Later, in the bedroom, when he uncovered the pretty lilac panties and the matching balconette bra, Julian gave a low whistle of approval.
“My God,” he said. “Those are fabulous panties.”
Serena shrugged as though she wore such exotic scanties every day.
“And that bra. Seems a shame to take it off. Though I can’t wait to see what’s beneath.”
Lying beside her on the bed, Julian propped himself up on one elbow. “I just want to look at you,” he said. “I want to drink in your beauty with my eyes and treasure the memory forever.”
The nerves Serena had expected to feel when unveiling her body for someone new for the first time in a decade had soon dissipated. Julian’s obvious and very vocal appreciation of her gave Serena the confidence to relax into his embrace. He was exactly the kind of lover she needed after so long alone. He was gentle and attentive. He catalogued every part of her body with praise. He ran his fingers across her shoulders and pushed the bra straps out of the way.
“Such lovely breasts … Your shoulders are so fine … I want to kiss your neck all night long.”
Serena felt worshipped and appreciated in a way that had become all too unfamiliar. It gave her the courage to be herself once more.
“How about a little less conversation, a little more action?” she asked as she pulled Julian so that he was on top of her. Her arms encircled his back and she kissed him deeply.
She felt the hard length of his penis against her pubic bone. She parted her legs and tipped her pelvis upward toward him, to let him know that it was okay. She was ready for this. She wanted it.
Without taking his eyes off hers, Julian slid his hand between their bodies and guided his penis into her. Serena gasped at the almost forgotten delight of penetration, that moment when two become one. As Julian slowly began to move inside her, she closed her eyes to better relish the pleasure. The warmth of his body against hers and the joy of feeling taken flooded her body and mind. As Julian rocked, Serena wrapped her legs around his waist. It had been so long. So long. She was as surprised as Julian by the speed and intensity with which she came.
The next morning, Serena was on cloud nine. It must have shown because, over breakfast, Katie narrowed her eyes and asked suspiciously what she was so happy about. And at the school gate, one of the other mums asked Serena if she’d had “something done.”
“I don’t mean BOTOX or anything,” the fellow mum added swiftly. “It’s just that … well; you look really fresh this morning. Have you had something done to your hair?”
“That’ll be it,” Serena joked. “I actually combed it.”
Considering the amount she had drunk the night before, Serena knew she should have had a hangover, but instead she was feeling the best she had in years. It was a feeling that persisted even when she called Tom later that morning and got Donna instead. Serena hoped that her newly found bliss echoed in her voice, as she asked Donna to tell Tom to ring. “See, Donna,” she wanted to say, “you’re not the only one who’s getting laid.”
Serena felt better still when Julian called her around lunchtime.
“Come over to the big house and have some beans on toast?” he suggested.
After putting on her second-best set of lingerie for the occasion, Serena skipped on over. The idea of beans on toast was soon forgotten. Instead, Serena joined Julian in a big four-poster bed in what had been his mother’s room. They made love until it was time to pick Katie up from school. For the rest of the week, they met every day to do the same thing again and again and again.
By the time Julian had to go back to London the following Sunday night, Serena looked and felt ten years younger. What’s more, she had an awful feeling she might be falling in love.
CHAPTER 13
Easter arrived at last. It was near the end of April, the latest it had been in centuries. Lizzy spent her Easter weekend walking on air. Nat had asked her to spend the two bank holidays with him. Four blissful days in bed. He’d even changed the sheets. It almost took Lizzy’s mind off what she would be going back to: the Trebarwen sale on the very last day of the month. It was to be Lizzy’s first auction as actual auctioneer.
She’d had the in-house training, which had been awful to begin with but later had become good fun. By the end of that week, she had been able to hold her own with the boys who had started out louder and so much more confident than she. They’d been a pretty tough audience to practice in front of. Always trying to trip her up, heckling and forcing her to stumble. Nat assured her that the real patrons would not be half so difficult. They were there to buy art, not to make a fool of the auctioneer. They had no reason to want her to fail.
“Just take your time,” said Nat. “Remember everything I’ve told you and you will do brilliantly.”
“Of course I will,” said Lizzy. “You’re my Yoda.”
“Yoda? You’re going to have to make up for that comment,” said Nat as he unzipped his trousers and motioned that Lizzy should get under his desk. “Come on.” He indicated his hardening penis. “We’ve got ten minutes.”
As sales went, the Trebarwen sale was relatively unimportant. It was to be held on a Wednesday afternoon. Though there were plenty of interesting lots, there was nothing that had drawn the attention of the media. Fact was, no matter how rare a piece of china or chest of drawers might have been for its type, such things just didn’t have the glamour of old masters or expensive contemporary art (which had the added benefit of the “is it really worth it” factor when it came to getting a mention in the Daily Mail) or jewelry that had been owned by someone glamorous.
Nat expected that the turnout for the Trebarwen sale would largely comprise dealers who specialized in what he called “chocolate box” pictures. There were plenty of those in the sale. These dealers were pretty straightforward people to deal with. That made it the ideal sale for Lizzy to cut her teeth on. That didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be taking it very, very seriously indeed.
