A Pearl for Love

by Mary Cummins

  ‘Elizabeth should have warned you,’ Miss Lyall said. ‘I should have done ... if I’d been here.’

  ‘Surely she can’t be expected to remember to tell me everything. Some things one must pick up for oneself.’

  ‘But not something where the customer is likely to try it on.’

  ‘Is she trying it on?’

  ‘I’m quite sure she is. I doubt if Michael will shake her either. We’ll be out of pocket, I’m afraid, Miss Lyall. She’ll want compensation for the missing pearls, and ... of course ... no charge for the re-threading.’

  ‘Oh!’

  Catherine’s heart grew heavier. She could, perhaps, offer to pay for her mistake, but could she | afford it? Not only that, but wouldn’t Uncle James be very angry with her? And if it made trouble between Michael and Elizabeth, wouldn’t the other girl be more than angry?

  Elizabeth had been rather quiet during the weekend, after her house-hunting trip with Michael, and when Catherine had asked, with friendly interest, if she’d had a successful day, she had answered rather shortly, and Catherine had felt snubbed.

  Later Elizabeth had relented, and came to smile with apology at the other girl.

  ‘We didn’t find what we wanted,’ she said. ‘Better luck next time, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, what a pity,’ said Catherine. She felt very real sympathy for the other girl, whose happiness seemed to have dimmed a little. She hoped Elizabeth and Michael hadn’t had a difference of opinion.

  The customer left, looking annoyed and far from satisfied, and Michael beckoned for Catherine to come into the office.

  ‘I think I convinced the lady that she was mistaken,’ he told her, his eyes gleaming. ‘Her pearls were graduated. It would have been difficult to restore the balance when re-threading, if some of them had been missing.

  ‘And anyway, I recognised her as someone who makes a habit of trying it on.’

  ‘You mean she’s tried to diddle one of you before?’

  ‘Not one of us. It was ... in another shop,’ said Michael, then he frowned sternly again. ‘I hope you’ll learn from this, Catherine. As I’ve said before, people are odd about their jewellery. They sometimes swear that the stones have been changed in a ring. Why should we change stones in a ring, for goodness’ sake? They think jewels have been removed from their watches, which is also ridiculous. You must be on your guard, and check that you and the customer both know the exact description of the jewellery you accept for repair.’

  ‘Yes, Michael,’ said Catherine in a small voice, and suddenly he laughed.

  ‘Cheer up! You’re doing fine.’

  She looked up and smiled shakily as he grinned down at her, then Elizabeth’s voice broke in on them.

  ‘Prycey says you want me, Michael.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he told her crisply, and Catherine’s heart sank again.

  ‘It was my fault,’ she insisted uncertainly. ‘I should have used my common sense.’

  ‘What was your fault?’ asked Elizabeth.

  ‘I didn’t count some pearls that came in for repair.’

  ‘That was stupid.’

  ‘So was not telling her,’ said Michael.

  ‘Oh, but I must have done. Didn’t I tell you?’

  This time it was Elizabeth who looked discomfited, and Catherine hesitated unhappily, feeling sorry that it had all happened.

  ‘You’d better go back, Catherine,’ said Michael. ‘Miss Pryce may need you.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, and closed the office door.

  She felt unhappy and dissatisfied, and she was aware that Michael Rodgers had rather a hard streak in him, and wondered what he would say to Elizabeth.

  At the weekend Uncle James asked her if she felt able to go through all her personal papers, and if she needed advice over anything, he would be happy to help her.

  ‘It may take some time, my dear, but it’s got to be done.’

  ‘I know, Uncle James,’ said Catherine, ‘but I think I can tackle the job now. I think the drawers were all emptied before the furniture went into store.’

  ‘Yes, there was nothing left. I checked everything thoroughly.’

