Dead Ringers – Back Story – Bentley 53

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Bentley was up early that morning. The sun was shining and the beach was already busy as families – mainly – came and took their places for an early summer’s day out. It usually worked this way – the local families coming in first, then those arriving by train and then in the afternoon replaced gradually by the youngsters, bringing themselves out of bed, blearly eyed until midday/2pm, but now ready to chill on the beach, open a few bottles and start all over again. The sky was blue, the waves crashed white and there would be many pink bodies by the end of the day.

He’d been on an early train down from London but the rest of the day was his to do as he chose and Bentley loved it. The familiar taste of early morning trains, the motion still will him as the carriages had rattled down the track, now translated into a spring in his step. Add to this the sea in his nostrils and lungs, the light around him, and everything highlighted by the sensitivity of having been up that early. The world had an ethereal feel to it, a place near heaven where nothing could go wrong. And nothing could, because Bentley was in love. 

And so he entered the jewellers with a sense of purpose and a sense of fate. He wasn’t looking for an engagement ring, he didn’t need to tie the knot at this point, he just wanted his other half to know how much she meant to him. The bell above the door chimed as he entered.

Through the window behind the desk, Bentley saw a few men huddled in concentrated conversation. One looked up as the bell rang and came through.

“Well, well, who have we here?”

“Hello Mr Aston,” said Bentley. “How’s business?”

Aston half glanced over his shoulder, as if checking for himself.

“Businesses,” he corrected Bentley, “are all good, thankyou. Trains still running on time? Sufficiently? I must find out the route you cover, sometime, might me of use to myself and my, businesses.”

“Looking for some reliable transport?” laughed Bentley, “We do our best, despite all the jokes.”

“What can I do for you, then?” asked Aston.

Bentley explained his requirements. He wanted to demonstrate his affection through a tasteful but not too expensive gift. Not a proposal, you understand, just a significant sign of affection and intention.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Asked Aston.

“Oh, just someone I met locally,” said Bentley, a little bashful.

“Is this Shiela?” asked Aston, “Think I’ve seen you two together a few times.”

Bentley blushed bright red and didn’t need to say a thing.

Aston smiled and went into the back room. The other people in there were now talking in louder voices. There seemed to be some dispute going on, but Bentley decided not to let himself be drawn into it or speculate. A couple of heads lifted to looked towards him so he turned around to look out the window and wait. Aston returned with a selection of half a dozen rings which he laid out before Bentley.

“All reasonably priced…” he said.

Warmth flowed through Bentley as he studied the treasure in front of him. There was certainly something here, he thought. Within a few minutes he’d made his selection. Three diamonds next to small jet stones. Mid-priced, not too showy, perfect for the place he and Sheila were currently at. ‘I like you, let’s continue and see where this goes.’

Mr Aston smiled again, took the rings briefly away and return with the selected one boxed and ready to go. He rang it up through the till with Bentley offering a selection of notes to meet the balance. Aston smiled again as he took the money. Now the smile seemed to be countering some altercation which was brewing among the back room men. Again Bentley couldn’t gather the reason for the argument and didn’t really want to know. He could see from the expression on Aston’s face that it was all a little embarrassing and not to be mentioned. And so he took the ring in the box, now also in a small brown paper bag, and left.

As he walked away the argument in the back of the shop became more heated. The shop door had already closed but Bentley could still hear something going on. Torn between wanting to hear more and just wanting to get on with the rest of hi brilliant day, he paused outside the next shop. A trinket/seaside postcard outlet.

He stood there, pretending to look at the merchandise while voices were raised in the shop he had just left. Whatever was going on with the business, it didn’t sound anywhere near as positive as Mr Aston had made out. 

Bentley started to walk away, feeling the ring box in his pocket. There was a sudden and sharp loud bang. As if…. Bentley could think what it was like but the seagulls were calling it out, loudly and on the verge of panic.

And Bentley felt the ring in his pocket again, and walked on.