Authors: Mary Cummins
“Checking,” she told him. “I’ve been given a list of the jewellery to be shown, and I mark off each piece as I get it from the models.”
Benjamin frowned.
“Whose idea was that?” he asked, rather coldly.
“Why, Stephanie’s or Nigel’s, I suppose. Does it matter?”
He looked at her thoughtfully.
“They’ve no right to ask you to take responsibility like this,” he said firmly. “You’re only a youngster, and there’s thousands at stake in this little lot. If anything should go wrong ... something missing, for example ... it means you’re involved.”
She flushed scarlet.
“You
...
you aren’t saying I can’t be trusted?” she snapped, her eyes sparking. “Or that I’m some sort of incompetent fool? I’ve had a good office training, and I used to hold down quite a responsible job with my uncle’s firm. Do you think the Kilpatricks would ask me if they thought I was some sort of idiot? I
...”
“Steady on, steady on,” he told her. “Don’t keep flying off the handle because I talk a bit of horse sense to you. If you can’t see the risk, then heaven help me, I must try to point it out to you
.
..
”
“Well, you can stop playing watchdog to me,” she told him stormily. “Even if you did promise Aunt Ellen
!”
“Why, Benjamin darling, I’m so glad you got here
!”
Suddenly Stephanie was with them, darting Merry an angry look, and her heart sank even more. She had no wish to be bad friends with Stephanie. While she couldn’t exactly foresee a bosom friendship between them, or a time when she’d be very fond of Stephanie, yet she was Nigel’s sister, and Merry would have welcomed a girl of her own age as a friend. She’d felt that the other girl was beginning to like her a little, and was annoyed with Benjamin, quite illogically, for giving her the wrong impression.
“Where’s Nigel?” asked Stephanie.
“Getting a quick cup of coffee,” said Merry. “He’ll be back in a moment. I’ve had mine.”
“We need him, fast
... Oh, here he is now. Nigel, Claire Turner hasn’t turned up. Molly says she’s caught the ’flu bug. That means no one for the turquoise and pearls.”
“Oh, lord,” exclaimed Nigel. “That puts the programme out. I suppose you can’t
... No, the timing would be wrong. Wait a minute
...
What about Merry?”
He eyed her emerald dress, and shook his
head again.
“Molly could wear the turquoise,” said Stephanie. “She’s in cream silk, for the garnets. They’d look O.K. on Merry
...
quite vivid against the green.”
They considered her speculatively, while Merry stood by uneasily, aware of Benjamin’s tall figure in the background.
“Will you do it, Merry?” asked Nigel.
“I ... I don’t know,” she said, biting her lip as she caught Benjamin’s ste
rn
face, as he stared angrily at Nigel. Then Stephanie made a gesture of impatience.
“Why not?” demanded Nigel. “You’ve got the looks, you’re dressed properly, and you can walk. Why not, for goodness’ sake?”
“She’s too timid,” sneered Stephanie, and Benjamin’s eyes snapped.
“She’s only a child, Kilpatrick,” he interrupted. “You’ve no right to put responsibility on to her
!”
Merry’s chin came up.
“Of course I’ll do it,” she said crisply, “if you think I can. What about the checking, though?”
“I’ll manage that myself,” Nigel told her. “Dave Bruce will help. Go with Stephanie to the changing room and I’ll be right along with the case.”
As they walked away, Stephanie’s fingers closed lightly on Merry’s wrist, then firmed slightly as they passed one of the stands. Merry saw a very tall young man with dark curling hair and very dark eyes looking at Stephanie fixedly, and felt sudden tension in the girl.
“Who is that?” she asked curiously.
“One of our managers,” the girl told her, and shrugged in an attempt to be offhand. “Does it matter?”
Merry had to admit that it didn’t, though for a moment she had felt surrounded by tensions.
“Now, let’s see your hair and make-up,” Stephanie was saying. “Here’s the other girls, Molly Green, Val Stoddart, Irene Price and Betty McArthur. Merry Saunders, girls ... our neighbour at Kilbraggan. She’ll take Claire’s place, or at least your place, Molly. The garnets will look better on her dress, and the turquoise will be fine with that cream silk.”
