Liverpool Love Song (32 page)

‘You’ve been very quick,’ he said.

‘I’m used to working with figures,’ she said.

‘Oh!’ His eyes behind his heavy glasses looked uneasy. ‘Can you spare the time from Mr Bristow’s work?’

‘He likes us to be flexible and help each other. He says that if one of us is off sick or something, then the work goes on seamlessly.’

‘I see.’ He opened the top file. ‘Where did you learn about accounting?’

‘Not accounting exactly. We were all taught bookkeeping at commercial college and I liked that better than the shorthand and typing. When I started work, it was for the Inland Revenue.’

‘Oh! Then you’ll be good at it.’ Chloe thought that that made him look even more uneasy. ‘Thank you, it’s kind of you to do it for me.’

Leo could feel his stomach churning long after Chloe had left his office. Her beautiful lavender-blue eyes had looked askance at him. Had she noticed his anxiety? The last thing he needed was someone who was used to working with figures. And in particular one of Bristow’s relatives. She was stunningly beautiful; he couldn’t take his eyes off her face. There was nothing wrong with her body either. He’d just love to undress her and take her in his arms. The trouble was, she was quicker on the uptake than Mrs Parks, and he couldn’t afford to let her get close to his figures. She was a danger he’d not foreseen.

The damn job was wearing him down, he knew he needed to pull himself together. He’d always been very careful about the figures he handed out for Mrs Parks to work on. They were pukka; there was nothing fraudulent in them.

Leo returned to his bedsit late on Friday afternoon to find that his bank statement had arrived. The credit balance gave him great pleasure; never had he had money like this before. His salary was being paid in and he was taking out only enough to show some movement through the account. He had several times that amount in Alistair Jackson’s account, though he was drawing regular sums out of that. Some, he used to live on, but in addition he was building up cash in embarrassingly large amounts.

He’d bought fish and chips and a couple of cans of beer to take home for his tea. He sat down to eat and gloat over his wealth. This was what made the nervous stress he was suffering worth while.

He’d also brought an
Evening Echo
home with him, and when he opened it and saw advertised a specialist sale of silver in a Liverpool auction room, he felt quite excited. He was missing the collection of antique silver that he’d had to sell. He used to enjoy going to auctions and researching all he could about his pieces.

It would be a good thing to start another collection, because it would lock his cash out of sight in silver. He could and should indulge himself by buying more. It would be safer than having an over-large bank balance that could draw attention to itself.

The advertisement told him that the silver would go on public display in the saleroom for three days before the sale. He went in his lunch hour and was beguiled by the glittering array. He bought a catalogue and mooned over it for hours, longing to own it all. He went again to the preview on the following day to decide which pieces he liked most and what he was prepared to pay for them.

There was the difficulty that the sale would take place during the working day, when he was expected to be at his desk. He immediately let it be known about the office that he had a nagging toothache, and then asked Mr Bristow if he might take an hour or so off on the afternoon of the sale to keep an appointment with his dentist. Old Bristow was quite sympathetic.

Walter was tired when he got home from work. Joan was in the kitchen, scraping carrots for supper. Immediately she stopped to make him the gin and tonic he needed to unwind. She poured a glass of sherry for herself and followed him into the sitting room. It was part of their comfortable evening routine.

‘I’ve kept the local paper for you,’ she said. ‘Did you see there’s to be a big auction of silver tomorrow?’

‘No, I haven’t had time to open it this week.’

Joan had folded it to the right page for him. ‘My goodness,’ he said. ‘They’ve got just about everything here. Some very good candlesticks.’

‘We did agree we’d get another pair if we could.’

‘We did.’

‘I’ll come with you if you want to go to the auction.’

‘I’ve never been to one before, but I could take an hour or so off.’ Walter knew that all collectors craved more, and he was no exception. And he had promised Joan some candlesticks. ‘We’ll go.’

They arrived just before the sale started. Walter wanted to get a closer look at what was on offer. There was so much silver and it all glittered enticingly. There was an aura of expectation in the hall.

‘This is exciting,’ Joan whispered.

‘There are several pairs of candlesticks, and candelabras too.’

