by Jenni Keer
‘And Lisa? Is she still … unsettled?’
Maisie glanced over to her mother. It was nice of Oliver to ask after Lisa but she’d caused him endless trouble in the past, flirting with him from the very first day Zoe had dragged him through the front door. (Despite moving out, Lisa had often crashed at the Tattlesham flat when its proximity to town suited her needs.) Her actions were not enough for Zoe to slap her but enough to make people feel uncomfortable – asking him to zip up her minuscule dresses, wandering around the flat in a bath towel, that sort of thing.
‘She’s still at that big television studio outside York. You know? The one that makes the gritty detective series and that rural vet thing. Not quite sure what she does, it’s all very technical, but she’s worked her way up,’ her mum said, positively glowing. ‘Made quite a success of her media career, by all accounts. Certainly too busy to come home and visit us but if you were ever up that way, I’m sure she’d love to see you.’
‘Erm, yeah, maybe,’ said Oliver noncommittally, curling his top lip.
‘You never stop worrying about them though,’ her mum conceded. ‘I always said to David she was too pretty for her own good. She never had to try, that was her problem. Her dad spoiled her rotten from the off. All she had to do was look at him with her saucer-sized crystal-blue eyes, twirl a strand of golden hair around her little finger, and he’d mortgage the moon for her. And it was the same at school. She didn’t have to work at being popular – she just was. Scraped through academically and lived off her looks ever since. Heaven knows what will happen when they desert her. Poor baby.’
‘I’m pleased she’s come good,’ Oliver said. ‘She drifted for a while there.’ He turned to Maisie. ‘And I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ve never been to an auction before so it will be an experience.’
‘Great, and if you behave I might even make you a cup of coffee. Google Gildersleeve’s and see what lots are coming up this week – we’re so all over the internet, it’s unreal. I understand they have a breathtakingly talented marketing whiz working for them who has quite revolutionised the company.’ She gave a Colgate smile. ‘We’ll be giving Sotheby’s a run for their money before the year is out.’
Chapter 27
Maisie’s head was in such a spin that if anything else nudged into her tiny brain, it would lift from her shoulders like a helicopter. She had some serious thinking to do with regard to Theo. The attraction she felt was undeniable despite the fact, on paper, he was everything she wanted to shake by the scruffy shoulders. She had to face it, her previous methods for selecting romantic partners (largely relying on commonalities) had met with disaster. Most of her relationships had been short-lived and unfulfilling. Sometimes because the man concerned hadn’t lived up to her expectations and sometimes because she hadn’t lived up to his. Perhaps she should ski off piste and embrace this antithesis of herself.
Adding to her muddle-headedness, Verity’s tea set (it would always be Meredith’s teapot, but the sisters were adamant the set was Verity’s) was pulling her family back to her – the evidence was almost irrefutable. Perhaps Zoe’s Skype call coinciding with her purchase of Irene’s cups could be considered a coincidence, but her parents’ unnerving truce after her visit to Essie was fate – and the tea set was the master. Who would be next?
As visitors began to arrive for the afternoon viewing, she wandered outside to find Arthur posing for selfies with several people in The Yard. He never had any trouble finding someone to talk to, even if the people concerned didn’t particularly want to talk, but there he was in the middle of a swarm of buyers jostling to get near him. He stood by a collection of mushroom-shaped objects that were the draw for this week’s sale. Wandering towards the buzzing little group, Maisie noticed he was sporting a Harris tweed flat cap. He saw her approaching and doffed it.
‘A good morning to you, miss,’ he said. And then conspiratorially, as she got closer, ‘Seeing as they loved the sou’wester, I rootled around for something else to woo the crowds.’ He turned his attention back to the customers. ‘And these would make splendid garden ornaments,’ he said, to murmurs of agreement. ‘Staddle stones,’ he said, stressing the ‘T’. ‘I remember seeing them supporting haystacks out in the fields when I was a young boy. Them mushroom caps stops vermin from climbing up, you see?’