She had Sarah Jane help her put her hair up in a bun and eschewed her contact lenses for a pair of glasses, giving the impression of gravitas, professionalism, and experience even if it lasted only the afternoon.
The sale started reasonably well. Lizzy was pleased to see that while the room wasn’t full, it was far from empty. There were enough people there to create the kind of buzz she wanted. Lizzy’s voice wobbled a little as she welcomed everyone into the room, and there was some feedback that had to be corrected by a technician. But then she was off.
Really, it was simple. Lizzy read out the description of each lot as her white-gloved colleagues carried it onto the stage. Then it was a matter of spotting the interest in the room. With interest from two it was easy. Take a bid from the one who first caught her eye, and then ask the other to go higher. Back and forth, back and forth, until one of them dropped out. It was always a relief to get two bidders. Lizzy wasn’t entirely sure she had the chutzpah to take a “bid from the chandelier”—as a bid on behalf of the house was called—and convince a genuine buyer they had competition in the room when they were actually the only one bidding.
But by the time she got to the twenty-third lot, Lizzy was beginning to hit her stride. She glanced over at Nat, who gave her the thumbs-up. She began to be filled with a sense of exhilaration as strong as she had ever had before. She was presiding over her first auction and everything was going well. She had reached another milestone in her life. Like passing exams, a driving test, or getting her first job. Taking an auction would never seem so daunting again.
She came to lot forty-four. By now Lizzy felt confident enough to deviate a little from the script and emulate Nat by adding embellishments to the item descriptions to whet her audience’s appetite. “This is a charming oil painting of two greyhounds standing on the garden steps at Trebarwen House itself. I think you’ll agree that the quality of this oil is so wonderful and of such vibrancy that it might have been painted just yesterday. Who will start the bidding at five thousand pou
nds?”
Three hands shot into the air, and Lizzy faltered for the first time that afternoon. What was she supposed to do? Could she take bids from all three? It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Lizzy decided to give it a shot.
She tried to keep calm as she tracked the bids from each of the three audience members. But every time she asked for a higher bid, two paddles went up, and it was impossible to know whose had been first. The room was confused as to who was leading. Lizzy was confused as to who was leading, though she seemed to have gotten to eleven grand.
From the side of the stage, Nat gestured wildly, slashing his flattened hand across his throat in the gesture that could only mean “cut.” Lizzy ignored him for a while. The three people in the room were all bidding wildly, and the price was rising higher and higher. But then a fourth joined in and Lizzy panicked. Not knowing how to bring the room back to order, she brought down the hammer.
“I need to start again,” she said.
“For fuck’s sake,” said the dealer who had been leading.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’ve lost track. I think that he bid the same as you, and—”
“No, he bloody didn’t,” said the second dealer. “The picture was with me at twenty-five grand, and you brought the hammer down. I think you’ll find that’s a sale.”
Lizzy didn’t know what to do. Had she just inadvertently entered into a binding contract by bringing down the gavel? There was a deafening chorus of disapproval and jeering, and Lizzy just couldn’t recover herself, though she begged the crowd’s indulgence. They just weren’t going to cut her any slack. There was nothing for it. Nat strode onto the stage.
“I’m sorry, Ladies and Gentlemen. It seems that Lizzy’s beginner’s luck has run out.”
He gave her a pat on the back. Lizzy ran from the stage in tears.
Lizzy spent the rest of the day in the office, replaying the horror of her first time on the podium and shuddering at the memory.
“It’s okay,” said Nat. “We can’t all be great auctioneers. Some people have it and some people—”
“Don’t. I know. I don’t,” said Lizzy.
“Dry your tears,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. The sale brought in way more than we expected for such a bunch of old tat. You’re not going to get fired.”
Lizzy was worried about far more than that. Had seeing her make such a spectacular hash of her first auction made Nat fancy her less?
Well, it may have done, but the corresponding spike in testosterone that Nat got whenever he pulled off a great sale had more than made up for any diminishment Lizzy had suffered in his eyes. Nothing made him feel more like fucking than the applause of his audience—especially an audience of his peers—when he blasted through a high estimate. The last thing he wanted to do when he was on such a high was go home alone. And so Lizzy was thrilled to be invited to share some supper and a taxi. And even more delighted when, as usual, Nat suggested that she get out at his place.
As it turned out, it was a great way to end a terrible day. The sex that night was simply fabulous. Lizzy laughed with delight as Nat picked her up and carried her through to the bedroom without stopping to complain about his knee. He threw her onto the counterpane and jumped on top of her, kissing her wildly until she stopped giggling and responded with the proper passion he required.
Lizzy felt borne to the top of a wave by her desire and Nat’s all too obvious lust for her. Her body sang for Nat Wilde. In his arms she felt like the beautiful woman she’d always wanted to be. His kiss had the power to transform her from the dumpy girl who never quite felt at home in her skin into a siren. Lizzy had always found the thought of someone crying out as they came embarrassing, but when Nat Wilde made love to her, Lizzy wanted to shout.
