Guilty Pleasures, page 8
‘I think you’ve got the wrong person, madam. So sorry about your foot.’ He edged sideways.
‘I’ve got another one,’ I said lightly. ‘Look, the other night you seemed to think we’d met before. At least, I presume you don’t always go round glaring at strangers like that.’
‘No, not at all, dear lady. Of course I remember our charming encounter.’
That wasn’t how I’d have described it.
‘They say everyone has a doppelgänger,’ he said, edging away as if he thought I was a local loony.
Perhaps I was. But I couldn’t quite let go. ‘In what circumstances did you meet this double of mine? I’d really like to know.’
An arm wove its way between us. ‘Other people want to buy their extra virgin too, you know,’ said an aggrieved voice.
By the time I’d apologized, he’d gone.
As I paid for my goodies, I pondered the thought of my double. I’d like to meet her, especially if she turned out to be one of my half-sisters, which wasn’t impossible, given my father’s generosity in spreading his favours about Kent. He knew of about thirty of us brothers and sisters – except there was a neat word for all of us, wasn’t there? Possibly there were more he’d been too dozy to record. Since he’d promised me that whoever turned up, he’d still value me, I tried not to worry. From time to time, he still agonized about finding his mother’s engagement ring for me. Given the state of his wing, it was more likely that I’d come across it in one of my periodic trawls for a really big find for him. As it was, on special occasions I wore the Cartier watch he’d insisted on giving me – a gift very far from being sneezed at.
So in theory I didn’t find her a threat. She might have a share in my father, but she didn’t have any share at all in Griff. And he was still by far the most important person in my life.
However, now the idea of a sin . . . a sid . . . a sibling – yes! – had wormed its way properly into my head, I thought I’d do something about the version of me that Josie had said she’d seen in Hastings. I’d have nipped down to see her, but this disruption of my working day had been long enough. I must get back to Bredeham. If a little voice suggested I might be thinking about spending time to make myself look nice for my forthcoming encounter with Morris, I shut it up abruptly. I had a queue as long as my arm of items waiting for me to restore them, and they needed the sort of steady hand you had when you weren’t thinking of your private life.
TEN
For all my good intentions about devoting the next few hours to my job, I couldn’t resist phoning Josie. She picked up first ring.
‘It’s killing me, all this rest,’ she told me. ‘Bored out of my skull I am, and I’ll swear my back’s worse without all the stretching and bending I was doing in the shop and at fairs. And quiet! It’s so quiet round here. If you hear I’ve been dragged off kicking and screaming by the men in white coats – except they wear green dungarees, these days, don’t they? – then you’ll know why. Make sure you never let dear old Griff retire, won’t you? I’d hate him to come to this. I can’t even ask you to come down for a cuppa because I know you’re always busy – have you fixed that crack in Elspeth’s plate yet, by the way?’
‘It’s on my list. Towards the top,’ I promised her. ‘And I’ll drop in for a cuppa and some of your cake when I take it back to her. But I want you to do something for me. No one else can, Josie, because no one else was there. That time you saw me and I didn’t wave. Remember? I want you to jot down exactly where it was and what I was wearing. And if you can recall anything about the young man I was with, that would be a bonus, too.’
‘You’re thinking I made it all up, aren’t you?’
‘Absolutely not. The thing is, you’re not the first person who says they saw me and I didn’t acknowledge them,’ I said, not quite accurately, but never mind. ‘I’m just wondering if I’ve got a double. Well, not exactly a double. More a relative. And if I have, then I’d love to meet her.’
‘Yes, you could do with some company your own age,’ she said, surprising me. ‘I mean, you and Griff were made for each other, but you need boyfriends and girlfriends too. That handsome man who fell head over heels with you, he was old enough to be your father,’ she added with a sigh, though I wasn’t sure why.
He was married, anyway. I hardly ever thought of him these days, except when he put high-class restoration work my way.
‘Boyfriends might take me away from Griff,’ I said. ‘And he’s done so much for me, it’d have to be someone really, really special to take me away from him.’
