Gemma stifled a giggle. “I’ve never heard of these people.”
Violet gave her a withering stare. “I’m sure you can see them on TV all the time, my dear. Their films are timeless.”
“I could look them up on YouTube.” Gemma shrugged.
Violet’s face was expressionless behind her sunglasses. “Maybe on videocassette.”
“I’d love to see the pink sapphire ring,” Benedict said.
“I’m afraid that I gave several precious items away to a young lover, many years ago. He was most attentive and I was foolish then. These are what I have left and I want to sell them. I have no one to pass them on to.” She tapped a finger on the suitcase.
Benedict opened up a Tiffany box, but the necklace inside had paste jewels. He suspected that a pearl necklace was fake, too. A few of the items were real, though, and looked to be of good quality.
“I think Aunt Estelle might like this stuff,” Gemma said. “It’s real classy.”
“These are beautiful, Ms. de Gama,” Benedict said as he examined them by candlelight. “But I’m afraid that I only sell new jewelry, my own work.”
“And this one was from Barney Banks, though you may know him as Vincent D’Artagnan. He changed his name for Hollywood.” Violet nodded. “As did a lot of the stars.”
Gemma caught Benedict’s eye and angled her bushy eyebrows. “What’s your real name?” she asked.
Violet’s expression didn’t alter. “There’s no need for you to know, child.”
“I’m sorry,” Benedict tried again. “But I don’t trade in old jewelry.”
“But of course you do.” Violet pushed her glasses down her nose so she could see over the top. “You’re a jeweler.”
“I don’t know anything about antique jewelry.”
“It’s not antique—it was new when I received it.”
“If it’s from the ’50s and ’60s then it’s classed as antique.”
“Hmm,” she said, as if this surprised her. “I suppose it is. Time moves so quickly, yes?”
She was right, Benedict thought. It didn’t seem long since he and Estelle met and walked down the aisle together.
When you were a child, life passed by slowly, with the gap between one birthday and another seeming to stretch out forever. But when you reached adulthood it was as if an invisible finger and thumb turned the winder on your watch so time spun faster.
Benedict also imagined that if you were older and alone, you could easily get cut off from everything going on around you, caught up in your own world.
Violet ran her hand over her pearls. “I grew up in Noon Sun, but now I no longer recognize the place. It only seems like two minutes ago when I was a child and used to go to watch plays in the community center with my parents. I loved the glamour, the ladies in their jewels and the men with their cigars. The building reminds me of a Moroccan riad from Sultry Nights, a film I starred in with Butler Jacobson. I saw that it was all boarded up when I delivered your note. So very terrible, and sad...”
“There’s a bonfire taking place in the village to help raise funds for repairs,” Benedict said. “But it will only go a small way toward paying for what’s needed.”
“Hmm.” Violet patted her turban. “Anyway, I have myself to think of. What am I to do about my jewelry?”
“I’d suggest a specialist auction house,” Benedict said. “Or there may be an antiques shop in Applethorpe.”
“Tsk. I don’t travel over there. It’s a larger town and I’d certainly be recognized. And I know nothing of auction houses. It’s all too much to worry about. I need to sell this house, too. I can’t look after it any longer.”
Gemma put down the cushion. “I don’t think anyone will mob you,” she said. “And hiding away up here must be lonely.”
Violet pursed her lips. “I have my men to keep me company.” She swept her hand around the room at the photos on the wall. “I have my memories.”
She removed her sunglasses and her eyes were startlingly lavender. Her fingers, knobby and stacked with large rings, crept over onto Benedict’s knee. “I’m sure you could make an exception for me, Mr. Stone,” she said coquettishly. “Wouldn’t you like to buy my lovely jewelry?”
Benedict spied an old photograph of Violet on the wall. She wore a polka-dot swimsuit and a white scarf around her hair. She stood on tiptoes and held a beach ball aloft. He realized that the sunglasses she had just taken off were the same ones she wore in the photograph. “I’m sorry, but I can’t sell it,” he said.
Violet’s hand slid off his knee. “Well, if you’re not interested in buying from me—” she clicked her fingers “—then we shouldn’t waste each other’s time any longer.”
“It’s not been a waste of my time. It’s been fascinating to meet you. I also know of a solicitor in the village who might be able to advise on selling your property.”
“Hmm.” She offered the back of her hand for him to kiss.
Benedict stood and lightly brushed a large fake-ruby ring with his lips.
Gemma stood up, too. “You shouldn’t lock yourself away. People in the village won’t bother you. They might want a selfie, but that’s all,” she said.
“A selfie?”
“A photo with you, on their mobile phone.”
“I don’t do modern technology. Or posing,” Violet sniffed.
“You could come along to my wife’s art exhibition at the Purple Heather Gallery,” Benedict offered, trying to inject some positivity into the conversation. “You can meet some of the other villagers there.”
“Hmm.”
“And if you do ever visit my shop, ask Gemma for a piece of golden beryl.”
Gemma nodded her approval at his choice.
“Beryl?” Violet said offhandedly. “Mr. Stone. I’ve owned rare diamonds. Why should I want a common gemstone?”
