Metallic necklace flash design

The tray came back across the counter at half eleven, and one of the copper discs was missing from its hook, so I sat under the striplight with the shutter half down and watched the trams slide blue through Digbeth. You always said nothing good sells after ten. You were right, but nothing good came in either, only a lad from the Saturday stall pushing the door open with a bib necklace held out flat on his palms, as if it might spill.

It was a necklace of linked circles, gold and copper and that particular turquoise you only get in old enamel, with two half-moon bowls hung above it like scales with nothing to weigh. He said his nan had made it from broken earrings and the lid of a bread tin, and he wanted fourteen pounds, which was daft, and I told him so. He kept touching the big blue disc at the bottom, and every time he did the little drops swung and caught the light off the window.

I didn't pay him. I took out the loupe and counted the drops, eleven, then the chain arcs, four strands a side, and the number matched the years Mum lived above the chippy before she moved us out to the coast. I said I'd need to test the metal. He said fine, he'd wait, and sat on the step with his hood up while I wrapped the necklace in tissue and left the shutter a crack open for him.

He didn't come back, so I've put it in the window under the good lamp, face up, the bowls empty above it. If he turns up Saturday I'll hand it across the counter and let him do the clasp himself. Come home at Easter and tell me I should have just charged him the fourteen quid.

Love, Mags