The Bronze Lady (Woodford Antiques Mystery Book 2) (6 page)

Chapter 12

Friday 4
th
December, 7.00pm

The general sale at Black’s Auction had been underway for half an hour, and the Antiques For All contestants had already upset several of the dealers by talking while bidding was taking place. This is an absolute no-no in an auction room, because the auctioneer needs to be able to hear and see bids, and prospective bidders have to be allowed to keep track of where the bidding has reached, so if people are having a chat amongst themselves they are a distraction to the auction process.

The two antiques dealers who were supporting the four male and female wannabe dealers in their competition were looking embarrassed and trying to quieten their contestants without much luck. The director was nowhere to be seen, and the show’s host was involved in a bidding war for a mixed lot in which only she and the dealer she was bidding against had spotted a Venetian glass dish worth at least three hundred pounds. The current bid was twenty eight pounds.

Over in one corner a group of regular antiques dealers were making far more noise than the contestants, and Paul had already had to ask them to quieten down, but he wasn’t going to be too strict with them because he and the other people in the room were used to hearing their squabbles and giggling, and had developed useful selective deafness against the racket over the years. But the Antiques For All film crew were only present two or three times a year, and their black clothed presence appeared sinister and disrupted the flow of the auction, not to mention forcing regular bidders to sit in different sections of the room to the ones they were used to by taking up space for the film equipment and while they filmed short pieces to camera. Similar to a school staff room where the comfy patterned armchair over by the window is where the Head of Science always sits, and the group of low chairs by the notice board are where the English Department congregate, regular buyers at auction have a spot in which they like to be positioned and woe betide anyone who stands against this patch of wall or sits in one of the Sale Lots of chairs or sofas which are usually positioned in the same place each week.

The soundman and the camera woman were experienced at these events, and had learned to film around the grumpy faces and loud mutterings from disgruntled bidders. They knew they had plenty of footage to make a hilarious video of outtakes, and planned to show it at the Antiques For All Christmas Party, so they were happy for the dealer who kept ringing a school bell every time the host did her piece to camera so she had to start again, or for the person who thought it was funny to stand behind the contestants and make bunny ears, or worse, with their fingers. All the more drinks their fellow staff members would be buying them at the party in a couple of weeks’ time.

The show’s host was an experienced antiques dealer, who was well-respected in the trade aside from her decision to sell her skills on television. The antiques trade has a love-hate relationship with television: on the one hand there are a minority of dealers who earn a fortune from these shows both in direct fees and from the fresh stock the filming process gives them access to; the rest are left to cope with the ‘wannabes’ as Mike and Sarah Handley nicknamed them. If you really want to scupper a deal with an antiques dealer at a flea market then pick up a quality, well-priced item from their stand and proceed to rubbish both it and the price. If you would like to see the item smashed on the floor in front of you, or simply withdrawn from sale, offer to buy it for ten percent of the asking price. A few dealers have a sense of humour about this behaviour and start to put the price up during the haggling process, providing their colleagues stalled out around them with a few minutes of entertainment and openly poking fun at the wannabe who has behaved in such an ignorant and insulting manner.

Antiques dealers are respectful towards each other, despite the teasing and micky-taking, and they do not appreciate seeing their profession being reduced to car boot tactics on the nation’s television sets, as many of the shows do. But there are one or two which show the real life of an antiques dealer, and when you see a dealer repeatedly haggling an item down to ten percent of the asking price take a good look at what he or she is buying and ask yourself why the vendor is willing to sell something for one hundred and thirty pounds when the ticket price is one thousand three hundred. How long have they owned it? Does the buyer have access to sales outlets the vendor does not? Is the item in need of restoration which will cost several hundreds of pounds, and the vendor is unwilling to pay, or does not have a reliable restorer in his network? What else is the dealer buying from them on which they could be making a decent profit?

The show’s host triumphantly won the Lot for forty five pounds, and noticed her assistance was required by the two star dealers. Within seconds she had smoothed the ruffled feathers of the regular dealers, sssshed the contestants and hustled them towards the exit, and reassured her colleagues she would keep them out of the room until they were required for filming purposes. Once she had settled the wannabes in the cafe with a cup of tea and slice of cake each, she went in search of the director, whose job it was to keep order.

She had a pretty good idea where he would be.

She walked out to the car park, found his van, and flung open the back doors. For such a cold night there was an awful lot of flesh on display.

Even though she had been expecting to find him closeted with the female antiques dealer he had been chatting up on their last two visits to Woodford, she was unprepared for the explicit scene which was lit up by the interior light when she opened the doors. There were parts of the director she would rather not have seen, and it would take a while for those graphic images to fade from her memory. It took her a few seconds to find her voice, and when she did she used it to good effect. ‘Get off that woman, put your clothes on, and go inside and do the job you are being paid to do!’