It was another light-bulb moment for Maisie and it was wonderful. Arthur understood. Why hadn’t she seen it before? He was basically the auction house tour guide and she realised this skill could be channelled to great advantage.
She wandered over to the salerooms, excited to see a buzz of people viewing the Modern Design Sale. The online catalogue had attracted a good deal of interest and they already had some sizeable bids on the books.
Theo had been off site most of the day but she was determined to work out whether there was any attraction on his part. Thinking back over the last few months, she was sure there’d been some tingly moments before her stupid misconception had been corrected but she needed to be certain. Then again, he was like that with everyone. Ella was a prime example – unless there was more to that relationship than met her jealous eyes. She certainly couldn’t blame him if he was attracted to her slender, ethereal beauty.
She caught sight of him across the barn and he caught her eye and broke into one of those asymmetrical smiles. Yes – there was something in that look. She was certain of it. Her peripheral vision blurred and all she could see was the green of his eyes as they held hers for a fraction too long.
‘Maisie.’ Oliver’s booming voice broke her from the trance-like state. ‘What a phenomenal place. Can’t believe I’ve not visited before. All sorts of things you never knew you wanted and a blast from the past everywhere you look. Simply fabulous.’
‘Oliver, you came.’ She walked over to her enormous brother-in-law and threw her arms around him as he bent forward to kiss her head – it was easier than trying to negotiate a friendly peck on the cheek with their twelve-inch height difference.
‘Look at you, all grown-up and official.’ He nodded to the clipboard she was holding.
‘I’ve been grown-up and official for years. You just haven’t noticed.’
‘Fair point. You’ll always be eleven to me though,’ and this time he really did pat her on the head. ‘Making me play with your Sylvanian Hazelnut squirrels and Cottonbud bunnies.’
‘You were just trying to impress Zoe by humouring her little sister. There was no real dedication,’ she teased. ‘You were forever posting them down the chimney or using the pram as a race car. You couldn’t even remember their names – as you’ve just proved.’ Cottonbud bunnies indeed, she had to bite her lip from correcting him, especially as eleven was probably a bit old to still be obsessed by the Cottontail Rabbit family.
‘Bet you’ve still got them somewhere? All neatly tucked away in a carefully labelled box in an old wardrobe?’ She blushed. ‘Ha-ha. Knew it.’
‘They’re very collectable,’ she said, putting her right hand on her hip and clutching the clipboard closer to her chest with the other.
‘Only messing with you. Right, let’s see what you’ve got to help turn my poky two-bedroom flat into a salubrious residence fit for a footloose and fancy-free bachelor.’
‘Goodness, you’re keen to get back on the dating horse. You’ve only been separated for two weeks …’
Oliver scrunched up his nose but didn’t say anything. She knew that expression of old. It was the one he wore when Zoe asked who’d been at the biscuit tin, or why there were wet towels across the bed.
‘Ah, longer?’
‘We’ve not been a couple – if you know what I mean – for over a year.’
‘You don’t need to explain anything to me. It’s no one else’s business.’ And she looped her arm through his as she embarked on a tour of the Gildersleeve’s empire.
They wandered together up and down the aisles, Oliver noting various lot numbers in a tiny pocket-sized notebook he produced from his jacket po
cket. She wouldn’t be surprised if there was a calculator in there too – accountants were notoriously organised people.
‘I picked up a new bed and fridge yesterday as they’re pretty essential. And the dining table came from my parents, but I’d like to get a sofa and some storage. My clothes are still in packing boxes.’
‘There’s a nice pine chest of drawers over the other side and it won’t go for much,’ Maisie suggested, so they ambled across the barn, stopping to look at the things that caught Oliver’s eye as they went. Eventually he had a list of items he wanted to bid on and Maisie took him into the reception to help him sort a bidder’s number.
‘Anywhere on site we can grab a coffee?’ he asked.
