Open Writing

Autumn leaves littered the sidewalk and crackled under her feet as Jenny wearily pushed the pram up the road. Turning the corner she felt the chill blast of a northerly wind in her face her legs ached and the baby was nearly due for his feed.

The young mother glanced at her watch and decided there was just enough time to try one last place before hurrying back to pick up Lisa from school. The thought put urgency into her step.

Half way down the fashionable Mall she spotted the sign swinging in the wind.
'The Treasure Trove.' Dealers in diamonds and objects d'art.

The small bay window gleamed brightly in the bleak afternoon and Jenny drew in a deep breath as she caught a glimpse of gold and silver reflected in each tiny leaded pane. Precious jewellery strewn, as if carelessly, on crimson velvet. Necklaces, pearls and fob watches spilling out from a miniature sea chest.

She pushed back a lock of unruly red hair and fingered the small trinket box in the big pocket of her plastic raincoat. The shop reminded her of those in the Cotswolds where she and her mother had spent their very last holiday together. Poor love, the cancer was bad then and she hadn’t been able to walk too far but she did enjoy looking in the quaint little antique stores. All the money they had spent on treatment and none of it did any good.

And now here she was selling off her mother's few precious possessions!
The thought made Jenny feel terrible. But the power bill was waiting to be paid, the washing machine needed fixing and there was still no sign of Jim getting another job. So she crossed her fingers and hoped for a fair price. At least a bit more than the last dealer had offered.

The baby started to cry and his mother patted him and put the dummy in his mouth hoping it would pacify him for a while. Then she studied the contents of the window trying to read the price tags most of which were cleverly concealed. That usually meant things were terribly expensive.

It started to rain so she opened the door and pushed the pram inside. A bell chimed somewhere out back and a middle-aged woman came hurrying out.

"I’m sorry," the woman said, "but would you mind leaving it near the door!"

Jenny felt affronted not sure if she was referring to the baby or the pram.

"The wheels mark the carpet you know," the shop owner explained.

She moved from behind the counter walking with a slight limp. Gold-rimmed pince-nez glasses on a chain swinging gently across a pale blue Angora jumper which matched her greying hair. She wore a long navy skirt beautifully tailored to flatter her elegant figure.
As the two women appraised each other Jenny was conscious of her own shabby appearance.

Oh God! she thought, I probably look like a shoplifter. She turned to the baby. He had orange juice spilt down his top and his nappy was wet again. The mother sat him up in his pram and then took the box from her pocket.

"I have some things I need to sell," Jenny said, handing the box over to the other woman. The dealer eyed her cautiously then went over and emptied the contents onto the glass topped counter examining the items carefully. Jenny noticed the manicured fingernails and the large diamond rings on both hands.

The woman was handling a gold fob watch that had belonged to Jenny’s grandfather.
"It’s quite old," the girl volunteered.

The dealer gave her a searching look as if assessing her character.

"It’s all part of my mum’s estate," Jenny explained. "She died last year you see and, well I wouldn’t be selling anything except we need the money." Tears welled up in her eyes.
"I have a few other bits and pieces at home as well; dishes, ornaments, paintings.
Perhaps you might be interested?"

She sounded quite desperate.

Making no comment the dealer picked up an ornate brooch and put it under a magnifying glass slowly turning it around studying the stones. Jenny suddenly felt ashamed and it made her mad to feel that way because she was sure her mother would have understood.

"The rings are quite valuable," she said defensively. "I know because mum had them assessed for insurance purposes."

The woman gave her a patronising smile.

"Insurance valuations are not a good guide to selling prices I'm afraid," she said.

Here it comes again; the girl thought wryly, same old story.

"It is quite a nice brooch but a little old fashioned and the rings would need resetting…"

Jenny cut in her eyes defiant now. "But I thought antiques were supposed to be more valuable?"

The baby was grizzling and she looked at her watch. Her anxiety was obvious.

"Not quite old enough to be regarded as an antique I'm afraid. Although I might be able to make you an offer," the woman said as she sifted through the items. "This medal," the dealer said turning it over, "my son could be interested. We do sell a few.’’

