The serial: Be Sure Your Sins Day 9

The jeweller kept smiling at Isobel. Isobel kept smiling back. She wasn’t quite sure at what stage she sensed the man was deceiving her. Something in the way he kept glancing at his pocket watch

Isobel waylaid Betsy, the tweeny, in the corridor and told her of her plan to run away.

Betsy was less enthusiastic than Isobel had expected. In fact, she looked alarmed.

“Och, Miss Isobel, we canna do it. They’d fetch us back. They’d punish you and send me back to the workhouse.’’

Isobel had just had her eighth birthday and no one had remembered it, so she felt sure Aunt Alie would be glad to be rid of her.

“They would not, Betsy. No one could do anything to us, because we would have our own money.’’

“Nobody would believe the jewellery your Aunt Alie has of your mother’s was rightly yours, Miss Isobel.’’

“They would. I shall tell them the whole story.’’ She had the confidence of the very young that everything would turn out to her advantage.

“It will be all right, Betsy. We will go to the shops in Edinburgh town centre, find a jeweller’s, then ask them to buy the jewellery from us.’’ “What about a pawn shop?’’ Betsy said. “What is a pawn shop?’’ “It’s where folks go to raise money on their belongings.’’ They held off their running away for three days. Luck was with them on the Saturday. Alie mentioned at breakfast that as her daughters, Frances and Elizabeth, had been invited to a friend’s birthday party next week and as they could not possibly go in last year’s party frocks, she was taking them into town to buy each of them a new one.

Once the trio were a safe distance from the house, Isobel went to her aunt’s room and opened the jewellery box. She recognised all the jewellery as her Mama’s. A triple string of pearls. A diamond and emerald necklace with matching bracelet.

There were diamond drop earrings, emerald earrings set like a star and several rings. There was also a gold locket with a gold chain. When she opened it she saw a miniature oil painting of Mama on one side and Papa on the other. She would never sell that but keep it forever and ever.

Isobel and Betsy arrived at the shops and the sight of the old castle, high on the crags, in the pale February sunshine, seemed solid and reassuring. But when a high-class jeweller’s came into sight, they both tensed.

They pressed their noses close up to the glass panel in the shop door.

A severe-looking proprietor, noticing what he thought were two urchins in the shop doorway, putting their sticky fingers on the plate glass, stepped forward, intending to shoo them away. Isobel faced up to him. The proprietor opened the door. This was no urchin. Her amazing blue eyes met his without flinching.

“Are you looking for someone?’’ he asked. His voice was less fierce than his eyebrows.

Isobel cleared her throat. “Do you buy jewellery?’’ Her heart was beating so wildly it felt as though it might burst. “Come into my office,’’ he invited, intrigued. He led her to a room at lower end of the shop and closed the door. “Please sit down.’’ He indicated a chair. Isobel wriggled herself on to it. “This jewellery, may I see it?’’ Isobel felt in the pockets of her dress. The jeweller’s black eyebrows shot up at so many valuables tumbling out of a small girl’s pocket.

“Where did you get these?’’ He picked up the diamond and sapphire ring and examined it through his jeweller’s eye glass.

“They were Mama’s.’’ The whole story came out, names and addresses, everything. She kept nothing back.

She finished by saying how unhappy she was and how she wanted to sell the jewellery and run away with her maid.

A less scrupulous jeweller might have taken advantage of the situation but not this wellestablished firm.

The man knew what he had to do without alerting the child.

Because she had been honest and volunteered her uncle’s name and address, he knew he had no alternative but to contact him for her safety.

“How much will you pay for the jewellery?’’ Isobel asked.

The jeweller prevaricated: “I cannot make an immediate decision.’’

He gave Isobel a placating smile and rang a hand bell on his desk, which was immediately answered by a youth.

“Mr Craig, please deliver this note.’’ He scribbled a few brief words on the firm’s notepaper. “It is urgent, so hurry along.’’

They waited. The jeweller kept smiling at Isobel. Isobel kept smiling back.

She wasn’t quite sure at what stage she sensed the man was deceiving her. Something in the way he kept glancing at his pocket watch.

Then there was his smile. So like the wolf in her Red Riding Hood book.

She jumped down from the big chair and began cramming the jewellery back into her pockets.

“I’ve changed my mind,’’ she announced, marching to the door. The jeweller quickly dodged in front of it. “Wait.’’ “No. Let me out,’’ Isobel cried in a loud voice and banged on the door with her fists.

Afraid of an unpleasant scene, in case there were customers in the shop, he opened his office door.

Isobel and Betsy walked up Castle Hill, where they found a pawn shop in the Grassmarket.

The bell pinged as Isobel pushed open the door. A short fat man, with food spills down his waistcoat, materialised behind the high counter.

“Please may I show you these?’’ Isobel asked bravely. “Are these pieces your mother’s?’’ Isobel nodded. “She’s dead.’’ The pawnbroker wished he hadn’t asked, especially as his young customer’s eyes filled with tears.

The pawnbroker whistled through his teeth. “You are walking about with a small fortune in your pocket, lassie.’’

(More tomorrow)