by Mark Daydy
“You don’t only see them like that, do you? As investments?”
Nick broke into a smile. “Of course not. I love the stories around antiques. I was just assuming your aunt needed the funds. Yes, they’re an investment, but it’s more important than that. Sometimes, as in your case, they’re good companions.”
Lucy liked that.
“Is Ned in good shape?” Nick asked.
“Not too bad considering he lives in a garage with a sheet over him.”
“Poor old Ned. Having an expert take a look might be a good idea. A little work could add a lot of value. I could give you the name of someone who knows their stuff.”
“Thanks. He’s been in our family since my mum was a little girl.”
“Would she be interested in buying him?”
“No, she died a long time ago.”
“Ah. Sorry.”
“There’s no need to be,” said Lucy. “Getting back to Libby’s problem though… I know we said we’d meet at half-two, but here we are. Would you be interested in coming to see Billy Brown’s place in Chichester? I know he might no longer be there, but it feels like a last chance to get a lead.”
17. The Dynamic Duo
Later that afternoon, Nick pulled into a parking space in Chichester. Naturally, they hadn’t spoken with Billy Brown over the phone. The whites of his eyes would be seen. Lies would be obvious. Hopefully.
Most of the drive had been Lucy recounting her admin days there. Nick had asked if she still had friends in the city, but this wasn’t something she wanted to explore. She didn’t like flying visits. Had she planned to come back to Sussex for good, then revisiting her little network might have had a point to it, but that wasn’t going to happen.
Getting out of the car, she thought about stopping by Terry Norton’s place before they left Chichester. He was only a few streets away. She quite fancied having Nick alongside when she picked up her watch and necklace.
Maybe she would.
But Nick stole the moment.
“Show me your sanctuary. I never spend enough time in Chichester and yet there’s history at every turn.”
Lucy was pleased. – especially when a planned ten-minute diversion turned into a full-blown expedition to the cathedral, inside and out, the old clock tower, the garden, and the secluded enclave of beautiful old dwellings behind the cathedral.
Eventually, they headed for Billy’s place in the pedestrian zone two hours later than planned. Lucy couldn’t help but glance in shop windows as they made their way through the Saturday crowds – not to view the goods on display but to see her reflection alongside Nick’s.
A short while later, they were outside a charity shop that sold everything from thimbles to secondhand furniture in aid of heart care.
“Ready?” said Nick.
“Ready.”
Inside, they approached a middle-aged man at the counter. Lucy noticed his name badge: Ross.
“Hello, is Billy around?” Nick asked.
“Billy?”
“Billy Brown,” said Lucy. “He’s an old friend.”
“There’s no Billy Brown here.”
Lucy frowned. “Maybe he’s called Bill then. Or William or Will or Willy?”
“An old friend, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry, I don’t know him.”
Lucy was deflated. It was an all too sudden arrival at the end of a strong lead.
“Our mistake,” said Nick. “Has this been a charity shop long?”
“Seven years or so.”
“I’m guessing we’ve missed Billy by that amount of time then. Do you know what the premises was used for before the charity took over?”
“Sorry, no. Business services, maybe. You could try the landlord. I think they’ve owned the place a long time. They might know something.”
Fifteen minutes later, Nick and Lucy were outside Charterhouse, an estate agent and property management outfit on the other side of Chichester. In the window, alongside photos of houses for sale and shops to let, a board explained that Charterhouse owned properties as well as managing, selling and letting properties for residential and commercial clients.
Inside, a young man in a sharp suit was quickly upon them.
“Hi, I’m Rob Greer. How can I help?”
Lucy decided to take the initiative.
“I’m Lucy Holt, this is Nick Taylor. We’re trying to locate a man called William Brown. He used to lease one of your properties not far from here. It’s a charity shop now, but William might have used it for something else – business services, possibly. He also might have been known to you as Billy or some other variant.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t give out confidential information. Data protection and all that. Is it urgent?”
“Not as such,” said Lucy. “Billy or Willy or William may have had dealings with my uncle, Eddie Cole, many years ago. There are some loose ends we need to tie up.”
She gave him the charity shop address and Rob nodded.
“I’ll have a look at our records. Do take a seat.”
Lucy and Nick did so while Rob disappeared into a back office.
“Do you ever watch those TV detective shows?” Lucy asked.
“Sometimes, yes,” said Nick. “Do you feel like you’re in one?”
“No, not really. It’s a bit strange visiting people and asking them questions though.”
“Yes, it is. Columbo’s good. He always gets under the bad guy’s skin. I quite like the old re-runs.”
“You’re an antiques dealer. It’s obvious you’d prefer old TV shows.”
“Yep, Cagney and Lacey, Starsky and Hutch… and Batman and Robin, the Dynamic Duo.”
“We’d be Taylor and Holt,” Lucy suggested.
“Yes, or Holt and Taylor. Do you think we’ll get a series?”
Lucy broke into a grin. “I hear Netflix is very popular.”
