“We have a customer, lads,” Benedict said to Alistair and Alexander. “Scoot off back to the Pig and Whistle to help Nicholas.”
Alistair rolled his eyes. “Nah,” he said. “Nothing we do is good enough for him.”
“We always get it wrong,” Alexander added.
Gemma pressed the amethyst into Alistair’s hand. “Take it,” she said. “It’s good for deeper understanding, and helps to soothe anger.”
“Cool.” He rubbed it against his chest then opened the door for Margarita. “Thanks and see ya around, Gemma.”
“Thank you.” Margarita smiled. Her black-and-silver hair was swept into a loose bun with tendrils falling over her face. She wore an emerald green ’50s-style dress and no apron. “Ciao, Benedeect,” she said, then proffered a small bunch of sea holly and white roses to Gemma.
Gemma smelled them and offered them to Benedict to do the same.
“They are my favorite flowers. Sea holly is very tolerant,” Margarita said. “It can grow anywhere there is sunshine, but like all flowers, a bit of love and attention helps it to thrive.”
“Thanks. They’re lovely,” Gemma said.
“I have been waking early, to go to the flower market. It is wonderful there. I missed the smell of the lilies.” She closed her eyes and inhaled. “The flowers make me feel ’appy.”
Gemma frowned. “So has Tony changed his job?”
Margarita gave a small laugh. “I have changed Tony,” she said. “And so, I am here to order my aquamarine ring.”
Gemma performed a small fist pump under the counter. “Great,” she said. “You won’t be disappointed. My uncle Ben is a genius.”
“I think you’re exaggerating,” he replied.
“Nope.”
“Well, I loved your idea for the ring, Gemma.” Margarita’s black curls bobbed as she spoke. “It’s a shame that Tony didn’t feel the same way. Everything we did seemed to be a compromise. What he was ’appy with, I was not, and the other way, too. I had my doubts, but our differences suddenly seemed too much. I told him that I need to be with flowers and he said no.” She took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at the corner of one eye.
“Oh,” Gemma said. “Sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yes. When I asked him to leave, I knew he would not take it very well. I hoped he might change but...no.” She shook her head. “He threw a few things around, but he missed me, this time.”
“This time...?”
Margarita touched a faded bruise on her arm then moved her hand briskly away. “It does not matter now.” She pressed her hands to her heart. “I’ve come to my senses. So, I want to order my own ring instead. I have a photograph from a magazine.” She took a folded page from her bag and handed it to Benedict. “It is for me to start afresh.”
Benedict flattened down the creases with his fingers and studied it. The band of the ring was made from polished platinum, wide and flat. A garland of delicate flowers wove around it, each with a tiny aquamarine center.
“The name aquamarine comes from the Latin meaning water of the sea, because of its color,” Gemma said.
“Ah, sea holly,” Margarita said. “See. It all fits together. So, can you make this for me, Benedeect?”
Benedict stared at the photo. It was intricate, using techniques that he’d not practiced for a long time. He ran his finger over it, trying to imagine how the ring might feel. Slowly, his mind cranked into action and he started to think about how he could create the flowers and set the stones.
When he made jewelry with his mother, they would both sketch and discuss a piece, how it might look and feel, but for years he had worked on autopilot, producing what was easy. Margarita was asking if he could make something special and he wasn’t sure if he had the skills any longer to create something that wasn’t a bangle or a simple brooch.
He also thought of his own efforts, since Gemma arrived, to take chances. He was useless at playing Romeo, but he had given it a go. He’d invited Estelle out and they had a good time, even though he’d told her a lie. He should try to make this ring, because he might not fail. “I can try,” he said.
“I know you can do it.” Gemma nudged his arm.
Margarita handed her makeshift metal ring to Benedict. “This is the size I need. Then you can throw this away.”
Benedict took out a ring mandrel from under the counter. He slid Margarita’s ring onto it and made a note of its size against the measurements. He estimated how much platinum he would need and how much time he would take to make the ring. When he had a figure in his head, he took 25 percent off, because he wasn’t totally confident he could deliver what Margarita wanted. He wrote the figure down and showed it to her.
“Wonderful.”
“And you need it by...?”
Margarita looked at her bare finger then lifted her chin. “As soon as possible, please, Benedeect.”
“I’ll start work on it today.”
Benedict put the mandrel back into the cupboard under the counter. “So, you said that you weren’t good at anything, and that you always mess up...” he said to Gemma.
“What do you mean?”
“You found the right stone for Margarita. So I think that you’ve just proved otherwise.”
* * *
Benedict’s big fingers shook a little as he picked out a small sheet of platinum. He had programmed himself to automatically cut, file, shape and solder his jewelry, but this piece was going to be very different. He knew the meaning behind it. Its story. It wasn’t just a ring. It was something important for Margarita to wear, to symbolize her fresh start.
There were no stories behind the pieces of jewelry that he usually made, or if there were, then he didn’t know them. He had created rings and necklaces and bracelets for milestones in people’s lives—birthdays, Christmas, christenings—and he hadn’t thought what they might mean to someone. He had been too self-absorbed, thinking only of his and Estelle’s problems, about paying the bills and about children.