“Suits me,” said Molly, with a friendly smile at Merry. “We’re all enjoying the change from clothes. We all model at some of the big stores in town.”
Merry nodded, feeling suddenly nervous again. What if she made a fool of herself, with Nigel watching
...
and Benjamin. The thought made her chin firm, and she decided she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. She smiled as Nigel walked in the door carrying a black fitted jewel case, full of black leather-bound boxes.
“All right, girls,” he said gently. “Here we are. Stephanie first, with the diamonds, then I think it’s Irene with the sapphire necklace and matching bracelet.”
Somehow or other it was Merry’s turn, as she fastened on a heavy jewel-encrusted necklace, with bracelet, ear-rings and brooch to match. This was the only antique set in the collection, and she was very conscious of previous owners, as she walked up the centre of the floor, turning and twisting to allow the bright lights to catch the living fire of the jewels. The garnets glowed deep, rich red, so different from the bright pinkish crimson of the rubies worn by Betty. Merry felt the weight of them on her neck and arms, and decided that a whole evening wearing them was not for her.
It was with relief that she walked back to the changing room amid polite but quite enthusiastic applause, and gave the gems back to Nigel, who marked off each piece, had it checked by the tall young man with dark hair, and locked it away in the case.
By midnight it was all over, and Merry stood waiting tiredly for Nigel and his father to lock everything away in huge safes, exper
tl
y fitted with burglar alarms.
“Has it been a success?” she asked, rather tiredly.
“Too soon to tell,” said Nigel tersely. “Some people have made up their minds about things tonight, and one or two cocktail rings have been bought with a few gold animal brooches. Pearls, too!” He turned to carry more boxes to the safe. “The bigger pieces aren’t bought so quickly. People like time to consider these things. Isn’t that so, Father?”
Mr. Kilpatrick nodded.
“That’s how it should be,” he said. “Impulsive buying means a dissatisfied customer when the enthusiasm wanes. That’s why I prefer ordinary business methods, but I’m willing to give Nigel his head this once. At least our stock checks, and we’ve no unpleasantness over that.”
“Did no one buy the topaz ring?” asked Merry, and again felt herself shiver a little. Goose walking over her grave, she thought, a trifle uncomfortably.
“That will take a great deal of consideration,” smiled Mr. Kilpatrick. “But someone will buy it, never fear. Thank you for your help, my dear. You filled the breach admirably.”
“I enjoyed it,” said Merry, then wondered if she was really being very truthful. It had been new and exciting, but now she wanted to be back home to Beau Ness, and Mrs. Cameron waiting for her with some hot milk. This wasn
’
t
really her world.
“Merry’s tired,” said Nigel, taking her arm possessively. “It’s time I took you home, my love.”
CHAPTER 4
MERRY enjoyed working at her desk in the lovely little study, off the sitting-room, while Mrs. Cameron hovered around like an anxious hen. At first she had been very conscious of the other woman’s efforts to keep quiet, and told Mrs. Cameron to carry on normally, and she’d soon get used to her being there. Now she was into a good working routine, and filled with the intense urge which sometimes came to her when she was doing her best work.
In addition to reading through Aunt Ellen’s notebooks, and making notes for her book, she wrote a short story, the words coming feverishly from an idea which had come to her during one of her solitary rambles through the woods. She was also preparing an article on the care of jewellery, and how to clean precious stones, and Nigel had promised to walk over with detailed information when he was free.
Now she put, her short story into an envelope
with a wonderful feeling of satisfaction, and decided to walk down to the village to post it “Do you want anything from Maggie Scott’s?” she asked Mrs. Cameron, knowing that she patronised the general stores.
“I’ll see,” Mrs. Cameron told her, bustling away to check her store cupboard. A few minutes later she was back with an old-
f
ashioned shopping basket and a list of groceries.
“If you get these, Miss Merry,” she said, “it’ll save my legs tomorrow, and I can turn out the bedrooms instead.”
