TWENTY-THREE
Twenty-three
‘I need you to understand this is not me passing down this ring,’ her mother said, raising her voice and tipping her head back, as though to address the heavens.
Damian shot Lottie a quizzical look, and she suppressed a sigh.
‘Here, you need to wear this,’ she said to Lottie, talking normally once more as she reached up to clasp a necklace around her daughter’s neck ‘and, whatever you do, do not put that ring on your finger. Do you understand?’
‘What’s this?’ Lottie asked, lifting the dangling black stone that had been fashioned into a cylindrical shape with a small, pointed end.
‘Black tourmaline. For protection,’ Hannah added.
Of course. ‘Thanks Mum,’ she said, knowing there was no point in dismissing her mother’s belief in all things mystical.
‘Damian, I’m trusting you to keep my girl safe. That means keeping this somewhere safe,’ Hannah said, looking pointedly at the bag containing the ring.
‘You have my word.’
‘All right then. I have to get back. I’ve got clients this afternoon,’ she said, hugging Lottie tightly before leaving the shop.
‘I really want to open it,’ Damian said, looking down at the package.
‘So open it.’
‘But your mum’s kind of freaked me out about it, now,’ he admitted.
Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘Oh please, not you too.’
‘Well, I’m more worried about the pressure of being responsible for something that’s been in your family for so long.’
‘I’m sure you’ve had much older, and far more precious artefacts in your hands before.’
‘True …’
‘Just open it. Here, let me,’ she said reaching towards the package.
He lifted it high above his head. ‘I’ll do it. I don’t think your mum wants you too close to it.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, I wore it once when I was a child. It’s all just a load of crap.’
‘Does your mum know you wore it? She specifically said you weren’t allowed to,’ he pointed out.
‘Oh, yeah, she knows about it … and naturally, there was a reason why nothing happened: “It wasn’t your time; the ring had to go through me first.” I mean, seriously,’ Lottie threw up her hands. ‘It’s a rock. It doesn’t have any superpowers. It’s not cursed. It’s just a pretty mineral formed in the cracks of rocks.’
‘Still, she believes it,’ he emphasised, ‘and I gave her my word I’d look after it. And you. I’ll open it.’
He took the small package out of the bag. It was a timber box with a brass latch that he undid before carefully lifting the lid. Inside, the box was lined with a rich, purple satin and nestled in the centre was a burgundy leather ring box that looked well worn and was covered in scuff marks. One edge of the oval box was worn slightly and had clearly had a hard life.
‘The case looks vintage, maybe 1900s?’ Damian murmured. ‘Not early enough for Catherine’s time, I don’t think, but I’m not an expert in this department. We should get a better idea once the assessor has a look.’
Lottie held her breath as she watched him slowly ease open the case, then suddenly, there it was, just like she remembered, only somehow more vibrant. The deep blues and greens seemed to twinkle beneath the shop lights. It was beautiful. An image of her gran gently running a finger across the smooth surface popped into her mind and for a moment, she saw the gentle face of her grandmother and could smell the faint perfume of the talcum powder she used to use.
‘Wow.’
Damian’s words dragged her away from her memories.
‘I’ve never really seen an opal up close before—and never one this big. They’re pretty awesome.’
‘This one certainly is,’ she agreed. ‘I need to get some photos for the book while we have it,’ she said decisively.
For the next few minutes, she concentrated on the best angles and snapped off a ridiculous number of images, knowing that it was better to have too many to choose from.
‘Are you sure you’re okay to shut the shop?’ he asked as she put her camera away.
‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’ She felt the tiniest twinge of guilt that she had barely hesitated before agreeing to go along on the road trip with him when he’d arranged an appointment with the jeweller. Closing the shop for two days was a big deal, but this was huge. This appraisal could change what they knew about the origins of the ring and everything her family had been led to believe for generations.
The other bonus was getting to spend two whole days and an overnight stay in Sydney, away from prying eyes and gossip. It was a win-win situation.
‘Do you have a safe or something we can put this in?’
Lottie smiled at how seriously he took the guardianship of the ring. ‘I’m sure we don’t need to go to extremes. It has managed to survive the last hundred and fifty or so years and multiple generations of women who I’m fairly sure did not have a safe installed in their house.’
‘I’m not taking any chances,’ he said adamantly.
A customer came into the store and Lottie went to see if they were looking for something in particular. When it was clear that she was going to be taking some time, he waved goodbye from the doorway. She couldn’t help the little thrill of excitement she felt race through her at the thought of two whole days together.
The dawn sky was painted in delicate strokes of faint pinks and blues when they started driving the next morning, and fog lingered across the dams and rivers they passed by. Eventually, the sun rose and turned the sky into a beautiful periwinkle blue. Slowly, the morning chill disappeared and the sun streaming in through the front windscreen warmed them comfortably.