  Catherine sighed as she opened up the boxes and saw the great heaps of papers and personal objects. Her mother had just kept her father’s desk as it was, even to his old pipe and tobacco jar. For a moment Catherine wondered whether she ought just to keep it all as it was, too, then she sighed again. Uncle James was quite right. She ought to know just exactly what was there. It was unlikely to yield any stocks and bonds, as all financial matters had been more carefully looked after, but neither David nor Alison Lyall had been particularly neat about personal papers, and now old letters were mixed up with receipted bills.

  Catherine picked up a receipted telephone account from three years ago, and reached for a waste paper basket. There was only one way to deal with some of the papers, and that was to throw them out!

  She was still busy when John looked in an hour later.

  ‘Come and have coffee,’ he advised. ‘My lord, that’s a pile you’ve got in there!’

  ‘Old letters and things,’ she said, looking up with a faint smile. ‘Daddy just used to shove everything into a deep drawer in his desk, then have a gigantic tidy-up once in a blue moon.’

  ‘Is it making you feel a bit down doing it all?’ asked John.

  ‘Not now. I’m pretty well over it.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ said John, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. ‘Game on, my lass. You’ll feel better for the break.’

  There was only Aunt Lucille in the drawing room where a tray with a steaming jug of coffee, and some cups were set out on a small table. She was reading a letter from one of her friends.

  ‘Are you still off sugar, darling?’ John asked her, as he went to pour.

  ‘Just a teeny spoonful,’ she said absently.

  Come over to the fire, Kate dear. Joan Spellman is a grandmother. You remember Joan, dear?’

  Catherine shook her head, smiling.

  ‘Oh no, it’s your mother who knew her well. Alison didn’t keep up with many of the girls we knew. She used to leave that to me. And now Joan is a grandmother. She’s beaten me to it, anyway.’

  ‘Now you know you’re in no hurry to be a grandmother,’ said John teasingly, as he handed her a cup of coffee.

  ‘I haven’t much choice, have I?’ asked Lucille.

  ‘There’s Elizabeth shying off from fixing a wedding date, even though she and Michael have been engaged long enough now, and you calling it off with Rosalie Craven. I saw Mrs. Craven only the other day and she says Rosalie will be back from America in another week or so.’

  Catherine saw John’s fingers tighten, and his face went hard.

  ‘I don’t know why that should interest me,’ he said quietly.

  ‘If you aren’t interested, you should be. Even if you’re no longer engaged, it’s natural to be interested in an ex-fiancée. Isn’t it, Catherine?’

  Catherine did not know what to say. She could see that John had no wish to discuss his ex-fiancée, and wondered if that was because he was still in love with her.

  Had she thrown him over for someone else? Yet if she had, wouldn’t Aunt Lucille also have had news and gossip about her engagement or marriage to that other person?

  She looked again at John, but he had turned away, and was urging her to eat another biscuit. His eyes were dark as they looked at her, then he smiled.

  ‘Keep up your strength for sorting out all those papers.’

  ‘Oh, are you sorting out your things, Catherine?’ Lucille asked, diverted. ‘Have you found it yet?’

  ‘Found what?’ asked Catherine, and surprised a look of annoyance which John directed towards his mother.

  ‘Anything, dear,’ the older woman amended hastily. ‘Anything of interest, I mean.’

  ‘Only old bills. Paid, thank goodness,’ she replied, and there was a long awkward silence. She could see a muscle twitching on John’s face, and
knew that he was upset. Maybe he had been badly hurt by Rosalie Craven.

  ‘I’d better get back to work,’ she said lightly, putting down her coffee cup.

  ‘Finish early and we can go and see a film. Your choice,’ John offered.

  ‘Thank you, John.’

  It was a nice offer, and she was happy to take him up on it. As she closed the door she could hear John’s voice, suddenly full of annoyance.

  ‘Honestly, Mum, your tongue runs away with you at times!’

  She could not hear Aunt Lucille’s reply, and she walked on thoughtfully. Was that because of Rosalie, or because she had asked if Catherine had found ‘it’? Found what? she wondered, then shrugged. Lucille was a very curious person. Going through a lot of personal things would no doubt give her a lot of pleasure, except, of course, if the circumstances were the same as Catherine’s. No doubt that was what she had meant.

