Frank Lloyd Wright's necklace

FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT’S NECKLACE

I had spotted her heading towards me. Initially, I didn’t recognise her. She spoke first, “George Eaves! Great to see you.”

I must have looked a little bewildered because she quickly followed up, “Lorna Brannigan. Remember London, the 1990s?” She stepped closer and held out her hand. I noticed her necklace, made of silver with bright green and red stones inset, which glittered, throwing out shards of light.

I recognised her and extended my hand to shake hers, “Oh, Lorna.How are you? It’s surprising to see you. Another life, another time.” I paused a moment, and half to myself added, “It’s certainly been a long time.”

She smiled, “Oh yes, it has - nearly 30 years. You look good, George, you haven’t changed. Time has been kind to you.” She raised a hand to tenderly caress my cheek and then moved it to her throat, touching the necklace, “I’m glad to see you. I’d like us to talk later so I can apologise.”

Her words echoed in the lamplight of the large room, and I felt the weight of burdened regret. What apology?Why now? Why raise this so soon after being reacquainted?

Thirty years ago, I had completed my training as an architect.I was working in a large architectural practice in London, and Lorna had been the Project Manager. We’d worked together and got on well. We were young and had often gone to the pub at the end of the week, with a group of work colleagues, and on to parties with the same crowd of friends. We were ambitious and worked hard, but also played hard.

We were still exchanging social pleasantries when Lorna turned to move away. She raised a finger to her lips, “I’ll catch you later, George. We’ll talk further then.”

With that, she glided off, leaving me wondering about this mysterious apology. I shrugged and shook my head, spotted my wife, and joined her to catch up with some friends.

My wife nudged me several times during the evening to bring me back to the present. “Come on, George, you’re not listening to what people are saying and are then wondering why you can’t follow the conversation.” I nodded, but I knew that I was trying to work out the significance of Lorna’s reappearance. Was it just happenstance that Lorna had come to the same party as us, thirty years after we last saw each other?

I remembered the necklace that Lorna wore. I drew my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath. I suddenly felt tired. I told my wife that I was going out to get some fresh air. I walked out to the edge of the patio and leaned on the balcony.

Orchestral music was playing from the party, but in the night air, I was hearing something altogether different. A jukebox was playing ‘Tired of Sex’. The gentle piano intro gave way to the thumping bass and screaming guitar, played at high volume. The song from Weezer’s Pinkerton CD was one I used to play all the time.

A CD case came into focus with a heart drawn on it in glittery, coloured nail varnish, with the name ‘Alison’ written underneath, also in nail varnish. I remembered sitting in my London flat, turning the case in my hands, as I listened to the music, watching the light from the nail varnish refract into rainbow colours. The Pinkerton album defined our time.

A muffled voice called my name and jolted me out of my reverie.I heard steps approaching and turned to see Lorna smiling at me, “Is it coming back to you, George?”

I blew out a deep breath. Disaggregated pieces of my past had been gathering since we met to form an emerging picture of our shared past. “It’s the necklace, isn’t it?”

Lorna’s smile softened with a hint of sadness. I continued, “The necklace came from Jim Gilligan, who was a pupil of Frank Lloyd Wright in the US during the 1930s. Frank Lloyd Wright – the greatest architect of his age. The same Gilligan set up the architectural practice we both worked at in London.” Lorna was nodding, “The necklace was given to Gilligan by Wright. It was Wright who had designed it.”

Lorna leaned in with a gentle smile, “Carry on, George.”

Her words trailed away as I stared at the necklace. Suddenly, the office fluorescent lights and the hum of late-night office chatter enveloped me – there was Gilligan standing in the centre of our London office in 1997.

The thrum of conversation gave way to a quiet mood of suppressed excitement. Gilligan stood in the middle of our group, silvery hair, calm and steady. He unclasped the necklace. The metal caught the light and seemed to pulse.

“The world has seen many great architectural structures,” he said, his voice low but sure, “but your vision for the OXO Tower - the way you breathed life into steel and glass – ranks with the best. This necklace, created by America’s greatest architect, is in recognition of your achievement.” He paused, scanning those present. “My thanks to everyone.”