After stopping for breakfast at a small service station, Damian took over driving so she could have a rest. It had been an early start to ensure they made their appointment with the jeweller. Lottie looked down at their joined hands and smiled at how natural it felt. Their first few weeks had been a whirlwind of excitement, but ever since the festival they’d settled into something a lot deeper. She shied away from examining what it was—it was so fragile and new, she didn’t want to risk ruining it—so she turned her head to the window and enjoyed the warmth of Damian holding her hand.
‘Were you really worried about people knowing about us?’ Damian asked, breaking the silence that had followed getting back on the road.
Lottie enjoyed a road trip conversation, the ones where you discussed all the things you probably wouldn’t normally, simply to fill in time. The downside, of course, was that there was really nowhere to go if those conversations became uncomfortable. Like now.
‘I wouldn’t say I was worried,’ she hedged. ‘It’s more like … I don’t know. I just hate people knowing my business, I guess,’ she said shifting in her seat to face him a little. ‘It doesn’t help that, once you have to go home, I’ll have everyone wondering about what happened. It’s just … awkward.’
He stared at the road, seeming to digest her words. Finally, he said, ‘I’d like to think we’re exploring the potential of something … more.’ She felt a flutter of awareness run through her at his words as he continued. ‘I’m at a stage of my life where I’m not interested in casual dating for the sake of dating. I’d like to find the person I want to be with.’
She was processing this quietly, but he must also have been feeling a little anxious. ‘What about you?’ he prompted.
He was right. This thing between them didn’t feel like anything she’d ever had before with anyone else. The thought of him leaving and simply going back to her life before he’d entered it had been weighing on her mind. The closer they’d been getting, the harder it was to think about saying goodbye. Although they’d known each other such a short amount of time, it felt like they’d known each other for years. She wasn’t interested in the whole online dating thing—asking the same questions each time you met someone new, laying all the polite groundwork only for either the conversation to dry up or to be ghosted and have to start again. She hadn’t connected with anyone the way she had with Damian in a long time, and she was happy that he seemed to be feeling the same way.
‘It’s just that your life is back in Sydney …’ She gave a small shrug as the sentence petered out.
‘The logistics are not ideal, granted,’ he agreed. ‘But I guess that’s what this time now is about, if it’s something we both want. Then we move on to finding a way to make it work for both of us. There’s always going to be a solution. We just have to find out if this is something we both feel is important enough to invest ourselves in.’ The music from the stereo floated between them for a few moments before he took his eyes from the road briefly to glance at her. ‘Personally, I think it’s obvious that this is something pretty special.’
His words filled her chest with a warm sensation that swirled to the bottom of her stomach and back again. She smiled, squeezing his hand. ‘Me too,’ she said.
He returned her squeeze, holding her hand for the rest of the drive.
The city traffic was something Lottie had not missed. She’d grown used to the slower pace of life in Banalla and surrounds, and it was always a shock to find herself stuck in gridlock each time she came back to Sydney.
After navigating the worst of it, Damian parked the car and they located the office of the expert he’d found to inspect the ring.
‘It’s a real Borndoff,’ the jeweller said, looking up at the stunned faces before him with a half-chuckle. ‘You’ve got something pretty special there.’
Lottie felt a lurch of shock at the words.
‘So you’re saying this is the same ring?’ Damian asked slowly.
‘Yep.’ The jeweller put the ring back under the magnifier. ‘It’s got the maker’s mark. No doubt about it, it’s a Borndoff original that perfectly matches the design in your article.’
‘So this ring belonged to Catherine Compton?’ Damian asked faintly.
‘If she was the owner of the Philip Borndoff original design listed in that newspaper article, then yes.’
‘Oh my God,’ Lottie whispered. It was true? ‘So it came from Jack?’
‘It would appear so,’ Damian said with a nod.
‘Hope it’s insured. It’s worth a small fortune,’ the jeweller informed them. ‘Borndoff’s designs have sold for millions in the past.’
‘Holy crap.’ Lottie gaped at the older man. She’d always imagined a moment like this—finding that one, unicorn antique item that would set records—but she’d never imagined it would be a piece that had been passed down through her family, or worn to the odd Banalla View Club luncheon.
Another thought suddenly occurred to her. She’d played with this ring as a child … a child had been allowed to play dress-ups with a ring designed by a royal jeweller!
Damian discussed obtaining a valuation certificate, ever the details man, and they left the little store shortly after.
Still in shock and processing the turn of events, at first Lottie paid no attention to where they were going, but curiosity nudged her back into the present when she noticed that Damian was driving into a basement carpark beneath an unobtrusive but well-maintained looking apartment building. He parked neatly and led her towards a set of stairs.
She waited as he unlocked his front door on the third level and stepped inside. This is where he lives .
‘Well, here we are,’ he said, holding the heavy door open for her with one hand and throwing wide his other as she stepped over the threshold and took in her surroundings.
