The elegant and attractive cover might lead you to expect an historical novel. Not quite. A thriller with three strands, each coming together from a different point in history, it tells a gripping story that follows the trail of an ancient jewel through time and the wrecked lives of people who owned it, stole it or desired it. Compulsive – and at the end I felt like something that I had grasped firmly just slipped through my fingers.
In twenty five years every cell in my body barring the substance of my bones has lived and died and been replaced. I'm not the person I was. Whereas the stones of the jewel are unchanged. The great jewels are thousands of years old. They pass through the hands of people and often the hands leave no trace, but they are there all the same. They leave impressions, invisible, like atoms of hydrogen drawn to a surface of diamond. They lead you back. I watch the ice crystallise on the porthole glass and wonder how far I can go.