The Locket

He sipped the cheap champagne and readjusted the thin wire glasses that balanced on the edge of his nose. They were all laughing about ‘old times’, smiling and reminding each other of embarrassing moments and drunken nights on the town. He heaved a sigh and glanced at the clock; if she was going to turn up she would have already, he thought with a confusion of relief and disappointment. 1

“Emma!” His eyes shot up as the joyous, drunken cheer fired up into the air all around him. He resisted the temptation to allow his head to fall into his hands and kept his eyes on the golden woman who slid into the seat opposite him. He drained his glass. “Good evening,” he said with all the haughtiness he could squeeze into two words. 2

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Emma replied shortly.3

“I wasn’t. My plans were… cancelled,” 4

“Wonderful.”5

He rolled peas around the plate with a fork miserably. “Nice night?” She said at last,6

“It was going fine,” 7

“Lovely.” 8

Did she have to sound so icy? He wondered as he stabbed at a pea too enthusiastically. It flew across the table and in an improbable blend of the right propulsion and spin landed with an exaggerated plop in Emma’s glass. He cringed. 9

“Still acting like a nervous adolescent, Benjamin?” She sneered, picking the pea out of her glass and dropping it onto the napkin beside her. He frowned, small lines deepening around his thin mouth. “Incidentally, on the topic of adolescents,” he cut in, “How is Steve… Sigmund – what ever his name is?” 10

“Simon’s fine.” 11

A drunken cheer rose into the air and Ben did a small victory dance around his head at his childish remark. Thank God her I can criticise her boyfriend for something, he thought, even if it is his age. He glanced across to Emma who was flicking the edge of a small golden locket about her long, graceful neck. 12

“Sorry. That was uncalled for,” Ben muttered regaining a sense of maturity.13

“Yes it was,” Emma scowled at him and picked at the food on her plate. “Anyway. I don’t care how Simon is. We’re not together.” 14

“Oh.”15

“Try not to sound too happy,” Emma sniped as Ben tried to suppress a satisfied smile. 16

Ben placed his cutlery neatly on the plate and poured some more wine. Glancing up he caught glimpses of her long slender hands nervously twisting the edge of the tablecloth. For all her coldness she had changed little. He ran a hand through his chestnut hair flecked with grey at the temples and sighed. He was forever the outcast, once a black-framed bespectacled student and now a parchment-pale man, a tired historian grappling with the crises that being halfway between youth, middle age and premature grey brings. 17

The locket snapped. It was a sound as familiar to Ben’s ears as the drawing of his own breath. That sharp note of metal clasps meeting crept into his dreams, into his work and had woven its way around the brown, stained books of his vast library. 18

Their eyes met from across the table for an instant. His pale blue meeting her own murky variation, Ben searched for some tenderness, some sort of emotion for him behind the steely front Emma always placed before her. He glanced away and exhaled sharply in amusement: “You, Ben, hide behind your intellect whereas I hide behind the act of a powerful woman,” she had once said. Of course that was when they were still at Oxford, when she had been interested in him. 19

Emma stood up and circulated the room greeting old friends. Ben turned to his left and glanced down at Adam, the red-face man sprawled onto the table. Adam’s tweed suit-jacket was soaked in gravy where he had fallen in his dinner and his tie partially undone. To Ben it seemed that the only one who had aged was himself. “Ads?” He asked giving the man a sharp prod. 20

“What?” 21

“Remember when…” 22

They talked, drank and slowly the tangle of emotion and nostalgia for Emma inside Ben was dulled by the alcohol. The room was emptying and Ben glanced up to see Emma grabbing her coat from the coat stand. “Sorry, squire, I’ve got to be going,” he patted Adam on the back and seized his own coat. 23

A harsh northern wind blew down the Oxford streets, high building casting ominous shadows against the narrow cobbled roads. Emma’s high-heeled shoes clacked against the stones. 24

“Emma!” Ben called jogging to catch up with her.25

“Go away, Ben!” She snarled and gave him a sharp elbow in the shoulder. 26

“No. Please just stop.”27

“Why should I? You were the one who couldn’t ‘stop yourself before.” She hissed, anger and hurt fizzling under the surface of her pale skin. 28

Ben glanced away, guilt pounding through his blood. “I was drunk, Em. She meant nothing to me!”29

“That makes it worse! You threw away our relationship for a woman who ‘meant nothing’ to you!” Emma’s hand flew to her neck to find the locket. Her eyes widened and she groaned unhappily. “It’s gone.” 30

“What?” 31

“My locket, it’s gone.” She blinked at him. “I’m sorry Ben. It’s all in the past. Move on. I have.” 32

Emma turned around and walked away. Ben’s heart plummet down and a gentle prickling sensation tickled the corners of his eyes. Tiredness, he resolved and rubbed it away. He too turned to walk away but the street lamp flickered and just under his foot something glinted wickedly. Ben bent down and fumbled on the gritty stones. His hand met the cool gold of the broken locket. “Emma!” He called back down the street but she was gone. Ben pocketed it and walked away. 33

The soft glow of the light and the sweet shuffle of pages turning comforted him instantly. He was glad to be back to work, sifting through the documents and writing his next lecture with a glass of brandy. Ben pursed his lips and made a noise of frustration, shook the ink pen in vain and felt into the pocket of his jacket hanging from the back of the chair. There was no ink cartridge to be found but a sharp edge and cool metal met his fingers. 34

The locket lay in his palm and he felt the weight of it. What would he find inside? He wondered. His heart hammered and his nail slid into the gap tantalisingly. He teased it open and with a soft snap the tiny photographs inside made his feel as though a thousand lockets were snapping at his heart. He stared at himself inside the golden safe and allowed a sense of guilt and wistfulness to overcome him. 35

With the locket still open in his palm and throat constricted he picked up the telephone and dialled the London area code. Three rings. 36

“Hello?” 37

“Hello.” 38

“Who’s speaking please?”39

“Benjamin Pendrill.” A faint buzz crackled down the line. “Hello?” 40

“Why are you calling me Ben?” 41

“I found your locket.” 42

“Oh – Did you –” Her voice softened,43

“Yes. I looked inside it. I’ll parcel it and take it in time for the five o clock post run.” 44

“No.” 45

“But it was a gift from me.” 46

“No. No. I want it. Only…” She trailed off. 47

“What?” 48

“Only… I thought perhaps I could come to Oxford. Maybe we could have dinner. Talk. You know.” 49

“I’m free on the twentieth.” 50

“So am I.”51

Ben smiled and snapped the locket shut. 52