“Couldn’t I help you?” asked Merry, rather anxiously, thinking the older woman looked tired.
“Bless you, no,” laughed Mrs. Cameron. “It’ll be a funny day when I can’t give the bedrooms a good redd. Och no, it’s just that I was over at my sister’s yesterday
...
her that lives in the village ... you know, Isa and John Campbell.” Merry nodded. She’d often accompanied Mrs. Cameron to the Campbells’ cottage when she stayed with Aunt Ellen during holidays.
“Her wee dog’s gone missing. I was never a great one for a wee dog myself, though I don’t mind a good big animal I’ll not be stepping on by accident. I’ve missed Major, Miss Ellen’s golden retriever, since he died.”
“Maybe another dog would be good company for us both,” Merry put in.
“Aye, well, maybe I could make enquiries,”
offered Mrs. Cameron, “though having to traipse for miles looking for Cailleach last night isn’t the best way to get us thinking about a dog again. She’s just a wee thing, though ... a Cairn
... and s
he’s a right nice wee dog as they go.”
“I remember her,” said Merry, “only she was just a pup when I saw her last.”
“Isa’s fair upset, so if you could just keep a look-out for her, Miss Merry, I’d be obliged. Ten to one Jake Grieve’s been putting down snares again, and she’ll have been caught, poor beast.”
“Oh no, I hope not,” cried Merry. “He shouldn’t be allowed
!”
“Maybe no,” agreed Mrs. Cameron.
Merry posted her letters quickly, and allowed Maggie Scott to pack her basket neatly for her, and cover it with a layer of tissue and one of brown paper.
“You get wee bits fa’in off the trees at this time o’ year,” she explained.
“Is your leg better now?” asked Merry politely, referring to a bu
rn
Maggie had received while removing a kettle of boiling water off an old-fashioned open grate in one of the cottages.
“Good as new,” Maggie told her. “Oh, by the way, Miss Merry, if you’ve time you could look in on old Mrs. Weir? She needs a form filling in about her old age pension, and she won’t have me helping her. It was always Miss Blayne who did that, so I expect she’d prefer you to me.”
Merry smiled. She’d learned that part of her dudes as new owner of Beau Ness was to witness signatures and help fill in forms for some of the older people.
“I’ll do it now,” she promised.
It was after three o’clock when she began to make her way back home again, taking a detour through the woods in the hopes of spotting Cailleach. According to Maggie Scott, she still hadn’t been found, and poor Isa Campbell “had the face grat off herself”.
As Merry swished through the leaves, following the well-trodden path, she felt a little like Red Riding Hood, and smiled at her fancies, though a few moments later she was uneasily aware of being followed. She slowed slightly, hearing the crackle of leaves behind her, and the snap of a twig.
“Who is it?” she called. “Who’s there?” Around her was a great stillness, then a small figure in a well-mended grey jersey and faded jeans slid from behind a tree, and Merry sighed with relief.
“Billy Connell
!”
she cried. “Are you not at school today?”
“I’ve had chickenpox,” he told her proudly. “It’s Matt’s turn now, and Mum says Sadie is sickening, too. It goes through the whole lot of us when we pick anything up.”
“I see,” said Merry, her eyes twinkling as she looked down at the sturdy wee boy with the
crew-cut. Joe Connell cut the boys’ hair himself and only knew one style.
“What about some chocolate?” she asked, feeling in her basket.
“I could go that,” Billy told her appreciatively. “We got some rare soup at dinner time, though, and me dad got some apples up at Rossie House. He’s doing odd jobs now for Mr. Kilpatrick.”
“That’s good,” said Merry, not forgetting to look around for the dog.
“What are you casting about for?” asked Billy curiously.
“I’m listening in case we hear Mrs. Campbell’s little dog, Cailleach,” explained Merry. “She’s lost, and I believe the Campbells are upset.”
Billy scuffed the leaves.
“No use looking here,” he said at length. “The tinkers got her.”
Merry came to an abrupt halt.
“The tinkers?” she echoed.