by Sam Blake
He looked at it and looked up at her, rolling his eyes. ‘I did give you a teapot you know …’
Lily suddenly realised what she’d done and opened the drawer beside her to give him a spoon to fish the teabag out. ‘Sorry. And I’m not using an antique Minton teapot for your tea, Jack Power.’ She gave him a wide-eyed look.
Jack grinned back at her cheekily. Then his face became more serious. ‘I’m still not sure it was a good idea to give her those amulets. Does she have any idea what they’re worth? If we sold those we could probably buy another shop.’
Lily shook her head impatiently, her long silver earrings tangling with the wisps of hair that had come out of her ponytail. ‘No, Jack. We don’t want any shop. We want our own shop and everything that goes with that.’
He grimaced again, rubbed his face with his hand. ‘You’re right. Of course you’re right.’
‘Women are always right; I keep telling you.’ She leaned across the table and ruffled his hair. ‘It’ll be fine – we just have to sit tight. Now, beans on toast for lunch or scrambled egg?’
Turning back to the counter to prepare their lunch, Lily pushed her glasses up her nose and sighed quietly. She couldn’t tell Jack anything about Vittoria. She really did hate lying to him, but it was vital nobody ever knew about their deal.
They had to remain strangers. That was the beauty of the whole thing. She’d been deliberately vague, hadn’t even told Jack Vittoria’s name. Particularly hadn’t told him her name.
Now she had the amulets, Lily was quite sure Vittoria would be able to sort out Croxley, to get the keys back and destroy that note Jack had signed, and then they’d all be able to get on with their lives. Like Jack said, the amulets had to be worth a fortune – they had some in the British Museum. She could see why Croxley had gone to such incredible lengths to get them back, but that also meant that the people he was getting them for wanted them very badly and weren’t the sort to take no for an answer. Which was worrying Lily a lot. Did Vittoria know what she was doing? Was she playing with fire?
Perhaps they both were.
Lily knew she’d find out soon enough. There had been a postcard on the doormat when she’d come back in from the workshop earlier, a London tourist card with pigeons on the front. On the reverse it had just said Hello, Lily! Having a fabulous time. Russell Square Friday 4 p.m.? There was no postmark over the stamp.
Russell Square had a beautiful little park in the middle. Surrounded by high railings, it was presided over by a statue of Lord Bedford and was one of the many little oases of calm in the city.
Lily guessed that Vittoria meant to meet her there.
She glanced over at Jack as she opened the fridge to look for eggs. He was sitting, staring morosely at his phone, but she could see from his face and the speed he was scrolling that he wasn’t reading anything or taking it in. She knew how sick he felt about the whole card-game thing, and finding the amulets wasn’t actually making it any easier. Croxley’s involvement with something that was so obviously stolen or being traded on the black market made this even more scary.
Lily just hoped Vittoria had some news for her this afternoon. She wondered if Croxley would give up the keys to the shop even if she did give him back the amulets, but Lily was sure Vittoria could be persuasive. She was a psychologist, after all, understood how people’s minds worked, how to press their buttons.
And so far everything had gone smoothly. Lots of things were actually working out quite well. Perhaps there was a karma rebalancing thing going on?
Emma had got her promotion at the Inquirer after landing the photos, and today she was meeting Bellissima Serata to do a multi-page exposé on her life. After the publicity the pictures had generated, Bellissima had been snapped up in a huge publishing deal by a publisher who had paid the earth for some pop star’s memoir. Lily had even had a proper chat to Jack about playing cards, but he’d got such a fright the last time, she didn’t think he’d ever be tempted to play for more than half matchsticks ever again. It was the adrenaline he loved in a card game, using his skills to outwit the other players. And now she and Vittoria were using all their skills to outwit the other players in their own game.
She’d persuaded Jack to try chess for a bit instead.
