The Opal Ring
Evelyn sat on the bed looking around the cluttered bedroom, the wardrobe stuffed so full of clothes, the doors wouldn’t shut. She sighed heavily. Her daughters, Lydia and Nancy, were right, there was no way she was going to get the contents of her three bedroom house into the bungalow she was moving to. She’d best make a start before they arrived later. It was so hard, she’d lost her beloved husband Edward and now she had to let go of this house and all the memories it held. Where to start?
Evelyn glared at the dressing table next to her, the top strewn with hairbrushes and trinket boxes. Pulling open the top drawer she eyed the contents disdainfully. The drawer was crammed with greying bras and knickers which had all seen better days. Well, I suppose these can all go, I can treat myself to some new ones she thought, dumping the ancient undies unceremoniously in a pile on the floor. As she did, a battered ring box tumbled out of the mess and landed at her feet.
Evelyn stared at the box in horror, reluctantly opening it to reveal an opal ring. Her eyes filled with tears as she drifted back to memories she’d suppressed for years.
Her mother, slim and beautiful, with blue eyes and red-gold hair much as her own had been in her youth. Her father, barely remembered, just a photograph that showed him tall and handsome in his uniform before he went to war in 1914. Evelyn had only been five when her father left with his regiment and had no recollection of his leaving, the jaunty wave goodbye.
“It’ll all be over in 3 months, don’t worry we’ll soon beat the Hun and I’ll be back.”
He had been back for a short while in 1916, a shadow of his former self. He’d been injured and sent home to recover. It seemed only a few weeks till he was considered fit to return to the front, leaving behind a tearful daughter and pregnant wife.
Through those awful years her mother, Margaret, had been strong, her belief in her husband unshakeable, sure he would return to her. They lived with Margaret’s parents in their neat 3 bed semi. Grandmama and grandpapa were kind, but believed that children should be seen and not heard. Evelyn had barely noticed the absence of her father. Her days were spent with Margaret, playing with her dolls or walking in the park. Occasionally, grandmama and grandpapa would walk with them and they would take bread to feed the ducks. Life was simple and she was blissfully unaware that the country was at war. At night she would sleep in a truckle bed in Margaret’s childhood bedroom, delighted to share the room with her mother.
Evelyn adored her mother, the way she always had a smile on her lips and read her stories each night before she went to bed. She trotted along beside her in the park, bemused by the way Margaret’s hair glinted red and gold in the sunlight, belly growing bigger as the pregnancy progressed, always wearing the opal ring.
“Your papa gave it me after you were born. He said the reds and golds in it reminded him of my hair. He had it made for me. One day it will be yours.”
Sometimes Margaret allowed Evelyn to wear the ring as she played in dressing up clothes, wrapping Margaret’s shawl round her, pretending that she was a beautiful lady like her mother. Vaguely aware that her papa was away fighting, it meant nothing to Evelyn, safe in her little world with her mama and grandparents.
Evelyn’s little world came crashing down in November 1917. The day had started like any other till the knock on the door and the voice announcing a telegram for Mrs Margaret Smythe. She heard the scream first then her mother’s anguished cry.
“No, no, not my George it can’t be.” The telegram fluttered to the floor like a leaf in the wind as Margaret dropped it from fingers suddenly nerveless. Clutching her throat, Margaret crumpled to the floor. Evelyn rushed to her mother’s side and screamed for her grandparents.
“Grandmama, come quick. Mama has fallen.”
The next few hours were a half-remembered blur. Whispered words. Killed at Passchendale. She’s bleeding. It’s not time yet. Get the doctor. Get the child out of the way. It’s too early.
Grandmama had taken Evelyn by the hand leading her to her bedroom.
“Be good child and play with your dolls. Your mama needs you to be quiet. You may have a little brother or sister soon.” With that Evelyn had been left alone, wondering what was happening to her mother but excited that the baby might soon arrive. She was terrified when she heard screams and tried to go to her mother, but she’d been locked in the room which suddenly felt like a prison.
It was many hours later that Grandmama had come and taken her by the hand. The doctor shook his head as they entered the room, dark in the gloomy afternoon light. A strange smell pervaded the air.
