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Barely hidden giggles erupt from the girls surrounding me and whispered words that I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear say, “How does she know, I bet she’s never even seen one.”
Heat rises up my cheeks and I pretend not to notice while studying Sally O’Reilly’s engagement ring that she eagerly flashes me.
“How much is it worth?” she asks breathlessly.
“Sorry?”
“The ring.” She pushes it even closer to my face. “Your dad has a jewellery shop, surely you’ll know?”
My heart sinks at the eagerness of her loveless words, and I realise this was the only reason she called me over. This group of girls has not lifted a finger helping out this morning. The charity event is in two days, and Mum again insisted I come down to help. The marquees are already up, and folded-up trestle tables and chairs are stacked against the stone wall of the church’s courtyard. If these girls, who I’ve grown up with, could do some work instead of squealing over a ring, then Icould have been in the office right now. Although I don’t always get much work done in the office either. Sometimes I simply get lost stealing glances at Aidan across the room, studying how the muscles on his forearms twitch as he types, marvelling at how, in the right light, a few strands of grey hair come through at his temples and fit so nicely with the dark brown. And then he looks at me from above his glasses, which always sets off butterflies low in my tummy. And while his eyes twitch, he says with a dark, stern tone,‘Caitlin, are you working?’.
“Well?”
With a hidden sigh, I force my daydream away and grab Sally’s hand and tilt it right and left. The stones sparkle in the sunlight. Keenan Jewellers don’t carry a large range of engagement rings and most of the ones we have are Claddagh-style rings. However, I’ve made it my mission to know a little about all kinds of gemstones and jewellery. The centre stone in Sally’s ring must be over one carat with smaller diamonds trailing down on each side. For the value of diamonds, clarity is just as important as the carat, but I can’t judge the clarity without a loupe.
“I’d say at least fifteen thousand euro,” I say, adding a few grand to my guess.
“Oh my gosh,” she squeals, clutching her hand to her chest. “I’m wearing fifteen thousand euro on my finger!”
The group of girls join her in her squeals, and they all demand to take another, closer look themselves, as if the price makes the ring more beautiful.
“But surely, it’s not the price that matters.”
“Don’t be daft, Caitlin.” Sally rolls her eyes. “I bet you’re still looking for your knight on a white horse.”
More like a black stallion.A stallion I call ‘Daddy’…
But I don’t say that to these girls who are supposed to be my friends. Yet they’re not. They’ve never treated me as an equal. I’m too good, as in naïve. They laugh at me behind my back and think I don’t notice. The pencil in my hand has always been a better friend than these money-obsessed…bitches.
I suck in a breath, and as if God heard my cruel thoughts, I’m jolted by a small force hitting my legs. But it’s nothing evil looking up at me. It’s little Niamh grinning with her missing front teeth. The bow on one of her pigtails is missing.
“Caitlin, come play with me!”
“Yes, Caitlin, go play with the otherkids.” Sally giggles.
Truth is, I’d rather spend time with six-year-old Niamh than Sally and the rest of them, so I smile down at the girl. “Why don’t we go and paint the sign?”
“Yes! Can you show me how to paint a cat?”
“Sure, I can. I think a cat would look fantastic on the sign.”
The vicious giggles of my peers follow me down to the other end of the courtyard, while Niamh skips next to me. It’s a relief to lose myself to the creation of the sign, seeing the joy on the little girl’s face, until it twists in anger when her mother picks her up to leave. She finally calms when I tell her it’s only two sleeps until we see each other again.
I rush to finish the sign on my own, eager to head down to the office – it’s midday already. Once the final brush stroke is done, I carefully set it up against the wall.
It’s not bad, if I say so myself.
“Oh my, Caitlin. That looks fantastic!”
I turn to find Sally’s mother standing behind me, together with Mum and Father Murray.
“Thank you, Mrs O’Reilly.”
“Is that a cat?”
I still at the displeasure coating Mum’s words.
“Yes?”
