Free Marrying Money: Lady Diana's Story by Glenys O'Connell Page B

far beyond that of the stones and precious metals. They have historic provenance.”
    There, chew on that, Mr Policeman.
    “So this particular piece, when was it last appraised?”
    “About 1965.”
    “1965 ?” His lovely black eyebrows disappeared under that curly lock of hair.
    “Yes , well – appraisals are usually done for death duties—”
    “And no one has died in your family since l965?” The poor man was trying to make sense of a world he would never understand,
    “Not at all, there aren't many of us but what there are, usually have the good grace to pass away at an appropriate time. But not all items are appraised for each Ashburnham's death, because not all Ashburnhams own each item.” I said. I was glossing, really. The reason most things weren't appraised was that, if they were, the death duties would be so high that we wouldn't have so much as a glass bead left now.
    “Okay , so what would you expect its worth to be, based on the appraisal?” Detective Liam's voice was taking on a pained sound. I bet he'd sound a whole lot more pained if he'd just lost his family jewels, so to speak.
    “Well , the price must have gone up a fair bit since l965. It appraised then at £200,000, pounds sterling, that is. I imagine its worth about £300,000 or more by now.”
    There was a crash and a scream from the doorway. The three of us swivelled around just in time to see Sally follow the tray of tea things to the floor. Brown tea, sugar, milk, lemon slices and biscuits all mixed with Sally in a dead faint on Mairead's white shag.
    “Shit! I didn't mean for her to hear that, poor Sally had no idea what that necklace was worth!” I raced towards my friend, dropping down on my knees to cradle her head. “This was my entire fault. I didn't tell her, because she'd never have been able to relax and enjoy herself. She's such a responsible person she'd have been worrying about the damned necklace the whole day. And she looked so pretty with it on, at the races”
    “Yeah , it did seem to come as a bit of a shock, seeing her react like this,” Detective Liam stated.
    Wow , the powers of deduction. Citizens of Wicklow, sleep soundly in your beds, Detective Liam is on the case!
    “Come on, Sally! Wake up!” I cried, slapping her on the face as I'd been taught in boarding school first aid classes. ‘Ladies with the vapours, if there are no smelling salts handy, slap 'em.’ I could still hear the gym teacher, who taught the first aid training, tell us. It had the desired effect, not one of her charges fainted or even pretended to faint throughout the school year.
    “Oh , Sally, come on!” I wailed, slapping her again.
    “Diana ...” The voice was weak, but Sally was rallying.
    “Sally , the money doesn't mean a thing! You're my best friend!” And I meant it, too.
    “Diana !” The croak was stronger now. The poor thing was obviously moved by my distress.
    “Diana !”
    “Yes ?”
    “If you don’t stop slapping me, so help me I'll put your lights out!”
    I looked at my hand , raised for another slap. I'd been thumping her in the face in time with my bleating.
    “ Ooops!” I dropped the hand self-consciously and managed a glare at the detective sergeant, who whispered, “ Oh, bitch fight!” to his boss. Their smirks quickly disappeared under my murderous glance.
    I helped Sally up . It seemed the least I could do.
    “Diana !” Mairead's voice scratched my nerves.
    “What ?” I snapped.
    “You are bleeding on my new white shag!”
    “What ?” It was a whisper. I hate the sight of blood, especially my own. And there it was, dripping from around a vicious looking shard of Meissen china sticking out of my knee. I must have knelt on the damned thing but hadn’t noticed because I was so concerned about Sally. My head swam, but Ashburnham women don’t faint. We look the devil right in the eye and…
    “Oh , my goodness…”
    Sally was obviously a lot more attentive in first aid class than I had been .