‘Hopefully soon. The builders have started on the footings for the café and once the building is up it won’t take long to get it running. Johnny’s all for making viewing the auction an experience. The longer you hang around, the more you see.’
‘I’m sure he’s right.’ Oliver glanced at his watch. ‘I want to have another quick look at the bookcase I noticed on the way out – as long as I’m not holding you up?’
‘Not at all. It’s good to have staff wandering around chatting to the public on viewing days. Anything we can do to add to the personal touch.’
They walked back across the forecourt and she looped her arm into Oliver’s again. She’d really missed him these past two years. He’d been in her life a long time and they’d never had so much as a cross word. The times he’d snuck her a bag of sweets to make herself scarce when he wanted some alone time with Zoe in the girls’ shared bedroom. And the occasions Oliver had stood up for her when Lisa had been on the warpath. It was a solid friendship and one she hoped wouldn’t be affected by his move.
As they re-entered the barn, she noticed Theo lurking at the back, throwing glances their way. She would make a point of going over and speaking to him as soon as she’d finished with Oliver.
‘I don’t know why you want a bookcase. I don’t remember you being a big reader – I thought numbers were more your thing.’
‘I’ll be back in the dating game at some point so I’m planning ahead. I’m thinking of getting some classics in to impress.’ He pulled his cuffs down and tried to raise a James Bond eyebrow, but it didn’t quite work.
She gave him a friendly thump and he caught her arm. With his spade-like hands holding her tiny wrists, she wriggled and squealed as she tried to break free.
‘You rotter,’ she said, the biggest grin across her face.
‘You never could beat me in a fight but I still think the world of you, Titch. The divorce won’t change that – promise. Right, I’ll put these written bids on and then I’d better get back and give Zoe a ring. Is it sad we still chat every day?’
‘Nah, it’s great. Everyone needs an Oliver in their lives. Agree with Zoe though, being married to one might be a stretch too far. You can’t even change a light bulb.’
‘My skills lie in other areas; household budgeting and selecting the best wines in a given price range. There must be someone out there who appreciates that?’
Her heart broke a tiny bit and she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘I hope you find someone soon. You deserve to.’ She gazed at him fondly and he reciprocated.
‘I’m in no hurry. Enjoying the lie-ins without a ball of energy zipping around the bedroom telling me the best of the day has gone. I’ll always be fond of Zoe though.’
Oliver walked back to reception and Maisie made her way across to Theo. The warmer weather meant he was hatless and she was almost sad to see the assortment of weird knitted headgear consigned to the cupboard until the autumn. They were part of his charm.
He was leaning against the wall watching her intently as she approached. Was it her imagination, or was there a waft of Old Spice floating across the gap between them? It was a bit retro and one her dad had favoured years ago, but whatever it was, it made her feel slightly giddy.
‘Friend of yours?’ he asked, his eyes dropping at the last moment to the floor.
‘Who? Oh, Oliver? He’s much more than that,’ she said. Oliver was practically the fifth Meadows sibling.
‘Yeah, I could tell,’ Theo muttered. Oh dear, had she been larking about too much with her brother-in-law? Theo looked cross – no, he didn’t do cross. Disappointed? She’d try to behave less flirtatiously in the future, especially as Oliver was the last person on the planet she would ever flirt with. It was part of the unspoken code; you don’t mess with your sister’s man, even when he’s no longer her man.
All this small talk was by the by. She’d walked over to ascertain if there was any romantic potential between them.
‘I, erm, wondered if you’d like to come to mine one day for dinner? I do a mean risotto. And there are some curious marks on that tea set of Meredith’s that I’d like your opinion on.’ She was skirting around the issue but could hardly come straight out and ask, ‘Do you fancy me or not?’. It was the dance of the dating game – like two birds of paradise hopping around in circles on the forest floor.
‘As friends?’ he qualified, looking up.
‘Yeah, erm, as friends.’
‘Right, that’s what I thought. That would be good. Any day works for me except Friday when Ella is coming over. Just let me know.’
