Fortune Cookie Page 7

  There are loads of jewellery shops in the town centre. There’re posh ones, and tatty ones, and all sorts in between. We didn’t bother with the tatty ones, cos they only did cheap stuff. Our ring was quality. It was so quality we couldn’t find anything to compare it to!

  “Maybe being silver it isn’t worth anything,” moaned Cupcake.

  I said, “Course it is!” But even I was starting to get a bit worried. All the really expensive rings seemed to be made of gold. “I think gold’s really vulgar,” I said. “Ours is loads prettier!”

  “Not much good if it’s not worth anything,” said Cupcake. “For all we know, it could’ve come out of a Christmas cracker!”

  I said, “They don’t put real silver rings in crackers. Let’s go and ask!”

  Cupcake screeched, “Fudge! No!” but once I have come to a decision that’s it. There’s no stopping me. Boldly I marched through the door of this shop called The Jewel Box and went up to the counter. The girl who was standing behind it gave me this snooty look, like I was some kind of disgusting pimple on the point of bursting. In this really bored tone of voice she drawled, “Can I help you?”

  I said, “Yes. I’d like to know how much—” And then I remembered: the ring was still in my sock. Oops! “’Scuse me,” I said, “I have a stone in my shoe.” Well, it was true, I did have! I had a whole cluster of them. Beautiful blue sapphires that had to be worth a fortune. I bent down and thrust my fingers into my sock, with Cupcake hovering nervously at my side. “I’d like to know how much this ring is worth,” I said. “Please!”

  You could tell she didn’t really want to be bothered, but she took the ring off me and told us to wait and she’d get someone to look at it. Cupcake was all jitters again. “I bet she’s gone to ring the police!”

  Defiantly I said, “What if she has? They can’t do us for anything. It’s our ring; it came out of our dog!” I said this to reassure Cupcake; I wasn’t really feeling that confident, especially when the girl came back with an important-looking man in a suit.

  “This is a very interesting ring,” he said. “May I enquire where you got it from?”

  I thought Cupcake was going to pass out on the spot; I could actually feel her shaking. Fortunately, my brain had gone whizzing into overdrive.

  “It’s not mine,” I said. “It belongs to my gran. She wants to know how much it’s worth, so I said I’d come and ask. She can’t get about any more. She’s pretty old – she has these bunions. On her feet. They’re really painful!”

  “I see. Well… it’s hard to put a price on it. Has your grandmother had it a long time?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “She didn’t tell me.”

  “I only ask, because it’s obviously quite old. Victorian, I should think.”

  “It’s got to be worth quite a lot, though,” I said, “what with the sapphires?”

  “Yes, they’re not sapphires, they’re what’s known as aquamarine. Still, very pretty. And probably worth a fair bit.”

  “What’s ‘a fair bit’?” I said.

  “Well, off the top of my head… ”

  What was he talking about, off the top of his head? That was just, like, totally meaningless.

  “My gran was hoping she’d get maybe £200 for it?” I said sternly, to show I didn’t think much of this top of the head stuff. “At least £200, my gran said.”

  He agreed that £200 was quite possible.

  “Maybe more?” Cupcake kicked me, very hard, on the ankle. I ignored her. I knew she wanted me to shut up, and take the ring back, and get out, but we needed to know! “Maybe… £300? £500? £1000?”

  “I wouldn’t go as high as £1000,” he said.

  “But it’s silver!”

  “It is indeed, and a fine piece of craftsmanship. It might well fetch somewhere in the region of £300. I suggest you leave it with me, and I’ll get it properly valued. How about that?”

  I heard a quick intake of breath from Cupcake. “I can’t leave it,” I said. “My gran wants it back.”

  “She shall have it back! Let me give you a receipt.”

  I shook my head. It was all I could do to stop myself snatching the ring and bolting from the shop. I was beginning to feel I might have made a bit of a mistake. “I daren’t go back without it,” I said. “My gran’ll go ballistic!”