  Catherine got few letters, except from Mrs. Neill and a few friends she had known in Perth, but she exclaimed with pleasure when Elizabeth handed her a blue envelope with large rather scrawling writing.

  ‘Oh, lovely! One from Janie. She never writes, either, unless she really has to.’

  ‘Janie?’ asked Aunt Lucille.

  Catherine’s smile wavered for a moment.

  ‘Yes—Janie Howat. She was going to have been my bridesmaid.’

  Her voice trailed off as she read the letter, then the joy and laughter was back on her face.

  ‘Janie’s getting married. On Saturday, no less. She’s dithered about writing to tell me, because ... well, she felt I would be upset since she never was my bridesmaid. But of course I’m not. Not at all,’ she added firmly.

  ‘Of course not, dear. You’ll have to choose something nice for a wedding gift. No doubt James could help you with that...’

  ‘She’s wondering if I can go to the wedding.’ Catherine bit her lip. ‘But it’s a Saturday.’

  ‘We’d manage without you for one day now that Prycey is back,’ Elizabeth told her, and Catherine restrained the impulse to hug her. Somehow Elizabeth wasn’t the sort of girl one hugged. All she ever managed for her mother was a cool kiss on the cheek, and Catherine often wondered if she had saved all her love for Michael.

  ‘It would be wonderful if I could go,’ she said eagerly, and when James Sheridan came in, and gave her permission, she was delighted.

  Catherine bought a new suit and hat for the wedding. She had already telephoned Mrs. Neill who invited her to stay overnight until Sunday, and as Catherine travelled north on the train, she laid aside the magazines John had bought for her, and gazed out at the passing fields, and small lonely houses perched high on hillsides between each town. She had much to think about.

  Recently she had been avoiding Michael Rodgers, taking care never to be alone with him. Often she would look up to find his dark eyes fixed on her, and she was becoming more and more shy of him. That he and Elizabeth were often at odds was also becoming apparent, and Catherine was conscious of tension growing in the shop which, offered every sign of peace and tranquillity to its customers.

  Often, too, Michael was out of the shop for fairly long periods, which caused Uncle James to frown a little. He liked to deliver the larger clocks himself, and to see them properly installed, and keeping perfect time.

  ‘It’s essential to give this service,’ Michael said, ‘because people trust you to do the best for them.’

  ‘Even to sending them somewhere else when they come in to look at our range?’ asked Uncle James, rather dryly, and Michael flushed a dull red.

  ‘Yes,’ he said defiantly.

  ‘Sometimes people like to see a good variety of clocks, even if they have something special in mind,’ Uncle James argued. ‘It could be that something we have would have suited them much better. Only you don’t always give them the opportunity, Michael. They get sent along to Newdox before you’ve talked to them for five minutes.’

  ‘Maybe they send people to us, if they haven’t got what a customer wants either,’ argued Michael.

  ‘Maybe.’ Uncle James’s tone was dry and he stroked his upper lip thoughtfully.

  ‘Anyway, if sales are bad, why don’t you have a word with John?’ asked Michael, his cheeks still flushed and his eyes sparkling.

  ‘John?’

  ‘Yes. He’s fond of paying too high a price for secondhand pieces which people bring in. He’d get them very much cheaper if he tried.’

  It was John’s turn to colour.

  ‘I give people a fair price if they want to sell anything,’ he said, very quietly. ‘We do a good trade in secondhand goods. Lots of people prefer to buy them, because there’s no tax.’

  ‘Even if new is often better cut and better set.’

  ‘That’s true, but it’s people we’re dealing with, and if they think they’re going to be happy with an older secondhand piece, then why shouldn’t they have it? Some of the pieces are lovely after I’ve cleaned them up. People allow their jewellery to get dirty, when they wouldn’t dream of using a soiled handkerchief.’

