‘Believe it or not, this is a Claddagh ring. When your heart is taken, you turn the hands to face it,’ Mrs Schwartz says, a romantic, faraway look in her old eyes as she hands me a stunning ring with a green emerald set between the two tiny silver hands on a silver band.
‘B-but I can’t take this?’ I protest, pushing the ring back gently with my finger.
‘It won’t go on my arthritic fingers anymore. I want you to have it. I hate the fact it sits gathering dust on the sideboard and when I leave here it may get lost in the move. I’m very forgetful these days, as you well know even if you choose to ignore it.’
‘I couldn’t .?.?.’ But I can’t take my eyes off the ring. It is spectacularly beautiful. Mrs Schwartz lifts my hand and slides it onto my wedding finger, the heart open. A perfect fit.
‘I never thought I’d say this but, I do!’ I snort with laughter.
‘See? Meant to be.’ Mrs Schwartz opens her arms wide and I step in. ‘It brought me so much love and luck and I feel happier now that it can work its magic for you too. Regardless of your protestations about love, it will find you.’ Benji barks, turning in swift circles before settling himself at her feet, his little face resting on his two front paws. The ding-dong-ding-dong of her door sounds.
‘Another Christmas charity caller, or carollers perhaps? I have left a pile of change at the doors’ she tells me.
I skip down the hallway, tug open the door and my body freezes. Cooper Dwight, my ex, is standing there with a box of fancy cheeses wrapped in cellophane paper and a bottle of wine with a huge red bow tied around the neck.
‘Maggie!’ He moves down off the top step, looking exactly like he’s seen the woman he dumped so nastily. Which he has.
‘Cooper,’ I manage, holding the door close to my face and squeezing my toes tight into my running shoes to steady myself.
‘Eh, this is for a Rose Schwartz?’ he steps back up to the top step and hands me the box of cheeses.
‘Okay,’ I manage. I reach out, take the box and hold it tightly in my arms.
‘I’m not a delivery guy!’ He holds the edge of the door. He’s aged a bit in the last two years. His hair line is receding and he’s wearing glasses. As if he notices me looking at the glasses, he whips them off.
‘I just need them to see the numbers on the houses. It’s my own business. I’m sure you blocked me?’ He stares at me. All I can remember is the coldness in his voice when he dumped me. How he made me feel so unimportant.
I don’t answer.
‘Of course you blocked me, why wouldn’t you. Well, I did try to contact you, many times.’
Tell him what an asshole he is. Tell him he treated you appallingly. Tell him. I try to push myself.
‘Who is it?’ Mrs Schwartz calls out from the front room.
‘A delivery, I’m coming.’ I turn my head over my shoulder and call back.
‘Unblock me? Can I call you sometime? At least let me explain?’ Cooper asks me, dipping his head and making an aw-shucks face.
‘I’m not sure Tanya would approve,’ I tell him feeling a moment of nostalgia mixed with that sense of underlying anger.
‘I’m single. It .?.?. we, didn’t work out.’ Cooper is still holding the bottle of wine. ‘We set up Vino and Fromage .?.?. this business together. Wine and cheeses .?.?. but she .?.?. left.’ His voice is weighty with self-pity.
‘The heat is escaping,’ Mrs Schwartz calls out again. I reach for the bottle of wine.
‘Just unblock me? Please?’ He takes a few steps back down and, like an idiot, I nod before I shut the door.
I had never blocked him in the first place. He had never once tried to contact me.
I make my way back in to her. ‘You won’t believe it, but that was my ex at the door delivering this.’ I hand her the card.
‘How did you feel seeing him?’ She pushes her glasses up, opening the little envelope to read it.
‘I don’t know. Stupid. But nothing else really. Oh my God, am I turning into Miss Havisham?’ I rub my eyes, shaking my head.
‘No. You’ve just grown up and I’m so proud to think you’ve listened to me. If you’d said anything other than just being polite I’d have given you what for. What have I taught you most of all about love?’ She puts the card on the table, props it up on the Torchiere lamp.
‘That a woman must always have self-respect!’ I say, jutting my chest out.