The apartment wasn’t quite what she was expecting—somehow she had pictured him living in an old terrace house or some other heritage-listed place with plenty of history oozing from its walls. This place was rather modern, with sleek lines, galley kitchen and open-plan lounge and dining area. However, what the structure lacked in character, his decorating definitely made up for. The walls displayed a variety of old, framed posters, ranging from a WWI recruitment poster to photos of old cars and motorbikes. His coffee table was an old steamer trunk with its original brass locks and leather strapping. She gestured towards it. ‘Is this an original nineteenth century?’
‘Yep. Belonged to a ship’s surgeon who came to Australia in the early eighteen-hundreds. It’s got his name on the brass plaque on the side. I bought it at an auction a few years ago.’
‘It’s gorgeous,’ Lottie breathed, running her hands across the beautifully preserved timber.
Bookcases lined the opposite wall, stacked and overflowing with hundreds of books, and on a long hall table a collection of old telephones and antique clocks was displayed. This was a man after her own heart.
‘It doesn’t have the charm of your little cottage, but it does the job, I guess,’ Damian said, dropping their bags inside a doorway framed by the bookshelves.
‘It’s lovely,’ she said, moving across to a set of sliding glass doors opening onto a small balcony that looked out through the crowns of leafy trees to a busy street below.
‘Have a seat while I open a few windows and let in some air,’ he said, and she settled herself on a brown, overstuffed sofa. Beside her on a side table were a set of three photo frames and she carefully examined them one at a time. The first was of an elderly couple, standing on an empty beach of white sand with a turquoise ocean behind them, arm in arm and smiling at the camera—obviously his parents. The man had grey hair but could have been Damian’s much older twin. She put the frame down and reached for the photo of four people—Damian and his three sisters, she assumed. She smiled back at the laughing faces staring up at her. All of them had the same warm, brown eyes and dark lashes.
‘My sisters,’ he said, sitting down beside her. ‘And that’s my mum and dad, and those are my nieces and nephews,’ he said pointing to the last photo, where four gorgeous-looking children ranging from baby to early school age were captured in a candid moment together.
‘You have a beautiful family.’
‘Yeah—they’re okay, I suppose,’ he said with a grin.
‘Am I going to get to meet them while we’re here?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he said decisively.
‘Why not?’ she asked, trying hard not to feel hurt by his response.
‘Trust me—we’re not ready for that level of interrogation and outright intrusion just yet,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘They know absolutely no boundaries, and there’s no way I’m risking them scaring you off so fast. I just found you,’ he added, leaning over to kiss her gently.
His answer alleviated her initial fears, somewhat. He was right, this was all still new, and meeting the family—especially one as big as his—was a pretty big step.
‘Let’s get out of here and grab a drink,’ Damian said. ‘I know a place close by. We can walk,’ he added, standing up and holding his hand out to help her to her feet.
We certainly aren’t in Kansas anymore, Toto , she thought wryly, five minutes later. They dodged another jogger, vying for footpath space as they walked past boutique shops, restaurants and a grocery store. She noticed that no one stopped to chat to anyone or smiled as they hurried by on their way to wherever they all seemed to be in such great haste to get to. Buses roared past and car horns blared every so often, and she found herself missing the laid-back main street of Banalla. Damian stopped outside a pretty stone building. A set of topiary pine trees in large pots stood on either side of the doorway, and she realised that through the door was a bar.
Inside, they found themselves a cosy nook and ordered drinks. Lottie settled on a cocktail, feeling like she needed something to match the extravagant revelation earlier in the day. As they waited in companionable silence, she finally felt like she was beginning to get her head around it all.
‘So Jack acquired the ring at some point during the stagecoach robbery. But we still don’t know if it was from Alexander, and why he’d have his wife’s engagement ring,’ she mused.
‘We still can’t prove that Catherine was there, so for now, we have to assume Alexander had it on him. Maybe he found out what happened to her. Maybe she and the baby died in childbirth not long after she arrived and he was able to collect her belongings and take them home.’
‘But surely if that was the case, he would have sent word back to her parents before he left Sydney, and there would be hospital records and an obituary in the newspapers.’
‘Which there isn’t,’ he nodded, then shrugged. ‘The only thing we do know is that Jack obtained the ring during that robbery and gave it to Emeline.’
Their drinks arrived and Lottie smiled her thanks to the dark-haired young woman who placed the tall, royal blue cocktail on the table before her. ‘It’s all so frustrating. I don’t understand how you manage to stay so unfazed by the not knowing .’
Damian took a sip of his beer. ‘I’m fazed on the inside,’ he said with a grin. ‘But I guess it’s sort of like working on a giant jigsaw. You have to sort through the pieces and find out where they belong until something fits. It takes patience—something I’ve had to learn over the years.’
‘I still can’t believe our little old ring is so … important. I mean, it was designed by someone who designed royal jewellery,’ she said faintly. Not only was the bloody thing supposedly cursed, but it was also, apparently, stolen. There was absolutely no way she could wear it now, and especially knowing how much it was worth, even if her mother decided to give it to her one day. Which was never going to happen.