The Bronze Lady (Woodford Antiques Mystery Book 2) (12 page)

Chapter 29

Thursday 21
st
January 2016, 3.00pm

‘Penny for them Rebecca?’

‘Mmmh? What? Oh, sorry Paul, I was miles away!’

‘Yes, and you have been for the past half an hour,’ he said, kindly. ‘You were going to proof read the auction catalogue, but I can see you haven’t got past the second page yet.  Is everything alright?’

‘Oh yes, everything’s fine thank you Paul. Sorry, I’ll crack on with this now.’

Rebecca frowned in concentration as she checked and double-checked that the descriptions of the paintings for the following Friday’s Art Auction matched the photographs, and that the reserves listed were the ones agreed with the vendors. She was interrupted twice, once by the ringing tone of the telephone which Paul answered in his office before she could reach for her handset, and once by Daniel coming through from the auction warehouse to make himself a cup of tea.

‘Cuppa Rebecca?’

‘Oh yes thanks, green tea please.’

‘Rebecca, can I ask you something please?’

‘Yes, OK,’ said Rebecca slowly.  She had had enough of people telling her what to do, and questioning her choices, and really wasn’t in the mood for a young lad like Daniel to start on her too.

‘Well, is everything alright with my work do you know? Paul has been in a funny mood with me for weeks now, wanting to check every single thing which comes in for the auctions before I start processing them, rather than his usual manner of coming in and out while I am working and discussing individual items as they are laid out, or being happy to only come out when I ask for his expertise. Do you know what it is I have done wrong? I have been going over it and can’t think of anything.’

‘Oh Daniel, yes as far as I know your work is excellent! If you have made any terrible mistakes then I am not aware of them.  But you are right, Paul has been in a funny mood for a while now, but it is with all of us, not just you.  Ever since those stolen medals turned up in the auction last October he has been more concerned than ever about the provenance of all of the items for sale. I wouldn’t worry about anything, but may be worth having a word with him about it?  He won’t bite your head off, if you were consistently doing something wrong he would have told you by now, I am sure of it.’

‘Oh that is such a relief! I have been really worried, and it has started to affect my sleep which is very unusual. My girlfriend says I can sleep through an earthquake, and she has been threatening to come in and speak to Paul, which I really don’t want her to do. Can you imagine how embarrassing that would be?’

‘Ha ha yes, that would be excruciating,’ laughed Rebecca.

‘What are you two laughing about?’ asked Paul as he emerged from his office. ‘Oh has the kettle boiled? Make me one will you Daniel? How is the catalogue?’ he asked, turning his attention to Rebecca. 

‘So good so far,’ she smiled up at him. ‘Another half an hour and I’ll be finished. Do you want to check it or shall I email it to the printers?’

‘Oh no, if you are happy with it I will be, thanks Rebecca. Anything new come in today Daniel?’

‘Yes, another seven Lots for the antiques sale in February.’

‘Right, I’ll come back with you and have a look. Is that my mug? Come on then.’

As Rebecca watched them go she thought about what Daniel had been saying, and wondered if it would be appropriate to question Paul about his change in management style, or if that would be a step too far out of her role as administrative assistant. She had been truthful with Daniel; she really didn’t know of anything he was doing wrong to cause Paul’s new-found cautious approach to the items which sellers were bringing in for the various auctions.  No wonder he was coming in earlier than normal, he was trying to do three people’s jobs! In the end she decided to say nothing. She didn’t want to invite Paul to start confiding in her about anything personal or professional; that would bring a new level of intimacy to their relationship, and she was very happy with the way they treated each other now that a few ground rules had been established. But her natural caring nature meant that she would be a little more alert to reasons which may be behind this change in behaviour.

Once she had completed proof-reading the auction catalogue and emailed it to the printers as usual, her mind returned to her friend’s attempt at match-making. She was furious with Christine for assuming she would be willing to meet her old boyfriend, or any man, so soon after her own marriage break-up and she was particularly upset that Christine had seen fit to involve other people, namely her own boyfriend Dave Truckell who was her children’s mathematics teacher! How embarrassing to think they would have been talking about her, discussing ‘poor Rebecca’ or worse ‘poor man-less Rebecca’. The urge to walk round to the estate agency on the High Street where Christine worked and tell her exactly how betrayed she felt was strong. How DARE she talk about her, let alone set-up a date for her? Just at that moment the front door open, and Cliff walked in.