Chapter 13

Monday 15
th
December, 7.00am

‘Wakey wakey, rise and shine O daughter of mine!’

‘Oh dad!  You are not going to be like this every morning are you?  I’ll have to find myself somewhere else to stay,’ groaned Jennifer as Peter came into her room. Or rather Gemma’s son Daniel’s room, but as Daniel, who worked at Black’s Auctions, had officially moved out over two years’ ago Gemma felt it was time the bedroom’s status was changed to ‘spare’ room and had persuaded Daniel to remove the last of his childhood belongings the week before. No time to decorate before Jennifer moved in, but that was next on Gemma’s list. She was planning to put her cottage on the market in the New Year and knew the whole place would need to be re-decorated, so was making lists of what needed to be done and by whom. Painting was something she enjoyed, so the list with her name on it was quite long already.

‘Here you are, a cup of tea to get you started,’ laughed Peter. ‘Would you like a cooked breakfast?  I can have it ready in half an hour?’

‘Oh no, can’t think of anything worse!  I’ll make myself some porridge when I get up. But thank you for the tea, now that I could get used to,’ she smiled, already in a slightly better mood. ‘How was Lucy when you went down? I didn’t hear anything during the night.’

‘Oh she seemed fine, typical greyhound she was hogging the dog bed by the radiator. Suzy was curled up on the floor next to her, so no problems from either of them. I expect they are used to each other by now, they can continue to share the boot room at night while you are here.’

After her father had gone, Jennifer lay back against her pillows and reflected on all that had happened in the last eight days. From the time she received the phone call from Jackie Martin four weeks ago, who was lying in her hospital bed with the pain she was feeling clear in her voice, offering Jennifer a job, until five o’clock last night when she had arrived at Gemma’s cottage with a car full of clothes and veterinary equipment, her calm and well-ordered life had been thoroughly turned upside down and shaken about like a snow globe.

Jennifer took after her father in that she liked her life quiet and considered, no sudden changes or impetuous decisions, but neither was she afraid to take on a challenge or a puzzle. This was why she had followed him into the veterinary profession. She loved the factual aspect of science, and she needed to have a purpose to her life, so animal care, and in particular equine veterinary science, suited her personality.

Until last Sunday her career had followed an unerring path, with her decision at the age of seven years old to be a veterinary surgeon sealed when her father saved the life of a cat who had been run over in front of them. From that day on Jennifer had known which subjects she needed to study at school and which grades she needed to achieve in them. She was academically bright, which certainly helped in her desire to train in veterinary science, and, unlike her younger sister Alison, was not particularly keen on partying through her teenage or university years, preferring instead to join various school and college sports teams. Both of her parents supported her ambition, and she spent her spare time after school and at weekends volunteering at the riding stables where her mother worked in or at the veterinary practice in which her father was a partner. While she was away at university she found an animal shelter she could support by cleaning out stalls and runs, and taking the dogs for walks. When she graduated she was offered the first job she applied for, not at her father’s practice but at a larger mixed-animal practice nearby, and she had been very happy working there, content there would be opportunities for career progression when the time was right.

But Jackie’s offer, out of the blue, had shaken her well-ordered world, and given her the opportunity to assess her life. At the grand old age of twenty six years old that one phone call made Jennifer realise she was now three years behind her own life schedule. She had always known that marriage and children were going to be a part of her life, naturally occurring life events she had assumed would fit in with her chosen timescale. Jennifer thought she would meet the man of her dreams by the time she was twenty two years old, they would marry when she was twenty five, and have their first child by the time she was thirty, before going on to have one or maybe two more, depending on how she was able to cope with motherhood and her career. And yet here she was, with no man, and no prospect of one any time soon.

Her immediate inclination had been to turn down Jackie’s offer during that initial phone conversation, as it was far too unexpected and certainly not something that had crossed her mind previously. But something stopped her from a definite ‘no’, and she asked for a week to think about it.

For Jackie the sheer effort of holding a phone conversation was huge, and she was only too pleased to end the call, even without a firm decision being reached, despite the time-critical nature of her dilemma. She knew that Peter and Alastair were capable of holding the practice together for at least a month, but that it wouldn’t be fair to impose on Alastair’s good nature for any longer than that, particularly over the Christmas period, and that Peter’s wedding preparations and subsequent celebrations would be taking his focus away from the veterinary practice.

The morning after her telephone conversation with Jackie, Jennifer arrived at work and saw the place through new eyes. Was this where she wanted to spend the rest of her life? She tried to book an appointment with her manager with the intention of quizzing him about her future career prospects, but he wasn’t able to find time in his schedule to meet that week. She then asked if she could bring forward the week’s holiday she had booked in December, but the answer, not surprisingly, was no, and she was concerned to hear that even though her holiday was in the diary, and had been for several months, there was some uncertainty about whether or not she would be able to take it due to a clash of dates with another vet.

