A Pearl for Love

by Mary Cummins

  ‘Who could forget an important date like that?’ asked John, appearing at the kitchen door.

  He, too, was clad in corduroy jeans and a warm pullover, and he carried a brown anorak over his arm, draping it carelessly over a chair.

  ‘Hello, Kate. You look well. I hope you’ve stoked up with breakfast. It’s a lovely day, but just wait till the chilly winds off the hills and moors get hold of you. You’ll be glad you ate your porridge then.’

  ‘Well, you eat yours, Mr. John,’ said Mrs. Bannon, behind him, as she set down a large bowl of steaming porridge.

  ‘Ugh!’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Stop wrinkling your nose,’ John advised. ‘You’ll get crows’ feet.’

  ‘That’s on eyes, silly!’

  Catherine sat smiling, amused. She often enjoyed the exchange between brother and sister. It was rare for them to have a serious argument, and she often thought how lucky Elizabeth was to have a brother. What a difference it might have made in her own life if only she’d had someone like John. She smiled at him, her eyes soft, and he turned away from her rather abruptly. Then he settled down to eat his breakfast, insisting that Catherine should drink one more cup of coffee. Elizabeth refused anything more, saying she hadn’t time.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ asked John.

  ‘Michael and I have a date,’ she said flatly.

  ‘And we must keep our noses out of it.’

  ‘Yes.’ For a moment Elizabeth hesitated. ‘Oh, all right. We’re just going to look at some new houses being put up in rather a nice district. I was just thinking it was time we fixed a date for the wedding.’

  She looked almost defiantly at Catherine, who again felt slightly chilled as she sensed hostility.

  ‘I hope you find something suitable,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘I’ve no doubt we shall.’

  ‘Find what?’ asked her mother, padding into the kitchen in pretty bedroom slippers while Uncle James brought up the rear.

  ‘A house, darling,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Somewhere to live. For Michael and me.’

  ‘Michael and I,’ said John.

  ‘Michael and me,’ corrected Elizabeth. ‘Your grammar’s worse than mine.’

  ‘Are we arranging the wedding soon, then, dear?’ asked Lucille. ‘It’s about time. You’re beginning to look like an old married couple already.’

  The words had been teasingly spoken and not intended to hurt, but Catherine caught sight of a flash of pain on Elizabeth’s face. Maybe Aunt Lucille had touched a tender spot. She felt a sudden rush of feeling for the other girl, and touched her arm as they made for the door.

  ‘Have a lovely day,’ she said, and was surprised by the sudden glint of tears in Elizabeth’s eyes, though she did not reply.

  Catherine watched her running upstairs, then John’s hand was on her elbow, a picnic hamper in his other hand.

  ‘Come on, Kate hinny,’ he said. ‘Time we were off.’

  ‘Kate what?’

  He grinned.

  ‘Kate, my love,’ he said, his eyes dancing, and she couldn’t stop the colour from again flooding her cheeks.

  ‘Stop leg-pulling,’ she said, a trifle crossly. ‘Will I need anything else?’

  ‘You’re perfect as you are. And who said I was leg-pulling?’

  Catherine began to feel full of well-being as they took the Hexham road out of Newcastle. John had decided that they must have a look at the lovely old town on the way to Housesteads.

  ‘We’ll come back along the Military Road,’ he told her. ‘Absolutely straight. If the Romans wanted to go from A to B, they went from A to B, and not via C.’

  ‘Perhaps they had all the lie of the land to choose from,’ suggested Catherine. ‘Later people found they had to skirt fields when making roads, or the owner wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘And now we’re back to Roman days when the owners aren’t asked. Or at least, aren’t considered to such an extent.’

  ‘I hope you haven’t brought your soapbox,’ said Catherine. ‘I used to get enough of that from Daddy. He had all his own ideas about everything. ‘They were silent for a while, as John drove through the sunlit countryside where the faint green of spring was beginning to appear on the trees. It was like the surge of rebirth, and in a small way Catherine could feel it all being reflected in her own heart. She was really feeling alive again, even if it meant flashes of pain as well as happiness.

