Circular Magic - with thanks to Sally Parkin for her wonderful suggestion!
The certainty of the loss caused her heart to hollow and pucker, delivering a squeeze that made it hard to breathe. But there it was, the half-filled trinket box. She’d hoped her neighbour had been wrong but even a cursory glance confirmed the worst. All her cheap rings and necklaces remained. The burglars had known what they were looking for.
It was her grandmother’s wedding ring that hurt the most. It was a beautiful engraved, rose gold gypsy ring with a garnet set in the middle and a cluster of seed pearls on either side. When her mother had died she had been thrilled when it passed to her. And, now, so very guilty when she was proved incapable of its protection.
As reparation, she scoured the local antique shops and jewellers who handled estate items, perhaps not expecting to find it, but to acquire something similar in design and age. Nothing was ever quite right. It felt to her like hunting the proverbial needle in a haystack. Until the discovery of eBay! She savoured the thrill of being able to sit in one place and visit ‘shop’ after ‘shop’, filtering for style, age and the type of gold and precious stones. After months of intermittent endeavour, a ring appeared on her screen. It had a sapphire instead of a garnet, but was otherwise identical. As her taste had always run to blue over red, she committed to buying it. And waited. It was coming from England – a risk perhaps – but unfounded. It arrived, as photographed. The only issue was the size. When her fingers were cold, it was a little loose. She promised herself she would get it altered.
The weeks went by and the ring sat proudly on her hand. She felt sure her grandmother would have approved the effort she’d made and her choice of an alternative. She lived her life, travelled to and fro, worked at her job, cooked and cleaned. Until a trip to the supermarket. When she returned home and began unpacking the groceries, she discovered the ring was missing. Horror and not a little anger overtook her. Why? Why was this happening? Was she never supposed to have her grandma’s ring? And when she thought about her day, not only had she gone food shopping, but had spent the morning doing housework and washing clothes and bedding. The possibilities for concealment were endless. She phoned the supermarket – no, they hadn’t had a ring handed in; went back to search the aisles and the car park for herself; pulled off sheets and duvet covers, examined wet pillowcases and clothing. But there was no sign. The ring had disappeared again.
Several days later, her husband offered to cook dinner, piling the ingredients on the workbench. A few minutes later, he came up to her, hand clasped.
‘Look what I’ve found.’ He beckoned for her palm.
‘Where was it?’ she squealed.
‘Inside the paper bag for the mushrooms. For some reason, instead of taking them out, one by one, I upended it and the ring fell out. If I’d done it the usual way, I’d have probably screwed it up and been none the wiser. I’d never have felt such a tiny ring through the paper.’
‘It feels like a miracle.’
‘Or your grandmother.’
‘What? I don’t understand.’
‘The mushrooms. What if they came from a mushroom ring? Over here, you call them fairy rings, I think, which can be bad luck, right?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know. I thought they were about elves and dancing, that sort of thing.’
‘Whatever, but in South Africa we have stories that are quite different to the European tales. We believe mushrooms that grow as part of a ring are the souls of the dead who can do positive things for the living. Just think – a mushroom growing in a ring, returning your grandmother’s ring with her help and blessing. Neat, huh?’
She smiled enjoying the whimsy of her husband’s story and stroked the outer band, feeling the pattern of the delicate markings and pretty jewels. A weighty and warm sensation enveloped her shoulders. She looked for her husband’s reassuring arm.
It wasn’t there.
Glancing down, a red garnet winked back at her.
THE END