‘Oh what do you want now?’

Cliff was rather taken aback by her venomous tone. She had not raised her voice to him since that awful day last July when she discovered he was having an affair. What now? Surely there were no more secrets, please let there be no more revelations, he really didn’t think he could cope with anything else.

‘Sorry to disturb you Rebecca, is Paul free?’

Instantly Rebecca felt the heat of anger dissipate at the sight of Cliff’s frightened-looking face. It wasn’t his fault Christine was interfering in her life. Or was it? He was certainly responsible for most of what had gone on over the previous few months.

‘Sorry Cliff,’ she said wearily. ‘I am having a bit of a bad time today. Paul is in the warehouse with Daniel Bartlett. Go on through, I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘Is everything OK? Anything I can do? Just tell me Rebecca, you know I will help if I can.’

‘Nothing you can help with Cliff, not now. Go on, go and find Paul and leave me to... oh my goodness I am late; I should have been out of here ten minutes ago! I said I would collect Mum from her hospital appointment!’

‘Can I help? I could pop round later with a takeaway. Would you like Pizza or Indian? It would be nice to see Jackie, and the kids, and would save you cooking for everybody.’

‘Now that is a good idea, thank you. Give the kids a ring and let them choose, I think it is Nick’s choice tonight. Won’t be long before he has gone to University, will it, we should make the most of it while we have all three of them at home.’ She smiled sadly at Cliff, before pulling herself together and dashing out of the door to her car, desperately hoping the traffic lights out of Woodford would be in her favour and not make her any later to pick up her mother than she already was.

Cliff watched her go, his face a picture of misery. He no longer had three children at home, because he had moved out to live above the antiques centre last summer. He pulled himself together and went to find Paul, who was exactly where Rebecca had told him he would be, in the warehouse with Daniel. Daniel’s face was a picture of frustration.

‘Is this a good time?’ asked Cliff, tentatively.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Paul. ‘Come on in. We are just finishing here. Thanks Daniel, good job. Finish up and then you can go home, and I’ll see you in the morning.’

Once Daniel was out of earshot Cliff commented ‘Well he didn’t look very happy.’

‘Didn’t he?’ asked Paul, surprised. ‘I didn’t notice anything. He’s a good worker, is Daniel, I just hope he stays here.’ He gestured to Cliff to follow him out of the warehouse to his office. Once they were settled inside, and had finished making small talk about the general problems of managing staff and dishonesty and lack of loyalty in the antiques trade, which took them a good ten minutes, Cliff took a deep breath and launched into the conversation he had been trying to pluck up the courage to start for several weeks. The news of the events in The Ship Inn the previous evening had given Cliff a tangible reason to tackle his friend about the awkward subject, and he felt the time was right to talk to him about it.

‘Paul, mate, we’ve been friends for a long time.’

‘Yes, we have. So?’ Paul was already on the defensive. Damn, thought Cliff, this wasn’t going as planned. Oh well, might as well continue.

‘I know why you and Tony have fallen out.’

Paul’s face was a picture. His jaw dropped, his eyes were wide, and the look of astonishment lasted for approximately three seconds before he snapped his mouth shut and looked away from Cliff.

‘How?’ he asked in a careful tone which matched his expression.

‘He told Sarah Handley, who told Nicola, who told me.’

Paul’s face took on a slightly sneaky look. ‘Tony told Sarah what. Exactly.’

‘Oh come on mate,’ said Cliff, suddenly realising he had been hunched forward clasping his hands together as if in prayer, and made an effort to relax his shoulders and lean back in his chair. ‘Don’t make me say it. You know what you did, why don’t you just apologise and move on with your life. It isn’t as bad as anything I have done, after all. And Tony has every right to be angry with you, don’t you think? You were out of order. OK, it’s nothing you haven’t tried to do before, I mean even you would have to agree that Jennifer Isaac is too young for you. And as for this business with Tony’s daughter, well, that’s a bit close to home isn’t it, even for you? Just apologise to Tony and Lesley, and then we can all get back to normal. This tension between the two of you is horrible; I need my friends around me not fighting with each other. I can understand Tony being upset with you, but why are you behaving in such a childish way with Tony? Admit you were wrong, and get it over with.’

