No, Mum, Im not giving you that ring! Marigolds voice quivered with indignation. You gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday!
Darling, understand, it isnt merely a piece of jewellery, Eleanor, her fingers nervously tracing the folds of her woollen cardigan, replied. It belonged to your grandmother first, and now its meant for Poppy.
Poppy? What does my sister have to do with it? Marigold lunged for the dresser and yanked open the top drawer. Why does she suddenly need my ring?
Eleanor sank heavily onto the edge of the sofa. The conversation was turning sour, but she wasnt about to back down.
Poppys wedding is coming up, you know. Max proposed, and theyre short of cash for a ring. I promised wed help.
Us? Marigold fished a tiny velvet box from the drawer and clenched it tight. And you never asked me.
Sweetheart, pleaded Eleanor, its a family heirloom. The ring passes to the one whos getting married. Poppy is starting a family, and you
So Im the old spinster now, huh? Marigold snorted bitterly. And what of it that Im over thirty and still single? This ring is the only thing you ever gave me from the heart. I remember you saying, Take good care of it, love, itll bring you happiness.
Eleanor rose and tried to place a hand on her daughters shoulder, but Marigold stepped back.
You always chose Poppy, Marigold whispered, opening the velvet box. The gold band with a small garnet in the centre caught the evening light slipping through the curtains. She always got the best: pretty dresses, pricey toys, your attention
Not true! Eleanor snapped. I love you both equally!
Oh really? Marigold slipped the ring onto her ring finger. Remember when I went to university and Poppy was busy with that school competition? Who did you rush to cheer for? Who did you run to at the prom? Who did you console after her first breakup?
Eleanor lowered her eyes. There was a grain of truth in her daughters words, but admitting it was uncomfortable.
Poppy is five years younger. She needed more of your time.
Of course, Marigold nodded. And now she wants my ring.
A knock echoed down the hallway. Marigold startled; she wasnt expecting anyone. Eleanor brushed away a fresh tear and went to answer.
Poppet! Come in, love, Eleanors tone melted into a honeyed, gentle one.
Marigold clenched her fists, longing to bolt to her room, shut the door, and avoid the whole farce. Yet she stayed in the sittingroom, fists balled.
Hi, sis! Poppy burst in like a mini tornado, a sleek figure with a tumble of ginger hair and freckles dotting her nose, looking barely twentyfive. Oh, whats that sour look? Did you eat a lemon?
We were talking about Grandmas ring, Marigold replied dryly.
Ah, Mum told you already? Poppy flopped into an armchair, legs crossed. Im thrilled! Max proposed! We plan to marry at the end of spring. Only problem: rings. Were a bit short on cash, but I want something special.
And you think you can just take my ring? Marigold stared straight into her sisters eyes.
Its not mine, its Grandmas, Poppy shrugged. Mum said tradition says it goes to the first woman who marries. You wont mind, will you?
Marigold glanced at their mother, who stood off to the side, fiddling with the edge of her cardigan.
Im against it, Marigold declared firmly. That ring was given to me, and Im not handing it over.
But, dear, Eleanor interjected, were family! We must look after each other.
Exactly, Poppy agreed. Besides, its gathering dust in that box anyway.
A lump rose in Marigolds throat; words stuck. She slipped out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
In her bedroom she flopped onto the bed, face buried in the pillow. Always deciding for me, she thought, as if Im not even part of the family.
She recalled the day shed received the ring. Shed turned eighteen, celebrating at a café with friends. Before she left, Mum had called her into the bedroom.
Love, I have something special for you, Eleanor had said, pulling out a tiny box. This is my mothers ring, your greatgrandmothers. Its passed from mother to daughter. Now its yours. Grandma used to say it brings happiness and true love.
Marigold hadnt given it much thought then; she was just thrilled to finally own something truly valuable. Everything else always seemed to go to Poppy, the younger, favored daughter.
A knock sounded again.
Marigold, may I come in? Poppys voice was unusually soft.
No, Marigold muttered, but the door creaked open and Poppys ginger head poked in.
Dont be mad, Poppy slipped past and perched on the edge of the bed. I didnt realise the ring meant so much to you.
Marigold sat up, wiping her reddened eyes.
Its not the ring, Poppy. Its that you and Mum always decide everything without asking me. As if my feelings dont matter.
