The Antique Love (6 page)

“No,” he said flatly. “Love is a deception for fools. I’ve seen passion bring a man to his knees and ruin him. Seen it with these two eyes.” He reached a hand up to his face in what for the laconic Kurt was an unusually dramatic gesture. “If you allow passion to rule you, then ultimately it will destroy you.”

Penny stared. Her question had certainly prodded Kurt, but his response had been more than she bargained for. Now she knew she was right. His whole demeanour showed it, from the darkening of his eyes to the coiled reserve in his body. No matter what his protestations or how he tried to withhold it, a deep well of passion ran within Kurt, like the seam of an oil well. Is this why he kept such a tight rein on himself? Did he feel his own passionate nature was a dangerous thing? She was struggling to compute his answer when all of a sudden the black cloud lifted, and his expression softened.

“Don’t look so concerned,” he said. “It was a simple question, and it should have a simple answer. No, I haven’t been in love. I’ve joined a dating agency, and you’ll find this hard to believe, but there are plenty of women out there who think the same way I do.” He spread his hands. “I’m perfectly open about what I’m looking for in a relationship, and you might be surprised to hear I’ve had a lot of responses to my profile.”

He looked as though he was astonished at the response himself, and Penny had to bite back a smile. She wasn’t the slightest bit surprised he’d had a lot of female interest. Kurt was strong-minded, courteous, considerate, and a successful financier. He came across as real hero material. The only surprise was that the internet hadn’t crashed across Europe as soon as his profile went online.

“Fine, maybe I’m asking the wrong sort of questions,” she said. “Maybe something more about what style of house you like.” She wrinkled her brow. “Something about your personal taste. Or I know. Which artists have you been to see in London?”

For the rest of the meal, they kept the topics light. Although Penny had realised a while ago that Kurt’s simple exterior was deceiving, she was surprised at his wide-ranging knowledge. He talked in a thoughtful, interested way about the shows and exhibitions he’d viewed during his time in London. She found they had a lot of shared interests, and even discovered that on one occasion, they must have been in the same art gallery at the same time without realising it.

When a companionable pause fell in the conversation, Penny leaned back in her chair. They’d been talking for quite a while, but it was one of those conversations where neither person revealed much personal information. There’d been a moment—a small opening in the conversation—when she could have told Kurt about her own background. Kurt had asked about her family and all sorts of responses flashed through her mind. As usual, though, she’d decided to gloss over her mother’s identity and merely informed him her parents had died tragically young without elaborating.

Her gaze lit on the gilded mirrors along the wall behind Kurt, and she saw her troubled features repeated over and over as her reflection disappeared into the distance in front of her. Her frown deepened. Penny was open-hearted by nature, but past experience had taught her to be cautious. She’d been on the receiving end of a range of unpleasant reactions when she’d let fall her mother was Megan Rose. Some thought she was a name-dropper, some were jealous, some thought she was trying to use her mother’s name to build up her business. Some people even believed she was making it up, and that it was all just another sign of her over-active imagination. Still, she knew instinctively that none of these reactions would fit Kurt.

She brought her gaze back from the mirror. Kurt was quite still, lost in thought, his eyes on some point outside the window behind her. She examined his sturdy profile and knew straightaway it would be impossible to tell him the truth. She couldn’t bear for that instant look of incredulity to cross his face, that reaction which was always closely followed by embarrassed pity. Penny had no film star looks, and she knew it. All she wanted was to be treated as a person in her own right. And she knew as soon as she said her mother’s name, she would lose all confidence in herself. Penny Rosas would be second-best to her mother’s memory once again.

She let out an involuntary sigh, and Kurt turned immediately, the light from the window trailing dusty gold over his blonde head.

“Everything okay?” He bent toward her. “Guess you should be heading back to the shop.”

He regarded her silently for a moment, and the dusty ray of sunlight caught them both in the same wide shaft. He gave a slow, warm smile.

“I’ve enjoyed our lunch,” he said, breaking the pause. “I knew I’d gotten the right person when I chose you. Here’s to working together.”