‘I know that, lovey. But a few mates to giggle over new nail varnish with – that’d be lovely, wouldn’t it, now? So I’ll keep my eyes open for this other you. But I’ll be a bit discreet, if you know what I mean.’
‘In that case I’ll pop Elspeth’s plate right on top of my waiting list. So make sure you’ve made some cake.’ Apart from anything else, a spot of baking might fill some of those suddenly empty hours for her.
‘I’ll go and buy some eggs this very afternoon,’ she declared.
Five o’clock and no call from Morris.
I was so jumpy I could hardly have attached mud to velvet. I’d changed twice, and I’d spilt tea down the outfit I really wanted to wear. And I was so cross with myself that I’d snapped at Mrs Walker almost unnecessarily. I’d apologized afterwards and actually asked to see the photos of her and her fiancé Paul Banner at a ballroom-dancing weekend they’d spent at a nice hotel in Devon. So we parted friends again when she drove off back to Bossingham. I locked up as carefully as I always did and made sure all the security cameras responded to my cheery waves.
Still no call from Morris.
By six thirty, I’d watered the tubs and hanging baskets and was thinking about cleaning the van. In my nicest sandals, for heaven’s sake. Maybe if I went and changed and got thoroughly soaked, he’d phone then.
I did, and he didn’t. At least we had a nice clean van ready for when we could use it again.
What about supper? I’d sort of assumed we might all have supper together, once the business of the snuffbox had been dealt with, so I’d put off cooking anything. Of course I could eat two full meals without turning a hair, but I didn’t want to do that too often, or those fifties dresses with their neat waists wouldn’t fasten any more and I’d have to sell them again. Not a good thought.
It must have been about nine when the phone rang at last. Freya Webb.
‘Just to let you know Morris has been and gone. There was a bad RTA on the A26, so he got held up. Anyway, he doesn’t recognize the snuffbox either, not as such, but he was certainly excited and he’s taken it away for safe keeping. I thought you’d be OK with that.’
‘Absolutely fine. Thanks for letting me know. I take it he’ll be in touch with you when he finds anything out?’
‘Don’t see why. Your property after all. Hang on.’ There was a murmur her end. Was it Robin? Combining work with pleasure? With my solitary omelette almost forgotten, I had a tiny and very irritating pang, but not of hunger.
‘Sorry about that. Now, when you’re out and about, keep your eyes peeled just in case our friends haven’t given up yet.’
I would indeed.
At ten o’clock, it was time to take my advice to Josie. I set to and baked. I couldn’t eat the mound of scones I produced, but, as I told Griff in a nice long gossipy phone call, at least there’d be plenty of his favourites in the freezer when he got back.
It’s hard to make a couple of days spent literally watching paint dry sound exciting. But in its own way it was satisfying, and eventually I was able to phone Josie and tell her I’d be ready to return her friend Elspeth’s plate the next morning. I’d come back via Tenterden to catch up with Griff in person, too.
Elspeth lived in a very ordinary modern house not far from Josie’s equally ordinary modern house on the outskirts of Hastings, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when she declared she’d walk round to Josie’s with me.
‘She needs a bit of company, doesn’t she?’ she confided, looking for an umbrella though the sky was vividly blue. We strolled, very slowly, arm in arm, to be greeted with huge hugs and squawks of delight. For an instant I wondered what I was doing eating cake with two old ladies, however kind and generous they were, in a cluttered and airless little room, when I could have been down on the sea front, walking as fast as I could and letting the wind take my hair. Or running along hand in hand with . . .
But the cakes were brilliant, and the least I could do was pay attention to Josie and conscientiously jot down everything she could recall about the other me.
‘In other words, you’ve got nowhere fast,’ Griff sighed as I finished my account of my morning’s doings.
We were having lunch in the garden room – nothing as vulgar as a conservatory for Aidan, but then, it would have been a sin to tack anything like that on to his perfect Georgian house. Aidan’s idea of entertaining was to buy the best Waitrose could offer. But Griff, despite his bruises, was rarely happier than when he was cooking, and the perfect flan was definitely home-made, full of double cream too, if I knew Griff. But he was looking so much perkier, I didn’t tell him off.