"Oh! That was my father’s," Jenny exclaimed, "but I’m sorry it’s not for sale. I shouldn't have left it in the box."

She went over to the pram and picked up the crying baby.

"Look, I’m in a hurry," she said feeling the wetness of the child. "I have to pick up my little girl from school so please, could you tell me what you can offer?"

The woman seemed to be peering at the inscription on the medal.

"It says Awarded to Colonel Leslie James Percival," Jenny offered.

"Percival," the woman repeated slowly. She gazed intently at Jenny and then at the child and for a long moment was silent.

"Percival was your family name?"

"It was, " Jenny replied as she reached out for the medal. She wondered why the dealer was so interested.
"So, both your parents are dead now?" the dealer said thoughtfully.

The girl nodded.

"Tell me my dear did your parents ever live in Eastbourne?"

Jenny was take aback. "Well yes, " she said, "we did live there for a while when dad retired from the army. Mum and I moved to York after he died. But why do you ask?"

The woman had gone suddenly pale.

"No matter," she murmured as she limped over and sat down heavily on a padded velvet chaise-lounge signalling Jenny to sit next to her.

"Tell me child," she said, "what is you first name?"

The young mother felt strangely uneasy and irritated at the same time.
"Jenny," she said shortly, "but I can’t see what…"

"Oh God," the woman sighed and suddenly looked as if she were about to faint.

"Are you alright?" Jenny asked anxiously placing her hand on the older woman’s shoulder.
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry, it's just a little migraine," she said seeming to recover her composure.

"How old are you Jenny?" she asked.

Jenny just couldn't see the point of all these questions.

A large grandfather clock struck the hour.

"Oh gosh I really must be going," she said, starting to tuck the baby up in the pram.

"Your age Jenny?" the woman begged.

"Look, I’m twenty-six. I have two kids and a sick husband. And now I must go and collect my little girl from school"

She went over to the counter and started to gather up her few trinkets but the dealer stopped her.

"No please wait," she said putting out a restraining hand.
There was a strange sadness in her smile.

"You need the money and I think I can offer you a fair price."

Jenny waited, still sceptical. The woman made her feel nervous staring at her like that.

The dealer thought for a moment. "Shall we say er...a thousand?" she said.

A thousand pounds! Jenny was stunned. She couldn't believe her ears.

"Is that alright?" the dealer was saying.

All right! It was a gift from heaven, Jenny thought. She tried to sound casual.
"A thousand pounds?" she said making sure she had heard right.

The woman smiled and nodded.
"For the rings, the brooch and the watch? Not the medal though, that's definitely not for sale."

"For the brooch my dear," the dealer said. "You keep the other items, it's such a shame to have to part with them."

The woman told her to wait and went out to the back room. As Jenny gathered up the remaining items and put them back into the trinket box she was sure she must be dreaming.

When the dealer returned she handed Jenny and envelope crammed full of notes.

Then she went over to the pram and took the baby's hand. She seemed quite taken with the child.

"Now give me your address Jenny," she said "and I shall call around tomorrow to see the other items you have for sale."

The young mother couldn’t believe her luck but still she hesitated. It all seemed so odd.

"Your address my dear?" the dealer urged. "I must have it for the records."

So Jenny wrote down her address and said she would be home in the morning.

When they had gone the owner of the antique shop put the 'Closed' sign up and locked the door. She put her head in her hands and wept. Could it be? Could it possibly be?
While Alfred was alive she had never had the courage to tell him, couldn't bear to hurt him so she had kept her guilty secret all these years. But never had she stopped wondering, waiting and hoping that some day, somehow..

After her husband’s death she had plucked up the courage to check with the authorities and had obtained the name of a couple living in Eastbourne. She had longed to get in touch but then decided it was best to leave the past be. After all there was her son to consider and how could she ever tell him?

The tears flowed as she thought of the red-haired girl and her baby. Her own hair had been that colour once.