As he thrust into her, she took hold of his buttocks, pulling him farther and farther in. She wanted every inch of him. Every bit of him she could get. Feeling him stiffen in the moment before he orgasmed, Lizzy felt quite incredibly powerful. She loved that he lost control before she did. It meant that she was irresistible to him, didn’t it? He couldn’t hold back because he wanted her so much. As he shuddered on top of her, the Trebarwen sale was all but forgotten.
That night he was so kind to her. As she lay in his arms in the delicious afterglow, she felt so protected, so secure. Nat had soothed away the pain of making such a hash of her first auction. He had restored her confidence with his desire for her, so that she felt sure that one day soon she would get up on that podium again. Nestling with her head on his chest, Lizzy felt so close to him. It was time to tell him the truth, she decided. That she had been a virgin when he’d first made love to her.
“Nat,” she murmured close to his ear.
“Mmmmm?” he responded dreamily.
“There’s something I’ve got to tell you,” she continued in a whisper. “About the first time that you and I made love. The thing is, Nat. I know you’re going to think this is silly. You may not even believe me. But the first time that you and I … well …”
She paused. Seconds away from revealing the truth. But the dramatic silence was interrupted by a snore. Nat Wilde was asleep.
CHAPTER 14
That same day, Julian Trebarwen was in Cornwall. He received the detailed results of the Ludbrook’s sale via email.
“Well,” said Julian when he called his brother, Mark, who was in Singapore again. “I hope you’ve got the champagne on ice. Nat Wilde sold everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yep, absolutely everything, from that hideous credenza to our mother’s fake pearl earrings.”
“Fantastic.”
“I think you’ll be pleased with the figure.” Julian recited the digits.
“What? That’s incredible!” It was far more than either of them had expected.
“I know. But there were obviously some good lots in there. Apparently those nasty gold earrings in the shape of frogs were actually Cartier, which made a big difference. And can you believe that old painting of the greyhounds made twenty-five grand?”
“Old painting?” said Mark.
“Yeah. Can’t say I’d even noticed it before the funeral. It was hanging over the fireplace where that awful daub of you and I used to be. I think Mother must have brought it down from some room in the west wing to piss you off last time you were there for dinner.”
“Oh, it pissed me off all right,” said Mark. “But are you sure it went for twenty-five grand?”
“I’m quite sure. Incredible, eh?”
“Yes,” said Mark, “because it wasn’t an old picture at all. It was painted just this year.”
Julian was confused. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s true. Mother had her next-door neighbor paint her bloody rescue greyhounds.”
“What? Which neighbor?” Julian couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“The one with the tits and the hair.”
“You mean Serena?”
“She the brunette?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the one.”
“But … but. She didn’t tell me.”
“Mother told me the last time I saw her. Shortly before she told me that she wanted to skip a generation in her will and leave Dad’s Patek Philippe to my youngest. I assumed you knew.”
“I had no idea. And neither did Nat Wilde’s team. They attributed it to some Victorian. Follower of Stubbs.”
“Should we tell Wilde?” Mark asked.
“Mark, are you insane?”
“He’ll want to know.”
“Sure. But it’s too late. We’re talking about a painting that sold for twenty-five grand. It was one of the biggest lots in the sale.”
“But it was a fake.… It’s less than a year old.”
“And we didn’t say otherwise. We didn’t say anything about it at all. Nat Wilde’s the one who made the mistake. And the girl he sent down afterward should have spotted it was new. The way I see it, we’re in the clear. We’ve done nothi
ng wrong. I say we treat this as a little windfall and keep quiet.”
“Are you serious?”
“I need the cash.”
“Oh, sod it. You’re right,” said Mark, giving in quickly. “So do I. We’ll keep quiet. I’ve got school fees to pay. But bloody hell … twenty-five grand. Mother gave nearly that much of our inheritance to the dogs’ home anyway.”
“Fuck, yes. It’s our right to claw some back.”
“I’ve got to go,” said Mark. “Give the missus the good news.”
“Don’t tell her about the dogs. The fewer people who hear about this the better.”
“She’s only interested in the money. Though she’ll probably blow the lot on some more bloody designer orthopedic shoes. I’ll call you tomorrow to talk about the house. I was thinking we could try to rent it while the market’s so flat.”
“Good for me,” said Julian.
“Twenty-five grand for those dogs. Un-bloody-believable.” Mark whistled through his teeth.
Unbelievable indeed. When the conversation ended, Julian paced the empty room, an unlit cigarette between his lips. He’d been trying to give it up for a long time but he’d found that having a fag in his mouth helped him to think, and right then he was having some particularly interesting thoughts.
He grabbed his coat and went next door.
CHAPTER 15
Julian hadn’t told Serena he was going to be in Cornwall that week, so she was a little shocked but pleased, he fancied, to see him when he rang her doorbell at ten to ten.
“I’ve got something really important to talk to you about.”
Serena put her hand to her throat in surprise.
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