Paul sat very still and stared at his friend of almost nineteen years.

‘So you have all made up your minds have you? Even you. You, who I have stood by, with no judgement, through everything you went through last year. I have been tried and found guilty with no opportunity for defence.’

Cliff shivered, his friend’s voice was so cold, his expression steely. But, as the father of a daughter, albeit a good few years younger than Tony’s daughter and definitely too young even for Paul Black, he could understand Tony’s need to defend his daughter against a known serial womaniser like Paul. Cliff was also wary of Paul’s intentions towards Rebecca, and had seriously considered the possibility of killing him if he ever treated her in the way he treated all of the other women in his life.

‘What defence could you possibly have Paul?’ asked Cliff. ‘We all know what you are like. The girl was vulnerable, her marriage had recently broken up, and you pounced. As you always do.’

‘STOP! How dare you. Get out.’

Cliff stayed where he was, looking in amazement at his friend. Paul had clearly lost all sense of reality if he thought his behaviour towards Tony’s daughter was acceptable. Cliff and Paul had always been able to tackle each other about any issues, however personal or in the wrong they were, but for some reason Paul was behaving differently about this subject. Could it be that he really cared for Tony’s daughter? Or was it the old chestnut of wanting something he couldn’t have?

‘Paul, don’t be like that. Come on, someone had to say something to you...’ Paul cut him off before he could finish.

‘I said get out and I meant it.’ As he spoke in a low angry voice Paul stood up and walked purposefully around his desk towards the door. As he opened it he looked at Cliff, who was staring, not moving. ‘What part of “Get Out” do you not understand? Move before I do something I regret!’ Paul’s voice was getting louder and his furious presence was filling the room. Cliff left.

Chapter 30

Saturday 23
rd
January 2016, 3.00pm

Peter, Jennifer and Gemma were sitting around the kitchen table in Gemma’s cottage. It was five days since Jackie Martin had dropped her bombshell, and Peter was still no clearer about how he felt about it. He was made senior partner at his previous Practice before his thirtieth birthday, and for over twenty years had found the responsibility fairly onerous. The relative freedom of being a junior partner at the age of fifty two years old had been liberating, and he really enjoyed being able to concentrate on his own job without having his time taken up with budget sheets and staffing problems.

However, the opportunity to walk into a ready-made small equine practice, one which he already knew and enjoyed working in, and bring in his own approach across the board was extremely tempting. Jackie’s nudges and hints about upgrading the facilities to incorporate his desire to be able to rehabilitate horses on site was keeping him awake at night with excitement and anticipation as he ran through all the possibilities.

Jennifer, meanwhile, was not at all enthusiastic about any of it. She was so tired. Almost every horse owner she saw either in the equine hospital or out on her calls viewed her with suspicion, such was their loyalty and respect for Jackie and Alastair, and she was fed-up of treading on eggshells in the way she spoke to them.

Here in Brackenshire she was expected to work independently of her father, although he, Alastair and Jackie were always willing to listen to her fears and questions. They would discuss her treatment options rather than point her to this tried-and-tested plan or that we-have-always-done-it-this-way method. It had reached the point the week before when she caught herself looking back favourably on the days when she had to work within clear boundaries and guide-lines, when only a few months ago she had found them restricting, and at times stifling.

Alastair’s wife Hazel was making noises about the amount of time her ‘retired’ husband was spending on veterinary duties, and Jackie was making it clear she would not be emulating his approach to retirement and would probably be living abroad for at least part of the year. The thought of being without these two people with their wealth of experiences to support her was terrifying. She felt she was out of her depth as things were now; if the Practice was reduced to only herself and her father she would sink.