“It can help you to release old emotional baggage and give you hope and optimism.” Benedict folded her note and put it in his pocket. “It’s like letting the sun in on a winter day. I think it would be a perfect gemstone for you, and it would be a gift from me to you.”
“Hmm,” Violet said. “I’ll bear it in mind.”
* * *
Benedict and Gemma walked past Frank Winterson’s farm as they made their way down from Violet’s manor house.
Benedict once read a newspaper article that claimed people who owned animals often resembled them. It was accompanied by a photograph of a glamorous red-haired model hugging a red setter. In the case of farmer Frank Winterson, this statement was definitely true.
Frank always wore pale gray corduroy trousers and a dark gray sweater with holes in it. With his long face, large square teeth and wispy shoulder-length white hair tied in a ponytail with a child’s pink bobble, the farmer had a distinct look of llama about him.
“Why are we stopping?” Gemma asked.
“Just to say hello to Frank the farmer. He’s over there, feeding the white horse. I thought you could meet another Noon Sunner, if you’re staying awhile.”
Gemma wrinkled her nose. “This place doesn’t look much like a farm. It’s kinda ramshackle.”
“Frank used to grow and sell plants, but a new garden center in Applethorpe opened up with a posh café in a conservatory, and a gift shop. It took away a lot of his business, so he just owns a few animals now.”
Benedict waved to Frank and the farmer gave the horse a pat and joined Gemma and Benedict at the gate.
“Aye, Benedict,” Frank said by way of a greeting.
Gemma stood on tiptoes to look at the white horse that he’d been feeding.
“Does it remind you of your horse back at Sunnyside?” Benedict asked.
“I don’t have a horse. They’re scary. You can’t tell what they’re thinking.”
“You said that you were good with them.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Gemma.” Benedict pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never know if you’re making things up or not.”
“Sorry,” she said. “A horse on my dad’s farm did like me, a little. I forgot about it.”
He opened his mouth to press her further, but Frank sidled up on the other side of the gate.
“Aye,” he said, jerking his head to indicate that Benedict should come closer.
Benedict was still frowning at Gemma, but he stepped forward.
“Nicholas showed me his red stone,” Frank said.
“The carnelian?”
“Aye. Can you help me out? I need to perk things up.” He sighed.
“Um, perk things...?”
“Aye, you know. Put a sizzle in the sausage, or eggs in the pan.”
Benedict blinked, wondering what the hell Frank was asking for. It sounded like he wanted Viagra. He lowered his voice. “Perhaps you should try a doctor...”
Frank laughed and it sounded like a horse braying. “Aye, it’s for the llamas, not me. I sell their wool and I need more of them, but they’re not frisky this year. I’ve got the missus and three kids to feed and I’m not making any money. I don’t want to have to get rid of my beauties. Look at ’em in the field over there...just lovely.”
Benedict and Gemma looked over to where four llamas stood in a line, peering over a fence with doleful eyes. “Have you given up growing plants?” Benedict asked.
Frank nodded. “I tried my hand at cauliflowers but they didn’t grow large enough, and my tomatoes didn’t taste of much. I prefer things with faces anyway. But when those llamas look at me in the morning, when I feed them, I can see they’re not happy. I thought that you might be able to help. With yer gemstones.”
“Maybe.” Benedict scratched his head. “So you want something for...?”
“More llamas,” Frank said. “And, while you’re at it, making plants grow better.”
Benedict tried to recall stones that he and Gemma had talked about. “Perhaps aventurine...”
Gemma nodded in agreement. “Red or green?”
“Both. Red aventurine can boost feelings and emotions, so is sometimes used to encourage pregnancy and enhance fertility. It’s also said to bring prosperity and lessen negativity.”
“You can bury green aventurine in the soil and it’s supposed to help plants grow healthily,” Gemma added.
“Aye, well, I’m willing to give anything a try.” Frank took out his wallet. “Things are getting desperate. The kids had to go back to school in their old uniforms and my window frames are rotten, need replacing. I’ll take some of the red and green, please.”
“Are you going to Estelle’s art exhibition the day after tomorrow?”
“Aye, maybe.”
“I’ll bring the gems for you then. We’ve just called on Violet de Gama and told her about the exhibition, too.”
“She seems lonely,” Gemma said.
“Aye. She should come out more. And that big old house is crumbling around her. I bumped into her recently, on one of her midnight walks, and told her about those nice, modern apartments by the canal, but I don’t think she listened. She prefers to dwell in the past.”
“If we give you a gem for her, can you pass it on?” Benedict asked.
“Aye.”
The white horse neighed and trotted over toward them. Gemma recoiled from it and stepped back. Benedict recalled Cecil’s words about getting on a white charger for Estelle and an idea began to twinkle in his head. He told himself that it was silly, because trying to be Romeo certainly hadn’t worked, but it wouldn’t go away.
He didn’t want to end up like Violet, living in the past with her memories, and he still had to prove his intentions to Estelle. “Any chance you could bring the white horse along on the night?” he asked. “With a saddle on him?”
Frank didn’t question this. “Aye,” he said.