Penny raised the remains of her orange juice. “Here’s to your happy home.”

She smiled, and her glass sparkled in the pale sunlight from the window.

* * * *

Daniel Rosas was in the kitchen making a start on the evening meal when his granddaughter arrived home after work, rain-soaked and weary.

“Hello, love, you’re early.” As usual, he brightened at the sight of her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, fine, Granddad.” She pulled off her wet coat. “I don’t need to work so late now, you know. Kurt’s going to help me with the accounts.”

“Oh yes, the cowboy.”

The
cowboy from White River
story had made Penny’s grandfather laugh out loud. Penny always tried to bring home a few light-hearted stories from her day to share with him over their evening meal, and he’d particularly enjoyed hearing about her meeting with Kurt. There was a time when she would have told her granddad everything—all her worries regarding the accounts and David’s aggressive behaviour before he dramatically quit—but these days she kept her problems to herself. Daniel was becoming increasingly frail. Penny had noticed the change in him and could date it from the day of her grandmother’s funeral two years ago. Since then, he had visibly shrunk. It was as though everything was an effort, and Penny was frightened to burden him with her worries in case he became physically ill.

Kurt’s arrival was a blessing in more ways than one, since she no longer had to fret that her grandfather would discover the wretched state of the shop’s accounts. Penny knew instinctively that Kurt could be relied on to sort through the shop’s books with efficiency and tact.

“I’m going to see Kurt’s house in Richmond at the weekend,” she told him, hoping to interest him in the project. “I brought home some brochures and stuff.” She lifted the paperwork out of her briefcase and set it on the kitchen table. “Thought you might be interested in helping me with some ideas.”

It was the sort of project her granddad would normally pounce on with enthusiasm. Although too fragile for the everyday stresses and strains of business, he still shared the same passion for the world of antiques as Penny. So she was dismayed when he cast an absent glance at the documents before turning away.

“Okay, love, I’ll have a look later…”

His hands shook slightly as he lifted a saucepan onto the cooker. When Penny stepped toward him, she noticed his lined face was paler than usual.

“Are you okay, Granddad?”

He lit a match to the ring and then shook the flame out a little unsteadily. “David came round to see me this afternoon.”

“David! What did he want?”

“Said he wanted to give his side of the story. Tell me why he felt he had to leave. When I said you were in charge of the business now, that it was nothing to do with me, he started to get a little belligerent.”

“He has no right bothering you at home.” Penny strode over to the sink to pour herself a glass of water. “He knows how things are, with Grandma dying and everything. After everything you’ve been through, he should be leaving you in peace to enjoy your retirement.” The water streamed out of the tap in a furious burst.

“Yes. I know I’m officially retired, but I’m always here if you need help, Penny,” her granddad reminded her. “I’m not senile yet.”

She turned round to see him leaning against the kitchen units. Suddenly he seemed incredibly fragile. She started forward.

“I know, Granddad,” she said. “And I appreciate your help. That’s why I brought you the paperwork for Kurt’s house to look at. But as far as the accounts go, David needn’t worry. Kurt’s looking into them now.”

“That’s what I told David,” he said. His eyes screwed up, and he rushed to finish his sentence. “And that’s when he started losing it. He started saying some terrible things. Said you were a dreamer and a romantic, and you wouldn’t last two minutes in business without him. The chap’s a total dope. You’re well rid of him.”

Her grandfather caught hold of a chair back and gripped it. Penny hurried to place, her hand over his thin one, feeling the skin pathetically taut over his bones.

“Granddad, don’t worry about me. I can look after myself. And I told you, I’ve got help anyway. Tehmeena’s great, and I’ve got the head of White River looking at my accounts. I’m doing perfectly well by myself. I don’t need David.”

Daniel turned to the stove to stir a pan that didn’t need stirring, his hand thin and shaky on the wooden spoon.

