Liverpool Love Song (17 page)

Chloe wasn’t sure she believed him.

As the months went on, Chloe was learning more about the antique trade and finding it fascinating. Adam found books for her to study and talked her through any interesting pieces that came his way. She’d also learned how to get out and about with a toddler in tow, and Adam often took them with him when he was working.

Lucy was beginning to say a few words. She was now a pretty little moppet with thick blonde curls, and both she and Chloe were becoming known in the auction houses and antique shops of the north-west. Chloe found that the staff made a great fuss of Lucy, and were only too willing to answer her own questions and teach her the finer points of the trade. She felt that living with Adam was giving her a fuller, more interesting life and she was enjoying it.

They went with him to a small auction house near Congleton where he went regularly. Even Chloe was beginning to feel on friendly terms with the staff. The sale was over for the day and she was waiting for Adam to pay for what he’d bought and load the pieces into his car. She had Lucy on her hip and was passing the time of day with one of the auctioneers when a policeman came in with some printed lists and gave him a copy.

Lucy said, ‘Me, me,’ and put out her hand. The policeman made a great show of presenting her with another copy. ‘Tank you,’ she lisped.

‘Just the May list of stolen property,’ the police officer said to Chloe as he chucked Lucy under her chin.

‘To make sure we don’t auction off stolen property.’ The auctioneer smiled.

Lucy began to suck on the list. Chloe took it from her and examined it. ‘Do you see much stolen property?’

‘No, not here. But we need to keep our eyes open and be aware that it could happen. We act as agents, you see, and though we might be perfectly innocent, if stolen goods appear in our catalogue we might be charged with fencing.’

‘But it can’t be that easy to auction off stolen property,’ Chloe pointed out. ‘After all, the goods are on display to the public for days before the sale. That gives everybody time to pick out anything suspicious.’

‘It should, but the canny ones bring their goods in as a late sale. Probably the day before the auction takes place. That way they miss having stolen goods described in our catalogue and there are fewer records by which stolen property can be traced.’

Chloe held her breath. Was this what Adam had done?

‘Once the sale takes place,’ the auctioneer went on, ‘the stolen goods go to a new home and the new owner believes them to be rightfully his. Possibly he’ll keep them for decades. It’s very unlikely then that the thief will ever be caught or the goods recovered.’

Chloe could feel perspiration breaking out on her forehead. This explained why Adam had kept stock hidden in their loft for months if not years, and then brought it in as a late sale. It had to be, there was no other reason. The staff at the auction houses saw a lot of him and probably thought he could be trusted to put things in late. Her heart was pounding and she was struggling to appear her normal self.

Fortunately the auctioneer started to play with Lucy. He told her his wife was expecting their first baby and he was hoping for a daughter as pretty as hers.

She was glad when Adam came looking for her, but she couldn’t look him in the face. Once Lucy had been strapped into her car seat and he’d started to drive home, Chloe settled herself in the passenger seat and closed her eyes. She was shaking inside. She’d had to quell her suspicions about Adam more than once in the past, but this brought them all rushing back. She had a dragging feeling in her gut. Adam was handling stolen property, he was a petty crook. She needed to think hard about this.

When they reached home, Chloe gave Lucy her supper, bathed her and put her in her cot. She got their dinner of beef casserole on the dining room table and had a glass of red wine in her hand. Then she was able to push the police list of stolen property across the table to him.

‘Tell me, Adam, what you kept hidden in the loft, was that stolen property?’

He was gulping down his food, ignoring her, but a guilty flush was spreading up his cheeks.

‘I’m pretty sure it must be. Otherwise why enter it for auction the day before the sale?’

He was angry. ‘It was convenient that way.’

‘It was stolen!’

His cutlery crashed down on his plate. ‘What if it was?’ he barked.

Chloe swallowed hard. ‘Did you steal it?’

‘No, I did not.’

‘Then you must be fencing it, and that’s no better. Now I know how you can afford all this,’ she said, waving her hand round the exquisitely furnished dining room. ‘This is worse than conning pensioners to part with their property for a fraction of its value, though you no doubt continue to do that. It’s a criminal offence, Adam. It could get you into trouble.’

‘You do exaggerate.’

‘Don’t try to play it down. You could be caught and sent to prison.’

