A French Affair (5 page)

‘Obviously you’ll only take me to the very nicest places,’ she said, picking her way past empty barrels, plastic bread crates and less savoury debris.

He stopped, turned back and smiled.

He did have rather a charming smile, she thought as they emerged into the back entrance of a large hall. She
hoped Sally never saw him smile or she’d never leave off her matchmaking.

The hall he led her to was full of people setting up trestle tables and arranging their stock. They all seemed to know each other, exchanging banter and insults with the same ease as they asked after each other’s families and how business was going.

‘It’s open to the public from about ten till four but the trade all come early,’ he explained.

Everyone seemed to know Matthew but while they were all friendly, Gina couldn’t help noticing that he didn’t seem one of the gang. They treated him more with respect than friendliness, and eyed her with what she felt was deep suspicion as if she had a label saying ‘I’m not really one of you’ round her neck. She tried to overcome it but found herself trotting behind Matthew like an anxious child.

Then, attracted by some scent bottles, she stopped at a stall and let Matthew stride on to where a man had some pieces of furniture. Gina picked up a bottle engraved with deer and with an embossed lid. ‘This is pretty.’

‘It is,’ agreed the seller, a woman wrapped in layers of cashmere. ‘It’s Bohemian.’

‘Lovely. Probably beyond my price range though.’

‘I’m looking for about four hundred,’ said the woman.

Gina put it down again. ‘These are delightful though, aren’t they?’

‘Very sellable but pricey.’ The woman paused. ‘You came in with Matthew Ballinger?’

‘That’s right,’ Gina agreed.

‘He’ll never fill his father’s shoes,’ the woman went on, ‘That’s the trouble with Matthew.’

Gina suddenly felt defensive. ‘What do you mean?’

‘His father had a special gift. He could pick up a piece and tell instantly if it was a fake or not. It made things easy for him.’

‘What, in a sort of psychic way?’

The woman shrugged. ‘More likely years of experience. Anyway, things are harder for Matthew.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Dealer, are you?’

Gina was about to say no, of course not, when she realised she
was
a dealer – albeit a very new one. That was why she was here. ‘I’m a learner, and it’s very early days. I’d better find Matthew.’

In the time it took to find him and wait for him to shake hands on a deal, she realised what a very terrifying thing she and Sally had taken on. She wished her sister was there for moral support. It would have been fun with her. As the morning progressed she became more and more anxious. Matthew always seemed to be talking business with people and she didn’t want to be hanging on his sleeve all the time, but if she didn’t watch him in action, she’d never learn. And it was so hard. Too hard.

It was still quite early when they left the hall. As she and Matthew drove back, the Volvo (which she discovered was almost obligatory if you dealt in antiques) full of small but beautiful bits of furniture, she decided she should tell him she didn’t want to go ahead.

‘Matthew?’

‘There’s no one else in the car.’

‘I don’t want to do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘Become an antiques dealer. It’s too difficult.’ Gina felt herself becoming rather desperate. ‘How can I sell things
I know nothing about when the person buying them probably knows far more than me? How can I buy them in the first place? I was at a total loss this morning.’

‘I did tell you it wouldn’t be easy.’

‘I know,’ she said meekly.

‘But you wanted to give it a go for Rainey’s sake.’

‘That’s how we all felt last night: you, me and Sally. But I didn’t really appreciate how hard it would be.’

Matthew didn’t speak for a while. Then he sighed. ‘Give yourself a chance. It was the first fair you’d been to. And nobody knows everything.’ He was being generous, Gina knew, but he had had years to learn his trade – and if what that dealer had said was true it hadn’t been easy for him.

‘But I didn’t know
anything
– except I couldn’t afford to buy a scent bottle for four hundred quid and sell it at a profit.’

‘Well, that’s a very good thing to know. You could have got a bit off that price but scent bottles are specialist items. You need to know where your buyers are.’ He smiled. ‘You’re being too hard on yourself.’ It was the nicest thing he’d said to her and Gina felt some of her determination beginning to return.

‘I’m not bad at selling, actually. But selling things to experts, when I know nothing, and expect to make money – well, I just can’t.’