He avoided other people’s emotions, even if they were happy or celebratory. He shut himself away in his workshop, because he didn’t want to feel what his customers did.
Benedict stared at his face, reflected in the platinum sheet, and took a long look at his wavy image. He couldn’t carry on like this, moping about, putting on weight and yearning for his wife to come home. Gemma had called him talented. Margarita trusted him to design her ring. Perhaps he should listen. Maybe he wasn’t a husk of a man after all. There might be something more inside him that he wanted to find and demonstrate, to himself and to Estelle. Perhaps not all his cogs were broken.
And if he tried and failed, then at least he’d had a go.
He propped Margarita’s photo from the magazine against a wooden block, and he smoothed his hand over the platinum sheet, imagining his mother pressing the snips into his hand and telling him to take care.
His hand flowed as he marked out the shape of the ring onto a piece of masking tape, which he then adhered to the platinum sheet to use as a template. He slipped on his white cotton gloves to handle the platinum, then pierced out the ring using his saw.
When it grew darker outside and Benedict reached out to reangle his lamp, he glanced at his watch and saw that it had already gone six o’clock. He had worked on the ring for five hours, but it only seemed like five minutes.
He peeled off his gloves and placed them neatly on his bench top. The ring he’d created was a good replica of the one in the magazine. The finish he’d achieved was as shiny as a puddle. The flowers looked almost real.
His heart rate and breathing were slow and he felt relaxed and calm, as if he’d devoured a slice of sticky cake, but he hadn’t eaten or thought about food since lunchtime. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, not noticing a stray piece of cress lying on top of his pliers. This is what
it feels like to be interested in my own work again, he thought.
“Have you seen the time?” Gemma asked as she opened the workshop door.
“I was engrossed with making the ring.”
“Is it finished?”
“I think so.”
Gemma edged forward. She gave a small gasp as she caught sight of it. “Wow,” she said. “You’ve done it.”
“I know.”
They both admired it for a while until Benedict switched off his lamp. “I hope Margarita likes it,” he said and wheeled his chair away from his bench. He sat and stared straight ahead. Even though he was happy with the ring, there was a small niggle in his head and he couldn’t get rid of it.
Somehow, Gemma managed to detect it. “What are you thinking?”
“Hmm. I’ve created the ring for Margarita and it’s perfect for her. But am I really pouring all the passion I can do into making the anniversary necklace for Estelle? Or am I doing what I always do, and creating something beautiful but with no soul?”
“So that could be a challenge for WEB, Uncle Ben,” Gemma said. “Turn Estelle’s necklace into something wonderful.”
“Hmm,” Benedict said again, and he began to wonder how he might do it.
16.
KUNZITE
love, mood lifting, frees emotions
BENEDICT AND GEMMA stood in the kitchen together making a stew for tea. He chopped up some lamb and vegetables, then dropped them into simmering water with a handful of fresh herbs.
While they waited for the stew to cook, Gemma made a fruit salad on a plate, cutting and arranging the fruit so the colors fed from one to another—the red of strawberries and watermelon running through to slices of banana and yellow apples. We look like a beautiful sunset, the fruit said to Benedict. Eat as much of us as you like.
They dined at the table and Gemma nibbled on a piece of bread, turning it around and around. Benedict ate his stew slowly whilst thinking about the pendant for Diane.
“The aquamarine ring was right for Margarita, and I want to make the perfect piece of jewelry for Ryan to give to Diane,” he said. “I think the pendant should be a circular shape, in silver, with a square-cut kunzite set in the bottom third, rather than in the middle.”
“That sounds cool.”
“But it’s not different enough.” Benedict broke off a chunk of bread and dunked it into the last of his stew. “It’s too simple. Ryan wants to demonstrate to Diane how much he loves her, and to show her that their marriage is worth fighting for.”
“Is the gemstone not enough?”
“I don’t think it is.”
Benedict considered Ryan’s talk of Terminators and bouncy mattresses. He stared into his empty bowl. He couldn’t keep relying on Gemma to deal with customers, and he had to prove to himself that he could do this. If he could create something wonderful, then he might be worthy of Estelle.
The pendant had to be the equivalent of a love letter from Ryan to Diane. And with that thought, Benedict let his spoon drop. It clattered into the ceramic bowl. A love letter. “I have an idea,” he said slowly.
“What?” Gemma cupped her hands around her face. “What is it, Uncle Ben?”
“Where is Joseph’s journal?”
“In my bag, in the front room. Do you want me to look something up?”
“Yes. K for kunzite.”
Gemma scraped back her chair and skipped out of the kitchen.
When she returned, she set the journal down on the kitchen table. Flicking to the K section, she turned it so Benedict could read the page.
KUNZITE
This gem was named after G. F. Kunz, who discovered it at the start of the twentieth century. This beautiful crystal appears pale pink from the side, but if you look at it down its length, its striations can make it appear a pinky violet. Kunzite can enhance self-esteem and help us to be patient and understand other people. It protects, helps to bring resolution to conflict, heals the heart and helps love to grow.
“Aw, that’s real sweet,” Gemma said.
