A French Affair (36 page)

‘Can I ring you back? In about ten minutes?’ She needed to tell Matthew the score. It was for him to decide if they should go ahead or wait for the next sale.

‘OK, but not much later. I’m heading for a hot bath and a cold glass of wine in fifteen.’

Gina told Matthew what Anthea had said. They regarded each other in silence for a few minutes.

‘We don’t have a choice really,’ said Matthew. ‘As I said before, I think we should put them in and risk not getting what they’re worth. We ought to get enough anyway. We have to trust Christie’s to do their best.’

‘You’re absolutely sure?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. I’d like to know where I am at last. All this uncertainty – which has been going on for years really – has got to end. It’s driving me mad and making me behave like an idiot – as you have so kindly pointed out. And I can’t put Yvette off any longer. She’s sent another email – and a text. She won’t give up until she gets her money. And even if Carmella doesn’t want to buy the French House, plenty of other people will.’ He gave Gina a look that made her heart thump. ‘Losing the house would be sad but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. If these lyrics save it, fabulous, but if they don’t . . .’ He paused and took her hand. ‘Well, we’ll face the future together.’

She squeezed his hand back and gave herself a moment before replying. ‘OK, I’ll ring Anthea.’

Matthew had made up the fire and refilled their glasses
while she had told Anthea his decision. She came and flopped down on to the old leather sofa and picked up her glass. ‘This is so nice.’

He sat down beside her and nodded. ‘Better than any mansion could possibly be.’

‘And we could recreate this in a starter home on a new estate if we had to.’

He frowned. This was obviously stretching his sense of the romantic too far. ‘A simple worker’s cottage maybe, but I’m not sure a Barratt home would work for me.’ Then he laughed. ‘Although maybe we could get Sally to give it a makeover.’

A WEEK LATER,
Matthew drove Gina and Sally to the station. ‘I’m so sorry I can’t be with you, but my Americans booked a while ago.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll keep my phone on, so ring me as soon as you know.’

Gina kissed his cheek. ‘Don’t wait. It’s awful waiting for other people’s trains to leave.’

Having been upbeat and positive ever since the lyrics went into the auction she felt she could express her worries freely now she was alone with Sally.

‘This is so nerve-racking,’ she said a few minutes later as she took her seat on the train opposite Sally. ‘Supposing they go for half nothing?’

Sally sighed and put her hand on Gina’s wrist. ‘They won’t.’

‘It’s all right for you, you’ve got your dream job. If Matthew has to sell the French House—’

‘Then you and he will start up somewhere else. Which is what he says.’

Having considered the worst-case scenario, Gina began to make plans. ‘I suppose we could sell what stock we
have at antiques fairs. I’ll still work, of course. It might be fun. But what about the other dealers?’

‘They’ll be fine. But honestly, Gina, you’re worrying for nothing. It won’t come to that.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t for one minute believe you haven’t done anything to stir up a little interest among suitable buyers.’

Doing her job was so much second nature to her Gina wondered if it was a sort of obsessive/compulsive disorder. ‘I only sent a press release to the fan site, and got the details of collectors from Anthea and told them, just in case the auctioneers didn’t do their job.’

‘Given they are one of the top auctioneers in the world I do think that’s unlikely, but I know you: a job can’t be said to be done unless you’ve done it.’ Sally sounded resigned.

‘Am I really like that?’

‘No one’s saying it’s a bad thing. And it’s only in your work life. You’re relatively normal the rest of the time.’ She stood up and extracted her purse from her bag. ‘I’ll get us drinks. Do you want tea or coffee? Or, as we’re on holiday, hot chocolate?’

‘We’re not on holiday. What are you talking about?’

‘I’m not working, I haven’t got the girls – I’m on holiday. What’s it to be?’

The auction was in progress when they got there but their lot wasn’t due for a little while. They bought a catalogue and found somewhere to stand at the back in case they wanted to make a quick exit.

The room was much quieter than Gina had imagined. It
didn’t have the casual, slightly ramshackle air that the general auction houses she’d seen so often on the many TV programmes devoted to them, and there was an electricity in the air that was exciting. The buyers – or onlookers – were far smarter than they were in country auctions too. Most of them wore suits of some kind apart from the odd very arty type in flamboyant clothes and smudged lipstick, or ageing rockers, pin-thin with lined faces and dyed hair. There were a few beautiful young things with floppy hair and long legs on the phones who clearly worked there.