Joan was nudging him. ‘There’s Adam Livingstone, Chloe’s boyfriend. We bought some lovely pieces from him.’

‘But he let her down. He’s never been near her or his children since she left him.’

‘For heaven’s sake, he’s seen us.’ Joan was tugging at Walter’s arm. ‘He’s coming over.’

‘Good afternoon, it’s Mr and Mrs Bristow, isn’t it? Are you pleased with the silver you bought from me?’

Adam was smiling at them, not one whit abashed at what he’d done to Joan’s cousin. Walter was not in the habit of showing his displeasure. ‘Very pleased,’ he said, politely.

‘You’ve come to buy more?’

‘Yes, Joan would like a pair of candlesticks.’

‘I remember,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t able to find you any. There are several pairs here.’

The sale of silver was due to begin at two o’clock, after the lunch break; other goods had been auctioned off in the morning. Full of eager anticipation, Leo arrived before it started. He’d bought his previous collection of silver at auction and knew the drill. He registered as a buyer and was given his bidding paddle, with the number 234.

Little thrills were bubbling through him as he hurried into the hall to view the silver again. He half expected to find it wasn’t as good as he remembered, but he was not disappointed. He couldn’t help his audible sigh of admiration.

Within seconds, he had his catalogue out to consider again the prices he’d marked against the pieces he fancied. Leo was fascinated by and felt passionate about good-quality silver, whenever it had been made. What he saw before him would give him a better, more valuable collection than he’d had before.

He’d timed his arrival well. The auctioneer was mounting the rostrum. He slid through the crowd and found a place at the back of the hall, where he could see who was bidding against him. His heart began to pound as the porter held aloft a pair of five-light Victorian candelabra.

The buzz of conversation died down as the auctioneer started. ‘A fine pair of silver candelabra in the Adam style. Who will start me at a hundred pounds?’

Leo had worked out how to get what he wanted at the best possible price. No point in taking risks to get the money only to throw it away by paying more than was necessary. He always waited for the bidding to begin, or until the auctioneer dropped his starting price.

Concentrate, he told himself. He knew there’d be dealers here and he didn’t want to join a bidding fight and force the price up unnecessarily. One of the bidders dropped out, and then another. Leo held up his paddle. There was only one person against him now. He pressed on and felt a little jerk of triumph as the candlesticks were knocked down to him.

He was bidding again for a pair of George IV wine coasters when he happened to glance at the person bidding against him. The shock made him freeze, although for a moment he wasn’t entirely sure. Then the man turned his head slightly so that he glimpsed the side of his face, and he felt his stomach turn over. Walter Bristow was here!

The auctioneer was looking in Leo’s direction expecting him to raise his bid, but he daren’t. He shrank back and started to edge his way out of the hall. He must not be seen here by the boss; not when he’d asked for time off to go to the dentist. He was halfway down the front steps before he remembered his successful bid for the candlesticks. He paused. He ought to pay for them before he went; he didn’t want to be blackballed by this auction house. It was the best in Liverpool for silver.

He shot up the stairs to the office, taking them two at a time. It was probably safer to pay now than it would be later, when a queue could build up. There was nobody here but the cashier. He’d brought cash; they preferred that and it was much the best for him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take the candlesticks from the hall until after the auction had finished. He said, ‘I’ll collect them after five o’clock.’

‘We close at seven, sir. We’ll be open again tomorrow between nine and one.’

That done, he crept cautiously down again. He could hear the auctioneer’s voice in the distance but there was no further sign of Walter Bristow. His heart didn’t stop pounding until he’d been back at his desk for an hour. All afternoon he worried in case the boss had realised he was bidding for those candlesticks. He was very disappointed and cross because he’d had to leave without getting more of that beautiful silver.

The sale was about to start; the porter was holding up a pair of candelabra. ‘I do like those,’ Joan breathed. ‘They’d look lovely on our sideboard.’

Walter felt a shiver of anticipation. ‘I like them too.’

‘A very fine pair,’ Adam said beside him. ‘Dating from 1896, if I remember correctly.’

‘They look beautiful from here,’ Walter said, ‘but I didn’t come to the preview, so I’ve nothing to go on but what it says in the catalogue.’