“Stillborn, I couldn’t revive the baby. I’m not sure if the mother will live, she’s lost a lot of blood.”
Evelyn looked at the figure on the bed. This couldn’t be her mother. This pale, lifeless creature, but yes, she had her mother’s red-gold hair, wet now with sweat, spread over the pillows in a tangled mess.
“Mama” she’d rushed over to the bed and taken Margaret’s hand. Her mother smiled weakly as tears rained down her face.
“Ssh, don’t cry, I’ll be allright. Be a good girl for Grandmama now. Give me a kiss my little angel.”
Evelyn was taken back to her room and put to bed after a simple supper of bread and milk. She cried, not knowing what was happening to her beloved mother, before fatigue finally overcame her and she fell asleep clutching Margaret’s shawl to her.
The next morning Grandmama had come into the bedroom and held her tightly. Stroking her hair, she told her that the baby and her Mama had gone to be with Papa in heaven.
“When are they coming back from heaven?” Evelyn asked, “will Mama be better when she comes home?”
Grandmama had cried, her face ravaged by grief.
“They aren’t coming back Evelyn, we all have to be brave now and know that God is looking after them.”
The following weeks were a blur. Evelyn’s sole comfort was her mother’s shawl which she wrapped around her and slept with. She could smell her mother’s perfume clinging to the shawl, though the fragrance faded as the weeks went by. She left the only home she’d really known and was taken to live with her aunt. She missed her mother and grandparents dreadfully and couldn’t understand the raised voices which hushed when she came in the room.
‘There’s no widow’s pension, she’s dead.’
‘How are we expected to keep her?’
‘We can barely manage now.’
‘We could sell her jewellery, that might help.’
Everything had changed. No longer the adored little girl she was clearly unwanted, a nuisance. Sharing a bedroom with a cousin she hardly knew, given hand me downs to wear. Her aunt stern and forbidding, no affection shown to the orphaned child. No time for play anymore, Evelyn quickly learned to help with the chores, do as she was told and make herself as invisible as possible. The opal ring had disappeared not to be seen again.
That is, until 1940.
Evelyn could barely wait to leave her aunt’s house. In 1930 she began walking out with Edward and life improved dramatically. Edward lived in the next street and they’d gone to the same school, both leaving when they reached the grand age of 14. Edward had got an apprenticeship at a toolmakers in Coventry and Evelyn, who was good with numbers, had been taken on at the Daimler factory in the accounts office.
By this time Evelyn had grown to be the image of her dead mother. Beautiful red-gold hair, blue eyes and a passion to escape from her aunt and be loved again. Edward knew all about Evelyn’s past and spoiled her with gifts, nights out, little trinkets. She had no hesitation accepting his proposal of marriage and they wed in 1934 when they were both 25.
How wonderful it had been to set up home together. It was a two up, two down with an outside lavvie and tiny kitchen. Oh, but the bliss of being away from her aunt and with Edward more than compensated for any shortcomings in the house. She delighted in cooking for him, the intimacy of their nights and feeling loved again.
Edward suffered from asthma and needed an inhaler. They’d joined a cycling club, the doctor being convinced that the exercise was good for Edward’s lungs. He still needed an inhaler, but managed very well, even on long trips to Wales for the weekend. Life was good, apart from the growing fears of another war.
‘It’s only been 20 years, surely the last war should have been the end of Germany?’
‘It’s that Hitler. Power hungry. He’s invaded Poland.’
‘What about Stalin and the Russians?’
‘There can’t be another war. Chamberlain will tell Hitler.’
Chamberlain did tell Hitler and the ultimatum was ignored. By the end of 1939 the country was at war again.
Production of the factories in Coventry was geared toward producing munitions and tanks. Men disappeared off the streets to join up and go to war. Evelyn was terrified that Edward would be called up. She was thankful when he was told he was in a reserved occupation, essential to the war effort. Besides, his asthma meant he was medically unfit to go to war and be killed. They both appreciated the irony, that having asthma might have saved his life.