That evening Jennifer had sat at her desk in her home office, and made a list. She drew three columns : Reasons to Stay, in which security of job and job satisfaction were obvious contenders; Reasons to Leave, in which she was saddened to write ‘employer loyalty’ because this was the first time she had asked them for anything, and not only did they not have the time to sit down with her when she requested it, but she realised that all those extra unpaid hours she gave them and the times she had willingly come in at short notice on official days off, were expected rather than appreciated; and Reasons to Move, which was empty for most of the evening.

Later she had prepared her evening meal, eaten it, washed up, phoned her sister for a chat, then phoned her mother, then phoned her father.

And then wrote ‘BECAUSE I CAN’ in the empty column.

She smiled to herself when the smell of her father’s cooking rose through the floorboards and reached her nose. Enthusiastically she jumped out of bed, ready to take on her first day at work as the New Girl again. Maybe she would have a bacon sandwich after all. Come on Life, let’s get started!

Chapter 14

Friday 18
th
December 2015, 4.25pm

‘You may kiss your bride.’

The ancient castle room erupted with loud cheers as Peter Isaac theatrically took his new wife Gemma in his arms and swung her around, before they gave each other a hearty snog. Laughing they broke away from each other, only to quickly come back together for a big hug, standing with their arms around each other looking around at their family and friends who had braved the blustery sleeting winter weather to come and help the happy couple celebrate their marriage in Brackendon Castle.

The last five weeks had been a whirlwind of plans, lists, phone calls, shopping trips, emails, and excitement. After Peter proposed to Gemma Bartlett at the top of the hill in Brackendon Woods they had talked non-stop about wedding plans all the way back home. By the time they were having a celebratory meal that evening in The Ship Inn they had already told their children, agreed on the guest list, the venue, and the earliest date possible.

The couple only met for the first time in April earlier that year, both had been married before and had children with their respective partners, but both of those relationships had ended in divorce. Despite their experiences neither Peter nor Gemma had any doubts about marrying again now they had met each other. They were having a real whirlwind romance, and thoroughly enjoying every minute of it.

Gemma’s sons Nathan and Daniel, who were both in their early twenties, knew that Peter was going to propose to their mother because he had taken the precaution of checking they approved a few weeks before he asked her to marry him, so when they each received a phone call from the happy couple informing them of their forthcoming nuptials, both boys were genuinely delighted and pleased for their mum and soon-to-be step-father.

Peter usually spoke to his daughters, who were both in their mid-twenties, at least once a fortnight by telephone, relying on texts and emails in the interim to keep in contact. The week before The Proposal he had tentatively raised the subject with them separately on the phone. Both Jennifer and Alison thought it was far too soon after the couple had met to be making such a permanent commitment, but they liked Gemma and were relieved to see their father happy after a very difficult few years, so had jointly given their support, although both expressed their reservations at the speed of the engagement. When their father phoned them individually with his news they both made an effort to sound totally supportive.

In between his veterinary duties the next day Peter had managed to book their one and only choice of wedding venue, the beautiful twelfth century Brackendon Castle, setting the time and date for the wedding at four o’clock in the afternoon on Friday December 18
th
, and everything else had to fit into place after that. Their guest list was small, and between them they managed to see or telephone everybody by the Friday, and formal postal invitations were received and replied to by the end of the following week.

Gemma asked her sister, Lisa, (who, like Peter’s daughters, was a bit concerned about the speed in which her older sister’s relationship had progressed, but was also content to go with the fast flow and general excitement) and her niece, Lisa’s daughter Caroline, to be her Maid of Honour and bridesmaid respectively, and both eagerly accepted. They gave themselves a fortnight to come up with the wedding theme, and the three girls had a fantastic couple of weeks searching through magazines and online websites for ideas, their sole topic of conversation with everyone around them was Winter Weddings.

Gemma’s first wedding was a big traditional Church of England affair, complete with five bridesmaids, two hundred and twenty five guests, and a vintage car for transport, followed by a two week honeymoon in Mauritius, and had taken eighteen months to plan and organise. Lisa had been her bridesmaid then, too, but the sisters decided they weren’t going to be superstitious about that. This time she was keen to have the minimum amount of fuss whilst still having a very special day, with only five weeks to organise everything and very little in the way of savings, she knew this wedding day would be different to her previous one.

Gemma, Lisa and Caroline all used the same hairdresser in Woodford, a lovely lady called Paula, so Gemma paid for an evening with her and with one of the local beauticians, Abigail, so they could brainstorm their Wedding Look.