‘I take care not to get caught, and I’m not sure it would rate a prison sentence if I was.’

‘I don’t know about that, but it’s completely dishonest. What about your reputation? If this becomes common knowledge, people won’t want to deal with you.’

‘And your reputation is whiter than the driven snow, of course.’

‘I don’t know about that either. If you were charged with fencing, the police would look at me again. Don’t forget I mistakenly gave you a false alibi.’

‘More fool you.’

Chloe shuddered. ‘Would I be able to convince them I was innocent? I live with you and must see what you’re up to. They’d think I was helping you handle stolen property, and that scares me.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, don’t start worrying about that, it isn’t going to happen.’ He started to eat again. ‘And stop nagging, I can’t stand it.’

Chloe took a deep breath. His aggression was hurtful. ‘Mum sings your praises because she thinks you’ve done well for yourself. If she knew, she’d be horrified.’

‘She won’t know unless you tell her.’

‘Give it up now, Adam, before you’re caught.’

He refilled his wine glass, took a good swig and rolled it round his tongue. She knew from the look on his face that he had no intention of giving it up.

To think of what might happen in the future was terrifying, and to stay with him now would condone what he was doing. She shuddered. She ought to leave and take Lucy with her, but that was a huge step in the dark too. She was frightened to stay and frightened to leave.

CHAPTER TWELVE

O
NCE IN A WHILE, Helen enjoyed getting dressed up and going into town to meet her cousin Joan for lunch. Today she’d arranged to meet her in the restaurant in George Henry Lees. She was a little early but found good reason to pause as she walked through the shop. It was her favourite, and she bought many of her clothes here. She was studying a black and white linen two-piece when Joan caught her up.

‘That would suit you,’ she told her.

Helen shook her head. ‘Too formal for me. I prefer something simpler. How are things?’

They’d been shown to a table when Joan said, ‘Not a lot is going on. Walter is still taking me around the antique shops looking for silver. We’ve had our insurance money for ages.’

‘You’re now looking for more to replace what you lost?’

‘We’ve been looking since it was stolen. We’ve bought a biscuit barrel and a bonbon dish, but we’d like a tea and coffee service and other things too. We haven’t seen anything to compare in quality to what we lost.’

Helen and Joan had discussed Chloe’s boyfriend at great length on previous occasions. Now Helen said, ‘Adam might be able to help you.’

‘Yes, he’s an antique dealer, isn’t he? Walter suggested I ask you about him.’

‘I don’t know whether he specialises in silver,’ Helen said slowly, ‘but he certainly knows a lot about clocks and furniture.’

‘Do you have his phone number? I could give him a ring.’

‘At home, yes. I’ll talk to Chloe and ask her to get Adam to ring you tonight.’

‘Thanks. No harm in finding out if he has anything that would please Walter.’

Adam was delighted when, in due course, he spoke to Walter and Joan. He said to Chloe, ‘Your uncle sounds like the perfect customer. He has money in hand to replace what he’s lost, and he’s looking for high-quality antique silver of every sort.’

‘He used to have a lot of silver teapots and bowls and things.’

‘He said he wants a full tea and coffee service but he’s looking for almost anything as long as it’s top of the market. I told him I had a nice stirrup cup in the shape of a fox’s head, but he wasn’t too sure about that.’ Adam laughed. ‘I told him I’d see what else I could find and that I’d be in touch with him in a week or so.’

Once Adam knew he had a client ready to buy, he let other dealers know what he was looking for. In an auction sale he picked up a nice claret jug of silver and cut glass made in 1860, and after visiting an antique fair and spending two weeks searching through various shops he came across a footed bowl by George Jensen. It had open-work leaves and ivory round the stem, setting off a plain bowl. Adam thought it an outstanding design, but it was hallmarked 1924 and not yet an antique. He bought it but had to pay more than he wanted to, because he could find little else that he thought might excite Chloe’s uncle.

He knew there was no shortage of tea and coffee pots and neither were matching sets rare, but though many were nice enough, he wouldn’t say they were top of the market. He widened his search and came across a George IV cake basket by John Edward Terry that he liked; he thought Walter would like it too.

Then he got chatting to an elderly man who’d been a dealer for decades and was known in many auction houses. Adam had dealt with him once or twice, and asked him if he knew where he could find good-quality silver.