Benedict’s mind began to tick. “Perhaps...” he said.
“Perhaps what?”
“Well, if the pendant is going to be a love letter to Diane, then it should actually feature some words on it. I think I’ll engrave the meaning of the gemstone onto the pendant, and then Diane has it in writing, how Ryan feels about her. Love, protect, understanding and heart. I want to make a sketch of it first.”
“That sounds cool. Way to go, Uncle Ben,” Gemma said. “I’ll get some paper.”
“And some pens, too,” he said.
They shared a smile.
* * *
Benedict shut himself away in his workshop and worked on the pendant for Diane.
He took a small sheet of silver and cleaned the surface with a piece of emery paper. He marked the middle of a circle by gently tapping a center punch once with a hammer, and then placed the silver sheet on a piece of paper. He picked up his dividers and set them to the radius he wanted and turned the paper around to form a circle, which was easier than turning the dividers themselves. Using his snips, he cut out the circle, following the marks.
After filing the edges of the pendant, he measured the kunzite and annealed a small strip of silver to make into a square setting. After sawing through the strip where there was an overlap, he used pliers to squeeze the seams shut. He painted borax onto the seam and placed a pallion of hard solder onto it, then heated it with his blowtorch until the solder flowed through the seam.
Gemma came into the workshop a couple of times, but Benedict didn’t speak to her or even raise his head to acknowledge her presence. He ignored the shushing open of the door and her offers of cups of tea.
He polished the silver with a steel brush to produce a matte finish, and then set about engraving the words. They appeared shiny against the matte background. When he was finished, he cleaned the pendant with a cloth.
After concentrating so hard, his neck and back were stiff. He was still a little hunched over when he walked back into the showroom, but that didn’t matter. Ryan had something beautiful to present to Diane.
Benedict opened the door on one of the display cabinets and selected a fine silver belcher chain. Sliding it through the jump ring of the pendant, he hung it up for Gemma to see. “What do you think?”
“It’s gorgeous, Uncle Ben.”
“I hope Ryan will be pleased.” He closed the cabinet door and headed back to his workshop.
“Are you going to take it to Soap’n’Suds now?”
“I’ll wait until I next see him.”
“Can I take it?”
“You?”
“Yeah. A pendant was my idea and I want to see his face when he opens the box. I also want to call on Aunt Estelle.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I’ve made her a bracelet out of small gemstones.”
“Oh.” Benedict’s nostrils flared a little. He didn’t know that Gemma had started to make her own things, too. He placed the kunzite pendant in a box. “Why?”
“Duh. Because she’s my aunt. She lives in the apartment block by the canal, right?”
Benedict nodded. “What gemstones did you choose for her?”
“I just picked pretty ones for confidence and security.”
“Confidence and security?” Benedict repeated. They weren’t the gems he’d automatically think of for his wife.
“All people need that.”
“And is it something you’re looking for, too?”
Gemma’s eyes hardened. “Who said that I need it?”
“I don’t know.” He thought about the initials DJ in her notebook. “Are you missing anything or anyone from home?” he asked.
“Like who?” A frost seem
ed to settle over her features.
“Your ex-boyfriend perhaps?”
“Boys are a waste of time,” Gemma snapped. “And you’re prying again.” She snatched up Ryan’s kunzite pendant and put the box in her pocket. After peering out of the window, she headed to the storeroom and pulled out Estelle’s purple coat. “It’s raining.”
“When will you be back?”
Gemma tossed her head as she left the shop. “When I’m finished.”
* * *
A strange noise made Benedict’s ears perk up and he realized that Lord Puss was purring. He tentatively reached out and gave the cat’s head a gentle stroke as he nestled down on the pillow. Perhaps he’s mistaken me for Gemma, Benedict thought, but then he caught sight of the tiger’s-eye gemstone poking out from under the purple cushion.
The journal lay on the counter and, even though he knew Gemma liked to be the one to read it, Benedict pulled it toward him to see what it said about the small browny-gold stone.
TIGER’S-EYE
A member of the quartz family, the stone is so named because it looks like the eye of a tiger. Its brown and gold stripes seem to shift and change when the stone moves. Tiger’s-eye is supposed to impart a tiger’s fearlessness, so Roman soldiers carried it into battle to give them courage. In ancient Egypt, the stone offered the protection of the sun god, Ra. It is said that tiger’s-eye reduces anxiety caused by feelings of insecurity and inadequacy and encourages contact with others. It’s a good stone for assisting animals in adapting to new changes.
He noticed that Gemma had again added her notes underneath. He was cautious about reading them, but curiosity simmered inside him.
I need to check if she’s okay, he told himself. She doesn’t tell me a lot of things, so there’s no other way I can find out. She keeps the journal away from me, but it’s mine, not hers.
He pressed his finger against the brittle page and read on.
Tiger’s-eye is supposed to reduce feelings of anxiety, but my emotions are still crazy. This gemstone is good for dilemmas, so I hope it will help me with mine. I miss D more than I thought I would. I wish I'd told him where I was going. There's no way he'll find me here. What am I going to do?
Rise and Shine, Benedict Stone Page 15
