroom door and immediately Rupert stood to his feet.

‘I want to go home,’ I said. ‘Now.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

An hour later, I looked immaculate. Which was ironic, considering I felt like I was coming apart at the seams. My hair sat perfectly with the help of my GHD tong and hair products. Not a single strand out of place. My makeup was flawless, like I hadn’t spent the last hour trying not to cry into a hotel towel that cost more than my family’s weekly shop. And my white trousers-and-shirt combo was sharp and expensive. I looked like a woman who had her life together, but I knew that the image I was presenting was a complete lie.

While I got ready, Rupert had packed everything up. The Louis Vuitton suitcases zipped up and lined up by the lift door. His coat was already on, his keys in hand, his phone charged. He was ready.

‘Looking perfect, my darling,’ he said as he spotted me. ‘Driver is five minutes away. I arranged for him to drop us off at the airport and save us the long drive home.’ He sounded too bright. Like we weren’t standing in the aftermath of something that should’ve broken us. Like he had gotten away with it all.

‘Great,’ I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.

‘Shall we do a quick check-in?’ he said, holding up his phone, already angling the camera. ‘We’ve been a bit quiet, and people’ll be—’