Fine Lines - SA (5 page)

"You mean Marty?"

"That was the idea, wasn't it?" Disappointment wel ed up in me. "But I thought you said she was going to try for a week. Isn't she giving up rather easily?"

"You don't know Angie. If she thinks there's any chance at al , she doesn't give up until she's torn their trousers off. So if she reckons it's no go, then it must be."

"Perhaps she made the wrong approach."

"Not Angie. Believe me, Donald, she knows what she's doing. He just didn't want to know. Very polite, and al that, but he stil blanked her out. She was pretty pissed off about it.

She's not used to being turned down, let alone by a geek like him. She thinks he must be either gay or some kind of freak." There was an even more depressing prospect. I remembered the way Marty had kissed Anna's neck. "Perhaps he's just loyal to Anna."

"That's what I meant by freak. He must be even more of a sap than he looks to turn down something like that. I know Anna's not bad, but she's hardly in Angie's league." I agreed wholeheartedly, but not in the way Zeppo meant. I had found the other girl's beauty brash and glittering; entirely external. Anna's was something far finer.

"You said there was good news as wel ." A low chuckle came over the line. "The good news is that Angie makes a great slave."

"She's not there, is she?"

"Calm down, Donald. She's in another room. She can't hear."

I tried to hold down my irritation. "Is that al you meant by "good news"?"

"Now don't get agitated."

"Just tel me what happened between you and Anna."

"Nothing actual y happened. I was only testing the ground. But she was putting out the right sort of signals."

"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. The only snag is the boyfriend. If not for him I would've made a move last night. As it is, I'l just have to ease my way in a bit more first."

"But you don't think you'l have too much difficulty?" He laughed. "Donald, look at him, and look at me. There's your answer." His confidence was reassuring, if a little irksome. "How long do you think it wil take?"

"I've already told you it's not the sort of thing you can set to a timetable. I'l just have to see how it goes. There's no rush, is there?" I hesitated. He had to know sooner or later.

"Actual y, there is." I told him about America.

I heard him swear. "Why didn't you tel me before, for Christ's sake?" I was taken aback by his tone. "I only just found out myself," I said, annoyed by my own defensiveness. "But if it's not for two months, I can't see that it matters. It should stil give you plenty of time, surely."

"That's not the fucking point!" He stopped. When he spoke again his voice was more control ed. "I just don't like having things sprung on me. Is there anything else I should know?"

There was. But he did not need to know it just then. Particularly not if he was going to take that attitude. "No. Do you think you'l have enough time?" I heard him breathe a long sigh.

"Yeah. I expect so. But I like to know exactly where I stand. So in future, no secrets, al right?"

"Of course." I could hear what sounded like a dog barking in the background.

"Hang on." Something was put over the receiver. The line became muffled. "Sorry about that," he said, a moment later. There was a laugh in his voice. "Where were we?"

"I was about to ask what you propose to do next?" The laugh became more pronounced. "Look, I've got to go now. I'l cal you next week.

Don't worry. Once I've got her softened up she'l not want to look at the wimp she's going out with."

He hung up before I could say anything. I put the receiver down with mixed feelings. I was beginning to have my doubts about Zeppo. But I could not help but share his optimism.

Since becoming involved with Anna, I had found it increasingly

difficult to apply myself with any real enthusiasm to the affairs of the gal ery. Even auctions, which I had once always enjoyed, seemed to have lost their appeal. When I went to one the week after the party, I was apathetic to start with. Had I known who would also be there, however, I would never have gone in the first place.

The auction was of part of the estate of an elderly politician. It included his col ection of eighteenth-century French oils, one of which in particular I had my eye on. So, unfortunately, did several other people. When the bidding approached the limit I had set myself, I had to choose whether or not it was worth going any further. At one time, only weeks before, I would probably have decided it was. Now it seemed like too much trouble. I sat back and let the bidding go on without me, and felt only mild regret when it stopped shortly afterwards.

There were one or two other pieces I had been considering trying for, but al at once I could not be bothered. I eased my way along the line of chairs towards the exit. The back of the room was ful with people who had not found seats, and as I went through them I felt a tap on my arm.