  ‘You miss him a lot,’ said John.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he confide in you as well as your mother?’ She felt faintly surprised by the question.

  ‘Only about general things. If you mean business, then he kept that part of his life separate. I ... I suppose that’s why we felt so lost when he died, though it was Mother who took over. She was splendid, though it almost went for her nerves. She had to go away on holiday after I got engaged to Philip. She saw that I was settled and happy first of all. I ... I can hardly believe it’s all gone now.’

  She felt John’s firm fingers reaching for her own slender hand, and was comforted. Then he was again concentrating on his driving.

  ‘Here’s Hexham coming up,’ he said, after a while. ‘We’ll park the car, then wander about. We can have a look at the ancient Abbey, if you like, one of the oldest in the country.’

  It was relaxing to wander round the lovely old town, John’s fingers still linking hers. Then they went into the Abbey where Catherine felt strangely awed, and very conscious of the great age of the place.

  ‘It’s awfully impressive,’ she said to John, then shivered a little, ‘but rather cold.’

  ‘We’ll go back to the car and have a cup of Banny’s coffee and a sandwich before going on to Housesteads. Will that do?’

  ‘Fine,’ she laughed. She felt suddenly warmly protected as they hurried back to the car and shared out the coffee.

  ‘I’d like to come again another day,’ she said, looking out at Hexham as they left the old town.

  ‘I thought you would,’ he grinned. ‘It’s the sort of place to which people do come back. Mother was born here, of course, and christened in the Abbey.’

  ‘Oh. I didn’t know.’

  ‘We used to visit our grandparents quite often, but they’re dead now. No one left in Hexham.’

  Catherine was quiet on the way to Housesteads, and against her will her thoughts were turning to Elizabeth and Michael. Were they, even now, deciding on their future home, and would the strange dark moods which seemed to smoulder in Michael be dispelled? Perhaps the happiness of marriage with Elizabeth would chase them away. She could almost feel his magnetic presence, making John a more shadowy figure even though he sat beside her.

  Then she gave herself a vigorous mental shake-up. Michael was beginning to disturb her far too much. She must stop thinking about him, even if the thoughts were only curiosity, and a sort of deep interest. It was up to Elizabeth to worry about him, and to ensure that he was happy. It might be dangerous if she started worrying about him.

  Dangerous! The word had leapt to her mind, and she drew back, shivering again.

  ‘I told you you’d feel chilled,’ said John at her side. ‘We’ll soon be at Housesteads. Wrap that blanket round your knees in the meantime.’

  ‘Thank you, John,’ she said meekly.

  It was exhilarating to walk up the hill to the excavated site of a Roman fort.

  John took Catherine into the Museum first of all, and they examined with deep interest all the fragments of Roman pottery and utensils which had been found, then they wandered over the site, trying to imagine what it had been like in Roman times.

  ‘Just think they had baths here, and were probably far more advanced in hygiene than some of our more recent ancestors,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Careful!’ said John, grabbing her arm as she stumbled a little, then hanging on to it as he escorted her up to the Roman Wall. ‘Want to walk along it for a short distance?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  The wind had whipped high co
lour into her cheeks and her eyes sparkled.’ John put his arm round her shoulders, then they walked in single file along the wall, until Catherine began to feel slightly giddy.

  ‘But you can’t fall off!’ cried John.

  ‘I know, but I get vertigo so easily,’ she apologized. ‘Can we go back now, John?’

  ‘Of course, dear. I’m glad we saved that last cup of coffee each. I’ll buy some chocolate when we get back down to the road.’

  They took their time as they went back through the ancient fort, then began to descend the gentle slope.

  ‘It’s been fun,’ Catherine told him. ‘Thank you for bringing me.’

  ‘We’ll do it again soon,’ John promised. ‘Not to come here, I mean, but to go somewhere else. You must get to know Northumberland, Kate, if you’re going to stay here.’