Poppy frowned. Thats not true. We love you.
Love? Marigold laughed bitterly. Then why does Mum always pick you? Why does she always have time, money, attention for you, while I get the leftovers?
What are you saying? Poppy protested. Mum never treats us differently!
Really? Marigold raised her hand, the ring glinting. And now you want to snatch the one thing I truly cherish.
I didnt know you were so attached, Poppy whispered. Mum just said its tradition
Theres no tradition! Marigold cut in. She made it up to please you, as usual.
Eleanor entered, looking crestfallen.
Girls, please stop, she pleaded. Poppy, could you set the kettle? I need a word with Marigold alone.
Poppy nodded and left. Eleanor sat beside her daughter.
Marigold, Im sorry, she took her hand. I didnt mean to hurt you.
But you did, Marigold said, freeing her hand. As always.
Do you really think I love Poppy more? Eleanors eyes flashed with hurt.
I dont think, I know, Marigold stood, moving to the window. Ive spent my whole life feeling like the second fiddle. Always Poppy, Poppy, Poppy And now you want to take the only thing that reminds me of a rare moment when I felt loved.
Eleanor lowered her head, silent. At last she whispered:
Youre right. I did give Poppy more attention, not because I loved her more, but because you were always so independent, so grownup. Poppy needed extra care, being the younger one.
Thats no excuse, Marigold shook her head.
I know, Eleanor sighed. I just want you to understand: I love you both just as fiercely. I just show it differently.
A heavy silence settled. Marigold stared out the window, refusing to turn back.
The ring is yours. I have no right to take it. Im sorry for upsetting you, Eleanor said softly.
Mum, Marigold called, does the ring really bring love happiness?
Eleanor smiled weakly. Grandma believed it. When she gave it to me, I wasnt married yet. She said, Wear it and itll help you find true love. A month later I met your father.
Marigold glanced at the garnet, now looking like a drop of frozen blood in the lamp light.
But you and Dad split up, she noted.
Yes, but I was happy for a time, and I have you two, my beloved daughters. Isnt that happiness enough?
Poppy appeared with a tray of three tea cups and a vase of biscuits.
Peace? she asked tentatively, looking between mother and sister.
Marigold took a cup and sipped.
Peace, she replied.
They settled in the living room. Poppy ranted about the upcoming wedding, the dress shed spotted, the flowers shed chosen. Marigold listened halfheartedly, twirling the ring.
What about your ring with Max? she blurted, cutting through the excitement.
We dont have one yet, Poppy admitted, eyes dropping. He proposed, but hes out of work and my admin salary wont cover a proper band.
So you came for mine, Marigold said.
Yes, Poppy confessed. Mum told me about Grandmas ring, and I thought But now I see I was wrong. Its yours, and I shouldnt have asked.
Tears welled in Poppys eyes. Marigold realised the jealousy had a grain of truth: Poppy had always been the pampered one. Yet now, sitting across from her, she saw a young woman genuinely sorry for hurting her sister.
You know what, Marigold said, slipping the ring off, Ill lend it to you for the wedding. Just for one day. Then you give it back.
Really? Poppys face lit up. Youre not joking?
No joke, Marigold handed it over. Try it on.
Poppy slipped the ring on; it was a touch large.
Ill have to get it resized, she noted.
No need, Marigold waved. Its only for a day, remember?
Got it, Poppy replied, beaming. Thank you, sis. You cant imagine how much this means.
Eleanor watched, tears glistening.
Marigold, youre my treasure, she hugged her older daughter. Im sorry for the years of unfairness.
Mum, dont, Marigold blushed. Lets not make a big fuss.
Evening drifted on with tea and chatter about the wedding. Marigold even offered to help with the planning. The tension melted, and the room warmed.
When Poppy was about to leave, she took the ring off and handed it back.
Keep it. Im afraid Ill lose it before the big day, alright?
Marigold tucked it into the velvet box. As she watched her mother clear the cups, Eleanor embraced her.
Thank you, love, she said. Youve shown such forgiveness and generosity. Im proud of you.
Stop exaggerating, Mum, Marigold grinned. I just lent the ring for a day, not given it away forever.
Still, a noble act, her mother insisted.