"It's Mr. Ramsey, isn't it?" The woman was a little younger than me. Her hair was just starting to grey, and her eyes were magnified by a pair of large-framed glasses.

She was smiling, hesitantly.

"Yes?" Her smile grew. "Oh, good. I thought it was." I continued to stare at her. I had no idea who she was. "I'm sorry, I don't ..."

"Oh, it's these things." She took the glasses off. It made no difference. "Margaret Thornby. You ran into my car last week."

Then, of course, I recognised her. "Oh," was al I could think of to say.

"I spotted you coming out, but I wasn't entirely certain it was you until just now." She lowered her voice as the auctioneer began introducing the next item. "Shal we pop outside? We can't real y talk in here." I had no desire to talk to her anywhere. But she was already edging into the corridor. I had no option but to fol ow.

"There. That's better." She smiled at me. I did not return it. I had belatedly realised that she had again blamed me for the accident, albeit in a much friendlier tone this time. "I'm glad I've seen you, actual y. I've been wondering how you went on after our little bump last week." She was unaccountably pleasant. "My car had to be towed away," I told her, rather more stiffly than I intended. "The wing needs to be replaced. I'm stil using a courtesy car."

"Oh, I am sorry. Mine only needed the sidelight replacing, so it could have been worse." I said nothing.

"Actual y, I've been meaning to get in touch with you," she went on.

"When I'd calmed down a bit I realised that I might have been a bit… wel , a bit pushy. Not that I'm saying it was my fault, or anything.

But I think I might have gone a bit over the top." An apology was not what I had expected. I was unsure how to react.

However, she did not give me any chance.

"The thing was, I was in an awful rush. I was supposed to be meeting someone, you see, and I was late already. I don't come into the city very often, and whenever I do as a rule I always avoid the rush hour.

But I was meeting my son at the train station he's just got back from India, or rather he had just got back so there was no avoiding it. I was hoping to get there in plenty of time, because I didn't want to leave him standing around in the cold, after he's been used to the hot weather. But I misjudged it, and instead of getting there for half-past eight, as I'd planned, I was stil stuck in the traffic at a quarter-past. So when we had our little accident, it was the last straw, and I suppose I did rather take it out on you."

She pul ed an apologetic face. "I never even thought to ask if you were al right. You did look a bit shaken, but then so was I, I suppose. And when I got to the station, I found that Damien's train had been delayed by over half an hour, so it turned out that I was in time after al ."

She gave a little shrug. "Anyway, I'm glad I've seen you to set the record straight. I daresay you must have got a horrendous impression of this fearful woman shouting at you like a mad thing, and I'm not normal y like that. Not often, anyway," she laughed. "Sorry, I'm running on a bit. But I was going to get in touch with you anyway to clear things up. There's no reason for us to be unreasonable, just because of what was an accident, after al . We might as wel let the insurance companies sort it al out. That's what we pay them for, isn't it? And they certainly charge enough, don't they?" She looked at me expectantly, waiting for my reply. Dazed by her monologue, nothing immediately suggested itself. "Yes, I … ah, that sounds ..." I nodded, not quite sure what I was agreeing to. She beamed at me.

"Oh good! I'm so glad we've been able to straighten things out.

Anyway, I'l let you go now. I don't want to keep you." My relief was premature. She went on almost without pausing. "Are you here on business or pleasure?"

"Oh ... Business."

"Real y? I'd no idea you were in the trade. I've got an antique shop in Hampstead, that's why I'm here tonight. I don't normal y bother coming to auctions in the city. I think you can pick up much better bargains out in the sticks, but I felt I real y had to come to this, just to see some of the stuff that's going. And there's a rather lovely little dol s' house coming up later that I'm going to bid for. I don't expect I'l have much chance of getting it, not with the prices the things have fetched so far, but you never know. Were you here for anything in particular?" She had a disconcerting habit of staring at me very directly while she spoke. And she stood much too close. It was an effort not to move away. "An oil painting."

"Did you get it?"