  “Well, then, give me your gran’s telephone number, and I’ll ring her when I’ve got a valuation.”

  I said, “How can you get a valuation if you haven’t got the ring?”

  “I’ve got it up here.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’ll do some ferreting about and let her know. What’s her number?”

  I am so bad at numbers! My mind instantly froze. It was Cupcake who blurted out what sounded to me like a real, genuine telephone number. I hoped it wasn’t! The next thing he wanted was my gran’s name. But I am OK at names. I said, “Mrs Green!” And then I took back the ring and forced myself to walk very slowly and calmly out of the shop. Cupcake nearly went and ruined it by scuttling ahead of me like a frightened mouse, but I couldn’t really say anything considering she was the one who had to come to my rescue with the telephone number.

  “Was it a real one?” I said.

  Cupcake said no, she’d made it up. “What about Mrs Green?”

  Proudly, I said that I’d made that up, too. “It’s what’s known as thinking on your feet.”

  “D’you think we ought to do some more thinking on our feet and get out of here?” said Cupcake.

  I said yes, I did. “I bet he’s trying to call that number right now!”

  We didn’t relax until we were on the bus on the way home. The ring was back in my sock, and we were gloating.

  “Three hundred pounds! That’d be more than enough.”

  “Except we still don’t know how we’re going to sell it,” said Cupcake.

  “No,” I said, “that’s true.”

  It was a real problem. We were still discussing it as we got off the bus and turned up Gliddon Road towards the Estate. Shane Mackie was hanging about at the entrance. He does a lot of hanging about. Usually, I take no notice of him; today, for some reason, I found myself saying “Hi”.

  Shane said, “What d’you want, Motormouth?”

  “What’s it to you?” I said.

  “What you bin up to?”

  I said, “We haven’t been up to anything.”

  “Don’t come that with me,” said Shane. “You got guilt written all over you!” And then, as we walked on past him, he called after us. “You bin nickin’ stuff?” I turned, and stuck up a finger. “Honestly!” I said, “Just cos he’s been done for—” And then I stopped. It had suddenly come to me: the solution to our problem!

  “What, what?” demanded Cupcake.

  I said, “Shane Mackie… maybe he could sell it for us!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “But he’s a criminal!” said Cupcake.

  I explained that that was the very reason he could be useful to us. “We could sell the ring to him, and he could sell it to… someone else! He knows people.”

  “Criminal people,” said Cupcake.

  “Not necessarily,” I said.

  Cupcake looked at me, like, You don’t really believe that.

  “Well, all right,” I said, “maybe some of them might be. So what? So long as he gives us the money… it’s nothing to do with us what he does with the ring. Is it?”

  “Suppose not,” said Cupcake.

  “Well, it’s not! I vote we go and talk to him.”

  “What, now?”

  “Why not? Hey, Shane!” I turned, and waved at him. He stayed where he was, slouched against the wall.

  “What d’you want?”

  “I wanna talk to you!”

  “So talk.”

  He obviously wasn’t going to move. I’d have rather he’d come to us, cos where he was it was like this really narrow alleyway between two buildings. Still, if you’re dealing with criminals I guess you have to
be prepared to lurk about in dark places. And, anyway, it was only Shane. I set off towards him, with Cupcake creeping after me. Shane said, “What d’you wanna talk about?”

  “This.” I fished the ring from out my sock and held it up for him to see, not getting too near in case he tried to grab it and run. “Thought we might do some business.”

  “Business with you? You’ve gotta be joking!”

  “I’m not joking,” I said. “I’m dead serious.”

  “Yeah? Well, sorry. Not interested.”

  “You haven’t even looked!” I took a step closer, Cupcake hovering and quivering at my side. Daringly, I stretched out my hand, palm upwards, ready to snatch it back if he made a move. “See?”

  He dismissed it with a curl of the lip. “Junk!”

  I said, “That shows how much you know. It’s not junk, it’s an antique. Solid silver.”

  “So what you showing me for?”

