by Debbie Rix
The stark contrast of the blue subject matter against a flawless white background draws the viewer to the piece.
The subject painted on the jar is a dragon with large teeth and claws; he dominates and controls the jar, as if the creator was trying to tell a story.
Also on the jar is the reign mark of the Emperor Xuande.
* * *
‘Oh my God’, said Jeremy. ‘Where did you find that?’
‘It’s an online catalogue for an auction happening in Hong Kong in twelve days’ time,’ said Georgie.
‘You are brilliant,’ said Jeremy. ‘Are we sure it’s the same vase?’
‘Well, the two pictures are identical,’ said Miranda.
Georgie pulled up the two images side by side on the laptop.
‘Bloody hell. What a bastard,’ said Jeremy. ‘It’s bloody Ming! Do you have any idea what that means?’
‘Not really,’ said Miranda honestly. ‘But the point is, Jeremy, how do I prove that it’s mine? I mean, he paid me for it. He bought it. All right, so he duped me. But is that illegal?’
‘You didn’t cash the cheque and you didn’t get a receipt. Surely, he would have to prove that he’d bought the item before he could offer it for sale. Otherwise it might be nicked? No reputable auctioneer like Anstruthers would take a piece like that knowing it was stolen.’
‘Unless they knew it was worth a fortune and their share was going to be a fortune too,’ said Miranda gloomily.
‘Cynical,’ said Jeremy. ‘No, I don’t believe that. Now, first things first. We have to approach this very analytically.’
Georgie and Miranda stared at him expectantly.
‘Now, the first thing we have to do is to prove that you were, and hopefully still are, the rightful owner. And the only way of doing that is to contact that solicitor in Cirencester who dealt with your Great Aunt Celia’s bequest. Miranda, you’d better give them a call. They won’t want to speak to me. Secondly, we need an expert on our side. Someone who knows everything there is to know about Ming China. I’ll do some research there and come up with a couple of names. We’re going to have to have our wits about us if we are to catch Charlie out. The good news is that we already know what his game is. The thing is… Is he still in the country and is the vase still here too? It would be easier to get it back if it’s still in the UK, obviously.’
‘How will we find that out?’ asked Miranda.
‘Mum,’ said Georgie excitedly. ‘Didn’t you get his address when you took that cheque from him?’
‘Yes, I did. God knows what I did with it. I had it on a piece of paper somewhere.’
‘Didn’t you put it in your phone when you were going out with him?’
‘No, I kept meaning to but I just never got round to it. And he never took me there or invited me there. We sort of existed here. His life at that house had nothing to do with me. Does that make sense?’
‘Yes, it does. But either way, we need to find that address,’ said Jeremy hurriedly.
‘It was the The Manor, somewhere… Hampshire.’
‘The “somewhere” being the crucial detail, darling,’ said Jeremy, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. ‘G, could you go and ransack your mother’s room until you’ve found it? Miranda, you need to get on the phone to that solicitor. You’ve got his details somewhere, I presume?’
‘Ye-es,’ said Miranda uncertainly. ‘I suspect his letter is still in my filing tray on the dresser. G, have a look, will you?’
The letter was duly found at the bottom of the tray, and as Jeremy filled the kettle, Miranda dialled the number.
‘Hello, could I speak to the person who handled the estate of Mrs Celia Drake, please?’
There was a long pause before a man came onto the line.
‘Hello, I am Charles Martin; I dealt with that particular estate. To whom am I speaking, please?’
Miranda went on to explain her circumstances. ‘So, to sum up really, my great aunt left me several items in her will. I have your letter, which indicates that I was left some bits and pieces – “a variety of items that I might find either useful or aesthetically pleasing” – that is how you, or she, put it in the letter. But there was no actual list of the items. I do know what she left me, obviously – dishes, a quilt and so on. But, and here’s the thing, I was left a vase – a blue and white Chinese vase. Someone recently persuaded me to part with it and rather recklessly I did. It turns out to have been rather valuable – Ming, in fact. I just wondered if you had any other details from the bequest that indicate precisely what my great aunt left me so that I can prove that the vase is legitimately mine. And any other information about it would be hugely useful – a valuation, perhaps, or how she had come upon it?’
‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ tutted the solicitor, ‘Ming you say? Very valuable, then. I shall search the records and get back to you.’
Miranda put down the phone. ‘It doesn’t sound hopeful,’ she said. ‘Anyway, he said he’d get back to me. But I wish I could go down there really and meet him. Have a rummage through those records of his.’
‘Found it!’ shouted Georgina from upstairs. She came thundering down to the kitchen.
‘Here,’ she said breathlessly, putting the scrap of paper on the table. ‘Here’s the love-rat thief’s address – you’d written it on a post-it and stuck it in your diary.’
‘Oh, well done, G,’ said Miranda. ‘How did you think of looking there?’
‘Instinct,’ said Georgie.
‘Right,’ said Jeremy. ‘Don’t just sit there, look it up on the net.’
They typed in “The Manor, Chattleton, Hants” and pressed “Search”.
The first Google entry appeared to be an advert from a letting agency for the house. Miranda clicked on it. The advert was six months old. She found a Google map of the house and clicked on “street view”. The house was a large Georgian manor set in several acres of grounds. ‘God, I can’t believe I never did this before. I could have been stalking him all this time. This is a seriously beautiful house.’
Jeremy leaned in over her shoulder and peered at the laptop. ‘Phew, it is, isn’t it?’
‘No phone number, but I could call the letting agency.’
‘Go on then,’ said Jeremy.
She dialled the number.
‘Hello, Hemming and Partners.’
‘Oh, good morning. I wonder if you could help me. I’m interested in a property on your books – the Manor, Chattleton, Hampshire. I wondered if it was still available to let?’
‘Let me just check. I’m afraid that property has already been let.’
‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Miranda, ‘I’m very interested. I don’t suppose you know when the lease might be up for renewal, or if the present tenants are staying on?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not allowed to give out any information about the present tenants, but I do believe the lease is coming up shortly.’
‘Do you think you could keep me on file and let me know if and when it comes up, just in case the present tenants don’t want to renew?’
Her details were duly noted, and Miranda hung up.
‘That’s quite a house isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I mean, if he lives somewhere like that, he can’t be short of a few quid.’
‘First impressions can be deceptive,’ said Jeremy darkly.
‘Mmm…’ said Miranda. ‘Rather a large house to live in by yourself, isn’t it? Not really a bachelor pad.’
‘Oh Miranda,’ said Jeremy. ‘You think there might be someone living there with him?’
‘Well, it’s got to be a possibility, hasn’t it?’
‘Darling, you don’t want to think about that.’
‘Don’t I? Maybe it’s what I do need to think about. Maybe the love-rat is actually a two-timing love-rat or a married love-rat. I’ve had one of those before, so I’m familiar with the species. Look, you two, how do you fancy a bit of a day out?’
‘Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?’ asked Jeremy.
‘Let’s visit Hampshire and see if we can track him down at the house. Maybe we could drive on to the solicitors afterwards. They’re not that far away – just an hour or so cross-country. What do you think?’
Jeremy exchanged a worried glance with Georgie.
‘Mum, do you really think this is such a good idea? You’ve been so upset and I don’t want you to be really hurt. You’ve no idea what you’ll find if we go down there.’
‘No, it’s fine. I’m actually feeling much better today. I was very fond of him, maybe beginning to fall in love with him, but now that I know what his real motive was, all that’s just evaporated really. And if there’s a chance that we can track him down and retrieve the vase, we’ve got to take it. I’m not going to let that bastard steal my vase. Whatever we find at that house – a wife and six kids, a harem – I can handle it. So, are you coming? If you’d rather stay here, I understand. I know you’ve got schoolwork and stuff before the start of term.’
‘Are you kidding? No way! Yes, I’m coming.’