“I wonder who’ll they’ll get to play us?”
“That’s a tough one.”
Lucy’s phone pinged.
“A text from the District Attorney?” asked Nick.
Lucy checked her display.
“No – my home insurance is coming up for renewal.”
Rob reappeared.
“According to our records, Mr Brown moved out seven years ago. I tried the mobile number we have, but it’s disconnected. I do have an address, so if you want to give me anything for him, I’ll make sure it’s forwarded. Hopefully, he’s still at the address we have.”
Nick stood up.
“I’m an antiques dealer.” He handed Rob a business card. “Some years ago, Billy was involved in a transaction. It transpires the deal wasn’t straight and he’s owed money. If you could give me the address, my wife and I would like to get on with the rest of our weekend.”
A pulse shot up and down Lucy’s body.
Wife?
“Sorry,” said Rob, “but as I explained, client confidentiality prevents us from giving out any details.”
Lucy got up to stand beside her new husband. She was glowing.
“Thanks,” said Nick.
Outside, back among the Saturday shoppers, Nick paused.
“About us being husband and wife. It was just to make us look less threatening.”
“Oh well,” said Lucy, “it was a short marriage, but a happy one.”
“I’m wondering if we’re in the middle of a crime or not,” said Nick. “Have you ever been involved with criminals before?”
Lucy felt this was a good moment for some honesty.
“Only once. I nearly went to prison.”
“That’s a joke, right?”
Fear welled up and washed away all Lucy’s confidence.
“Yes, it was a joke. It never happened. I’m from an upstanding family, Nick… and I’m sorry for dragging you out here. I thought we were going to chat with someone about a silver chalice.”
“It’s okay. I do have a business to run though.”
; “I know. I’m grateful for your time.”
They began walking and Lucy calmed a little.
“I’m pleased I came to Sussex,” she said. “Even if this doesn’t work out, I’ve learned something about antiques.”
“I’m glad. Your earrings, by the way. They’re ten quid fakes.”
“What?” Lucy came to a halt feeling deflated. “How can you tell?”
Nick stopped and turned to face her.
“They’re gemstones. Peridot or garnet. Maybe even glass. When the light hits the stone, there’s a rainbow reflected in it.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“You wouldn’t get a rainbow with a real emerald. For future reference, the darker the green, the greater the value.”
“Obviously, I never knew. Otherwise I wouldn’t have handed over my debit card to Terry Norton. I hate being conned.”
“You weren’t conned. You were paying for information, not the earrings.”
“I know, but I still presumed the earrings would be okay.”
“You presumed too much.”
Lucy removed the offending items and thrust them into her pocket. She also abandoned her plan to stop at Terry’s to pick up her watch and necklace. She didn’t want to look an even bigger fool in front of Nick. She was back to square one without a lead. Yes, it was nice to be in Sussex, but it wasn’t her world. It hadn’t been in a long time.
18. The H. S. Factor
It was six-fifteen when Nick dropped Lucy at Libby’s. She would tell her aunt that the search wasn’t really getting anywhere and that it was time to go home. There was just one thing that had prevented her doing so by phone. She wanted to say farewell to Ned. Next time around, she might return to Sussex and find he’d been sold.
“Oh well, you tried,” said Libby on hearing Lucy’s final report.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more positive.”
“I’ll keep the chalice. It’s still a nice reminder of Eddie.”
“Exactly.”
“He was a good man.”
“Absolutely.”
“He was always doing things for other people. He had a good heart.”
Lucy cringed. It was a bad heart that had killed Eddie. She knew what her aunt meant though.
“A good man,” Lucy concurred. “The cup’s a fake, but so what? It’s not a crime.”
“That chap at the antiques shop seems trustworthy.”
My husband…?
“Yes, he is.”
“If I ever do sell it, I’ll sell it to him.”
“Ask for six hundred. I’m sure he’ll go to five-fifty.”
She realized she wouldn’t see him again. It hurt a little.
“Would you like some tea before you go?”
“No thanks, but would you mind if I said goodbye to Ned?”
“Of course not.”
A moment later, she was alone in the garage with her childhood companion.
“What did you get me into, Ned?”
She wondered about paying to have him restored. Libby couldn’t afford it, but she could. It seemed silly though if she had no plans to buy him and take him home to Barnet.
Adopting Nick’s professional approach to antiques, she gave Ned a good look all over, checking for chips and cracks. One thing she’d never noticed before was a divot on the inside rear left leg where it joined the rocker. On closer inspection, she could see that it wasn’t in fact damage. And then she realized that she did know this. Nearly forty years on from her period of ownership, she read the inscription.
H. S.
Of course… I’d forgotten.
She hurried back to the lounge to share her finding with Libby.
Her aunt shrugged. “I don’t recall it. Is it important?”
“It might be.”
She wondered if Nick would know. Could she call him about it?
Yes – I’m his wife.
She decided to google it first. It would be stupid to ask something that could be easily checked.