  “Thought you might like to sell it for us.”

  “And why’d I wanna do that?”

  “I dunno! Make some money?”

  A gleam came into his eye. I could see that he was tempted. “You mean, like, take a cut?”

  I said, “Something like that.”

  “It’d have to be at least fifty per cent if I’m running all the risks.”

  “There aren’t any risks,” I said.

  “So why not sell it yourself?”

  I said, “Cos I’m only eleven, and they’d cheat me.”

  “What makes you think I wouldn’t?”

  “I expect you would,” I said, “if I let you.”

  “Yeah? And how’d you propose stopping me?”

  “Just cos I’m eleven,” I said, “doesn’t mean I’m stupid! I’d want the money up front.” I thought that was a good expression, up front. I’d heard my dad use it. It made it sound like I meant business. Which I did!

  Shane said, “Up front? Who are you kidding?”

  I told him that I wasn’t kidding anyone. “This ring’s worth at least £300. All we want is £225!”

  His eyes had gone all shifty. He said, “Let’s have a proper look.”

  Cupcake gave a little squeak.

  “It’s genuine,” I said. “It’s got hallmarks. And we’ve had it valued!”

  He sneered. “You think I was born yesterday? I don’t part with the cash till I’ve examined the goods!”

  Just for a minute I couldn’t think what to do; I felt sure if I handed him the ring, he’d take off. Then I had an idea: if he took off with the ring, he’d have to take off with me, as well!

  “Hold this,” I said to Cupcake. I gave her the ring, removed both the laces from my trainers, knotted them together, threaded one end through the ring, tying it really tight, and told Cupcake to tie the other end round my wrist. “All right,” I said, “now you can look at it – out here, not in the alleyway!”

  He laughed, like he was really amused, but he peeled himself away from the wall and came out into the open.

  “See?” I said. “Hallmarks! And those blue stones, they’re… aqua something.”

  “Marine,” said Cupcake.

  “Aquamarine. Very valuable!”

  Shane said a rude word beginning with B, which I’ve noticed that boys use quite a lot. I once tried saying it at home only Mum told me to go and wash my mouth out.

  “Valuable, my *****!” The little stars are because he said another rude word. “Pretty, though. It might be worth something.”

  “I told you,” I said. “It’s worth £300!”

  “So where’d you get it from?”

  I said, “None of your business!”

  “It is if you nicked it.”

  “We didn’t nick it!” I said scornfully. “We’re not thieves!”

  “It’s ours,” said Cupcake. “It belongs to us.”

  “Expect me to believe that?”

  “If you must know,” I said, “Cupcake’s gran left it to her when she died. Didn’t she?” Cupcake looked frightened, but nodded. “Now she wants to sell it cos we need the money.”

  Shane said, “Why? What d’you need it for?”

  Like it was anything to do with him!

  “It’s for my little brother’s puppy,” said Cupcake. “He’s got to have an operation and my mum can’t afford it. That’s why we need the money.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah!”

  Shane looked again at the ring. He flicked his tongue out, over his lips. “Let’s have another gander at those hallmark thingies.”

  “They’re genuine!” I said.

  “OK,” said Shane. “I’ll tell you what I’m prepared to do. Against my better judgement, just to help you out… I’ll take it off you for a straight £100.”

  “Hundred’s no good,” I said. “Hundred and twenty or nothing.”

  I thought for a minute he was going to say, in that case nothing. But greed got the better of him! I knew it would. He said, “Right, here’s the deal. I’ll do a bit of asking around. If I like what I hear, I’ll get you your money. If not, forget it! Either way, you just better not be having me on! Cos if you are, there’ll be repercussions. Know what I mean?”

  We nodded solemnly. I wasn’t sure what repercussions were, but obviously something undesirable.

  “Nobody takes me for a ride and gets away with it. I’ll meet you down here at ten o’clock and we’ll do the deal.”

  I said, “We can’t meet at ten o’clock, we’re not allowed out that late.”

