Looking For.

I dropped it.

I didn’t mean too, it just slid off my finger.

Now, I can’t find the bloody thing.

It has to be along here somewhere.

George is sick of looking, but Harry is still with me. 

We’ve been at it for half an hour.

I can’t go home without it.

It belonged to my husband’s grandmother; she left it to his mother, and she gave it to him to give to me. 

Three generations.

It’s a beautiful ring but a bit old-fashioned, which is fair enough, it was crafted a long time ago.

I don’t think his mum thinks I am good enough for him. 

I know that she thinks it is strange that my two best friends are men.

“Women cannot be friends with men. Men only want one thing, and it isn’t friendship.”

George, Harry and I have been friends since we were kids, and they had both tried it on, back when we were teenagers.

They fumbled around, and I let them, but it didn’t feel quite right for any of us. 

“You’re dead sexy Veronica, but seriously, it’s like kissing my sister.”

Even now, I like that they ‘want me’, but don’t follow-through.

It adds a bit of spice.

I’ve got female friends, but men are easier to be friends with. 

They say what they think, and they don’t play games. 

They wear their hearts on their sleeves, and they are incredibly loyal. 

And, they can carry heavy stuff, which comes in very handy, especially on shopping expeditions around Christmas time.

My husband understands. 

He knows I’m a one man woman and I think he likes it that men find me attractive. I guess that makes me a kind of prize.

He bought me the red dress I’m wearing. He likes me in red.

It’s not my favourite colour, but it does look good on me.

We’ve been staying at a hotel close to the beach. 

I wanted the boys to come down for a couple of days, and David said he didn’t mind. He’s off doing something important in the City today. He received a mysterious phone call last night and woke me up early this morning to tell me he was catching the 5 am Milk Train back to town, but that he would be back by 11 pm. 

All very mysterious.

But, I shouldn’t be surprised, David has always been a bit like that.

When I ask him why we can afford our little cottage and be able to come down to the sea whenever we want he just tells me that it’s man’s business and it’s my job to look pretty. I usually take a swing at him when he says it, and I know he’s only kidding about the ‘looking pretty’ stuff, but even so, the money thing worries me a bit.

I’ve broached the subject with George and Harry on a few occasions, but they just roll their eyes and tell me that I don’t want to know, which just makes it worse.

If it comes down to it, I don’t know what George and Harry do for a living either.

When we were at university I read English, George read Economics and Harry did Chemistry. When I bring it up, Harry says he makes stuff, and George says he invests the profits. That’s all very well, but where does the money come from? 

“The wonders of Chemistry.”

That’s all I get, then I get sick of asking, and we go back to looking for my lost ring.

It has to be along here somewhere.  

Painting by Jack Vettriano.

If you enjoy my stories, then why not buy me a coffee?

Enjoy my work. Then buy me a coffee?