Edward was determined to do his bit, even though he couldn’t go and fight. He joined the Local Defence Volunteers and proudly wore his arm band proclaiming he was an LDV member. He would at times disappear for training in the use of munitions, blowing up the local quarry. They were woefully unarmed and he complained bitterly to Evelyn that most of the men had borrowed rifles, with little ammunition.
Despite this, life seemed to continue reasonably normally. By 1940 Evelyn was pregnant at last and they looked forward to the birth of their first child. She was still working at the Daimler when she walked home one chilly mid-November afternoon, clutching her coat and her mother’s shawl round her. She walked slowly, by this time 6 months into her pregnancy and browsed in shop windows as she made her way home.
Evelyn never knew exactly why she stopped and looked in Gilbert the Jewellers shop window. There, in the middle of the window, with a spotlight shining on it was an opal ring. It had red-gold stones, just like her mother’s.
With a rapidly beating heart, Evelyn pushed the shop door open and stepped inside. The bell above the door rang bringing the jeweller out of a small workshop at the back, where he had been polishing a necklace.
“Excuse me, you have an opal ring in the window, may I look at it please?”
The jeweller gave her a startled glance and brought a chair for her.
“Sit down my dear. I’ll just get it for you. It’s a cold day isn’t it?” he reached into the window and brought the ring to her, placing it on a black velvet pad.
Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears as she picked up the ring.
“It looks just like my mother’s ring, I didn’t know where it had gone. Can you tell me anything about it?”
It was getting late, nearly closing time but there were no other customers, so the old man picked the ring up.
“I made this ring in 1910 for a young gentleman.” He put his loupe to his eye and examined it. “Yes, it is the one I made. It’s hallmarked and dated 1910. I was very pleased with it, the little diamonds and the new art deco style of it. Some people say opals are unlucky, but I think they are lovely stones. I remember his wife had not long had their first child. He said the stones reminded him of his wife’s hair, red-gold. Much like yours I imagine. I think that’s why I remember it so well. I thought it was very romantic.”
“How did it come back to you? Do you remember?”
The jeweller thought for a moment and fetched a dusty old ledger from the workshop at the back of the shop.
“I always make a record when I buy jewellery, who brought it in and what I paid for it. Just in case it was stolen.”
He flicked the pages of the ledger as Evelyn watched him impatiently. He seemed to have bought a lot of jewellery from people. Page after page was turned as he went back through the years till he got to 1918.
“Ah, here it is. I bought it in August 1918 from a Mrs Canning. I don’t know why, I put it in the back of the safe and forgot all about it till I decided I really should tidy up my stock. Not much call for jewellery at the moment with this war on.”
He seemed not to notice that Evelyn had gone very pale, her hands shaking as she picked up the ring again.
“Mrs Canning was my aunt, she died a few months ago, cancer. She had no right to sell the ring, it was mine. My mother promised it to me. Please, will you put it back in your safe and don’t sell it till I tell my husband about it. I’ll tell him tonight and get him to come in and pay for it.”
The jeweller looked shocked. He had heard some rum stories about jewellery, people down on their luck or being left something they didn’t like. But this. Selling this young woman’s ring. It wouldn’t do at all.
“Of course, I’ll tuck it in a box and put it back in the safe. Don’t worry, you come back with your husband when you’re ready. I’ll try and do you a good price for it. You take care now, it won’t be long till you have your baby will it?”
“It should be another 3 months yet, middle of February. Thank you so much.”
Evelyn shook the jeweller’s hand and exited into the dark evening, anxious to get home and tell Edward all about the ring.
She made sure she had given Edward his tea before she told him about the ring.
“It was my mother’s I’m absolutely convinced. The jeweller, Mr Gilbert, said a Mrs Canning had sold it. That was my aunt. I must have it Edward, please will you buy it for me? It would be the only thing I have of hers, apart from this old shawl.” She reached up and kissed him, only pulling away when they felt the baby kick him.
“See baby wants you to buy the ring for me.”
Edward couldn’t refuse her. He promised to go to Gilbert’s jewellers with her and they would buy the ring.
“I’ve got to go now darling, I’m on duty tonight. Let’s hope there’s no more air raids. It’s a bright night, perhaps that’ll put them off. You go to bed and I’ll see you later. Remember to get into the Anderson shelter if you hear the sirens.” With a quick kiss, Edward left. She could see his breath misty in the air as he disappeared into the cold, dark night.