‘I might,’ he said, and told him about a contact he had in Liverpool. ‘I’ve sold him a few things over the years; he’s a collector. He rang me the other day and said he wanted to sell some of his pieces.’

‘Good stuff?’

‘Very, he bought only the best, but I’m not sure I want them back. Getting a bit past it now and the market for silver’s going down, isn’t it?’

Adam was interested. ‘Nobody wants to clean it these days. Who is he?’

‘A man called Leo Hardman, a strange fellow. I reckon he’s in need of money.’

‘Strange in what way?’

‘Not the sort you’d expect to invest in antique silver, but he’s got a good eye for it.’

‘Do you think he might have what I’m looking for?’

‘Yes, and he might want more for it than it’s worth.’

‘Doesn’t everybody?’

‘He’s a canny fellow and he knows all there is to know about silver.’

‘He’s not in the trade?’

‘No, he said he works in a big hotel.’

Adam paused. ‘This stuff, it is all right? He’s not fencing or anything?’

The dealer pulled a face. ‘I’d say it was clean. He made sure he wasn’t buying anything dicey from me.’

‘Right, can you give me his phone number?’

He smiled. ‘For a small consideration, I’ll even ring him up and tell him I’m sending a buyer round to help him.’

‘OK – if he’s got what I want and I buy.’

It took Adam a day or two to set up an appointment to call on Leo Hardman. He seemed to be ringing a shared number in a public part of a building. When he finally managed to speak to him, Hardman said, ‘I work nights. I’d like you to come as early in the morning as you can, so I can get to bed.’

Adam got up very early on a wet Saturday morning to drive to Liverpool. He was surprised to find Leo Hardman’s flat in a crumbling Victorian house in a poor and shabby part of the city. He saw several bells, each with a curling scrap of paper beneath from which the writing had faded. He rang two of them and then found that the front door opened to his touch. As he went inside the building, he could hear a child crying and an enraged woman screaming at it. He cringed at the thought of having close neighbours like that.

Leo Hardman came rushing downstairs to meet him; Adam didn’t know what to make of him. He was small and thin and wore scruffy jeans with a faded red T-shirt; he was not at all the sort of man he’d expect to own fine silver. Adam was afraid he was wasting his time until he followed him into his bedsitter.

One glance at the silver laid out on the table blew his breath away. There was the tea and coffee service Walter Bristow had specially asked for.

‘It’s George III, by Samuel Wood. Every piece hallmarked London, 1763.’

Hardman’s voice had thickened with pride; Adam thought him a real enthusiast. He picked up the sugar bowl for a closer look. ‘It’s a good shape.’

‘It’s very attractive, and it’s complete with its matching tray, not one somebody’s tried to marry up.’

Adam knew Walter Bristow would love it. He picked over the other pieces.

‘A pair of gadrooned shell butter dishes on periwinkle feet. London, 1810,’ Hardman told him, ‘by Rebecca Eames and Edward Barnard.’ He held up a bonbon dish and told him where and when it was made and even the weight of silver it contained. He did the same with some vegetable dishes and followed that with a cigarette box. His hands lovingly cradled each piece.

A boat-shaped cake basket caught Adam’s eye; he leaned over to pick it up.

‘That’s a real gem,’ Hardman said. ‘By Paul Storr. London, 1802. And I have a honey pot by him too, yes, here it is, silver gilt, beehive shape, cover and stand. That’s 1798. You can’t get better than Paul Storr.’

Adam had to agree. He could hardly believe his eyes; he’d never seen so much fine silver in one place: a rose bowl, a chocolate pot, a decorative table centre. He was looking at an Aladdin’s cave of treasures. His hand came to rest on a set of four wine coasters.

‘Those are by William Plummer,’ Hardman told him. ‘George III, 1777.’

It went on and on. A caudle cup hallmarked London, 1666. Silver salvers, sauce boats, and every piece sparkled and glittered under the one low-powered ceiling light.

Adam could see the man was passionate about quality silver. It seemed he could read the dates and other information in hallmarks. He had a bookcase stuffed with books on the subject and none about anything else. The room had originally been designed as the drawing room of the house and was light because it had a big window. If it were clean and tidy, it could have an air of faded gentility.