The bidding started and Walter joined in. He wished he’d been able to have a good look at them and wondered how much they were worth. Joan really wanted them and he liked them very much. Bidding was brisk and the price was going up.

He felt Adam put a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t chase it any further. That’s a very good price and they aren’t worth more. That fellow’s determined to have them.’

As the hammer went down, the auctioneer said, ‘Sold for three hundred and twenty pounds to 234 at the back.’

Disappointed, Walter turned round to see who had succeeded in getting them.

‘Good lord!’ he said. ‘Isn’t that Francis Clitheroe?’ He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Joan shook her head. ‘I’ve never met him.’

Adam said, ‘No, I think you’re wrong. I’ve done business with that fellow. In fact, he sold me that silver that you bought from me. His name is . . . let me think. Yes, Leo Hardman. A strange fellow, he collects silver.’

‘I’d have sworn he was my accountant.’

‘No, but he’s leaving. He must have come just for that one lot. Thank goodness, we don’t need him here to drive the prices up.’

Bidding had started for the next lot, a cut-glass powder bowl with a silver lid. ‘I love that,’ Joan whispered. ‘It would look great on my dressing table.’

Walter lifted his bidding paddle and was pleased when the bowl was knocked down to him. Joan was thrilled, but he mopped his forehead and said to Adam, ‘I’ve never been to an auction before. Not my scene really. It’s easier to buy from a shop.’

Adam smiled at him. ‘There’s a lot of dealers here. They drive prices up and make it more difficult. If you like, I’ll buy what I can at the best price possible and bring it round to your house this evening. Then you can choose what you want at leisure and we won’t be bidding against each other.’

‘Like you did last time?’ Joan asked.

‘Yes.’ Walter was relieved. ‘That might suit me better.’

Adam pushed a notebook and biro in front of him. ‘Remind me,’ he said. ‘Write down your address and phone number and I’ll ring you later.’

Joan printed it out neatly. They stayed in the auction room and saw several pieces being knocked down to Adam.

‘Chloe isn’t going to like this,’ Joan whispered to her husband. ‘He’s the father of her children.’

‘I can see how he turned her head, a handsome fellow, wouldn’t you say?’

‘She says he’s a cad, a real scoundrel, and he’s paid her nothing towards their keep.’

‘And he’s found himself another girlfriend.’

‘Should we be doing business with him?’

‘No, but she introduced us to him, didn’t she? And he treated us quite well.’

‘We needn’t tell her.’

In the early evening, Walter let Adam into his sitting room and he unwrapped the newspaper from the pieces of silver he’d bought.

‘If you don’t like them, don’t feel you have any obligation to buy,’ he said. ‘I’ll have no difficulty selling them on to somebody else. It’s top-of-the-market stuff. Well, you know that, it was in a specialist sale.’

He gave Walter a copy of the sale catalogue. ‘I’ve marked the price I want against each lot,’ he told them, and described each piece as he brought it out.

‘There were no other candelabra, but I did get a pair of candlesticks by James Gould. These are hallmarked for the year 1732. George II. A rare find.’

‘I do like those,’ Walter said.

Chloe was relieved to find that her mother was having one of her better spells. She came home from work on Friday afternoon and met Joan as she was about to leave.

‘Your mother’s had a good day,’ she told her. ‘We had a little walk down to the pond and sat in the sun. I asked her if she’d like to come to us for Sunday lunch this week and she seemed quite pleased. Why don’t you all come? You’re providing countless meals for me here.’

‘You know it cheers Mum up to have you here.’

‘Yes, but do come, it’ll be a change for you all. Bring Rex as well, I know he usually has Sunday lunch with you.’

Chloe smiled. ‘Yes, Mum needs him, he’s good at helping her in and out of the car. He’ll have to drive us too. Mum doesn’t feel up to it any more.’

‘You ought to learn,’ Joan told her. ‘Helen’s car is hardly used now. I’ll give you driving lessons for your next birthday.’

‘Thank you, I’d like that.’

Chloe was looking forward to the Sunday visit. As Auntie Joan had said, it would be a change. There were very few outings now that Mum could manage.