Fiona Strathmore

Memoir

Salt on the Good China

Fiona Strathmore

The ring was in the salt jar because my mother had trusted salt more than banks, solicitors, priests, daughters, and men with clean cuffs. Cillian Struan found it with his thumb bleeding into a saucer of coarse flakes while half the parish stood behind him pretending not to stare. I was holding the good china when he said my name, and for one bright, stupid second I thought he had broken a cup.