That night Marigold lay awake, thinking of the ring, of Grandmas words, of how it was supposed to bring love happiness. In thirteen years of owning it shed never met her true love. Maybe she should have worn it more often?
The next morning her phone rang. It was Poppy.
Sis, you wont believe it! she babbled excitedly. Max got a proper job with a good salary! Hes already signed a contract!
Congratulations, Marigold murmured, still half asleep. Im happy for you both.
And the craziest part? Poppy continued. Yesterday I told Max about the ring, how you graciously let me borrow it for the wedding, and he said hed gotten the call about the job that very morning. Imagine the coincidence! Maybe the ring does bring luck!
Marigold smiled despite herself.
Maybe, she replied. Im glad things are looking up for you.
Come over this weekend, well celebrate!
Ill see, Marigold said cautiously. Ive got a lot on at work.
After the call she stared at the ceiling, feeling a weight lift that had sat on her heart for years.
That evening the phone rang again. It was her mother.
Marigold, I was thinking Eleanor began without preamble. Maybe you could pop over this weekend? Ill bake your favourite apple crumble.
Marigold raised an eyebrow. Mum rarely invited her over without a reason.
Whats up? she asked.
Nothing, love, Eleanors voice carried a hint of contrition. I just want to see my daughter. Is that odd?
No, not odd, Marigold paused. Fine, Ill come.
The weekend arrived. As Marigold drove to the family home, a flutter of nerves rose. She hadnt lived at home since moving into her flat three years ago; visits were now limited to holidays and occasional calls.
Eleanor met her at the door, a small box in hand.
Come in, love, she said, pulling Marigold into a hug. Ive missed you.
The house smelled of freshly baked apple crumble. Marigold followed the scent to the kitchen, where a tea set lay ready.
Mum, whats the occasion? she asked, eyeing the spread.
Cant a mother spoil her daughter a little? Eleanor laughed. Have a seat, the crumbles still warm.
Over tea they chatted about Marigolds job, Poppys upcoming nuptials, and health. When the crumble was gone, Eleanor produced the little box shed carried all day.
Here, she said, handing it over.
Whats this? Marigold asked, curious.
Open it and youll see.
Inside lay a delicate ring with a tiny emerald set in the centre.
Mum, what does this mean? Marigold asked, bewildered.
Its the ring of my mother, your greatgrandmother, Eleanor said, voice catching. Ive kept it all these years, and now I want to give it to you. I love you just as much as Poppy, I just havent always shown it.
Marigold stared at the emerald, its green glint like wisdom.
Grandma used to say emeralds bring wisdom, Eleanor continued. Youve always been wise, even as a child. Want to try it on?
Marigold slipped the ring on; it fit perfectly, as if it had been made for her.
Thank you, Mum, she whispered. Its lovely.
One more thing, Eleanor said, taking Marigolds hand. I apologise. You were right I did favour Poppy, and that was unfair. You deserve more.
They embraced, and all the old grievances seemed to melt away.
Mum, what about the ring you gave me, the one I lent to Poppy? Marigold asked later.
Its not really mine, Eleanor admitted. I bought it when your father and I married. I invented the grandmother story because I wanted you to cherish it.
And the happiness in love?
That parts true, she smiled. At least it brought me happiness, and now it seems to have helped Poppy too. Did you hear about Maxs new job?
Marigold nodded, admiring the fresh ring on her finger.
So it really did belong to greatgrandma?
Yes, Eleanor confirmed. She truly believed emeralds were stones of wisdom. I saved it for a special moment, and here we are.
They talked late into the night. For the first time in years Marigold felt truly at home. When she left, Eleanor walked her to the door.
You know, love, Im so proud of you, she said. Youve grown into a wonderful person, despite my mistakes.
Stop, Mum, Marigold blushed. Alls well now.
Outside the street was dark. Marigold headed for the tube, reflecting on how a quarrel over a ring that could have driven a wedge instead knit the family back together. Sometimes you have to air the grievances to get a fresh start.
She glanced at the new ring sparkling on her finger. The emerald was calm and deep, like a steady heart; the garnet, bright and passionate, suited Poppy perfectly.
Perhaps there was something to Grandmas claim after all. In that moment Marigold realised her mothers love for her was as strong as for her sister and that was more than enough.