‘I wonder how many people here are bidding on our lot,’ whispered Sally.

‘I don’t know how we’d tell which they are,’ Gina whispered back. ‘None of them are wearing berets or strings of onions round their necks to indicate they’re French.’

‘Fool.’ Sally gave her a little push.

The lyrics had an estimate of five thousand pounds. It wasn’t nearly enough to cover the shortfall but Anthea had assured Gina that a lowish estimate would entice the buyers. But how much would the buyers pay? Would it be enough?

Suddenly they came to their lot number. ‘Oh God, I feel sick,’ said Sally, ‘and it doesn’t even affect me, really.’

Gina couldn’t even speak.

The auctioneer looked at the book in front of him and then at the computer screen. ‘Right, lot number 751, song lyrics from Jean Reveaux. This is a late entry to the sale but there’s been a lot of interest in this very rare item. How are we with the phones?’

He looked up and a couple of the young men with floppy hair nodded to indicate they were in touch with the bidders.

‘OK, who’ll start me at ten thousand pounds?’

Gina gripped Sally harder.

‘You knew the estimate was just a guess – they told you that,’ Sally whispered.

‘But to start at double!’

‘Shush,’ whispered Sally.

The phones, the internet and people in the room all seemed keen. The price rose. Gina wanted to run from the room but she was wedged in. Besides, Sally would never forgive her if she fled now.

‘I’m selling now . . .’ said the auctioneer. ‘All out on the phones, it’s with you in the room now – selling at . . . forty thousand pounds.’ His gavel came down. Bang. ‘Lot number . . .’

Sally led a stunned Gina out of the room and across the road to an Italian restaurant. ‘Two espressos and two brandies, please,’ she said.

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Gina when she’d taken a sip from each drink and found her voice again. ‘
Forty thousand pounds!
’

‘Way over the original estimate. Ring Matthew.’

Gina looked at her watch. ‘He’s got the Americans until four. I can’t disturb him while he’s driving.’

‘Gina!’ squeaked Sally. ‘Are you sure? He must be in agony wanting to know too.’

‘I suppose I could text him. He could pull in.’ She retrieved her phone and composed a text, and then they waited.

At last Gina’s phone broke into song. It was Matthew. She picked it up. ‘Forty thousand pounds! Isn’t that amazing!’

‘That really is amazing. And it’s all down to you!’

‘No it’s not. It’s not down to me at all. They’re just really rare, that’s all.’

‘It was you who alerted the fans and the collectors.’

‘You weren’t supposed to know about that! Anyway, we’re going to go for our train now. Will you be there when I get back?’

‘Realistically, probably not, but I’ll get there as soon as I can.’

Alaric and the girls met them at the station and drove Gina to the French House. She felt slightly flat. Her initial euphoria at the lyrics going for so much money had faded. Something was missing. She tried to rationalise her feelings. Of course she’d feel down. Everything she’d been working towards, seemingly for months, had been achieved so it was as if her motive for living had been taken away from her. And she was tired. She’d been working ridiculous hours and hadn’t been sleeping all that well – for various reasons; she probably needed a holiday. She could go and stay with her parents for a few days.

When they pulled up in front of the centre, Gina clambered out of the car past the sleeping twins and said her goodbyes. She looked up at the French House with fondness. ‘You’ll stay as you are,’ she said to it silently. ‘I do hope you’re pleased.’

She had wanted to see Matthew and celebrate but now she wasn’t sure, and if he got stuck in traffic he might not be back until the early hours. A tiny part of her acknowledged she was nervous. Supposing Matthew thanked her hugely for her help in saving the French House and then, in a very gentlemanly way, dumped her? Maybe he didn’t
need her any more. Oh heavens, that was just neurotic. She really must be tired.

Perhaps the best thing to do would be to see Jenny and tell her the good news before picking up her car and going home. No point in waiting in case Matthew was really late. He would ring her or send a text when he got in, surely. It would be nice to see him when they weren’t stressed and anxious.

‘Hi, Jenny!’ she said as she entered the centre. ‘Have you heard the good news?’

