The Birthday Present Quotes

“found something rather weird.” Something I'd missed, I thought. It wasn't only Tesham's picture I'd left behind. A sequined mask, maybe, or a black lace corset. But no. “There was a string of pearls in a box. I'd seen them before when I was tidying the place up but I hadn't taken much notice of them. I took notice of them this time. Gerry had told me they were there, but he'd said they were Hebe's and they came from Woolworths or Marks or somewhere, she'd bought them herself. But, Jane, she can't have. They can't have come from a chain store. They're enormously valuable.” I nearly laughed. But I didn't. I asked her how she would know. “I used to work for a company that marketed pearls.” “I thought you were in PR,” I said. “I was. I was with this pearl firm awhile ago, when I was in my early twenties. I was never a grader, never any sort of expert, but I do know. I know a string that comes from Marks from one from Bond Street. These pearls are large and perfect. Most people don't know it, but large pearls are worth more than small ones. It could be worth six or seven thousand pounds. Don't you think it's odd?” I used, with some relish, the clichéd phrase from a hundred bad books and plays: “I expect there's a perfectly simple explanation.” “There can't be. Hebe couldn't have bought them. She hadn't any money. She never even worked. Someone must have given them to her.” “What does Gerry say?” “He doesn't know. I haven't told him.” I asked her why not. “Isn't it obvious? He—well, he cherishes her memory. I don't mind that. I understand how he worshipped her. It means he's a good husband, doesn't it? Someone gave her those pearls and—well, come on, he didn't give them to her because he'd admired her from afar.” “I don't know,” I said, and I asked her what she was going to do. “Perhaps nothing. Can I tell him and destroy his illusions? And yet—look, Jane, we could do with the money. It was very expensive, moving. And we've got this baby coming. We could sell those pearls for six thousand, maybe more. It frightens me sometimes to think we've got them in the house.” She went on like this for a long time, torn between keeping her precious Gerry in ignorance, to preserve his unsullied love, and longing for the money. She wanted to know if I had known about it. “You were a close friend of Hebe's,” she said. “Didn't she tell you she'd a lover? Didn't she say anything about the pearls?” I said that what Hebe had confided in me was a sacred trust. Pandora liked that. It's the sort of high-flown stuff she indulges in herself. But it made her more suspicious, as I knew it would. As she was leaving, I said, “Oh, by the way, that photo you sent, it's not mine. The writing on the back is Hebe's.” “Hebe's? Are you sure?” I looked sad, said, “She was my best friend, Pandora.”
― Barbara Vine, The Birthday Present