  “Oh, boo hoo, you poor little things… not allowed out!”

  “No, and we’re not meeting here, either,” I said. “We’ll meet on the second floor, by the lifts. At five.”

  “It’ll have to be tomorrow, in that case. I need time to get the readies.”

  I suppose that by readies he meant money. I wondered where he was going to get it from; I just hoped he wasn’t going to go and rob someone.

  “I’d like to have the ring back now,” I said. “Please.”

  He made this loud scoffing sound as he tossed it to me on the end of the shoelace.

  “Think I couldn’t have cut and run if I’d wanted?” He shook his head, like he really pitied me for being so dumb. “You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with!”

  It did make me feel a bit apprehensive. I mean, I’ve known Shane Mackie all my life. My mum knows his mum. He even used to babysit me when I was little. But that was years ago. He’d just been a bit loud in those days; now he was a criminal.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said. “And don’t forget to bring the goods.”

  I said, “Don’t you forget to bring the money!”

  Cupcake said afterwards that I shouldn’t have cheeked him, but the way I see it, you can’t afford to show fear.

  “It’ll be OK,” I told her. “We won’t hand over the goods till he’s given us the money.”

  “I wish it was all over!” Cupcake said. “I’m going home, now. I expect I’ll have nightmares.”

  I thought, poor old Cupcake. She really wasn’t cut out for life in the fast lane. Me, I was quite enjoying it. I like a bit of a challenge.

  In the lift I bumped into a friend of Mum’s, a woman called Mrs Harris who lives on the fifth floor. After complaining about the smell of sick – the lifts always smell of sick, and sometimes of other stuff as well – she said, “Tell your mum that I’ve finally had enough. Give me notice in, didn’t I? You tell her! Straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  I found Mum in the kitchen. I said, “Mrs Harris said to tell you that she’s had enough and she’s given her notice in.”

  “About time, too!” said Mum. “I’ve been nagging her for ages. You know who she worked for, don’t you? Old Lady Neverpoop who you got the dog from!”

  “She’s a lady?” I said.

  “Likes to think so, giving herself airs and graces. Did Trudi say what happened?”

  “She just said it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

  “I must gi
ve her a bell,” said Mum. “Find out. Was she on her way in?”

  I said, “I s’ppose.” I was still gobsmacked at the thought of that horrid old woman being a lady. I’d never met a lady before. Me and Cupcake hadn’t half given her some lip! Well, Cupcake mostly. I wondered how she’d feel when I told her. Abusing a lady…

  As we sat down to tea Mum said, “Well, the worm’s turned… Trudi’s finally done it. Given her notice in.”

  Dad said, “Yeah?”

  “Last straw, apparently.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “The old bag accused her of stealing! Can you imagine?”

  Dad said, “Yeah?”

  I knew when Dad kept saying “Yeah” all up and down the scale like that, he wasn’t really listening; he was concentrating more on the telly. I was listening! I was all ears.

  “Stealing what?” I said.

  “Oh, some ring she couldn’t find. Probably took it off and can’t remember where she put it. She actually threatened Trudi with the police! Well, Trudi wasn’t standing for that. No way! She’s been cleaning for that woman nearly ten years, and this is all the thanks she gets.”

  “Did she go to the police?” I said.

  “I’ve no idea, I just know Trudi walked out right there and then.”

  “So was it a very valuable ring?”

  “I suppose so; I don’t know. That’s not the point! The point is…”

  Mum went rattling on, but now I wasn’t listening, either. I was trying to decide whether it made any difference, knowing for sure that our ring that our dog had sicked up had actually belonged to the old woman. After a lot of mental tussling, I came to the conclusion that it could only be a good thing. If the ring had belonged to anyone else, like, say, someone had lost it in the park, then it would be like finding a bag, or a purse, or a pile of money; you’d have to take it to the police. But Cookie had been given to us, and that meant whatever was inside him had been given to us as well. I didn’t see any reason why we shouldn’t sell the ring to pay for his operation. It was only fair!