Jenny was smiling broadly. ‘I have. Matthew sent me a text. It’s wonderful. You must be so pleased.’

‘I am, of course. But tired. I just came to pick up my car and go home.’

Jenny shook her head. ‘I think you should pop up to the flat. There’s something there for you.’

Gina felt her legs could have done without the walk up through the centre to the top floor but she could hardly say so. It felt churlish to feel so lacking in bounce when the French House was going to be saved.

The door to the flat was ajar and she saw there were lights on. She went in and saw it was illuminated by dozens of candles and tea lights. The fire was lit and Oscar was asleep in front of it. She had hardly taken in this unexpected sight when Matthew appeared and took her into his arms.

He hugged her hard, lifting her off her feet and turning round and round with her. ‘Darling girl, you are so clever. I am so proud of you.’ Then he kissed her.

It was a couple of minutes later before she could speak. ‘Matthew! I didn’t think you were going to be here. I thought you’d still be in Leamington Spa or somewhere.’

‘I managed to get away early. The Americans completely understood. They agreed I had to be here to welcome you.’

Now Gina noticed not only candles but a huge arrangement of flowers and a bottle of champagne in a bucket.

‘It’s lovely that you’re here,’ she said. ‘I was feeling a bit anti-climactic.’

‘Of course I’m here. I’ll always be here.’ He looked down at her, his gaze searching. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’

Held captive by the sincerity in his normally inscrutable face, Gina smiled and nodded. Her paranoid fears melted away.

‘Now, glass of champagne?’ he went on.

‘Yes, please. This is so nice. The candles, the flowers and everything.’

‘I’m glad you like it. You see, I can be romantic. I’m not always a grumpy old Eeyore.’

He squashed her to his side in another hug. ‘My Americans were very insistent I get the setting absolutely right,’ he went on.

She frowned. ‘Setting for what?’

He paused. ‘Well, you know, your triumphant homecoming. The Americans were so thrilled to hear about everything.’

He was being a bit obscure. ‘About the French House?’ said Gina, checking. ‘I bet they were. This was the group you’ve known for years?’

Matthew nodded. He took out the bottle and began to unwind the wire. ‘They’ve seen me through a lot.’

‘It’s because you’ve always been utterly straight and not done anything other than be a complete star.’ She
watched as he eased the cork out with a gentle phut and began to pour.

‘It always annoyed Yvette. She thought I was mad. But I don’t think it does me any harm. The dealers get in touch if they have anything special. It all works out. Now.’ He handed her a foaming glass. ‘Here’s to you.’

‘And here’s to you. And the French House. May she continue to reign as the star of the town’s antiques shops!’

‘You’ve put so much of yourself into saving her, every-one really appreciates it. It turns out they all knew everything, but didn’t want me to know in case it made me worry about them.’

‘Well, they obviously care about you. And I do love a project,’ she said and sipped her champagne.

‘But do you love it as much as I do?’ he asked.

‘Of course I do! I worked so hard to save it. Although admittedly that was because—’ She stopped.

‘Yes?’

‘Well, you know, the greater good. All those small dealers who need it. Stuff like that.’ She took refuge in her champagne, aware she had been about to confess to loving him, which, while not a bad thing, wasn’t for her to say first, she felt. ‘So,’ she went on, to change the mood a bit, ‘apart from paying off Yvette, what are you going to do with the money? You do realise there are fees, seller’s premiums, things like that?’

‘Of course. Once those are paid, I’ll do some repairs to the building, maybe a bit of refurbing, and of course restocking.’ He paused. ‘Actually I’ve spent some of it already.’

‘Really? On an antique? What? I can’t wait to see. Is it in the shop already?’

‘No, it’s here.’ He led her to the sofa and sat her down. Then he sat down opposite her. ‘Darling Gina, I don’t have a brilliant track record with marriage but after I met you – and fell in love with you – I found I really wanted to do it again. Do you think you might consider it?’

Gina found she couldn’t breathe properly. In spite of everything that had happened between them, this was a shock. ‘I’m not sure I’m following you. Are you asking me to marry you?’

‘Yes, but I wanted to make it so you could refuse if you wanted to.’

‘I don’t want to. Refuse I mean. But I’d like it if you asked me in plain English. I wouldn’t want to say yes to the wrong thing.’