Page 50 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“Ah, yes — excellent, excellent. Well, let me see what you have.” He produced a red velvet cloth from under the counter, spread it out smoothly and invited her to set out the pieces.
She tugged open the draw-cord and tipped out the contents onto the cloth. “I had no idea Aunt Molly had these things. I only found them yesterday, in a box of old photographs.”
“Molly?” He peered up at her sharply. “Would that be Molly Marston, from down Sturcombe?”
Vicky’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s right. You knew her?”
“I did, yes.” He nodded, smiling sadly. “I heard that she’d passed.” He picked up the watch and examined it closely. “She would come in now and then to sell me a piece. Gifts from her lovers, she said — I used to tease her that she must have had many of them. Some of them she said were very famous, but she wouldn’t even whisper their names.”
“Did you know that she was a dancer at the Moulin Rouge in Paris?” Vicky asked, thrilled to find someone who might know a little about her aunt. “I found some photographs, and some of her costumes.”
“Oh, yes — the Moulin Rouge. That was where she met some of them, of course. There were many men who would go to watch the cabaret, then take flowers and chocolates round to the stage door and try to date the girls. And often they would bring gifts of jewellery to their favourites.”
“Did she ever tell you... was there ever anyone special?”
“Well, yes — I believe there was. A long time ago. I never knew his name.”
“A poet — a painter?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know about that. But she certainly lived quite an adventurous life.”
He placed the watch carefully on the cloth and picked up the pearl earrings. “I’m sad that she’s gone, but she’ll have gone with no regrets.”
“No regrets.” She smiled. “That’s a good thought.”
“It certainly is.” He picked up the ring with the entwined hearts. “Ah, now this is a pretty thing.”
“That’s my favourite.” She sighed in wistful regret. “I’d have kept it, but I need the money. She left me her cottage too, but it needs quite a lot of work, and there’ll be a big inheritance tax bill to pay.”
His kindly eyes twinkled at her. “Of course.”
He continued to examine each piece, placing them down side by side. The final piece he picked up was the dragonfly brooch — he seemed to have deliberately left that till last. “Ah...” He switched on a light at the side of the counter and removed his glasses, and lifted the loupe-glass that hung on a cord around his neck.
She watched anxiously as he held the brooch under the light, turning it in his hand, peering at it closely through the loupe-glass. After a few moments he let the loupe-glass drop and laid the brooch down separately to the other things.
“Now, these I can buy from you.” He laid his hand over the pile on the right. “But this...” He picked up the brooch again and held it out to her on the palm of his hand. “No.”
“Oh.” The fizz inside her went as flat as day-old beer. “The diamonds are fake? I thought they must be.”
He shook his head. “On the contrary, they are very fine stones indeed. Together I would estimate that there are about fourteen carats. If I were to put a price on it, I’d say perhaps twenty-five thousand pounds.”
“Oh . . . !”Fizz!
“I don’t have the market for a piece like this here, and I won’t cheat you by buying it to sell on. If you want my advice, you should sell it in London.”
“Oh...” Fortunately there was a chair beside the counter, and she sank onto it, her head spinning. Twenty-five thousand pounds... ! Even after paying the inheritance tax on it, that was going to go a long way towards paying for the renovations on the cottage.
“I can give you the name of a friend of mine whom you can rely on to deal with you honestly.”
“Th . . . thank you.”
“Now this is very interesting.” The jeweller had picked up the medal, which had spilled out of the bag with the jewellery. “The inscription — do you know what it means?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I meant to look it up, but I didn’t have time this morning.”
“Patria non immemor.I’ve not seen it before, but I think... Would you mind if I take a photograph and send it to another friend of mine? He’s very interested in medals — he’s quite the expert.”
“No — of course.” She sat forward eagerly. “Go ahead.”
