St. Anthony,” she prayed to the saint known for finding lost articles, “I really need you now.” Jerry told the check-in agent what had happened, and she re-booked them for the next flight. They started re-tracing their steps, Jerry searching every inch of the carpet and the tile area and Phyllis checking every car of the trams that stopped. Which one had they taken? It was impossible to know. Eventually she took a tram back to the security area, checking all those rubber rollers, the X-ray belt, and the floors. Nothing. “The only thing I found was a shiny penny, heads up, dated 1997,” Phyllis recalls. “I picked it up and put it in my pocket for good luck.”

Jerry was waiting for her when she got off the tram. He hadn’t found the diamond either. He had come across a small sequin and had tossed it onto the carpet several times to see how the diamond might look from a distance. If it was there, Jerry believed, he would probably know what to look for. But, obviously, it wasn’t. “Let’s go ALL the way back,” he suggested, “to the jewellery stores.”

Once more they re-boarded the tram, passed through security, and eventually found the first jewellery store they had entered. The clerk there remembered them and helped them search her store, but no luck. By now Phyllis was leaving her business card with anyone who was willing to call her if her diamond turned up. “St Anthony,” she whispered again and again, “where are you? We need you.” —