He hadn’t been gone many hours when the air raid sirens sounded.
Oh, dear God, please keep Edward safe Evelyn thought as she quickly gathered up a flask of water, some fruit and a tilley lamp, carefully making her way to the Anderson shelter. She wrapped her mother’s shawl tightly round her, hands clasped over her ears as the sound of bombs and incendiaries filled the air. She could hear screams each time the ground shook as a bomb fell. It sounded so very near, she was convinced the shelter would be hit any moment. Dear God, please keep Edward safe, please keep my baby safe, she muttered over and over, as the bombs rained down through the night.
Next morning, Edward’s voice woke her as he banged on the shelter door. She emerged from the Anderson shelter into a strange world. The sky was filled with black smoke making it as dark as night, whilst the raging fires made it hot as a summer’s day. They clung to each other, tears streaming down their faces.
“The town centre, it’s all gone, the cathedral’s gone. So many buildings on fire and people killed. Bodies everywhere.” Edward clung to her, shaking with exhaustion, “it’s like hell on earth out there, stay home Evelyn. I must go back soon.” They looked up at their little house which had miraculously survived, whilst the houses on the other side of the road were nothing more than piles of rubble.
“Help the neighbours where you can, but stay at home, please Evelyn, it’s too dangerous.”
For the next few days Evelyn scarcely saw Edward as he joined the massive effort to find survivors and clear some of the wreckage of what had been their city centre.
He was working with a team of rescuers one day when he came across an old man standing on a pile of rubble, shaking his head, eyes filled with tears.
“Can I help you? Is there someone down there?” Edward shouted at the old man.
“No, no. That safe,” he said pointing at a safe half buried in the rubble “it’s all that’s left of my shop, Gilbert’s jewellers. It’s got my stock in it. Can anyone help get it out?”
“We’re really supposed to be searching for survivors, but give me a minute and I’ll see what I can do.”
It took a couple of hours shifting rubble until the safe was levered up, below was the broken body of a young woman with a child clutched to her chest. They stared, horrified.
“Nothing we can do for her now,” whispered Mr Gilbert as he bent down, opened the door and scooped the safe contents into an old sack. “I must give you something to thank you.”
“If you can find the opal ring my wife looked at the other day, I’d be happy to have that.”
“The lady with the red-gold hair? Take it, maybe opals are unlucky after all.”
Evelyn cried when she saw the ring, hastily tucking it into her apron pocket as Edward collapsed into her arms, coughing and wheezing.
Edward’s asthma had got worse after that day. The doctor said it was all the dust, his lungs were damaged. Evelyn was convinced it was also due to the horror of what he saw in the aftermath of the blitz. He was never the same again, he wouldn’t talk about the woman who’d been buried under the safe, the body parts he’d had to dig up. He was haunted by nightmares. Evelyn had put the opal ring away in her dresser, looking at it from time to time but never wore it.
Evelyn was brought back to the present by the sound of her daughters as they came into the house calling out to her. She snapped the ring box shut and threw it back into the pile of discarded undies.
“We’ll be with you in a minute Mum, just making a cuppa. Do you want one before we get started?”
“Wow, you’ve made a start already. Let’s get these picked up and put in a dustbin bag.” “What’s this Mum, there’s a ring box here?”
Lydia picked up the box, “I remember this, it’s an opal ring, it’s lovely. You didn’t mean to throw it away did you Mum?”
“Take it, I don’t want it, the jeweller was right, opals are unlucky, I wish I’d never seen the damn thing again.”
Exchanging knowing looks with Nancy, Lydia quietly picked up the box and put it in her pocket. “Okay, fine, lets crack on with sorting things out shall we?”
Lydia felt drained when she left Evelyn later. Her mother was a hoarder and she’d had a total meltdown when they’d tried to throw away an old shawl. She took the ring box from her pocket and slipped the ring on her finger, delighted that it fit perfectly. Crossing the road to where her car was parked, she wiggled her finger, entranced by the way the stones changed colour as they caught the late afternoon light.
She didn’t see the speeding car until it was too late.