  ‘I can’t stay for ever,’ she told him.

  ‘Why not? Are you only marking time till you go back to Scotland?’

  ‘I’ve no plans, and I certainly can’t go back to Scotland. But I can’t stay with your family for ever either, John.’

  He said nothing for a while.

  ‘Are you happy enough with us, Kate? Don’t mind Elizabeth if she’s a bit sharp at times. She’s in love with Mike Rodgers, and can get a bit jealous, especially about a girl as lovely as you.’

  Catherine blushed. ‘I’m sure there’s no need,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘It might be none of your doing,’ John told her, ‘but Mike might find it hard not to admire you at times. It ... you would find it easy to encourage him.’

  Catherine’s eyes began to sparkle with annoyance.

  You’re wrong, John. I’m sure you’re wrong. I have no intention of encouraging Michael, and ... and Elizabeth, and I’m quite sure he ... he isn’t the sort of man to forget that he’s engaged, and to start showing interest in other girls.’

  ‘Don’t fly off the handle coming to his defence,’ said John mildly. ‘Only go easy with Michael. You don’t know what he is ... yet.’

  ‘He can’t be without integrity or you wouldn’t want Elizabeth to marry him.’

  John’s face became expressionless.

  ‘Perhaps I don’t want Elizabeth to marry him,’ he said, very quietly. ‘Not now that...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You can’t keep your sister in a glass case.’

  ‘Why should I want to? Of course I’d like to see her happily married, but I just don’t know that it’s Michael Rodgers, that’s all. Only I’m in the minority, and she’s over age, so I can only stand by and hope she knows what she’s doing.’

  They got into the car, and John busied himself by reaching for the hamper, and pouring out more coffee. It warmed Catherine again, and she began to feel the inner shakiness recede, so that she faced John more calmly. He was very fond of Elizabeth, and no doubt they’d been playmates as children. Perhaps all brothers who really cared about their sisters were inclined to want a very high standard from the men with whom they fell in love. She didn’t really know.

  Yet John had also fallen in love, judging by the pretty ring which was now back in stock. Had Elizabeth been similarly critical of his fiancée?

  Catherine shook her head. They were a very ordinary brother and sister, and probably only concerned for each other’s happiness.

  ‘Why don’t you feel that Michael is right Elizabeth?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Is it because you feel he doesn’t care for her enough?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said John, more slowly. ‘We’ve known him since he was a boy. He and I never got on, so perhaps I’m prejudiced. He took his time before making up his mind to marry Elizabeth and I can never fathom out just how much he cares for her.’

  ‘Perhaps he wanted to be sure of offering her a nice home,’ suggested Catherine, then remembered that Michael was a partner, and would be just as well placed as John in the firm, with an equally big income.

  ‘Perhaps,’ John was agreeing. ‘Kate! This is in confidence. I don’t want the family to know I feel this way ... yet!’

  ‘Of course,’ she said stiffly. Did he think her some sort of telltale?

  He was laughing gently as he took her coffee cup and put it away in the hamper, then suddenly he pulled her into his arms and hugged her against the soft wool of his pullover, which smelled of peat.

  ‘Don’t be such a pincushion, love. Every word I say seems to offend you. We’ll kiss and be friends.’

  He kissed her thoroughly, and she broke away, her eyes even more bright.

  ‘Don’t do that, John! I hate being kissed casually.’

  ‘Do you call that casually?’ he asked, eyebrows shooting up.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t because you care about me. I know about...’

  ‘About what?’ he asked, very softly.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. Only don’t go listening to gossip, love. You’ll only get hold of the wrong end of the stick. I can tell you all you want to know.’

  ‘I don’t! I don’t want to hear about your private affairs.’

  John withdrew his arm.

  ‘Very well,’ he said becoming matter-of-fact. ‘Let’s go home.’