‘Exactly. All she could remember was that she looked like me, only with a harder face. And the bloke looked shifty. I think she was inventing details – if you can call them that – just to please me. But at least I’ve shortened the waiting list, and she paid in cash. And I saw the sea in the distance, all blue and sparkly. And now I’m here with you. So although I’ve not made the best use of my time, I haven’t wasted it. And this is a perfect lunch.’
‘I’m amazed you managed to eat any of it after dear Josie’s cakes. What a good job we only have fruit salad for dessert,’ he said wistfully.
‘I have been trying to keep an eye on his diet,’ Aidan said. ‘But he has spoken highly of her confections.’
‘What a good job she made me take away the rest of the Victoria sponge she baked for me.’
So it was a nice easy time.
As we hugged goodbye, Griff whispered, ‘And you really are not unhappy at this development with Robin, sweet one?’
‘Absolutely not. He’s always been a friend, and I’m sure we’ll keep it that way.’
‘It doesn’t always happen when people embark on new relationships, I fear. Maybe I should cancel this London trip and come and keep an eye on you.’
‘Don’t even say the words. It’s a long time since you had a nice break, and you both deserve it.’
But when I got back home it was very quiet, and Tim and I had to have a long conversation involving tissues before I settled down to tackle a really tricky bit of gilding on a Crown Derby vase.
One thing I really did not expect the following morning, horribly early, when I’d no more than thought about getting up and having a shower, was a phone call from Robin. All he said was he could do with some advice, and maybe we could meet for lunch at the Halfway House – a pub that just happened to be halfway between Bredeham and Bossingham.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve absolutely got to finish an urgent job today, so . . . Look,’ I relented, ‘if you could make it over to Bredeham, I’ve got plenty of food here. Would that do?’
‘It’ll have to, I suppose.’ That didn’t sound like Robin at all.
‘About one?’ I suggested, equally offhand. But worried.
But it would never do to agonize over his love life when I was trying to be stoical about my lack of one, so, after a hasty shower and a piece of toast, I went to my workroom, where a particularly delicate piece of Chelsea waited for me. It was actually a good job he’d phoned so early – it was still shy of seven thirty. It meant I could get a really good run at the piece. In fact, I was so engrossed that I didn’t hear the doorbell ring. When the noise finally penetrated my skull, I almost dropped my paintbrush.
Surely Robin had said lunchtime? And this was before breakfast for most people.
But it wasn’t Robin I peered at through the peephole in the door. It was an old guy I’d never seen before. Not this close, at least.
ELEVEN
‘Griff always puts a drop of whisky in,’ X said, peering doubtfully at the mug of tea I’d made him.
I obliged.
‘I never thought I’d get to meet you,’ I said, passing the biscuits too. ‘And at this time of day – you’re usually such an early bird.’
‘So long as you pass me message on to Griff,’ he said, which didn’t seem to be a reply to anything. He scoffed half the biscuits. With luck he’d finish the lot. I certainly wouldn’t fancy eating anything he’d touched.
‘I can get him on the phone for you if you like.’ I picked up the handset and held it out to him.
I might have been offering a dead hedgehog.
‘Word of mouth, that’s how I deal. Got this little item for him. Tell him it’s the usual terms.’
‘Cash and say nothing to anyone,’ I said. ‘And a cheese sandwich?’
His eyes lit up. ‘Don’t usually get one of them.’
‘And a drop of cider?’
‘Now you’re talking.’
I not only talked, I opened the kitchen door and propped it wide. X might be more forthcoming than I’d ever expected but his preparations for the visit hadn’t included much in the way of personal hygiene.
‘I could make you some ham sarnies to take with you too if you liked.’
‘No mustard.’
‘Right.’
‘Titus said you were OK. Said you’d got spunk. True you’re a divvy?’
My turn to hold back. That was one thing I didn’t like spoken of, though I suppose most folk in our line of business must know. Then I smiled. ‘Try me out.’
‘Only meant to show Griff. Hang on.’ He turned away from the table and dug in an inside pocket of his foul coat. Whatever he came up with was easily hidden under his hand as he laid it on the table.