Miranda called the solicitor back and arranged an appointment for later that afternoon to discuss Celia’s bequest. Armed with his address, they locked up the house and set off in the Volvo.
The drive to Hampshire took just over an hour. During their journey, Jeremy called three of the porcelain experts and emailed them the image of the vase in the catalogue, plus Miranda’s own picture of the vase on her phone. ‘I think you’ll agree that they appear to be identical. If you could give us some idea of valuation, it would be so helpful,’ he explained. They promised to call back as soon as possible.
The M3 flowed smoothly and they took the turning towards Winchester. The A road turned into a smaller winding lane, which cut sharply through a deep, green valley lined with ancient woods and the occasional small red-brick village or hamlet. It struck Miranda with a certain irony that her first visit to her ‘boyfriend’s’ house was being conducted in such strange circumstances. Had he not disappeared, perhaps she and Georgie might have been driving down here to spend a long weekend with Charlie. But as it was she felt like a stalker or a second-rate detective.
Georgie had taken charge of directions from the back seat. ‘We should be there any time soon,’ she said.
‘Well done, G. I had no idea you could read a map,’ said her mother proudly.
‘Actually, Ma, I’m using the sat nav on my phone.’
* * *
The red brick mansion stood at the end of a long drive, set well back from the road. The entrance was through a pair of impressive metal gates hung on tall brick pillars topped rather incongruously – given that this was Hampshire and not the African veldt – by a pair of stone sleeping lions.
‘Gosh, it looks even more magnificent in real life, doesn’t it?’ said Miranda, parking the Volvo a little further along in a small lay-by. The house and its grounds were surrounded by tall brick walls; they followed them back towards the gates and peered through, up the drive, hoping not to be seen. There was a brand new VW off-roader parked outside the house. Next to it stood an old Peugeot and a Land Rover. There was no sign of the Audi.
‘Looks like someone’s home,’ said Jeremy. There was an intercom on one of the brick pillars and before Miranda could stop him, he had pressed the button.
‘Hello,’ said a disembodied woman’s voice.
Miranda’s heart sank.
‘Hello,’ said Jeremy. ‘I wonder if I could have a word with Charles?’
‘Charles?’ said the voice. ‘Are you a friend of his?’
‘Yes, in a way. I’ve done some business with him in the past, and have something I’d like to show him. I happened to be passing and thought I’d see if he was interested.’
‘Well, you’ve had a wasted journey,’ said the voice.
‘Oh dear,’ said Jeremy. ‘Is he not here?’
‘No, he bloody well isn’t.’
‘I wonder,’ said Jeremy, ‘whether I might just come up to the house and perhaps I could show you the thing I was going to offer him; it’s rather rare and beautiful.’
Miranda gesticulated at Jeremy, and mouthed: ‘what are you doing? What thing?’
Much to her horror, the voice answered: ‘OK. I’ll buzz you in.’
The three walked up the long drive and knocked on the glossy black front door.
It was opened by a dark-haired young woman. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed and she looked pale and tense. ‘Hello, I’m Callie. Do come in.’
She led them through to the kitchen at the back of the house. Miranda took in the sleek oak cabinets and marble worktops. There were tall French windows that looked out onto an impressive terrace, filled with teak furniture, which overlooked extensive grounds beyond. She glimpsed a tennis court and a swimming pool.
‘Lovely house,’ she found herself saying.
‘Yes, it is. I won’t be here much longer.’
A man wandered into the kitchen. He was much older than the woman, and wore tortoiseshell spectacles and a cashmere sweater.
‘Callie – is everything OK?’
‘Yes, Daddy – these people know Charles. They have something to show me.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll go back to the sitting room. Call me if you need me.’
‘Do sit down,’ she said, and gestured towards the large glass dining table. ‘Coffee?’
Jeremy was on the verge of saying ‘yes’, but Miranda intervened. ‘No, no thanks – it’s all right. We don’t want to take up much of your time.’ She had a sudden sense of sympathy for this wan girl, her dark hair scraped messily back from her face.
