Buyer's Bazaar Message Screen:

RE: Listing B34781 - Silver box with sun and moon detail

BoxMaster360

'I'm not taking it back. I said no returns. Check my shop policy. Check the listing.'

Clive_London

'The description left key information out. You mis-sold the box to me.'

BoxMaster360

'The listing was accurate. Every detail was correct.'

Clive_London

'The listing failed to mention what I would see in the mirror. I think that's quite an important detail to overlook.'

BoxMaster360

'I don't know what you mean. There's nothing wrong with the mirror.'

Clive_London

'You can't have failed to observe that the mirror doesn't just show reflections?'

BoxMaster360

'Reflections are exactly what it shows. And, as I said, I have a no returns policy. Feel free to leave a review if you really want to make it public that you think there are ghosts in the mirror. But be prepared for people to laugh.'

*

Purchased in good faith for a high price. This silver jewellery box looks beautiful on the outside with its embossed celestial designs. It has a luxurious red velvet lining, compartments for smaller items and an earring holder, as well as larger sections which will hold bangles, watches, etc. In theory this should have been a perfect wedding gift for my wife to be. However, undisclosed by the seller, is a darker detail. The oval vanity mirror inside the lid, with the inviting silver thread surround, is not what I expected. The box is evil. One star. I’d give it zero if I could.

*

Clive held his breath as he hit “publish” and stared sideways across the mahogany desk. The sinking sun was glinting off the corner of the box and his hand drifted back towards it for the fourth time. Clive yawned and shook his head. Maybe he was dreaming, or at least his vivid imagination was making things seem worse than they were.

Maybe he should delete that review.

Inquisitive fingers turned the box to face him and lifted the ornate lid again. The red velvet was just as soft as he remembered from twenty minutes ago and the silver thread around the mirror just as bright. Clive’s eyes avoided the obvious target, instead catching the shiny circumference of the glass, then the polished edges of the box. He examined the compartments inside and pictured Becky’s exquisite diamond necklace lying in the middle one. The matching earrings safely sparkling in the adjoining organiser.

This box was supposed to perfectly illustrate Clive's understanding of Becky's grief. Widowed at just 36. Now she could lay her first husband's wedding gift to rest inside Clive's. A way to bring her love of both men together.

With some effort, he refocused on the mirror. A sullen grimace settled on his face as the momentary image of himself in his office melted away again.

Was this a recurring dream?

~

The red-haired barmaid from the Sky High giggled as she waved down a black cab on Elder Street. The neon cocktail glass, still flashing its tacky invitation in the front window of the pub, was duplicated in the puddle on the ground. Only there it shimmered, as the rain splashed on to its liquid surface.

Clive had shouted to her as the cab drew up. He remembered every word and replayed the conversation in his head in sync with the silent movie.

“What’s your name?”

“I don't have one.” she’d winked at him.

“Are we really doing this?”

“Of course we are – live a little!”

The inside of the taxi was already damp from a previous passenger, but she didn’t seem to mind. She reclined across the back seat and took Clive’s hand, pulling him in after her, onto her.

“Ferris Street Premier Inn.” She instructed as the cab pulled away.

“We’re really doing this!”

“Yes, yes we are.” She made a clumsy grab at Clive’s tie and yanked his face down into the warm curves of her ample breasts. He sank into the welcoming cushion of her body.

Her low-cut top first caught his attention as he’d sauntered into the Sky High three hours earlier, looking for a pick-me-up. He knew she’d noticed him too. She'd made sure of it.

"Hard day at the office, Love?"

"Worse. Woman trouble."

"Oh, I can help with that." She poured a double Jack Daniel's and set it on the damp beer towel in front of Clive. "I get off shift at midnight."

Both parties were horizontal on the back seat, each missing an item of clothing or two, when the cab pulled up outside the budget hotel.

It was only fifteen minutes' drive but her lips had met his flesh a hundred times. Pale pink smudges on his cheeks and neck gave the game away.

Clive rummaged in his jeans with a clammy hand, and presented the fare, and a generous tip, to the driver. His amorous companion ran her hands over his hot, naked back and curious fingers sneaked down below his belt line.

