Free Ring of Guilt by Judith Cutler Page B

there was a tiny flaw in the glaze, which had been present for nearly two hundred years – no trying to repair that.
    He nodded slowly. ‘I’m proud of you, my angel. Really, truly proud. And before you demur, think back to your concentration span when you first joined me. A goldfish would have been embarrassed. But now – how many hours have you spent on this?’
    I shook my head. ‘Hard to tell. Some of it was thinking and stretching and looking out of the window time. I tried keeping a time sheet, but it looked such a mess.’
    â€˜And he’s not paying you for time, remember. He’s paying you for your expertise, which is surely not to be counted in hours and minutes. I think it’s time to make the call, don’t you? Or email, or whatever you do.’
    â€˜As a matter of fact,’ I said, trying to sound casual, ‘I was wondering if I should make another call.’
    â€˜To whom?’
    â€˜To Will Kinnersley.’
    â€˜What a good idea. Though I do implore you to find out his marital status before you start getting fond of him.’
    â€˜I’m only going to ask him about the rings!’ I countered more sharply than he deserved. ‘Actually,’ I added, much more tentatively, ‘there’s another call or two I should maybe make. On my father’s behalf. And I truly don’t want to. Oh, Griff.’
    He pulled me to him. ‘Why don’t you tell me all about it over a glass of something nice? Completing a task like that deserves some sort of celebration.’
    Despite clutching a glass of vintage wine – it was a gift from one of our customers to thank us for locating a plate to replace one from a Crown Derby service – I found that I couldn’t stop crying. This wasn’t like me at all, unless a mishap to my teddy bear was involved. Griff called me
stoical
. But it all came pouring out – the relief of having finished my most challenging job yet; the lack of news about the body; the anxiety about the old rings; my lonely and boyfriend-less state; and the fact that my father cared enough about someone else to seek her descendants out.
    â€˜And if you ask me, my love, it’s that that upsets you most,’ Griff said, pressing a second linen handkerchief into my hand. ‘But it’s only since he had you in his life that he’s realized the importance of other people. You’ve awakened a long dormant tenderness. Once he had a nanny he assuredly loved, and she left him on his own when she died. And then there was the trauma of being sent to school, and not being able to go home because the Hall was requisitioned. A little cod psychology would tell us that losing her helped turn him into the damaged creature he undoubtedly is. And he was in denial about all this until you showed him love. Tough love, but love.’
    â€˜Hmm,’ I hiccuped. ‘So you’re saying that it’s a good sign? The trouble is,’ I admitted, unable to raise my voice above a whisper, ‘I don’t want to find them. I really do covet that Cartier watch.’
    â€˜That’s strange: you never really engage with artefacts for their own sake, do you?’ He stroked my hair. ‘I don’t mean you don’t love beautiful things, and enjoy owning them, but you seem to know the difference between loving and admiring them and needing to keep them.’
    â€˜And there’s something else I really, really want – his mother’s engagement ring. He said he’d try to find it. But I shouldn’t want it, not if it’s going to upset you.’
    â€˜Why on earth should it upset me?’ He sounded really puzzled.
    â€˜Because you don’t like it when he gives me things.’
    To my horror, as if his knees had given way, he sat down, covering his face with his hands.
    I knelt in front of him. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.’ I don’t know how many times I