Marcus Devine was the only one really suffering now, and Lily knew he was well overdue payback after everything he’d done. His recklessness had ruined Vittoria’s life when he crashed his car. But driving a vintage open-topped sports car too fast was pretty typical for a man like that. She could see why he’d become a pilot: it was the perfect job for him. Vittoria had told her that he’d learned to fly a private plane before he’d learned to drive; getting his commercial licence had been way easier than doing any real work in university. So while his school friends slogged through their degrees, he’d very quickly been on a very comfortable salary, living the film-star lifestyle. Flying had been more glamorous then, although Marcus Devine certainly made the most of it even now. From the press she’d read on him, Lily could see his arrogance shining through. How many other women did he have around the world? Stephanie Carson would be much better off without him. Women managed as single mothers, and Lily knew she’d be fine. The sooner she saw Marcus for what he really was, the better.
Stephanie had left a message on Lily’s phone about being a No. 42 ambassador. It had been a spur of the moment idea on Lily’s part, but actually, when she thought about it later, she realised that it might give Stephanie a bit of independence from Marcus Devine, and that couldn’t be a bad thing.
She just needed to make it into a real thing.
She’d emailed Marianne Omotoso about the idea of a British focus for the collection she’d be designing and she’d loved it, thank God, asking to see any designs she already had in progress. Getting Stephanie involved would be a natural extension. No. 42 had no end of top models and actresses wearing their jewellery. Lily just needed to work out how Stephanie could bring extra value to the brand and everything would fall into place. Their marketing budget had sounded incredible. When she’d been to New York for her chat they’d been talking about launching a new line in October, the conversation peppered with names she’d only seen in Vogue. She’d sat in awe listening. No. 42 obviously didn’t do anything quietly and they were talking about painting the whole Fifth Avenue store lilac and wrapping it in a giant crystal bow, releasing white homing pigeons to symbolise their message that women should have freedom to be themselves. Lily didn’t even know where you’d find five hundred white homing pigeons in New York City, and then one of the men in suits had suggested putting jewelled identity rings on them. She’d been speechless.
The toast popped and Lily tuned back into the kitchen. She needed to change the subject. ‘Marianne’s assistant has sent me a load of information about apartments in New York. They look amazing. Thank God they’re furnished.’
Jack glanced up from his phone. ‘I hope you’ll have room for guests. I’m happy to sleep on the sofa.’ He half-smiled, his hair flopping into his face. Lily looked at him. God, she’d miss him so much, and she could tell he’d miss her. With everything happening with the shop it was easy to put his dark mood down to that, but she knew he was worried about her going. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends, but they’d become so close after their dad had died. Their mum had been practically useless since the day she’d given birth. If it hadn’t been for their grandpa they would probably have ended up in care. Lily hadn’t even told her what had happened with the shop; she was sure they’d have it back before anyone needed to know.
Lily smiled at him. ‘How are you doing selling those books?’
‘What books? Oh, the ones that were in the box with the teapot? Good, actually. The guy who I thought would like The Essential Art of the Gentleman Printer loved the Virginia Woolf. He wants me to find a pile of first-edition Bloomsburyset novels. They sell at over a thousand pounds each so there should be a nice profit if I can get them at the right price. He’s got some printin
g press that Woolf used or one like it – I think he’s going to start a museum or something. His office is stuffed full of metal type. I’ve never seen so much.’
‘That’s great news.’
Jack nodded. ‘Gives me something to do. When will you hear from your friend?’
‘Soon, I hope, soon.’
Chapter 39
SITTING ON THE EDGE of her bed in The Hogarth Hotel, Vittoria ran through everything in her mind. Thursdays were always busy in The Lighthouse Bar so she’d reserved a table for lunch in The Orlando Brasserie, with its black and white tiled floor and glazed roof. She’d meet Croxley at the bar and then they could sit down and discuss business.
Marcus had found the paintings and needed Croxley to see them as soon as possible. He was flying into London for the day tomorrow and would be back in Dublin on Friday night. He’d sounded very upbeat on the phone, not at all worried now by the disciplinary hearing in the morning. ‘I really don’t think these paintings are worth much but they’ll certainly help. How did you find them?’