Gemma couldn’t see what the problem was. She and her ex-husband had established their own business when they were in their early twenties, and then when Lisa asked her five years ago to go into business with her, which resulted in them buying and re-vamping the Woodford Tearooms, she had jumped at the chance and loved every minute. There were even a few months when she ran both businesses until she and her husband agreed to separate both their personal and professional lives. Gemma thrived on the kind of stress created with a healthy dose of adrenalin, and she loved challenges and puzzles such as the one Peter was currently faced with. But she had no interest in horses, or veterinary work, so appreciated that there were issues to be faced of which she had very little idea.

‘So what do you think about exploring the possibility of buying part of the Maxwell-Lewis farm and establishing it both as our home and my veterinary surgery?’ Peter asked Gemma.

‘I am quite happy to live above the shop, so-to-speak. I did it for all of the years my first husband and I ran our catering business.’

‘But didn’t you fall in love with that house on Swan Hill? The views were fantastic.’

‘Yes they were, and I did like that house, but I didn’t love it. I do think we could turn it into a house that I loved though. But realistically, as beautiful as those views were, how much time would we actually have to enjoy them while we were at home? I see them regularly when I am out with Suzy.’

‘Well yes, there is that. Neither of us have much time for sitting around when we are at home. I suppose I am very lucky in that I see those views while I am out and about on calls. I do love stopping the car and standing by the side of the road breathing the country air and enjoying the stunning vista of Stormy Vale.’

Jennifer looked up in amazement. Over the last few weeks she had been so busy trying to find the various yards and fields where her patients lived that she had not been paying any attention to the scenery, and she certainly didn’t have time to stop and get out of her car in order to gaze at it for a few minutes. With vague addresses and a sat nav which regularly sent her to the wrong side of the property for access, or on one memorable occasion to the wrong yard completely where she sat for over ten minutes before having to phone the Woodford Equine Veterinary office for help, Jennifer was beginning to think she had made a big mistake giving up her dependable job up in Shropshire. She grew up in the County and was familiar with the lanes and tracks up there, but down here she felt like a fish out of water.

‘What do you think Jennifer? Jackie has given you a permanent part-time contract for when she returned to work, but if she isn’t coming back then obviously you would have a full-time one. And I would love you to be a junior partner in my practice, if you would like to join me.’

‘Oooh yes, that would be wonderful!’ said Gemma, sitting up in her chair as the possibilities began to flood her brain. ‘Between the three of us, assuming I can sell this cottage fairly quickly, we could buy at least one of those parcels of land. Do you have any savings you could put in Jennifer?’

Jennifer looked at her step-mother in horror. ‘Savings? I haven’t even paid off the last of my debts from vet school Gemma.’

‘Oh, of course, I was forgetting how young you are. You are so professional and competent I keep thinking you have been in the workplace for a lot longer. Sorry.’

‘Well I do have the money from when they bought my share of the practice in Shropshire stashed away still, combined with your money from the sale of this cottage we would easily be able to afford the dairy part of the farm. I had a look online on Tuesday night after Jackie talked to us. We would have to work out some figures for renovation, and Jackie wants to sell the practice to me for about three hundred thousand pounds. I think we could probably do with a third full-time vet, don’t you Jennifer? So there may be a bit more flexibility with the money if we opt for a senior partner to join us.’ Peter and Gemma were feeding off each other’s enthusiasm, their plans becoming more extravagant as the afternoon passed by.

Meanwhile Jennifer was still trying to take in the words Gemma had said to her. When Jackie Martin phoned her back in November Jennifer was feeling dissatisfied and unappreciated. Now she was feeling exhausted and unconfident. But Gemma clearly didn’t see her like that. And neither could her father or he wouldn’t be including her in his plans for the business, and talking about making her a junior partner. She couldn’t think straight while the pair of them were chattering on about converting this building and knocking down that shed. At this rate they would have bought the entire Maxwell-Lewis Farm and opened a veterinary theme park with cafe and restaurant on site!

‘Sorry Gem, Dad, I have to go. I’ll take the dogs out. I’ll sort myself out for supper tonight. Thanks.’ She wasn’t sure they even noticed she had left, such was their excitement at the possibilities their imaginations were exploring.