A few minutes later, having made no breakthrough online, she called him and relayed the details.
“They’re not initials I’m familiar with. It’s always best to talk to an expert. They’ll know more about the trade, the makers and dealers.”
“Thanks Nick, I might just do that.” There was nothing more to be said, and yet she wanted more. “You never said if you had any antiques when you were young.”
“No… no, not really. I mentioned my parents’ pub, didn’t I? We had an old upright piano that had that jangly sound only the old ones make. I used to polish it and it always came up a treat. That pub used to smell of polish. Well, polish, beer and tobacco.”
“Ah memories. And how about now? I expect your flat has some nice pieces.”
“Yes, a few.”
She wondered if he slept dressed like Scrooge. It made her smile. Before this trip, she hadn’t smiled much – apart from at work on the reception desk.
“Thanks for your help, Nick.”
“No problem. I’ll ask around about the horse. And about Billy Brown too. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
They said their goodbyes and Lucy tried to make sense of it all. She wanted to spend more time with Nick, but there wasn’t a future for them. They lived in different worlds. She ignored the pleased little voice in her head that said leaving was correct because her relationships always ended badly.
Her gaze settled on Libby, sitting there quietly and patiently.
“He said it’s best to ask a rocking horse expert.”
“Oh, I don’t really want to go to any expense.”
“No, of course not.”
“Well, I don’t suppose there’s anything left to keep you in Sussex now?”
“No, there isn’t.”
Libby’s truth was absolute. The reasons for being in Sussex had come to an end.
She strode up and down the lounge carpet, feeling as if she should be on some mad escapade. It was as if something had begun to awaken in her and was now being forced back into shutdown. She didn’t want this to end and yet it was. The reception desk could wait a few days, and yet it couldn’t. She was on an adventure and yet the adventure was already over. It was like being a child again on a summer’s evening when killjoy parents call bedtime even though the sun is still shining.
Her phone rang.
It was her daughter.
“Victoria, before you ask – I’m still in Sussex.”
“How’s it going? Have you sorted out the fake silver thingy yet?”
“Not quite. It’s complicated. I was thinking of switching to a horse mystery, but…”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s an old rocking horse. Victorian. He used to be mine. I was thinking of looking into his origins, but I can’t.”
“This isn’t like you at all. Why are you really there?”
“Everything I thought I knew… it’s not so clear. Getting to the bottom of Libby’s fake cup isn’t likely, so logically I’ll head home now.”
“I thought your cousin was helping you?”
“Jane? Yes, she is. Was.”
“From what I remember, she was always the can-do type. Why don’t you call her and go for a glass of wine? Go over what you know. Make a new plan.”
“We tried that.”
“Well, try again. It’s like those TV detective shows, Mum.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. You just need a new angle, a new lead.”
“No, I’m completely out of ideas.”
“It’ll come to you. Just be ready.”
“No, work calls. I’ll speak to you when I get home.”
They said their goodbyes and Lucy ended the call. She could hear Libby in the kitchen, clinking and clanking… and talking – on the phone, obviously.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter what motivations were at work. The chalice mystery might never be resolved and seeing Ned’s origins through to some sort
of conclusion was fanciful.
She looked at the phone in her hand. A moment later she was looking at the photo of seven-year-old Lucy on Ned.
Hand on heart, she couldn’t say she’d done a great job. If anything had let that little girl down, it had to be timidity and poor judgment. Lucy’s life had been one of holding back and holding off, only to suddenly rush into something and regret it.
She wondered if she’d always live that life.
She gazed back at her younger self.
“I’ve let you down too many times. I’m sorry… I truly am.”
Libby came in.
“Are you off soon? You’re welcome to stay to dinner.”
Lucy checked the clock. Getting to the hotel and then back to the station would be a faff. And it would mean arriving in London after dark, which she preferred to avoid.
“Thanks. I’ll eat here then go back to the hotel. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be off first thing.”
“Lovely. Eleanor will be pleased.”
“Eleanor?”
“She’s on her way over to join us.”
Lucy tried to picture it. Over dinner, Eleanor would discuss her upcoming duties in the greatest possible detail. Then she would regale them with the shortcomings of everyone she knew.
Lucy decided on a course of action. She would enjoy her meal and then return to her hotel as early as possible. That way, she might avoid committing auntie-cide.
19. Sunday Morning
Just before nine, having had breakfast, Lucy was packing the last of her things into her travel bag. Each little noise filled the room, amplifying her disappointment. She was going home, and it didn’t feel right.
She wondered – would going to Taylor’s Antiques be a nuisance? Nick opened on Sunday mornings, so she could simply pop in to buy something to take back with her. Okay, so he wasn’t looking for a heavy relationship. Would a light one work? She could travel down for… for what?
A glance at her watch told her she still had two hours until check-out time. She could call for a taxi to the station in Camley right away… or take a walk to clear her mind.
Outside, the sun was rising in a clear sky. It would be another glorious September day in Sussex.
