The Chain (A Catherine Diary) - Stamfield. Complete

Chapter 26

26

Intriguing, I thought. It certainly explained why I noticed something different about her smile. I had hoped it was boy problems, it would give me a good chance to vent about Jack and what had happened to me yesterday.

I sat down next to her, on my favored stool. 'Tell me'

She looked at me and looked away. 'You know my necklace, with the pendant of Nefertiti', I nodded, she wasn't looking so she didn't see me, but yet I sensed she had, 'I lost it yesterday'.

So, not a boy problem. A necklace, not such a big deal. Or?

'Was it worth much?', I asked wondering if it was some thirty-six carat gold and trying desperately to remember if it had any precious stones in it.

She sucked her teeth. I hate when she does that to me. 'I don't know', she said. I was disappointed. 'It was my grandmothers. My mum would tell the story about how my grandmother hated that pendant, she said that when granddad spent the only money they had on it, grandma blew her lid, but when grandad said he heard that Nefertiti was the most beautiful woman to walk the earth, he thought of my grandma and just had to buy it for her. After that she treasured it, even though they went through years of hard times because of it's purchase. Before grandma died, she gave it to me, asking me to pass it on to my daughter, mum was vexed, tinking grandma should have given it to her', she stopped, looked me in the face, 'I got to find it Catherine, mum is gonna kill me if she hears it's missing'.

I was starting to understand the gravity of the situation. Even though Carla shed no tears, I could see the real fear in her expression, when she spoke about her mum killing her. Then something struck me.

'I thought you told me, your mum passed it on to you?'

She looked up at me, realizing her mistake. Had she just lied to me, or had she lied to me before. Either way I had been under the impression that Carla never lied to me.

'I'm sorry', she said maintaining eye contact. 'It's just that mum tells everyone she passed it on to me, to deflect away from the fact Grandma gave it to me instead of her. So, it's easier to carry on that story'.

She looked at me with sorrowful eyes. I touched her arm as reassurance, that I wasn't upset.

This was serious, I could tell, not by what she had told me, but by the fact that her conversation had lapsed into fluent English, gone was the Jamaican accent and gone was the broken English.

'Okay, let's think', I said, following my own instruction. 'The last time I remember you having it on was the last time I saw you, Jack made a comment about it.'

'Yes, I remember', she said and I could see she had already thought about it. I was starting to wonder whether she thought Jack had stolen it.

I decided to change tact.

'I tell you what, you finish making the tea, I'm going to get changed and we'll retrace your steps from the time I last saw you wearing it.'

'Okay', she looked relieved. 'I probably just dropped it on my way home', she suggested, but I could see the doubt written across her face.