A Christmas Gift. Ruby Jackson

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      It was the nearest Sally got to real acting that week and was not a bad way to spend an afternoon. Archie Everest, better known to theatregoers as Giles Wentworth, was what was termed ‘a reliable actor’ and he was certainly better than Elliott and a great deal quieter.

      ‘Dad’s at the cinema, pet. Did you have a good day?’ When Sally arrived home she found her mother in the kitchen doing the family ironing.

      Without Elliott’s presence, Sally’s day had been much better than she had expected. ‘Super, Mum, I had to read one of the parts. It was really interesting and Archie Everest is such a good actor. He gave me—’ She stopped in mid-sentence. ‘Oh, you’ve got my cloak. Where was the snag? I certainly don’t remember catching it but the theatre was so crowded.’

      Elsie put down her iron. ‘Never mind the snag. Just guess what I found in the lining?’ She reached up to a shelf above the cooker where several commemorative cups sat and took down one she had bought when the family visited the Empire Exhibition in Glasgow the previous year.

      ‘Look.’ She held out her hand.

      ‘You’re joking, Mum. That must have come from a Christmas cracker.’

      ‘When did you ever see something like that in a cracker, love? I almost ironed over the top of it. There’s a hole in the right pocket of your cloak. I think it slipped through and one of the stones must have caught on the lining. Otherwise it could have ended anywhere, in a gutter, down a drain.’

      Sally was still staring in awe at what appeared to be a gold ring set with three large red stones, each surrounded by tiny white sparkling stones.

      ‘Rubies and diamonds in real gold, Sally.’

      Sally shook her head. ‘They can’t be real, Mum.’

      ‘The lady who gave that cloak to charity could afford rubies and diamonds. We’ll have to find her and give it back, love.’

      Sally sat down at the table. ‘Rubies and diamonds. Gosh. If they’re real it must be worth a fortune.’

      Elsie looked at the tiny diamond in her engagement ring. ‘Daddy saved up for four years for this, Sally. Forty pounds it cost. The insurance man said we’d need to insure it for …’ Elsie stopped as if the enormity of the amount was too shocking. ‘Near two hundred, love,’ she whispered, ‘and that’s for one diamond and there’s twelve in this ring. Put it on. You’ve got ever such lovely hands and I’d like to see it on before we go to the police station.’

      Sally slipped the ring on to her right hand and admired both the ring and her carefully manicured nails. ‘Sets it off nicely, but, Mum, we’ll be quicker going tomorrow to the second-hand shop. I’ll go on my lunch break. They’ll know who brought in the cloak.’

      Ernie would have liked to get rid of the ring straight away. ‘That’s worth a fortune, Sally, and I don’t want it in my house. What kind of woman doesn’t know she’s lost a valuable ring?’

      Neither his wife nor his daughter had the slightest idea how to answer that question.

      ‘I’ll put it in the safe at the cinema. Be better there.’

      ‘But I won’t be able to get it from you and take it to the shop, Dad. No one knows it’s here. It’ll be safe for one night.’

      As usual Sally had her way and next day, carrying her packed lunch, she took the ring back to the shop. Neither Maude nor Fedora was on duty. Sally deliberated about speaking to the sole person there today. She had a relationship of sorts with the other two women; she trusted them. Her mind went back and forth. Of course, this woman was bound to be honest or Fedora would not have hired her. Therefore she should tell her the story of the ring. But she could not help thinking that this situation was almost like something one would see in a film. She would hand over the ring and the woman and the ring would disappear.

      Sally smiled at her own foolishness.

      ‘I bought the most beautiful evening cloak here,’ she started.

      ‘We don’t take back sold items.’

      The words were uttered so forcibly that Sally’s original plan changed immediately. ‘I’m thrilled with the cape. I wanted, if possible, to thank the lady who donated it.’

      ‘We don’t discuss our sponsors but you can be assured that our quality items come from only the finest homes. We have actually dealt with a titled gentleman recently.’ She stopped abruptly as if she realised she was being too talkative.

      ‘Of course, but do thank him and his wife,’ said Sally with a beaming smile as she turned and hurried from the shop. She knew exactly who would know where any local aristocrat lived.

      Petrie’s Groceries and Fine Teas had been dealing with every stratum of Dartford society for as long as Sally had known them. She waited only until her family and, she hoped, the Petrie family had eaten their evening meal before hurrying over to the familiar flat above the shop to speak to her friend Daisy, who worked full time in the grocery.

      Ron, the Petries’ youngest son, opened the door. ‘Well, if it isn’t Margaret Lockwood herself. How’s the world of bright lights, Maggie?’

      Sally laughed. ‘The girls in, Ron?’

      ‘And where else would they be on a weeknight? Go on up. Rose is washing her hair but everyone else is in the front room listening to the wireless.’

      A few minutes later, Daisy and Sally were in the kitchen, the door firmly shut against intruders.

      ‘Well, what do you think of that?’

      Daisy gazed at the ring. She tentatively stretched out a hand towards it.

      ‘Try it on; it’ll be too big but watch how it sparkles.’

      Daisy slipped it on and gazed in awe. It was much too big for her petite hand, but when she held it up the stones contrasted prettily with her green eyes and short dark hair. ‘Is it real? It can’t be real. It looks like something the Queen would have.’

      ‘Dad thinks it’s real and of course I have to return it. The owner must be frantic, poor woman. I would be, wouldn’t you?’

      They were silent for a moment as they stood silently, just watching the stones sparkle as light hit them.

      ‘I want you to help me find the owner, Daisy, because she must be a customer.’

      ‘Sorry, Sally, our customers can’t afford diamonds and rubies. We sell cheese and porridge oats and tinned peas. Rich people don’t eat porridge.’

      ‘Perhaps they don’t, but they drink fine teas.’

      The friends sank back in their chairs as this truth hit them.

      ‘You do some of the deliveries, Daisy.’

      ‘I can’t tell you customers’ names, Sally, and certainly not their addresses.’

      Sally sighed and Daisy recognised it, for once, as a genuine note of unhappiness. Sally was capable of showing a whole host of feelings, one after the other.

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