right.’
‘She says that I should try to be like Romeo,’ he muttered, hoping that Cecil would agree with him, that the idea sounded absurd.
Cecil laughed, a machine-gun fire blast. ‘Oh, Benedicto,’ he said. Then he started to laugh again.
‘I know that I have to do something.’ Benedict shifted in his chair. ‘Estelle came into the shop and we were like strangers. I can’t let her go, Cecil.’
Cecil’s laughter subsided. ‘Well, if you don’t try to be Romeo, what else are you going to do?’
Benedict pursed his lips. He had no other plans. ‘Nothing, I suppose.’
‘Exactamondo. Perhaps you should give Gemma’s idea a go, whatever it is.’
He knew that his friend was right.
‘And, I simply must meet her,’ Cecil added. ‘What does Estelle think about your niece’s arrival?’
‘Well, they kind of met but I didn’t introduce them to each other.’
‘So, your sixteen-year-old niece is staying with you, but you haven’t told your wife. That’s pretty brave.’
‘Hmmm. Now you say it like that…’
The two men chatted for an hour, about Cecil’s nieces and football, and how Ryan and Diane’s marriage was doing.
‘You might have to sweet-talk the nurses into letting me out of here,’ Cecil said. ‘They keep talking about complications and I don’t want to let you down.’
‘Take your time,’ Benedict said. ‘Come back when you’re ready. The shop is doing fine.’
‘It sounds like Gemma might be a good replacement for me…’
‘No one could replace you, Cecil. And I’m not looking to.’
Cecil nodded with relief.
With visiting time coming to a close, Benedict was about to leave when he remembered something. He delved into his pocket then took out and placed a small mottled blue-green stone in Cecil’s palm. ‘Gemma asked me to give this to you.’
Cecil leaned in closer to examine it. ‘Is it Turquoise?’
‘Yes, it’s one of the gems Gemma brought with her. She’s copied some notes down, from my father’s journal.’ He gave an embarrassed cough as he handed the piece of paper to Cecil.
TURQUOISE
Early Europeans believed that this stone came from Asia Minor so gave it the name ‘Pierre Turquoise’ which means ‘Turkish Stone’. Turquoise is formed by water acting upon copper and aluminium within rocks which causes the gem to develop and gives it its blue colour. The stone was used in protective amulets or rings to ward off accidents. It is said to speed up your recovery after illness and helps to alleviate pain and reduce infection. It should be given as a gift to bring good fortune and peace.
‘Coolio. A miracle worker then?’ Cecil said. He slipped the gem and note into his pyjama top pocket. ‘Tell her, cheersy. And what gemstone has she given to you?’
‘Me?’ Benedict frowned. ‘Nothing.’
‘Perhaps you should ask her for one. If it will help you to get what you want.’
Benedict thought of the meaning for Peridot and how it sounded ideal for what he was going through. He recalled again Gemma’s explanation for Moonstone.
He didn’t believe for one minute that a small stone could make Cecil feel better, or help make Estelle fall back in love with him. Surely that would be crazy, wishful thinking.
virtue, revealing, constancy
Benedict stood in Estelle’s studio where her paintings were stacked against the wall. He picked a small one up and stared at the swooshes of emerald green and mauve. He remembered his wife pulling the studio door closed behind her, and the chink of brushes against glass jars. He touched a wispy, inky cloud and thought about their last conversation in the little room, as Estelle stuffed clothes into her purple suitcase.
‘Leave me alone for a while. I want to stay in Veronica’s apartment, to be on my own,’ she said.
‘Please don’t go. You can think things through here.’
Estelle shook her head. ‘It’s like there’s a constant buzzing in my head, with you talking about family, or my parents asking if I have any good news yet. They think their time is running out to enjoy grandchildren. I feel so guilty when I see them.’
‘There is still hope for us,’ Benedict said. ‘We can keep trying.’
‘We just need to accept that we can’t have kids.’ Estelle pushed the suitcase lid down, but her clothes bulged out of the sides. ‘I feel like I’m a block of marble with a sculptor attacking me with a chisel, and soon there’ll only be a small chunk of me left. When men don’t have children, they’re not looked upon with questioning and pity. Society just accepts it.’
‘I don’t care about society. It’s me and you that I care about. If you’re going to stay at Veronica’s, can we at least still meet each day, for coffee?’
She opened the case again and tugged out a chunky sweater. ‘I need a break, Benedict. You need to think about if it’s me you really want, or a baby-making machine.’
Her words felt like knives plunging into his chest. Benedict didn’t need time to think. He already knew what he wanted, his wife and a child. The three of them would be a family, a package. ‘Of course I want you,’ he said.
‘But will you be happy with just me?’ she asked.
Benedict didn’t answer.
Benedict pulled an old trolley out of the shed to load up Estelle’s paintings, ready to take them over to Veronica’s apartment. Gemma’s bare legs poked out from beneath the gem tree and it seemed odd to see someone other than his parents or brother sitting under the branches.
Even though it was cold outside, she had kicked off her cowboy boots. She leafed through the gemstone journal and sucked on the end of a pencil. At her feet was a bundle of clothes and a bunch of flowers. Benedict scratched his head when he saw something long and golden. He wondered if it was anything to do with WEB but didn’t want to ask.
He brought most of Estelle’s paintings down from upstairs, wrapped them in plastic bubble wrap, and secured them onto the trolley with a bungee cord. Out of breath, he went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea with three sugars in it for him, and one without for Gemma.
Back outside, he handed Gemma a cup. ‘This is British tea,’ he said. ‘It’s the perfect shade.’
‘Beige?
‘It’s