Vittoria had been in The Lighthouse Bar when the phone had rung. ‘I needed a vase for that massive bunch of flowers the office sent after the break-in. I suddenly remembered your mother had had a huge one. It seemed silly to buy one, so I went up to have a look. I found the vase right in the back corner of the attic, and when I turned around I saw the corners of the pictures sticking out from behind a pile of suitcases. They were filthy – goodness only knows how long they’d been there. I moved them to nearer the hatch and was going to bring them down when I’d sorted out the flowers but then the phone rang – Yana was having a crisis – and I forgot about them.’ She paused. ‘We’ve never had a proper look in that attic – there could be all sorts of stuff up there.’
‘I reckon my mother must have stuck them up there.’
‘That’s what I thought. I only glanced at them but that black and white one is hideous. Not her taste at all.’
‘I’ve dug out some of the others that Mum wasn’t keen on, so we’ve quite a collection for your art man. With a bit of luck, he’ll be able to raise enough to fight this case and then we can all get on with our lives.’
‘Great, I’m seeing him today – I’ll make the arrangements. Did you hear from the insurance company yet?’
Marcus grunted. ‘There was a letter here when I got home, and I’ve got the camera people coming. I don’t know why you want them inside the pool house – it’s not a requirement for the insurance.’
Vittoria cleared her throat. ‘I told you, I just want to be able to check everywhere before I go to bed. After the last time, I realised he could have been hiding down there the whole day and I wouldn’t have known.’ She hesitated. ‘Actually, you should put those new paintings down in the pool house, just to be on the safe side. If we did get broken into again nobody is going to look there for art. With the extra cameras it will be easy to keep an eye on it, and it’s very secure.’
‘Good point. I’ll do that. The camera people reckon they’ll have everything wired up in a few hours. When are you back?’
‘I’m not sure. There’s a lecture at the Royal Academy I’d love to go to on Saturday while I’m here. I’ve been so tied up with Yana I haven’t even done any shopping.’
‘She seems very demanding these days.’
‘She’s one of my key clients, Marcus. Her position brings me in no end of business and she pays very well – she seems to have limitless cash. I need to be available for her or she could go elsewhere.’
His response was grudging. ‘Grand, I’ll call you on Friday after the hearing.’
Vittoria pursed her lips. Everything was falling into place.
After her conversation with Marcus she’d come upstairs to get changed for lunch and to switch on her laptop: she had lots to check. Years ago she’d read an article by an eminent historian who felt that one of the major causes of the First World War had been railway timetables. It had sounded so odd that it had stuck in her head, but in fact, when she’d researched it, the historian had demonstrated that the timetabling had to do with the mobilisation of arms. And the increased threat from the change in timetabling had resulted in the German invasion of Belgium.
Attention to detail was everything.
On the bedside locker, a postcard was lying beside the hotel phone – she’d found it slipped into the pages of the Hitchcock book. The illustration was from Alice in Wonderland, with a quotation below it: ‘Sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.’ She smiled to herself.
Today was all about making the impossible happen, perfectly.
*
As the lift doors closed behind her and Vittoria headed down the corridor to the bar, she could see Croxley was already waiting for her. He was sitting on one of the stools, one leg folded over the other, apparently nonchalantly, but she could see from the way his foot was tapping in the air that he was nervous. She smiled. She held all the cards now.
‘Edward, lovely to see you. Why don’t we go through? I’ve a table booked for lunch.’ Vittoria’s voice was slightly louder than normal and several people turned to look at them.
‘Of course.’ Then as they were walking towards the doors of the restaurant Croxley leaned in to her. ‘Is it a little public?’
Vittoria smiled reassuringly. ‘It’ll be fine, and they do the most wonderful risotto. I don’t normally let myself but Marcus called earlier with some news, so I think we can celebrate a little.’
Their orders placed, Vittoria sat forward in her chair, nursing a glass of white wine. The restaurant was filling up, the noise level rising.