“I’ll pay you for him.”
“Nope. I’ll do you a swap for the gems.”
“Agreed. Purple Heather at 8:00 p.m.?”
“Aye.”
* * *
“Why do you need a white horse?” Gemma asked as they walked back to the shop.
“It’s an idea I have for WEB.” Benedict explained how Cecil agreed with her, that he should be more proactive in trying to win Estelle back. “I mean, I’ve never actually ridden a horse, and I don’t know if I’ll attempt it, but the thought is there.”
Gemma’s bottom lip protruded into a small cushion. “But I’m supposed to come up with the challenges, Uncle Ben. Operation WEB is my idea. I want to help you and Estelle to get back together.”
Benedict nodded. “Yes, but I should try to make more effort, too. I don’t need to wait for you to have ideas when I have my own. And isn’t WEB a joint affair between us?”
Gemma looked down at her boots and she sucked in her lip with a pop. But Benedict didn’t notice. He was too busy thinking about his next plan of action.
19.
TOURMALINE QUARTZ
unity, positive energy, enlivens
THE NEXT MORNING Gemma didn’t eat her breakfast. She toyed with her spoon, stirring it around in her cereal bowl until the clinking noise made Benedict clench his teeth. “Is anything wrong?” he asked.
She screwed up her eyes. “I have a headache. My brain hurts.”
“You’ll want to feel well for Estelle’s exhibition tomorrow, so why don’t you rest up for the day?”
She lifted her chin. “I can do that?”
“You don’t have to come into the shop. It’s not compulsory.”
Gemma considered this for a while and pushed her bowl away. “Okay. I might go back to bed. Can you cope without me?”
“I’ll try my best.”
“What are you going to do about the horse?”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you have a plan?”
Benedict frowned. “Frank will bring him along on the night, and it will be a nice surprise for Estelle. I’ll invite her outside to see the horse and tell that I’m ready to joust for her.”
“Without you doing any actual horse riding, or jousting...?” Gemma frowned.
“It’s the gesture that counts. I’ll explain it all to her.”
“I think you need me to help you, but my head hurts even more now.”
“Gemma,” Benedict said. “Go to bed and rest up. I’m fine doing things on my own. I hope you feel better soon.”
* * *
Benedict walked along the Noon Sun high street, and the gray clouds and drizzle made the village look like an old black-and-white etching. The cherry scones in Bake My Day sang out his name, but he ignored them, eager to get into his shop.
Once inside, he reached into the gemstone jar and picked out a pleasingly round piece of golden beryl for Violet, and a few stones of red and green aventurine for Frank.
He spent the morning making the blue lace agate earrings for Laura and wrote out the meaning of the gemstone for her. He left a message for Reggie, saying that they were ready to collect.
After that, he took his test pieces out from under the counter. He studied them for a while and they didn’t look as rough as he remembered. In fact, they were rather stylish.
He spent the next couple of hours reaching into his window display to remove his bangles and brooches, and replacing them with the clamshell, blossom brooch and sunstone pendant, amongst others. He unfolded the tissues and discovered a series of gemstone stud earrings and a couple of silver link bracelets with dangling heart charms. He put these inside a cabinet. Some of the pieces he vaguely remembered making and others he didn’t.
When he�
��d finished he was pleased with the result. His window and cabinets looked less uniform. More magical even.
At lunchtime he bought a salad and ate it while sitting at the counter. He jumped when Estelle knocked on the window and came inside the shop. It was raining outside and she held her coat tight to her neck. Once inside, she smoothed a hand through her damp hair.
“How is Gemma?” she asked.
“Gemma? She’s okay. Well, she has a headache.”
“I know. She phoned me this morning.”
“She did?”
“That’s okay, isn’t it? I gave her my number when she called around. The bracelet she made is so sweet.” She held out her wrist to show Benedict. “She’s a clever girl.”
“It’s lovely,” he said. “Did the two of you, um, talk for long?”
Estelle frowned and shook her head like a wet dog. She felt around in her bag. Drips of water fell from the leather strap onto the floor. After producing a small, clear packet of tissues, she pulled one out and dabbed at her hair. “Not really. We just had a chat. She talked about you, mostly.”
“Really?”
“Don’t worry. It’s all good.” She smiled. Her dabs grew slower as she noticed something different about the showroom. She unfolded then refolded the tissue and moved toward the nearest cabinet. “Are you displaying work made by other jewelers now?”
“No. It’s all mine.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head and her lips parted. She pressed her fingers against the glass as if she wanted to reach inside the cabinet, to touch the silver blossom brooch. Her eyebrows lifted by just a fraction. “Yours? All of it?”
“I’m trying to diversify. I’ve made an aquamarine ring for Margarita and a silver pendant for Diane, though it’s a surprise for her birthday, so please don’t tell her. The old jewelry pieces in the cabinets are ones I made with my mother years ago. I told Gemma that they weren’t good enough to display, but I thought I’d give it a try. We discovered the gemstones in the bottom of the old wooden chest in the attic.”
“Your parents’ chest?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen inside it.”
Rise and Shine, Benedict Stone Page 17