Page 18 of Date with Destiny

It’s not Daniel’s. Myfanwy’s put me on a stalking ban – she blocked himandall his friends, which is so annoying. What am I supposed to do at 2am when I’m late-night-ordering a bottle of his aftershave from Amazon to spray on that side of the bed?

It’s a brand’s page: Walliams’ Custom Designs. They’re a bespoke ring designer I’ve been obsessed with for the past few months. As it stands, Celeste’s Stones don’t actually design anything in-house. We offer bespoke or personalized jewellery, but then we send it out to another company to sort. We’re basically a middle man for the process, which doesn’t really tie in with how I see the store, which is all about personal service. I’ve been thinking for ages that we should be trying to find a really talented ring-maker to bring on board.It’s something I’ve brought up with Celeste many times and she’s always given me the brush-off. Until now.

‘These are the guys coming in today,’ I jab a finger at the Instagram page before me, pulling up their latest post to show Toni a ring design with intricate pearls encircling a rose gold band. She takes the iPad from me, flicking through Walliams’ Custom Designs’ posts, eyes wide.

‘Wow, these are beautiful,’ Toni breathes, swiping slowly from post to post.

‘I know,’ I grin, feeling proud. ‘I found them a while back, aren’t they great? They’re London-based, same as us, but don’t have much of a following yet.’

‘They totally will though.’ Her eyes finally leave the screen. ‘Do you think they’re any relation to David Walliams?’

I grimace. ‘I hope not. But whoever they are, they’re ridiculously talented.’ I lean over to review the iPad again. ‘Look at the shapes, Tone! And the materials! They’re making some of the most creative and elegant stuff I’ve ever seen. It’s absolute artistry!’

‘Are we going to work with them?’ she asks eagerly and I shrug like I’m not that invested either way. But the truth is, I’mdesperateto work with them. When I showed Celeste their page, I was so worried she’d give me yet another brush-off. But even she had to admit they do stunning work and agreed to me setting up a meeting with the team to discuss collaborating. Plus, I think she took pity on me after everything that’s been happening.

‘Imagine if David Walliams walked in!’ Toni snorts. ‘Imagine if he’s decided to diversify from kid’s books into jewellery design.’

‘It would be an interesting choice,’ I comment distractedly. That name does set off alarm bells, but not because of a sleazy TV star.

Walliams. Or Williams. Ugh. One of the most common surnames in the Western world, and it also happens to be the most haunted for me. All my life, people called Williams have cropped up again and again, a karmic punishment for what happened between me and Flo all those years ago.

I picture Florence Williams now, visualizing her chubby face, giggling whenever I called her Mo Flo. We were best friends throughout primary and middle school; a solid, unassailable team, spending every lunchtime hiding at the bottom of the playground, playing with our Tamagotchis and writing in overflowing diaries about the people we fancied who literally didn’t know we were alive.

Every time I meet a Williams, or a William, or indeed a tenuously named company called Walliams’ Custom Designs, I feel the weight of guilt. I wouldn’t even let Daniel call his thingy a willy.

Oh, Daniel.

It’s been a few weeks since my breakdown in an All Bar One, and after my pep talk with Aunt Diane, I could really feel the depression stage threatening, especially when I finally packaged up the engagement ring Daniel had given me. I sent it to his mum and dad’s house and, handing the parcel over atthe post office, I came quite close to collapsing on the floor. But it was a family heirloom and I knew I couldn’t keep it. I cried for two days straight after that, staring at my barren, empty hand and sobbing over old WhatsApp messages from him that mainly read stuff like, ‘I’ve got a splinter, ughhh!’ or, ‘The bath mat has mould on it.’ Focusing on work is the only thing getting me through right now, especially knowing I have to move out of the flat in just over a week. Borrowing some old stock and filling my fingers with other jewellery also helped. I don’t miss my engagement ring quite as much when my hand is weighed down by beautiful trinkets.

Beside me, Toni throws the iPad down, breathless as she reaches for my shoulder. ‘Oh my god oh my god oh my god, don’t look, OK?’ she hisses. ‘Right? DON’T LOOK!’

‘Don’t look at what?’ I stare down at the glass case before me feeling helpless. ‘What am I not looking at?’

Toni grips my arm. I can feel finger-shaped bruises forming under her steel strength.

‘It’s that guy,that guy.’ She’s hissing in my ear. ‘That guy just walked in!’

‘What guy? Can I look up?’ I murmur back.

‘Oh my god! NO, DO NOT LOOK, GINNY!’

I sigh, feeling tired. I’m tired all the time these days. Misery takes it out of you. ‘What guy?’ I repeat.

‘I can’t remember his name but he’s from that TV show, you know? That TV thing? Everybody watched it. You know?’

‘Toni, can I please just have a look?’ My neck is startingto hurt, bent at its odd angle. ‘It’s surely more obvious something’s happening when I’m literally staring down at the floor?’

‘OK, fine.’ Toni’s grip doesn’t loosen. ‘But don’t stare. Just a quick glance.’

That quick glance is enough to tell me the man who just walked into our store is one of the most devastatingly handsome people I’ve ever seen in my life. Tall, broad, covered in tattoos and utterly gorgeous. He definitely looks like a film or TV star, but I don’t recognize him.

I turn sideways, picking up the iPad and pretending to look at it, so I can slyly watch him move slowly around the store, taking everything in. Hovering over my favourite section, TV star half smiles to himself, and beside me, Toni practically swoons.

‘He’s so hot, Jesus H. Christ,’ she breathes. ‘I can’t believe the guy from that show is inourshop!’

‘Is “H” a middle name?’ I muse. ‘Was it Jesus Howard Christ? Jesus Horatio? Or is it, like, Jesus Holy Christ?’

‘Shushhhh!’ Toni practically shouts, panting in my ear. ‘He’s looking over here!’

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