~

Clive looked away from the mirror, his face red and palms sweating. He’d never told anyone about his indiscretion, and he'd never told the barmaid about Becky.

Becky. Oh the irony. The perfect gift to seal their union could be their undoing. What if the entire passionate night was recorded somehow within the box? Becky would never stop watching at the hotel doors. She’d draw out every last lewd second of regrettable action, all six hours of it. And then she’d leave him; and rightly so. He hung his head.

...

“You can’t honestly tell me that the mirror shows your past? That’s ridiculous.” Sallie drummed her fingers against her thigh.

“Honestly Sis, it’s freaking me out. It shows me something I really regret, something Becky would hate me for. I can’t even bring myself to tell you what it is.”

“Oh, how bad can it be? You’ve always been a boring bastard. Did you lose fifty quid on the Grand National?” Sallie paused. “Besides, Becky leaving wouldn’t be the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Why don’t you come over to my office and look for yourself? I don’t want you to see it, but if that’s what it takes to convince you…”

“Your office! You’re too scared to even take it home? What has that woman done to you?”

“Damn right I’m too scared to take it home. I’ll be here for another half an hour, call me from the lobby.”

Sallie giggled as she called her brother’s mobile from the foyer of Grant Legal. "I'd like to speak to the hot shot lawyer please. The one who's all freaked out over a silly box."

"Very funny."

“I’m here. Now you can admit what drugs you’ve been taking.”

Clive met Sallie at the lift and walked her down the parquet corridor to his corner office. He sat her on his executive leather couch and passed her the silver box.

“Oh Clive! It’s breath-taking! Becky will love it. Love it, not deserve it." Sallie felt the weighty quality of the box and turned it to admire the craftsmanship. "Solid silver?"

“Yes, solid silver, price tag to match, and now I can’t return the bloody thing. No returns policy my arse!"

“You can’t return it! It’s exquisite. I’ll have it before you return it.”

“I can’t return it because the guy won’t let me. He knows it’s evil.”

“Don’t be daft. Let me see.”

Sallie sat the jewellery box on her lap and ran her fingers over the textured lid. She opened the clasp at the front and raised the top to reveal the velvet lining.

“It’s lovely! What can you possibly be worried about?”

“Look in the mirror.” Clive bit the bent knuckle of his forefinger and took a long, slow, breath.

Sallie angled the oval mirror towards her face. For a few seconds she didn’t react, then she cocked her head to the side and her eyes moistened.

“Oh God. It’s Dad’s funeral." Sallie wiped a tear from her cheek. "Well, more accurately, it’s me at work on the day of Dad’s funeral.”

Clive stood behind her and watched the scene play out.

~

Sallie was in her bright high-rise office on Canary Wharf. Clive recognised the modern art prints on the walls. She kept looking at the red-circled date on her desk calendar, but then putting her head down to continue working. Her mobile vibrated on her desk and flashed up:

MOM

Answer – Decline

She let the mobile ring out. Then her desk phone rang. Sallie snatched up the receiver and mouthed some angry words into it. She slammed down the phone, ran her fingers through her bottle-blonde hair and stared at the desk calendar again before going back to bang the keys of her laptop.

~

“Was that Mom?” asked Clive. "On the phone?"

“Yes. I was such a bitch that day. I can’t believe what I said to her.” Sallie bit her lip and held her tongue.

“It’s ok now, I'm sure it's forgiven and forgotten.” Clive leaned forward and put his arms around Sallie’s shoulders, hugging her from behind.

"She never told you what I said, did she?"

Clive shook his head.

Sallie drew a breath, folded her arms and closed her eyes. “It’s the biggest pitch of my career. Dad’s dead. I can’t help him now, and neither can you.”

Clive sucked air through his clenched teeth.

Neither of them spoke for a couple of agonising minutes. The tension raised Clive's shoulders and sank Sallie's gut.

“So, it shows us things we regret?” asked Clive, with a sigh.

“I regret many things. But it chose this. I think it shows us the worst things we ever did. That was certainly mine.”

“What can I do with it? It’s evil!”

Sallie pondered the question. After a few moments she shrugged and said “Give it to Becky.”

