The ritual trip to the jeweller’s was just one of the reasons Lily dreaded her annual holiday with Ted. It was never a classy jeweller’s, one where you rang the bell to be admitted to a hushed inner sanctum of thick-pile carpets and ludicrous prices; it was always a low-end, cheap place, selling souvenirs to low-end, cheap holidaymakers. Ted was impatient, always a bad sign. He breathed down her neck, dangling one charm after another in front of her face, finally saying, ‘Make up your mind, Lily, for pity’s sake!’

In the end she opted for a four-leaf clover, which Ted bought after a surreptitious glance at the price ticket: half a crown, his upper limit. The shop-owner was enthusiastic as he attached the charm and fastened the crowded bracelet back round her wrist, waxing lyrical about making happy memories. She managed a smile for him, and another for Ted, to show gratitude, but she could hardly wait to return to the boarding house and remove the thing from her wrist. It was a ball and chain, weighing her down, shackling her to Ted.

He was chuffed when they arrived at the boarding house at the dot of five, the time Mrs Lunn unlocked the front door and turned the sign to say ‘Welcome’. Lily knew what was coming: Ted claimed his rights, a hurried coupling on top of the eiderdown with his hot breath in her face. Afterwards, he nipped into the bathroom to slick down his hair, leaving Lily to straighten her clothes and repair her face.

Ted made her wear the bracelet to tea – it was high tea at five thirty at weekends at Mrs Lunn’s, supper at six on weekdays – so he could boast to the other guests. He made out that the charms were solid silver while Lily smiled and held out her wrist for the bracelet to be admired. His expansive mood continued as he told funny stories about his work on the buses, all through double egg and chips, served with thick slices of bread and butter and many refills of tea. Mrs Lunn’s portions were always generous, one of the reasons why they usually came here for their annual seaside fortnight. Lily spotted a Victoria sponge and a Dundee cake waiting on the sideboard and allowed herself to relax and even to chat quietly to little Mr Tovey, Mrs Lunn’s shy permanent paying guest, who worked for the local Council. He reminded her of Arthur, the boy who had been sweet on her before Ted had arrived on the scene, claiming her as his own and forcing himself into her knickers. She had thought herself in the family way, and had agreed to a quick (and cheap) wedding. It had been a false alarm, thank God, and even now she still sent daily thanks to the Almighty that there were no children.

Later, Lily wondered if, had she had known about the miracle that would happen, she would have made more of herself: put on her best dress, washed her hair. But no, because then the cup of tea she passed to Ted, which he sent flying while making a hand gesture, would have ruined her best frock instead of her everyday. The mood changed in a split second, Ted jumping to his feet and shouting at her, furious to be shown up, mad that his good trousers had been splashed. He raised his hand to hit her – and then, it happened. Brave Mr Tovey, putting up his arms to protect himself, stepped between her and Ted, and Ted, momentarily off balance, crashed to the floor, hitting his head hard on the mantlepiece and then even harder on the stone floor. Time stood still for a moment, everyone frozen into immobility as they stared at Ted’s unmoving body, before Mrs Lunn broke the spell and ran to the telephone box to call an ambulance.

Later, when Ted’s body had been removed and the police had taken statements and reassured everyone that it had clearly been an accident, Mrs Lunn dispensed sweet tea in the front parlour to Lily and Mr Tovey, who was shaking so much he could barely lift the cup to his mouth. When Mrs Lunn went to refill the pot, Mr Tovey started to stammer his apologies, but Lily stopped him with a smile, laying her hand gently on his trembling arm. He was shocked but grateful when she said, quietly so Mrs Lunn would not hear, ‘Don’t be sorry. I’m glad he’s gone!’

The gladness stayed with her after the event, and Lily thought her life could not get any better – until the second miracle happened. Her brother, Jack, borrowed a van from work and came to help her pack Ted’s things and take them to the Sally Army. Lily, who could not wait to be rid of every trace of Ted, helped Jack shift the bed and roll up the rug to give better access to Ted’s wardrobe. It did not take long to tie his clothes into bundles and stuff his other bits and pieces into an old box, and Lily begged Jack to take the wardrobe, too; they managed to ease it through the door and along the corridor, laughing as they manhandled it into the van. It was when Jack started to replace the rug that they made the discovery.

‘Here, Lil, there’s a loose floorboard – looks as if the nails have been taken out on purpose. Hang on a minute, let’s see if anything’s there…. Blimey! What’s this?’

Jack eased out a large cash box; it was locked, but Lily soon located the key in Ted’s cufflink ashtray. They stared, unbelieving, at the contents. There were hundreds of florins and half crowns, but more importantly three huge bundles of notes: ten shillings, pounds and – the largest bundle – five pounds! 

‘Bugger me, Lil! There must be hundreds and hundreds of pounds here! And he kept you so short! Tight bastard – he made good money on the buses, I thought he must be gambling or have a woman. Well, it’s all yours now.’ 

Lily could not take her eyes off the money. ‘Hundreds, you think? I might be able to buy a little house of my own – get things without having to skimp… Oh Jack!’ She peeled off a fiver and gave it to her brother, insisting he take it to treat his wife to a nice meal out. Then she spotted the charm bracelet on the dressing table. 

‘Here, Jack, take this for your Sally. She’s a careful girl, thoughtful like her mum. She’ll look after it.’

‘Lil, are you sure? It’s worth a bob or two.’

‘Please take it, I don’t want it! And here’s ten shillings for your Billy, so he doesn’t feel left out.’

‘Thanks Lil. She’ll love it! Here, I must go – Jenny’s on nights tonight, I have to get back soon. Come and have Sunday dinner with us this weekend – one o’clock?’ 

‘I’d love to, Jack!’

 She waved goodbye as he walked down the path, patting his pocket to show he had the bracelet safe. Then she turned back into the house, looking forward to supper with her feet up, listening to whatever she wanted on the wireless, and going to bed whenever she wanted to. She laughed with joy and gave thanks to Him up there for guiding her to choose that four-leaf clover, the good luck charm that had worked its magic to enable her escape. 

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