Maisie’s heart stopped. Ella? Since when were they hanging out? That niggling suspicion lurking in her brain was right. Now she understood why he’d so carefully specified friends.
‘Oh, okay, I’ll get back to you,’ she said.
Waiting for further comment, which didn’t come, she fiddled with her pen. Theo appeared engrossed in something on the other side of the barn, so she pretended to jot something vitally important on the clipboard and wandered back to the main door.
That was her answer then; there was no chance of romance. But wasn’t that what she’d wanted from this job back in January?
Chapter 28
‘Hello, I’ve been given this number by your great-aunt Esther and understand you’re Phyllis’s grandson?’ Maisie hoped she’d dialled correctly because Essie’s ones and sevens were really ambiguous.
‘If you’re trying to get hold of her, you’ll need a medium …’ The voice on the end of the line seemed disinterested and bored. ‘’Cause the old bird died two years ago.’
‘I heard and I’m so sorry.’ She cleared her throat. ‘This might sound odd but I’m trying to track down some plates of hers. It’s rather a long shot but your great-aunt Esther said you’d inherited all her possessions.’ In fact it was such a long shot, she’d need telescopic binoculars to focus on the target.
‘Yeah, I got her stuff. Most of it’s long gone but she left everything to me because I was her favourite, see? Backfired a bit though. Don’t get me wrong, I was fond of the old girl – but she thought I actually liked all the books ’n’ shit. There are some boxes of tat left. Been in the garage for far too long: ornaments, kitchen stuff and clothes.’
Hmm … possibly not sentimental about a few black and white plates then. Trying to rein in her excitement, she took a measured breath.
‘I have some pieces of a tea set that belonged to her sisters. It’s a hip-hop black and white Eighties set,’ she said, going with Johnny’s description, rather than admitting it was older than it should be. ‘I thought I’d try to make the set whole again, if the plates were still lurking about.’
There was a loud snort down the line.
‘I would pay you for them, naturally …’
He hesitated. ‘Not sure I can be bothered, to be honest, but you can have a look if you want.’ He gave her his address and they arranged to meet later in the week.
That Friday evening Maisie drove up to Norfolk to investigate Phyllis’s plates.
Her satnav guided her into a modern housing estate on the outskirts of Norwich and, as she pulled up in front of a row of Georgian-style new-builds, the lilting Irish voice gleefully announced she’d arrived at her destination. The symmetry and u
niformity of that architectural period appealed to her. The house had a large central front door, a glazed fanlight above and matching long windows either side of two faux-Grecian columns. She pressed the plastic bell and the door swung open to an indifferent face.
‘Hi. We spoke on the phone.’ She stuck out her hand, which was studiously ignored.
‘Right – the woman nosying about Granny’s stuff.’ The wiry man stepped outside and pulled the front door closed behind him, his black hair matching his black eyes.
‘I don’t want to pressure you in any way. But if they are still around and you don’t want them, I’ll gladly compensate you.’
‘So … worth much, are they?’ He took a cigarette from a pack in his polo shirt breast pocket, tapped the end on the back of his hand and lit it.
‘Not especially. It’s probably not even that old and it’s not fine bone china or anything. I’ve been assured the set as a whole would only be worth about twenty pounds.’
‘But it’s worth something to you, right?’ His top lip curled slightly, as if he had a smirk itching to get out, and his eyes narrowed. He took another drag on the cigarette and blew it out excruciatingly slowly, watching the smoke curl and dissipate before him.
‘I wanted the set to remind me of your great-aunt Meredith. I knew her when I was little but it doesn’t matter if I can’t find all the pieces.’ She was lying. It mattered more than anything. And if this overtly suspicious man withheld the plates from her, especially if he didn’t even like them, it would be beyond frustrating.
‘I’d say a fancy lady like you, spending all that time tracking down a bunch of old women from years ago, and taking the time to contact their family in the hopes they’ve got a few poncy bits if china – I’d say it matters a lot.’