“Are you crazy? A wedding gift that reminds her of the worst thing she ever did? She’ll hate me.” His voice was high with the stress of imagining it.

“Or, if she’s as perfect as you think, it won’t have much to show. And if she isn’t, as I’ve suspected all along, you might learn something useful.”

“You really don’t trust her at all, do you?”

“Not a jot. She's very different when you're not around. Give it to her. Preferably before you say, ‘I do’. I've read that pre-nup. You've painted yourself into a No Returns Policy wedding!"

...

Clive kept his breathing shallow as he stayed, concealed, behind the antique room divider in Becky's dressing room. She was stunning in her ivory lace gown. From this angle, as she sat at the dressing table, he had a perfect view of the detailed back through a tiny gap between the panels. This was a stupid idea. Of course Becky had nothing to hide.

Just as Clive was about to step out from behind the screen and make excuses about not being able to wait to see her, there was a knock at the door.

"Becky Marshall?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Special delivery."

The uniformed man handed Becky a large gift-wrapped package. She shut the door in his face and took the present to the dressing table without a 'Thank you'. She ripped off the ribbon and paper, without reading the gift card Clive had spent two hours composing.

The jewellery box was soon open. Becky spared no time to examine the craftsmanship, she just lifted the lid with a bit of a huff. Clive rolled his eyes and clenched his teeth from his hiding place behind her. He'd been sure she would love the design work and wonder over the talent of the maker.

She sat the box in front of her, but was distracted by her French tips and spent a few seconds checking every nail. Clive used the time to position himself so he could see over her shoulder and into the box. He avoided staring straight into the mirror in case it showed his own misdemeanour.

Becky stopped examining her nail varnish and fixed her gaze on the glass, running a deliberate fingertip over one plucked eyebrow. As Clive watched, a scene appeared.

~

Becky, in her favourite red cocktail dress and matching heels, was standing over a highly polished dining table in a large, opulent room. There were two flutes of champagne in front of her and she dripped a clear liquid from a tiny bottle into one of them. A man entered the room in a dinner jacket and she handed him the glass she'd tampered with.

A moment after he drank from it the man sank to his knees and disappeared from view behind the table.

~

"Happy Anniversary, Darling." said Becky, out loud to the dressing room as she watched the action in the mirror. She clapped her hands together as she said it. She was actually enjoying the show. Clive moved his attention back to the mirror and the looking-glass-Becky.

~

She crossed the dining room and swung an oil painting of three horses away from the wall. Behind it was a safe. She keyed in a combination, opened the door and took out a set of diamond jewellery. THE set of diamond jewellery. The one Clive had imagined lying on the red velvet lining of his gift to her.

She took a few moments to put on the necklace and earrings before taking her mobile from the table and dialling. As she spoke on the phone, the angle of view changed in the mirror, showing the man, lying on the floor, clutching his chest. The toe of Becky's scarlet stiletto connected with his stomach as his eyes closed.

~

Buyer's Bazaar Message Screen:

RE: Listing B34781 - Silver box with sun and moon detail

Clive_London

‘I want to apologise and rewrite my review.'

BoxMaster360

'I'm not taking it back. I said no returns. Check my shop policy. Check the listing.'

Clive_London

‘I’m not trying to return the box. Not anymore. In fact I'm not sure why you would sell it at all.’

BoxMaster 360

‘Are you joking?’

Clive_London

‘Never been more serious in my life.’

BoxMaster360

‘What’s happened to change your mind?’

Clive_London

‘Please reopen the feedback options for it – I owe you one.’

*****

Purchased in good faith for a more than reasonable price. This silver jewellery box looks beautiful on the outside with its embossed celestial designs. It has a luxurious red velvet lining, compartments for smaller items and an earring holder, as well as larger sections which will hold bangles, watches, etc. In theory this should have been a perfect wedding gift for my wife to be. However, undisclosed by the seller, is a powerful detail. The oval vanity mirror inside the lid, with the inviting silver thread surround, is not what I expected. The box saved me from a doomed marriage. It quite possibly saved my life. Five stars. I’d give it six if I could.

*****