I don’t know why the knife caught my eye in the first place, other than the fact that it was so beautiful. A silver cake knife. The sort of thing you used to be presented with on your twenty first. There would be a coin in the box for good luck and the knife would be part of your bottom drawer.
Huh. That was a laugh. The engagement was broken, Tim had found somebody else and I had as much chance of getting married as my neighbour Doris, an eighty year old ‘spinster of this parish.’
The knife gleamed in the shop window, the sun sparkling off the intricate carving. I supposed it must cost a fortune. The man serving gave me a strange look when I asked about it.
‘The knife – um – I haven’t got round to pricing it yet.’
‘Could I have a look?’
He took a pair of thick, sheepskin gloves from under the counter. ‘Can’t be too careful.’
He handled the knife, still in its box, as if it was a viper about to strike and insisted on holding it out for me to inspect, rather than allowing me to touch it for myself. It was even more exquisite at close quarters and I thought of my savings, supposed to be towards a honeymoon, idling in the bank.
‘How much is it?’
‘Are you sure you want it?’
He was beginning to annoy me. ‘Of course I want it. I’ve been admiring it in the window for weeks.’
‘How much cash have you got on you?’
I was beginning to fear for his sanity. ‘Not much, I always use plastic.’
‘Just show me what you’ve got.’
‘O.K.’ I emptied my purse and found four £1 coins, a fifty pence piece and two twenties.
‘That’ll do.’
Still wearing the gloves he grabbed the money and thrust the knife in its box into my bag. The next thing I knew I was out on the street. When I got home I found a small slit in my bag. It didn’t matter, it was old and high time I had a new one anyway. I looked at my beautiful knife, put the lid on the box and put it in the back of the cutlery drawer.
The next time I admired my knife was after a particularly trying day. There’d been a strange atmosphere at work when I arrived. The girls in the office were unnaturally quiet after the usual ‘good mornings’ and I noticed one or two of them giving me furtive glances and hurriedly looking away when I caught their eye. It wasn’t until lunchtime when I bought the local paper that I understood why. Tim and his new girlfriend Anna had announced their engagement. God, she would be called Anna wouldn’t she? Why couldn’t she be called Tracey or Sylvia or even Elizabeth? Anna – sophisticated, intelligent, poised Anna. She was beautiful of course and already on her way to becoming a barrister like Tim. She’d joined the practise just four months ago and obviously wasted no time. I bought a sandwich and coffee to take away and hid in the park forcing myself to eat.
Back at work I waved the paper, open at the offending page and said to the room at large ‘It’s O K I’ve seen it.’
‘Tim’s an idiot.’
‘Damn fool.’
‘You’re too good for him.’
‘She’s a slut.’
‘Man eater.’
‘Bitch.’
All the girls rose to my defence and I loved them for it, but as manager I had to maintain some sort of order and get us all back to normal.
‘Look, Tim has made up his mind and there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about it. We’ve all just got to accept it.’
‘But after all those years—‘
‘Shut up Kim,’ snapped Karen, my second in command.
There was a deep silence, broken by Karen.
‘I think it’s time we all had a night out. We haven’t been out together since Christmas and I hear the new pizza place in Sandsworth is excellent.’
Murmurs of consent followed and they looked at me for approval. I couldn’t let them down. ‘Great’ I lied, throwing the paper in the bin. ‘Karen, I’ll leave you to arrange it.’
That evening I turned to the knife for comfort but as I took it out of the box my hand must have slipped because I suddenly had a small cut on my thumb. I dropped the knife and ran my left hand under the cold tap. Having found a plaster I was about to return the knife to its box when I remembered the strange man in the shop putting on his sheepskin gloves. ‘You can’t be too careful.’
This was ridiculous, I was getting neurotic, nevertheless I reached for the oven gloves, cleaned my own blood from the knife, put it back in its box securing the lid with two plastic bands and stowed it at the back of my bin liner and tea towel cupboard. Then I held onto the edge of the sink and howled. Huge, painful, heaves that left me exhausted and empty. I suppose until then I’d hoped, in the back of my brain, that Tim would come back to me. I knew now that this wasn’t going to happen and even my pathetic consolation prize, my beautiful, exquisite silver present to myself had turned against me.
Surprisingly I enjoyed the office night out. I’d had my hair done and bought a new top, the girls were in high spirits flirting with the waiters, the food good and the restaurant owner Giuseppe, particularly attentive. ‘You’ve made a conquest there,’ said Karen as we settled the bill.
‘I don’t really want —‘
‘Of course you don’t, you’re far too raw. I just think he would make a very good friend. His wife died last year and apart from the restaurant he’s been a bit of a hermit.’
‘You’re very well informed.’
‘Dan and I have been a few times. He’s got to know us and although he would never admit to feeling lonely I just sense it.’