  ‘Even so, you won’t make much profit at the prices you offer.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ said John crossly. ‘We’ll get nowhere if we keep watching one another all the time.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Michael, and James stood looking from one to the other.

  ‘Nevertheless, things aren’t going as well as they might for the firm at the moment,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I hope you’ll both bear it in mind. The cost of modernising the shop, both inside and out, was considerable, and although we took a chance on modern-styled jewellery, which I have never liked myself, the public don’t seem to appreciate it either.’

  ‘Give it time,’ said John. ‘Those new gem stones in dialite and yttrium aluminate are doing well.’

  He had been mainly responsible for trying out new ideas. He knew, though, that it was also important to stick to traditional styles, though he argued that if new designs weren’t available, how would people know whether they liked them or not?

  ‘They are selling, if slowly, ‘he pointed out. ‘My mistake was to buy too many at the start.’

  ‘We all make mistakes,’ said James, sighing, then suddenly he smiled. ‘It’s good to blow off steam occasionally, though, and we certainly want new ideas. We could do with something that was completely our own. Put your minds to it, and if you come up with something worthwhile, then I’ll be happy to try it. Perhaps the new gem stones might be the very thing. After all, it’s in your interests, too, Michael. You’ll be sharing equally in the firm when you’re married to Elizabeth.’

  Catherine had been unable to help overhearing the conversation. She was in the shop on her own, Elizabeth having gone for lunch, and Miss Pryce being at the bank for Uncle James. The men had been at the other side of the shop, but their voices had carried quite clearly, and although she had cleared her throat, and John had glanced in her direction, they made no attempt to walk away, or to lower their voices.

  Now, sitting in the train, Catherine pondered a little. Was business so very worrying for Uncle James and John? And surely Michael had been staying out for longer than he need. Quite often both she and Elizabeth had had to help out with the watches and clocks.

  She was well used to taking watches for repairs now, and showing new ones to prospective buyers. But she could not explain their relative merits to enquiring people, and unhappily, she had sometimes watched people leave without making up their minds, probably because she wasn’t competent enough to make the sale. She had, rather uneasily, explained this to Michael, but he told her to think nothing of it.

  ‘If they really want it, Catherine,’ he told her, ‘they’ll have it, no matter what you say.’

  ‘Oh, I hope you’re right, Michael.’

  She had felt the pressure of his fingers on her hand, and had quickly pulled away, and gone back to her own counter. She glanced at Elizabeth who didn’t appear to notice anything, but her face looked pale a
nd white under the bright lights of the shop, which did so much to turn the sparkling diamonds and other precious stones into some sort of fairyland.

  Catherine pondered on the words she had heard. Uncle James had said Michael would be part of the firm ‘when he married Elizabeth’. But surely he was part of the firm now. He was the only son of Uncle James’s partner, who was now dead. Surely the partnership would then go to his only son.

  Unless he had to earn his spurs. Perhaps he and John were both serving some sort of apprenticeship before they had any real responsibility in the firm ... before they became junior partners.

  Catherine gave herself a mental shake. It was none of her business what their position was with the firm. It wasn’t good that her mind should keep running on Mike Rodgers, and everything which touched him.

  She was glad to be going back to Perth again. There she might see things in proper perspective.

  CHAPTER V

  Mr. and Mrs. Neill were delighted to see Catherine again, and the older woman hugged her warmly. Remembering her thoughts that she might only be loved because of Philip, Catherine felt ashamed. The Neills cared about her for her own sake, and a wave of nostalgia swept over her for what she had lost.

  ‘You’re looking better, dear, isn’t she?’ she appealed to Mr. Neill.

  ‘You look very well, Catherine,’ he told her gently, then picked up her case. ‘I’ll take this up to your old room for you.’

  It was a weekend which Catherine was to remember because it put an end to the rather numbed feelings she had had following the loss of Philip and her mother. Now she really felt that it was all behind her.