Circle of Love
By: Dina Donohue

 

How would I ever break through my colleague’s stern demeanour?

India Albery was perhaps, the most unusual person ever to work with me. Lady Albery — for that was her title — seldom spoke about herself.

We knew only that she had come from England, that her early life had been privileged, but that when she first came to work with me, she was old and alone and impoverished, living in a shabby room with a few cherished keepsakes.

She met adversity bravely, but with a stern and haughty demeanour. I myself tried hard, but I could not break through her British reserve. I used to pray that I’d find some way to reach her, but she was too proud to let any emotion show.

One lunch hour in December, I was browsing in an antique shop, a favourite pastime. I seldom purchased anything, but this day was different. I spied an enamel pencil in a silver case. It had a large “A” in its elaborate monogram and I felt an urging — almost a physical nudge — to buy it for Lady Albery.

“What’s this?” she asked brusquely when I handed her the tiny package. “Just a little gift,” I said apprehensively. When Lady Albery opened the package and saw the silver case, her body tensed and her eyes filled with tears.

“Dina,” she said — never before had she used my first name — “Dina, how did you know?” “Know what?” I asked. “This once belonged to me,” she said. “I had to sell it years ago, when I was hungry and desperate.

It was given to me by someone I loved. And now your kindness has brought it back.” A circle of love, I thought, I’ve been part of a circle of love. And Lady Albery never forgot it.