"No."

"Oh dear. Stil , never mind. Are paintings your speciality, by any chance?"

"Actual y, I am an art dealer."

She blinked. "Real y? Oh, and here's me babbling on about antiques.

You must forgive me, I just assumed that you were in the same line as me." She laughed. "There I go again, jumping to conclusions. Do you have a gal ery? I suppose you must have, mustn't you?"

"It's not far from the West End."

"The West End … let me think. It's not near that biggish, expensive one just cal ed "The Gal ery", is it? That's the only one I know around there."

"That is it, actual y." She stared at me. "Oh, real y? I didn't realise you were anything to do with that." I remembered that I had written my name and address on a piece of paper instead of giving her a card. "A friend of mine bought a water colour from you about two years ago. Dutch, I think.

Nineteenth century. The name escapes me."

"I'm afraid ..."

"No, of course you won't be able to remember it. Stil it just goes to show what a smal world it is, doesn't it?" Too smal , obviously. I looked at my watch. "I'm sorry, but I must be…'

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you. Yes, I'd better get back inside anyway. I don't want to miss the dol s' house, do I?"

"No," I agreed, beginning to edge away.

She held out her hand. "Wel , I'm glad I've had the chance to see you, Mr. Ramsey. Let's hope the insurance companies don't take too long sorting everything out. And the next time I'm nearby, I'l pop into your gal ery."

"Yes, do." With a final goodbye I hurried away before she could say anything else.

I was so pleased to escape it never occurred to me that she might mean what she said.

It was a week of surprises. Zeppo had telephoned, in a rather more composed mood this time, and said he would cal into the gal ery on Thursday. But Anna preempted our plans.

She had been rather quiet al week. Ever since my party, in fact. I did not feel secure enough with her to ask why. Then, on Wednesday morning, she told me.

She seemed embarrassed when she asked if she could have a word. "Of course," I said. "Is it something important?"

"Wel , yes, I suppose it is, real y." A blush had spread from her face to her neck. I tried not to stare at where it disappeared into the top of her blouse. "I'm leaving." The words came as a shock. I had not expected her to tel me for weeks, and my first thought was that she was planning to leave even sooner than I expected.

"Oh. When?" Anna looked uncomfortable. "That depends on you, real y. I'm going to America with Marty. To live there. It's not for nearly two months yet, but I thought I ought to tel you straight away, to give you time to find a replacement. I'd like to stay on as long as I can," she added, hurriedly, 'but if you want me to leave now, I understand." Relief made my reaction unforced. "My dear Anna, that's wonderful! I thought for one horrible moment that you meant you'd found another job, and wanted to go immediately! Of course you mustn't leave yet!"

"You don't mind then?"

"Of course I don't mind! I can't pretend I won't be sorry to see you go, but how could I possibly object? I'm happy for both of you." Her face cleared. She smiled bril iantly. "Real y? I was dreading tel ing you in case you'd ask for my notice now, or something."

"I'm not that much of an ogre, am I?"

"No, of course not. I just ..." She was becoming embarrassed again.

"Wel , anyway, I'm glad you've told me. I think it's wonderful news." I had an inspiration. "In fact, I think this cal s for a celebration.

Have you anything planned for lunch?"

"No, nothing."

"In that case you have now. And if you try to refuse, I real y wil fire you, so let's not have any arguments. Al right?" Anna laughed. "It doesn't look as though I have any choice."

"None at al ." I looked at my watch. "It's half-past eleven now.

There are one or two things I have to do first, so if we go at twelve o'clock we should stil beat most of the rush. How does that sound?"

"Wonderful." She was smiling broadly.

"In that case I'l hurry up and finish what I was doing." I went to the office and closed the door. Despite the fact that Anna's departure was now official, as it were, I felt elated. She had been under no obligation to tel me so soon. It implied a warming towards me. I picked up the telephone and cal ed Zeppo. It rang a long time before it was answered.

"Yeah?"

"Zeppo? It's Donald Ramsey." There was a groan. "Donald? What do you want? Christ, I'm stil in bed."