The Auction

My phone buzzes and I answer it with my signature greeting; deep enough to be taken seriously, but light enough to sound friendly. “Violet Taylor, auction broker.”   The catalogue slides off my lap and onto the floor next to my favourite pair of stilettos; I haven’t had time to read it yet, which is unusual for me.

“Violet, it’s your lucky day,” an unfamiliar voice growls.

“What? Who is this?” I reply, but the line goes dead.

I glance around to see people shushing me - the auction is about to start. The auctioneer takes the stand; it’s not the usual one but a large red-faced man who looks vaguely familiar.

“Now for item number one… it’s Violet’s grandmother’s engagement ring. Left to her as a family heirloom, sold to go on holiday to Europe,”.

I feel my cheeks redden and quickly flip to the first page of the catalogue. There it is –a ring I have not seen in over twenty years. I look around the room and feel people’s eye’s burning into me and raise my hand to bid. “It wasn’t just a holiday- I needed to find myself,” I mutter.

The hammer goes down but I’m too shocked to register who else bid and how much I paid.

“Next… this is an interesting one, folks. An artwork inherited by Violet’s younger brother, who she tricked into selling without knowing its true value.”

Again, the eyes burn into me. “He still got a fair deal... and I was working so hard at the time. It was my expertise that got us that price – the money was mine!” I cry out, raising my hand to bid, blood roaring through my ears as the hammer comes down again. I haven’t seen my brother in years.

“Now… we have the earrings Violet stole from her former best friend. Turns out they weren’t dropped on a night out.”

“She did lose them – and I found them. They were mine,” I whine, as my hand shoots up again. As the hammer comes down, decide I’ve had enough and get up to leave. But the way is blocked by an old lady.

“Remember me? You stiffed me on my late husband’s collectables!” she cries.

“You told me my Dad’s watch was a fake, then sold it in Europe for a fortune!” says a younger lady.

A sea of people converge on me, all shouting. The auctioneer appears in the centre.

“Remember me, Violet? It’s James.”

James… my boyfriend from when I was in my 20s. There's been ageing and weight gain, but it’s him for sure.

“You told me you loved me,” he says.

“I... I did.”

“Not enough to stop you taking advantage of my family’s estate. To sell off all our precious heirlooms to get your business off the ground.”

I push towards the door and desperately pull the handle.

“You’re not going anywhere,” says James, as I give way to the angry faces.