This was the fourth time this week. Her finger slipped in and out of the ring in her pocket, her thumbnail running along the curve. She felt the familiar lurch in her stomach. Her eyes filled with tears blurring the scene in front of her. She moved to the bench beside the bus stop.

Once seated, she pulled the ring from her pocket. The edges of the stone rubbed against her fingertips. She had spent the days after his death waiting for someone to tell her it was a joke. A road sign had fallen on his car. She was embarrassed telling people how he had died. Crueller, was the anger she felt towards him for having such a stupid death.

But then she would remember his tenderness. She had ignored the sneers and whispers of others. He had loved her. It was in his touch, how he held her. She knew by the ring she now clasped in her hand. He had wanted to marry her. That shut them all up. There was no other woman, only her.

Nevertheless she needed money. Their little boy was starting school. She sighed, raising her eyes to the sky. A whispered prayer moved her lips. She would get it back; she just needed the money immediately. She would buy it back in the next few months. She stood resolutely and made her way to the shop.

The pawnbroker took his time examining the ring before giving her a price.

‘No, its worth much more than that,’ she said her eyes closing.

‘Love, it’s not a real diamond. It’s not worth more than thirty quid and that’s my final offer.’

She opened her eyes and suddenly began to see.