My throat tightened. I inched a half-step back. Gilligan’s fingers held the piece of history in mid-air.He raised his hands and offered the necklace to Lorna.

I heard the sound of glasses clinking from behind me at the party.My voice sounded strange and thickened as I spoke. “The necklace was given to you for delivering the OXO Tower Wharf project.”

“Yes, George. You remember.But there’s more.”

Lorna's gaze lingered on the necklace as she gathered her words.

“It was a big project – the biggest in our careers - and we were a tight team. We were ambitious.” She paused and ran the tip of her tongue over her lips before continuing, “The necklace was an accolade to recognise what we achieved and in putting Gilligan’s practice on the UK’s architectural map.”

She was speaking softly now, “But it wasn’t my necklace. It was for all of us. You, me - all the team.”

She sighed before continuing, “I was ambitious and saw the opportunity to gain more professional success. I’ve had a good career, but I’ve always felt I was too needy in taking that step forward to receive the necklace, and how I behaved afterwards. The whole thing never sat well with me.”

“Do you remember the Weezer song, ‘Tired of Sex’?” she added. “It was our soundtrack of the time—late nights in the office, the jukebox in the pub, numero uno request at nightclubs. There was your girlfriend at the time too. What was her name?” She placed a finger on her lips and her eyes lit up with recognition, “Aaah, Alison.”

I nodded.

Lorna unclasped the necklace and placed it in my hand. The metal felt cold. “This wasn’t for me.” She looked into my eyes, “There, that’s my apology.” There was a tremor in her voice, “I was too quick, too eager to take the accolade, and omitted to share it with those who also deserved it.I felt that my receiving the necklace led to some resentment, and I regret that.”

George shifted uneasily. “I never wanted the necklace,” I raised my eyes to look directly into Lorna’s, “I thought I did, but when it came to it, I didn’t.” I took a deep breath, “Although I’ve wondered what might have happened if I had received it.”I shook my head. I held the necklace out and circled my hands for Lorna to turn around and clasped it again around her neck.

“There,” I said, “apology accepted – all done. Although an apology wasn’t really necessary.”

Lorna turned to face me, “Thanks, George. The apology was important for me.” Her eyes lit up, “I had a flashback moment recently that connected the jewellery to our shared history. Weezer were playing at Glastonbury this year. It’s only the second time they’ve played there. The first time was thirty years ago. That chronology mirrors our careers.”

I responded, “I saw them on TV, too. It brought back memories for me. Of our time in London.”

Lorna’s fingers played with the necklace. “This jewellery also feels uncomfortable. One, it bothers me how I jumped in to be awarded it. Two, it isn’t my style, although that’s probably tainted by the circumstances of me receiving it.”

I felt my heartbeat quicken, “I can understand that. The thing is that it has a fantastic history.It deserves to be passed on and, in that way, for Wright’s name to be remembered and celebrated. I feel that is what Wright would have wanted.”

Lorna nodded enthusiastically, “I completely agree.Any ideas?”

“Well, our work on the OXO Tower was made possible by being led by a non-profit social enterprise and development trust. We could look at using the necklace as an award for similar community-based architectural initiatives that improve the environment for people to live and work in.”

Lorna was smiling at me as she replied, “I like that idea a lot.It’s like Weezer coming back around at Glastonbury after 30 years. The past catches up with the present, or some karmic stuff of that sort.” She grinned, “I love the idea of something commemorative.Something like the Frank Lloyd Wright Award for Architecture.”

I felt a nudge in my ribs. “Are you talking shop again, George?” I looked at Lorna as I hooked an arm around my wife’s shoulders, “Lorna, meet my wife Alison.” I turned to Alison, “We’ve got a proposition that we all need to discuss. It involves Weezer and Frank Lloyd Wright.”

Lorna’s fingers looped around the necklace. The cool looking metal seemed familiar. I looked into Lorna’s eyes and saw the same glint I recalled under the pub’s jukebox lights in London. “Reconciliation, if you like,” I said, but it was more than that: a shared promise, cast in silver.

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