Everything is Beautiful Eleanor Ray (best manga ereader .TXT) 📖

ideas for reuse. It had only been three weeks, but it seemed like for ever since a single pot had been smashed in her back garden, revealing the lost ring to her.

And then the letter. And the photograph.

The ring was still around her neck, though of course now its meaning was less obvious to her. Had Tim intended to marry her, then found the pressure too much? How had it found its way to her garden? And when had the letter from Chantel arrived?

She glanced up to her hallway shelf. The large envelope – with ‘Please do not bend’ firmly printed in authoritative red – sat there, watching her as she worked. She sorted the last of the pots, then stood up and opened it again. Inside was the letter, its envelope and the photograph. She looked just at the envelope for a moment, stepping further into the sunlight flooding in from her front garden. The stamp was still there, but the postmark had long since been worn away.

She paused, then looked more closely. There was a very subtle raised shape, an out-dent. It made a gentle shadow, only visible in the bright July sunshine. She took her fingertip and felt the shape. It was familiar. Instinctively, her hand went to her chest where the ring hung.

She removed the ring and held it next to the envelope.

It matched, stone for stone.

There was no doubt. This ring had been inside the envelope.

Amy tried to process the information. Chantel had put an engagement ring from Tim, presumably intended for Amy, together with the confession letter. Why?

Not to taunt her. Chantel was not a cruel person, no matter what she might have done. She wanted Amy to have that ring.

Amy could see no explanation. A ring, a photograph, a letter confessing her and Tim’s love for one another. She lined up the items next to each other and stared at them until her vision went fuzzy.

‘I’ve collected my things.’ Amy looked up. Nina stood in front of her, surrounded by several suitcases. ‘Bye.’

‘You’re not really going?’ asked Amy, hurriedly putting her clues back in the envelope. ‘I’m sure you guys can work it out. Wasn’t it all a big misunderstanding?’

‘It’s not just that stupid digger,’ said Nina. She made no secret of peering into Amy’s house. ‘God, you’ve got a lot of stuff,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ replied Amy.

Nina let out a reluctant laugh. ‘I don’t like how I’ve become,’

she said. ‘I did some not very nice things. That’s not me.’ Amy looked at her.

‘I didn’t smash your pots, Amy,’ she said, in response to Amy’s gaze. ‘I fell in love. I thought I could take the boys on too, but it’s too much. I was angry all the time. I wanted Richard, but not with his baggage.’

Richard appeared at Amy’s gate.

‘We all have baggage,’ replied Amy. She glanced back into her house. ‘No one travels lightly any more.’

Richard nodded. ‘Come and talk when you’re ready,’ he said, addressing Nina.

‘Losing someone you love isn’t easy,’ said Amy, quietly. ‘If you have a choice . . . ’

‘Staying isn’t easy either,’ replied Nina. ‘It’s time to go.’

‘Just a minute,’ said Amy, remembering. She left Nina standing in front of her house and hurried to the kitchen. ‘Here,’ she said, handing her the yellow mug that had been broken the first day they met. ‘I’ve fixed it.’

Nina looked at the mug, then up at Amy. ‘Keep it,’ she said. ‘It’s yours now.’

‘Thank you,’ said Amy, relieved that the mug could stay with her. She smiled at Nina. ‘Good luck.’

‘Good luck to you too,’ replied Nina. ‘I think you’re going to need it.’

Amy had enjoyed her trip to the supermarket. For so long she’d eaten whatever provisions the corner shop provided for dinner and a ready-made salad or sandwich from the places near the office at lunch. Wandering around the supermarket with an empty trolley that could be filled with possibilities had been a pleasure. What a vast array of food was available, if you had the space to store it.

Amy still didn’t have much space, but she’d cleared away a few of her least favourite mugs from the kitchen counter and dug out a slow cooker. A single-pot meal, the recipe book declared, would be wholesome and delicious and within the skill set of even the least accomplished cook. That was what the boys and Richard would need with Nina gone. Preparing a meal in times of trouble was what her grandmother would have done and Amy chopped carrots contentedly. A packet of sausages, a couple of onions and a few small potatoes sat on top of a box next to her, patiently waiting their turn. She’d brought Scarlett into the kitchen to watch her new-found domesticity, and the bird looked on, surprised and curious.

Amy had left the meal to do its thing all day while she was at work. Slow cookers were aptly named. But opening the lid and breathing in the rich aromas, Amy decided it was worth it. She emptied the contents into a rather elegantly curved casserole dish that she’d picked up at a charity shop some years ago. It had a cream-coloured interior and a dark blue glaze on the outside that made Amy think it could be a relative of one of her mugs. When she’d got it home she’d found that the blues didn’t match, but she’d kept it anyway.

Amy realised she’d got stew on her black trousers and went upstairs to change. She selected an orange dress from the wardrobe, which was now permanently accessible. The colour reminded her of an egg yolk, warm and rich.

Wrapping tea towels around the dish to protect her hands, she made her way outside to knock on Richard’s door. It was harder than she’d anticipated with both hands occupied, so she set the dish down for a moment to knock and was still bending down to pick it up again when the door swung open.

She stood up, feeling a little light-headed.

‘Amy?’ said