This was the table Griff kneaded bread on, for goodness’ sake. We’d need one of those surface sprays that kills ninety-nine per cent of all known germs.
‘Don’t do guessing games,’ I said. ‘I have to see whatever it is.’
‘Not what I heard. Heard you could pick something out at fifty paces.’
‘Maybe I did. That’s why I let you in.’ Probably, I’d picked out the smell and registered it certainly wasn’t latex and cosmetics. I must have been off my head otherwise. But I wasn’t getting anything in the way of vibes.
‘Said you were pretty fly, Titus. OK, if I show you, means you got to buy it. And I won’t take less than a tenner.’
My nod was meant to be offhand. Griff had dinned into me I mustn’t worry that he never paid X anything like enough for the things he brought along to what were usually pre-breakfast meetings. If he gave the true value, Griff argued, then X would just go off and drink himself to death. Would ten pounds be dangerous? Was I meant to haggle? Was that part of X’s game?
‘Depends what I make of it,’ I said coolly. ‘Maybe just a fiver and an extra sarnie.’
It looked as if we had a deal. He removed his paw to reveal a poor battered piece of metal, which might have been the twin of the one everyone seemed to want. Bloody hell, it might well have been the twin. Forcing myself to be casual, I picked it up and looked at it, inside and out. ‘I’d need my eyeglass.’
‘As seen or no deal. And you got to divvy it for me.’
‘A very old silver snuffbox. Probably late seventeenth century,’ I said blithely, remembering the 1697 start date for hallmarks and not divvying at all. All I was doing was quoting an imaginary text book somewhere in my head.
Maybe I was befuddled by his fumes.
‘Worth a tenner.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Eight and extra sarnies.’ Making sure it was nowhere near any surface he could have touched, I fished out the loaf, one of Griff’s best efforts, then the proper fresh-sliced ham the village deli prided itself on. ‘No mustard, right, but a bit of Griff’s chutney?’ I waved the jar in the direction of his nose.
The poor bugger actually started to dribble.
Slicing as fast as I could, I made a mound of food. As he wolfed down the first round – cheese and chutney, this one – I said casually, ‘Get this down Bossingham way?’
Mistake. Huge mistake. His hand covered it again.
‘Griff never asks.’
I held up a hand. ‘Sorry. No names, no pack drill. Right?’ His jaw remained tight. ‘And I’d better make it that tenner, hadn’t I? More tea?’
His eyes went to the whisky.
I did the obvious. But it was the smallest splash.
The spare food wrapped in greaseproof paper, I dug for some cash in the old tea-caddy Griff kept specially – it was only tin, but in the shape of a bureau, with tiny gilded knobs and painted wood graining. Rust damage meant it was worth a big round zero, but it had belonged to Griff’s grandmother and would never get thrown away. The fivers looked as battered as the poor caddy. But, eyes alight, he grabbed them, and the food parcel.
‘Here, have these,’ I said, giving him the remains of the packet of biscuits.
For the first time he smiled. ‘Thought you were as tough as Griff. Now I can see you’re a soft touch. I’ll leave the back way, if it’s all the same to you. Don’t like front doors.’ He paused. ‘And don’t forget to wipe them photos like Griff always does.’
Wipe photos? I knew I’d have to clean the kitchen from top to bottom, but that seemed a bit extreme even to me. And then, as I locked him out, it dawned on me what he meant: he wanted the footage of his arrival and departure deleted from our CCTV system.
The little snuffbox, washed carefully but very thoroughly in warm soapy water and then dried with a soft duster, was not the twin, but at least a close relative of the one now in Morris’s hands. It was in much better condition, presumably because it hadn’t been thrown across a churchyard. On its embossed lid, raised little figures, quite crude, and not as well finished as you’d expect, apparently shot birds. And it left me with a huge problem – not one I could discuss with Robin or with Morris, either. I wasn’t even sure how much I could tell Griff, because although he bought a lot of stuff from X, he’d always told me he’d never, ever risked asking questions, simply because knowledge could be dangerous. If you thought something was stolen, for instance, you couldn’t keep it or sell it, could you?