“I don’t doubt you can run that business perfectly well,” he said, more quietly now. He carried on stirring, his slumped back turned toward her. “It’s not that that bothers me. You’re a beautiful person, Penny,” he continued, holding up the spoon to halt her when she would have protested. “I know you don’t think so, and maybe your grandmother and I are to blame for that. You’re not beautiful in the same way your mother was. And your mother wasn’t a romantic like you. She looked like a romantic heroine in all those films, but she could be extremely hard-headed. She was determined to do what she wanted and blow the consequences.”

He turned round to face her. Penny was staring at him, wide-eyed. Her grandmother had never spoken of her mother in this way. She always made her mother out to be some sort of beautiful, tragic paragon, someone who Penny could never possibly live up to.

“You’re nothing like your mother but not in the way you think. You have a much warmer heart. And I worry that one day someone is going to break it.” Daniel’s voice broke a little at the end of his speech, and he would have turned away then, but Penny caught hold of his hand and pulled him into a fierce hug.

“Oh, Granddad,” she said into his old sweater.

“I know you grew up in your mum’s shadow, Penny,” he said over the top of her head. “But you’re a special person.” He pulled away and looked down into her troubled face. “So don’t let anyone ever make you feel second-best. Not David, not anyone. You’re worth far more than you think you are.”

Penny stilled for a moment in his embrace, touched by his words. Her grandfather’s extraordinary kindness had helped keep her on an even keel after her parents’ death, but still, it was hard not to feel as though her mother’s legacy was permanently colouring her life. She thought about how she had concealed her identity from Kurt and felt a miserable chill run through her. She knew she should show more courage, but it was difficult living up to a woman who had been fêted as one of the iconic British beauties of the century. Once Kurt met that ideal woman of his, he would be moving out of her life, and in the meantime, as cowardly as she knew it was, it was easier not to say anything.

“It’s okay, Granddad.” She turned back to the table, hiding the pain in her expression and keeping her tone light. “You don’t have to worry about anyone breaking this old heart. It’s too tough now for all that.”

She began laying the table mechanically. If she’d turned round then, she would have seen that her words had failed to reassure her grandfather in the way she intended. If anything, he looked more distressed. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, turning to the stove to begin serving out their meal.

The following weekend found Penny in the bathroom in Kurt’s house, staring at the bidet, hands covering her face. She peered in dismay over the tips of her fingers. For a couple of seconds, neither of them spoke. Kurt took a step nearer, gazing down into the hideously patterned bowl.

“So, what period would you say?” His voice was deadpan, but when he raised his eyes, they were dancing at the sight of her pained expression.

She lifted her head to scan the bathroom. The hideous pattern was repeated over and over again in the tiles, from floor to ceiling.

“Late eighties,” she said at last, with a stunned shake of the head. “Late eighties gone horribly, horribly wrong.” The colour was salmon pink, the pattern was tiny and floral and everywhere. The result was suffocating. “I’m glad I came to see all this for myself,” she continued. “I didn’t get the full effect in the estate agent’s brochure.”

“No,” Kurt agreed with a laugh. “Estate agents don’t usually state the full effect.”

He led the way out of the master bathroom and onto the landing. Here, the beautiful floorboards were still intact, but the original oak grain was suffocated by too dark a shade of varnish. The space should have been magnificently light and airy since an enormous arched window lit up the stairwell, but the walls were painted a depressing combination of hunter green and cream.

Penny made her way with care down the first uncarpeted stairs to a bend in the staircase, and stopped to gaze out of the window. Below was a large, rather untidy garden, bordered by a stone wall. Beyond the wall lay all the glory of Richmond Park. A faint mist rose from the park’s grasslands, and a pale yellow sun was attempting to dispel the damp. In the distance, she could see a huddle of deer, their antlers waving regally. It was a bucolic country scene. Hard to believe they were only a few miles from the City.

“I don’t think anyone could ever tire of this view,” Kurt said.

He had moved behind her, and when Penny turned her head, she found her eyes more or less level with his chin. His gaze was fixed on the scene below. Trapped as she was between Kurt’s broad chest and the window, there was nowhere for Penny to retreat. She turned her head to examine the view outside, trying to ignore the warmth of his body at her back and pressed herself closer to the glass.