To her surprise she spotted a glint of amusement in the corner of his eye. ‘You won’t be selling to other dealers, not at first. You’ll be selling to ordinary punters, collectors, people looking for a present for their cousin’s ruby wedding – cranberry glass probably. Very popular for ruby weddings.’

‘Oh,’ said Gina. ‘You know I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘It’s my fault. I introduced you to the professionals before you’d seen the casual buyers. Have you got time to come to the centre now? After I’ve bought you breakfast, of course. Second breakfast,’ he amended. ‘Then we’ll go to the centre.’

He parked the car at the back of the French House, took her down a side street and then opened the door to a shop, the window of which was full of tins of tea, coffee and cocoa, Continental delicacies, grinders and teapots. The bell jangled as they went in.

It was the aroma of coffee that hit Gina first and she stayed in the shop part for a few seconds to enjoy it before following Matthew to the café in the back.

‘What would you like? A cup of coffee? I recommend the cheese scones too.’

Gina sat on one of the high stools at the bar while Matthew placed the order and chatted with the girl serving. He was obviously a regular customer. He came back with a loaded tray.

‘Coffee’s never quite as delicious as it smells but this is pretty near it,’ she said when she’d taken a couple of sips of her cappuccino.

‘It’s the thought of this afterwards that gets me out of bed before dawn.’

‘Did you have a successful trip? You seem to have bought a few things.’ She spread butter on to her scone and took a bite.

‘Yes, I got a couple of nice pieces at reasonable prices. The trick is to buy stock that will sell quickly. If there’s always something different to see, buyers keep coming
back. But if they know they’re going to see the same massive wardrobe and dressing table they don’t bother.’ He frowned. ‘We have a bit too much of that in the centre at present.’

‘So small is beautiful?’

‘A lot of the time. People don’t have room in their houses these days for big pieces.’

‘There’s no room for anything huge in my cottage although I would rather like a dresser. There’s space along the wall in the kitchen.’

‘We’ll have to look out for one.’

Gina shook her head. ‘I don’t suppose it would be sensible to buy something I might not have room for in another house.’ She was surprised to find herself sounding wistful. She’d never minded living in rented housing before and yet now she suddenly realised she wanted a home that was hers, that she could buy furniture for. She thought of Sally’s tiny cottage that she’d made such a pretty, cosy home. She wanted to do that too: paint walls, upholster old sofas and strip floors. She shook herself back to reality.

‘Some dealers furnish their houses with their stock. Everything in it is for sale,’ Matthew said. ‘They keep things for a while and then move them on.’

‘Do you do that?’

‘No. My father did but I rather resented favourite chairs and sideboards disappearing. I once had my desk snatched away before I’d finished my homework. I haven’t done it in my own home.’

‘People I met today spoke very well of your father,’ Gina said cautiously.

‘Yes. He was a wonderful character. Friendly, outgoing –
hugely knowledgeable.’ He shot her a glance. ‘I know a fair bit about antiques but otherwise I take after my mother.’

Gina smiled. ‘Is your mother still alive?’

‘No. She died when I was in my early teens and I’m an only child, which threw me and my father together rather.’

‘How sad. Not about you and your father but about your mother dying so young.’

‘Yes, it was sad, but we got over it.’ He flashed a smile. ‘You can see why we were so fond of Rainey. She and my dad were a right pair. She’d come to dinner, dripping in scarves, making cocktails, putting on music she’d brought with her, talking, laughing, trying to find me girlfriends . . .’

‘And did she succeed ever?’

‘Not really. I’d rather find my own on the whole.’

Gina chuckled. She was enjoying herself, she decided. Matthew seemed in a good mood this morning; nothing like the grumpy, reticent man they’d first met. ‘So where do you live? Near the centre?’

‘Very. In a flat on the top floor. Very handy for work.’ He smiled that charming smile again. It made him seem so much less intimidating.

‘And does Oscar manage in a flat?’

‘He doesn’t know it’s a flat. He thinks the whole house is his personal space. Now, do you want more coffee? Another scone?’

‘No thank you. That was delicious but very filling.’

‘Right, I’ll show you my empire.’