‘So what do you want to show me?’
Jeremy took Miranda’s phone out of her hand and found the picture of the vase. ‘This,’ he said.
‘What is it?’ she replied.
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Why should I?’
‘It’s a Chinese vase – precise date unknown. Charles took it from Miranda here, just before Christmas. We wondered if the vase, and perhaps he, were here? Miranda rather wants it back, you see.’
‘I see,’ said the girl, gazing distractedly at the picture of the vase. ‘Well, I’m afraid I can’t really help you. The vase is certainly not here. You can search the house if you want to. And as for Charles, I’m afraid I’ve not seen him since about a week before Christmas myself. He was due back here on the 24th of December, but he never showed up.’
‘I thought he was going to Devon for Christmas,’ interjected Miranda.
‘Devon!’ said the girl. ‘Why Devon?’
‘Where his parents live,’ said Miranda
‘His parents! His parents are dead. And as far as I know, Charlie has never even been to Devon. Look, I don’t who you are, or what you’re doing here, but I think I should tell you something. Charles and I are engaged to be married, or at least we were. I don’t actually know where he is. As I said, he was due back on Christmas Eve. I arrived here from London, and there was no sign of him. I’ve not seen or heard from him since. I’ve told the police but they say there’s nothing they can do. I was scared something had happened to him, you see? But he appears to have just disappeared. His phone is dead and I simply can’t get hold of him. Frankly, it’s a mystery and if I’m honest, a total nightmare.’ Her large blue eyes filled with tears.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Miranda. ‘You poor thing.’ She instinctively got up and went round the table and put her arms round the girl.
‘The thing is,’ said the girl between sobs, ‘I don’t know whether to hate him or be worried about him. It’s all just such a complete mess.’
‘Can I ask you something?’ said Miranda as the three stood in the hallway preparing to leave. ‘Has Charles taken his passport?’
‘His passport? I suspect so, why?’
‘I just wondered if maybe he’d gone abroad?’
‘It’s a distinct possibility. He certainly took a bag of clothes with him.’
‘Do you have any way of checking?’
pushed Miranda.
‘Why do you care so much?’ asked Callie tetchily.
‘Because he has something of mine that I’d really like to get back.’
‘Do you mean he stole this vase of yours?’
‘In a way – he convinced me to get rid of it when I wasn’t really interested in selling.’
‘He is certainly very persuasive,’ said Callie. ‘Look, let me check his desk, that’s where he kept passports and things.’
The three followed her into the study and she opened the desk drawer.
‘That’s odd,’ she said. ‘The box where he kept his passport is open. He always locked it – he said to stop burglars – although I did wonder what he kept in there. There’s no passport and no cash either…’
‘So… Do you think he’s planning a foreign trip?’ said Jeremy.
‘Yup! It certainly looks that way,’ said the girl, slamming the desk drawer shut.
‘If there’s nothing else?’ said Callie.
‘No, and thank you,’ said Miranda hurriedly. ‘You’ve been very kind. I’m so sorry to have turned up at such an awkward time.’
‘That’s OK. And I hope you find your vase.’
She led them once again to the front door.
Miranda handed her a slip of paper. ‘This is my name and phone number; should he turn up, could you call me?’
‘It will be the first thing I do, I assure you,’ Callie said sarcastically.
As they retreated down the stone steps of the house, she called out, ‘And if you see the bastard before I do, tell him Callie sends her love.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cirencester, 2nd January 2016
Miranda pulled her Volvo into the car park behind Cirencester High Street. She bought a ticket and stuck it to the windscreen.
‘Come on, you two, we’ve only got five minutes to spare before our appointment.’
Jeremy, Miranda and Georgie filed out of the Sheep Street car park and on to Castle Street. They turned left just before the magnificent parish church into Gosditch Street. The solicitor’s offices were a short way down on the right-hand side.