Gemma and Lisa owned the Woodford Tearooms. The Bartlett sisters had bought the business four years ago and had built a very successful following with the local people, as well as catering for the seasonal holiday-makers, and so for that first fortnight in a very rainy November the main topic of conversation for their tearoom customers had been Winter Wedding ideas. There had been some really lovely suggestions, and some not-in-a-million-years ideas, enabling Gemma to practice her ‘Hmmh, something to think about, thank you’ response. Once the three women had decided on clothes, hair and make-up they kept their decisions to themselves, simply responding to any enquiries or suggestions for the forthcoming nuptials with knowing smiles and winks.

It was too short notice to have anything made bespoke, or for major alterations, but online they managed to find three long, hooded cloaks in wine with white faux-fur trim, and also found some beautiful hair accessories. Dress shopping was even more straightforward, and having done their homework online the three women spent a wonderful week-day being Ladies Of Leisure by going to one of the big department stores in Swanwick (not somewhere you want to go at a weekend-day in the run-up to Christmas) and after only about half an hour had tried on and bought: one gold with ivory detail long dress for Gemma, and two similar ivory with gold detail cocktail dresses for Lisa and Caroline. They then celebrated their successful and stress free shopping experience by going off to be Ladies Who Lunch and sharing a couple of bottles of Prosecco, having previously booked Gemma’s eldest son Daniel to chauffeur them to and fro.

The one area the three couldn’t agree on was footwear, so in the end they shopped separately: Caroline invested her own money in a pair of stunning gold sandals with incredibly high heels and straps which went half way up her calves; Lisa chose a pair of ivory Victorian-style heeled ankle boots, and Gemma wore a relatively plain pair of gold court shoes she had owned for years but only worn a couple of times before. As hers was a long dress she argued that no one would really notice her footwear, much to Caroline’s disgust who’s Very Favourite Thing in the world was to go shoe shopping. Her mother found this hilarious, since her daughter’s second favourite activity was running several miles most days, around the lanes and tracks of Woodford and its surrounding villages. Caroline’s reasoning was she spent so much time in running shoes or sensible work shoes for her shifts at the tearooms, that splashing out on fancy footwear was a perfectly reasonable balance.

The three women all had similar fair skin tones and blue eyes, so after the evening spent with Abigail updating their beauty skills and collection of cosmetics, they were able to apply their own and each other’s Wedding Make-up on the Big Day. Gemma and Lisa both had long curly blonde hair which Paula the hairdresser skilfully arranged a few hours before the marriage ceremony with the gold and ivory decorations they had bought online, Gemma’s in a low chignon complete with tiara and Lisa’s long and flowing, carefully designed to cope with being covered by the hood of their cloaks if the weather was typical for December. Caroline had straight shoulder-length dark brown hair which she was keen to enjoy loose since she spent almost all day every day with it tied back, so Paula was relieved that after a simple blow-dry into shape with liberal application of product to keep it all there, all she had to do was secure a gold decorated headband to Caroline’s head.

The castle setting was stunning, enhanced by the cold and bleak winter weather. As the guests arrived their path was lit by great flaming torches, giving the suggestion of heat even if they were too high to be effective, and the warmly dressed Ushers – a mixture of Brackendon Castle employees and family members – welcomed each guest and directed them to the Banqueting Hall where the wedding ceremony was to take place. Once inside the guests were seated in rows on gold painted chairs with plush maroon cushions, and the simple civil ceremony started promptly at four o’clock in the afternoon, with the only surprise being the inclusion of the tying of an ornately decorated apron’s strings in a True Lover’s Knot as part of Peter and Gemma’s personalised vows. Jennifer had suggested it as a link between Gemma’s profession as a caterer and Peter’s as a veterinary surgeon.

Gemma and Lisa decided to organise the catering themselves, with the help of Mike and Sarah Handley who they regularly worked alongside at the town’s social events. The post-wedding cocktails immediately after the ceremony to accompany the party nibbles at the castle were a choice of body-warming spiced apple cider, mulled wine, or hot chocolate, before everyone piled into a couple of mini-buses to go back to Woodford for the wedding reception in the Garden Room of The Ship Inn, which they had decorated as a Winter Wonderland the day before.

Mike and Sarah were fantastic hosts, as always, but Peter and Gemma also wanted them to be guests and paid for additional staff to be recruited and work alongside the Handley’s existing staff, so the pub could be open to customers as usual while the Landlords celebrated with the rest of the wedding guests both at the castle and in their own function room. It was a real treat for Mike and Sarah, who rarely attended social events together, and had never been guests at a party in their own public house before. At the end of the evening, as they waved the happy couple off (they were only walking a few minutes up the road to Gemma’s cottage), they both agreed that The Ship Inn was a jolly good place to celebrate a family event.