  They drove most of the way in silence, and Catherine felt rather lost, as though she no longer had her sense of well-being. But whether it was because she no longer felt at ease with John, or because he had forced her to be wary of Michael, she didn’t quite know.

  On Monday Miss Pryce returned to work, and smiled rather frostily when Catherine and she were introduced.

  ‘How do you do, Miss Lyall. I hope you haven’t been finding things difficult taking over at short notice. Especially when your experience is rather ... limited.’

  ‘I’ve enjoyed it,’ Catherine told her, ‘and no doubt my experience will improve with time.’

  ‘One is learning all the time. Even I, after so many years, have to be careful what I’m about. I’ve seen lots of changes in the firm over the years. People come and go.’

  Catherine felt very transient, but she only smiled and nodded.

  ‘Mr. Sheridan must be pleased to have your services,’ she said politely, and Miss Pryce unbent a little, and smiled on her kindly.

  ‘I think he is,’ she agreed, ‘though he’s lucky to have young Michael. John, too, of course.’

  Catherine noticed that she had put Michael first, and she could see by the way the older woman glanced over at the dark-haired man that she was fond of Michael Rodgers.

  ‘You would know his father, of course,’ she put in.

  ‘Yes,’ said Miss Lyall, with a small sigh. ‘I knew his father very well.’

  ‘Hello, Prycey,’ said Elizabeth, arriving a few minutes late. ‘How do you feel? Able to cope?’

  ‘As always, Elizabeth,’ said Miss Pryce.

  The day did not go very well. Catherine had taken a string of cultured pearls in for re-threading, and when the customer came in to collect them it was Miss Lyall who looked through the repair envelopes and picked it out.

  Opening the envelope, she lifted out the pearls, and spread them on a black velvet pad.

  ‘Those aren’t mine,’ the woman said. ‘Mine was a longer string of pearls than that.’

  Miss Pryce paused and compared the repair ticket numbers. On check-up, there was only one other lot of pearls in for repair and it was a double rope.

  ‘I’m afraid these must be yours,’ she insisted gently. ‘Sometimes they do look different when they are re-threaded, and these ones have been done very carefully, as you can see.’

  ‘With some of the pearls missing,’ the woman insisted. ‘I tell you, mine was much longer than that.’

  Miss Pryce’s lips compressed a little, then she asked the woman to wait while Catherine served a customer with small pearl stud earrings, then she asked her to come over, after her customer had gone.

  ‘Did you take this necklace for repair, Miss Lyall?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ said Catherine readil
y. ‘You had broken it, hadn’t you, madam? Doesn’t it look nice now?’

  ‘Now it’s practically a choker,’ the woman said coldly. ‘I brought in a decent necklace of graduated pearls. A great many of them seem to be missing.’

  Catherine’s mouth opened, then she bit her lip. The necklace had only been half threaded, the remaining pearls loose in an envelope. It was difficult to tell how big the necklace was likely to have been.

  ‘We have sent out our pearls to the same firm for years,’ Miss Pryce was saying, ‘and they have never let us down, nor are they likely to make a mistake with the system we use for sending out! repairs.’

  ‘I should like to see someone in authority,’ the customer told them firmly.

  Only Michael was available, as John was busy with a couple buying an engagement ring, and Uncle James was having a late lunch. Miss Pryce explained the position to Michael, who asked the woman to come through to the office after he had questioned Catherine.

  ‘Did you count those pearls?’ he asked her, and her heart sank as she slowly shook her head.

  ‘Did no one tell you to count the pearls carefully before the customer, and ask her to agree that you have the correct number?’

  Again Catherine shook her head, her cheeks crimson. Her own common sense should have told her, but she had not thought of it.

  ‘I suppose I can’t blame you entirely, being new,’ he told her, rather bitingly, ‘but I shall have a word with Elizabeth later.’

  He walked away towards the office and Catherine turned to Miss Lyall, appalled. For a brief moment she thought she saw a gleam of satisfaction in the older woman’s eyes.

  ‘What’s Elizabeth got to do with it? It was my mistake.’