‘Marcus is very much looking forward to seeing you. He’s got several paintings that came from the same source as the one you’re already handling. I’m keeping that as a surprise, so don’t mention it when you meet him.’ She paused. ‘He’s had a bit of bother with the press recently – the Sunday Inquirer ran some photos last weekend with him and some Italian escort …’ On the table beside them, the woman’s eyebrows shot up. That was the thing about this restaurant – the tables were all so close together that if you were a tiny bit too loud the next table could hear everything. And Vittoria wanted them to. ‘The photos have caused an issue with TransGlobal Airways. He’s one of their lead pilots – sorry, I can’t remember if I told you that? So anyway, he has to sort it all out and it’s very likely everyone’s going to end up in court.’
Croxley raised his eyebrows. ‘That sounds expensive.’
‘Exactly, which is why he wants to sell some of these paintings. The Devine Collection really is extensive. The ones we discovered recently seem to be a very random bunch. Some Art Deco and one that looks Renaissance. But I’m not an expert at all.’
‘You don’t have to worry about that – I am.’
Vittoria smiled. ‘Precisely.’ The waiter arrived with their orders as she continued. ‘And while you’re there I’d love you to look at the pool house – there’s a huge wall down by the changing rooms that really needs something on it – maybe a mosaic? I’m hoping you can source something but you’ll need to take measurements.’ She bent down to her handbag and pulled out a pen and paper to draw a diagram for him. It only took her a second to sketch it.
‘See, this is the house and this is the pool?’ She glanced at him to see if he was paying attention as she went on. ‘The changing rooms are at the back. There’s a phone here.’ She tapped the paper with the point of her biro. ‘That’s the wall I want the mosaic on. Or maybe a huge painting? I’m not sure. Once you’ve seen it you can give me some ideas.’
Edward’s face creased in a frown. He glanced anxiously across to the women on the next table as he flipped open his napkin, his voice lowered as he spoke. ‘That sounds fine. And on the other matter?’
‘I’ll give you very precise instructions. Get a taxi from the airport. But I’m sure it will all go very smoothly.’ Vittoria picked up her fork. ‘The new pictures are very sought after from what I can ga
ther. Presumably you’ll need to bring them back to London with you?’
Croxley nodded. ‘I’ll need to get them checked here but that letter you showed me speaks volumes in terms of provenance. I don’t imagine there will be any difficulty at all with the buyers I have in mind.’
‘That’s perfect. Now, I need to give you this.’ Vittoria reached down to her handbag and produced a tiny antique jewellery box. It was navy leather and had a brass button to flip open the lid. She passed it to Croxley. Nestled on a blue velvet base, their intense yellow colour reflected by the white satin, were three amulets. He raised his eyebrows.
‘You’ll have the fourth when you get back from Dublin as we discussed. Now do you have anything for me?’
Reaching inside his jacket pocket, Croxley handed her a scruffy piece of notepaper. Scrawled across it in fountain pen was Jack’s note, the witnesses’ signatures below his. Croxley slipped his hand into his side pocket and produce a heavy bunch of keys.
Vittoria smiled at him. ‘Perfetto. Marcus is very much looking forward to meeting you.’
Edward Croxley was going to help her in more ways than Marcus could possibly imagine.
Chapter 40
ALOUD BUZZ made Marcus Devine look up sharply. Very few people called to the house except by prior appointment. He’d been so busy researching the paintings he’d found after his conversation with Vittoria, he’d totally forgotten about the CCTV camera installation people. He reached to depress the gate button and glanced at the clock – it was already 2 p.m. He had no idea where time was going today. He’d been late getting to the solicitor’s, apparently – their stupid girl must have written his appointment down for the wrong time – so the meeting had been very rushed. He’d signed all the documents to transfer the house into Vittoria’s name – there was no need for her to know anything about that just yet – and got the papers for the boat organised for Aidan. He still wasn’t completely sure about signing the house over to Vittoria, but Aidan had made a good point. It felt a bit rash when it was unlikely that their marriage would survive everything the Sunday Inquirer was likely to throw at him, but whatever chance he had of negotiating with her, he’d definitely lose the house if he lost the case and ended up bankrupt. Being prepared was half the battle.