Something in the way he said that made Gina wonder if in fact what he described as an empire was really a burden. He was an odd character. Reading people was
part of her job but she realised she couldn’t fathom him. He’d gone back into his shell.

‘Jenny will have opened up and taken Oscar for a stroll,’ Matthew said as they approached the French House. Looking up at it, Gina thought it must have been a magnificent family home at one time.

‘Jenny is a godsend,’ Matthew continued. ‘She’s always willing to open up, close up, do whatever’s needed. She did it for my father and now she’s doing it for me.’

‘Has the French House always been an antiques centre?’

‘Yes, for as long as I’ve known it. It was thriving in Dad’s day – well, we still do OK now but times have changed . . .’ He sounded wistful and Gina thought again about what the dealer had said. Had his father expected him to follow in his footsteps? she wondered. There was nothing worse than always feeling second-best, not that she or Sally had ever felt this in their family.

‘Did you want to be an antiques dealer?’ she asked as they approached the door.

‘No. I wanted to be a linguist. But I used to work for my dad in the holidays and so I sort of fell into antiques.’

‘That seems a shame. I mean, to have to follow your father into the business when you wanted to do something quite else.’

‘You can’t really
be
a linguist,’ he said. ‘I did languages at university but I didn’t know if I wanted to be a translator or an interpreter or what. I used to go with my dad to France and help him haggle. It seemed as good a thing as any to do with my French. Dad didn’t force me into it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Now, let’s go upstairs so you can leave your bag, then we’ll unload.’

As they moved up through the centre to the top of the
building Gina couldn’t help feeling the place had a rather neglected air, as if everyone had gone away to do something more interesting. She and Sally had noticed it wasn’t the most vibrant of places when they’d come here the other day and looking at it again Gina felt quite sorry for it – and Matthew. The atmosphere might have been because trade was bad but it couldn’t help that there were so many other antique businesses in Cranmore-on-the-Green. She wondered what it would take to make the French House a bit more profitable?

Oscar was in the office waiting. The moment he saw Matthew he reared up on his hind legs and put his paws on his master’s shoulders.

‘Golly, he’s so big!’ Gina laughed. ‘He’s the same size as you, very nearly.’

Hearing her, Oscar got down again, gave Gina an unenthusiastic sniff and flung himself to the floor.

‘I’m sorry, he’s not very forthcoming with people he doesn’t know.’

‘I wonder where he picked that up from?’ asked Gina.

‘Sorry?’

‘Oh, you know, that thing about dogs being like their owners . . .’

Matthew scowled. ‘Are you saying that Oscar and I look alike? Because my hair is not entirely grey and my eyebrows do not beetle, and I don’t have a beard either.’

‘I didn’t say he was like you in looks.’ Gina bit her lip. She didn’t really know Matthew well enough to tease him but if she didn’t, they might never get to that point. They needed to be able to work together, after all, and that would be harder if they had to be serious all the time.

He frowned at her in a way that told her he knew he
was being teased and didn’t mind. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the more relaxed Matthew she’d witnessed in the café. She hadn’t imagined this side to him, then. She felt unexpected relief.

Gina helped Matthew shift the contents of the Volvo into a storeroom at the back. It was already quite full with an assortment of lamps and furniture arranged into sections, each with a sign by them indicating the different dealers in the centre, Gina presumed.

‘I never saw any of these things,’ she said, feeling foolish. She didn’t feel bad about not trying to buy any of them but she should have at least spotted them.

‘You develop an eye for anything you haven’t seen before and what interests you. You will have been confronted with a whole hall full of new things. Also, Bert kept these things on one side for me. He knows I like French furniture and bought these with me in mind.’

‘This is a nice little chest of drawers,’ said Gina, taking one end of it as they lifted it out of the car.

‘That’s a commode. Nineteenth century. It’s got some later paint and fittings, but it’s in good condition.’

‘This little bed is sweet,’ said Gina, managing this on her own.

‘It is. It’s hand-painted, about nineteen hundred, in very nice condition.’

‘And how much would you expect to get for that?’

‘Somewhere around the five hundred mark, I hope. Possibly more.’

Gina nodded sagely and picked up a large stone bowl. ‘I’d imagine this was used for cream.’