In the end we sent the girls back in the minibus without us. It was Saturday night and they were itching to join their friends in their favourite pubs. Dan was working away, so Karen was free and I had nothing to get back for. Giuseppe ushered us into the cosy coffee lounge (which allowed customers to linger while freeing up tables in the restaurant), and presented us with two large brandies on the house.
‘You look happier tonight than you have for months,’ Karen observed.
‘I suppose I’d been dreading Tim’s engagement ever since I saw him with Anna,’ I admitted. ‘I have bouts of self pity, but somehow it’s easier now I know the worst.’
‘You’ll be OK. Come round for supper on Tuesday before Dan gets back and I’ll give you all the latest gossip.’
‘I’d love to.’ We clinked glasses.
Sunday, my clearing- up- the- house day was marred by the contents of the bin liner cupboard. Everything inside was shredded. I couldn’t believe it and thought I’d got mice but there was no smell or evidence of droppings. I pulled on the oven gloves, grabbed the knife box and found that the elastic bands had broken. The knife itself was inside, glittering as ever and for the first time I viewed it with real fear. I threw it out in the garden but then thought of my geraniums and what the knife might do to them. Rooting around in the shed I found an old, metal tool box of Dad’s. I put the knife inside and secured the lid with a padlock. Surely that would keep it at bay until I could take it back to the shop?
The shop no longer existed, at least not in its previous form. It was empty except for workmen who were busily knocking down walls.
‘It’s gonna be a ‘Costa’ love,’ one of them told me. ‘The old bloke’s retired.’
‘Well at least the knife’s out of the house’ I thought. ‘It shouldn’t be able to do much damage where it was.’
I felt as if I was just coming to terms with Tim’s engagement when an invitation to his wedding arrived. Not the ceremony of course but the disco afterwards.
‘He’s got a nerve,’ said Karen over the phone.
‘Well, you know Tim, he’s always got to be seen to do the right thing.’
‘You’re not going are you?’
‘I don’t know Karen. He’s not expecting me to and something within me just wants to shock him. Why should I make it easy for him?’
‘Well you can’t go alone.’
And this was why I was sitting on my own in the new pizza place on a Tuesday night. I’d booked as late as possible and taken my car in case I lost my nerve. There was no sign of Giuseppe until I was halfway through my main course.
‘You come back to me,’ he kissed my hand. ‘But why you dining all alone?’
‘Well, I wanted to ask you a favour. You see my ex fiancée has found somebody else and he’s going to get married and he’s asked me to the wedding and I don’t want to go but I don’t see why I shouldn’t and I can’t go alone so I just wanted—‘ I was running on like an idiot. ‘I’m sorry Giuseppe I should never have come.’
‘Stop!’ he held my arm. ‘Never say you should never come to my restaurant. Now, do you still have feelings for this man?’
‘I’m trying to get over him.’
‘I’m trying to get over the death of my wife. We were going to start this restaurant together but—‘ he spread his hands.
‘I’m sorry Giuseppe.’
‘I know you are. We are both, I think in mourning. Yes?’
I nodded.
‘So, we should help each other. You want me to take you to this wedding?
I nodded again.
‘I would be honoured! But I take you as a friend, ONLY as a friend.’
He clasped my hand in both of his and I was so overcome with relief and gratitude that all I could do was nod again. He took a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the stupid tear that was rolling down my cheek.
‘My food is that bad? Good, you’re smiling. I forbid anyone to cry in my restaurant. Now finish your meal, I’ll sort out the kitchen and meet you in the lounge. We’ll have a glass of champagne and you can tell me about this wedding.’
‘Disco?’ Giuseppe looked horrified. ‘I don’t disco.’
And he was right. He didn’t disco but in the event, he threw himself into the spirit of the evening, jumping up and down, throwing his hands in the air, strutting his stuff. I hadn’t laughed this hard for months. I couldn’t beat him so I joined him. We clapped our hands in the air, twirled around each other, stomped with attitude, what did it matter? I was freeing myself from weeks of stress, terrified that I was losing Tim, watching him growing away from me, then finally when he admitted there was somebody else, the pain, the humiliation and the loss. I was shedding all that on the dance floor.
‘You seem to be enjoying yourself.’ Tim had materialised by my side as I made my way back from the ‘Ladies’.
‘I am, thank you for inviting me. Oh, congratulations by the way. I hope you’ll both be very happy.’
Enough was enough. I left him standing there and skipped back to Giuseppe, who’d got us both more drinks.
Before we left I wanted to see the wedding presents. They were in a separate room spread out on a low table below a chandelier. Among the crystal, the casseroles and the expensive linen one item out-shone the rest. In its new, stainless steel box engraved with the initials T and A, its intricate carving picked out by the light above, my dazzling deadly present did not let me down.
‘Caro.’
Giuseppe was behind me, holding my coat.
‘We go now?’
‘Yes Giuseppe, we go now.’
–
(c) 2024 Katya Marsh.
