The Bronze Lady (Woodford Antiques Mystery Book 2) (9 page)

Chapter 20

Thursday 14
th
January 2016, 11.00am

The next morning Sarah opened the pub as usual, although this was to be her first time behind the bar since Mike’s death a fortnight before. By temporarily running away the day before, and having some time out from The Ship Inn, and from Woodford, with people who knew nothing about the tragedy which struck her life at the start of the New Year, Sarah was able to gain some perspective, and to find the strength to make a start and pick up her life again.

Her new life.

Life without Mike.

Both sets of parents were still staying upstairs in the home she and Mike had shared for the last ten years since they bought The Ship Inn, although his parents were due to go home today, and her parents were going home at the weekend. She had found their joint presence invasive, she didn’t want their sympathy, or to share their grief, or to comfort them. Sarah knew she was being hard and unreasonable, and resented them even more for putting her in this position. Yesterday she decided that the best thing would be to pretend that everything was business as usual, so they would all go away and leave her in peace to find her own way forward. They were holding her back, and she wanted them gone. Mike had left her on her own, and that was something she was going to have to get used to. The sooner his parents went and stopped forcing her to listen to how wonderful he had been, the better. Sarah was sure she would stop randomly bursting into tears once her own mother and father had gone back to their house and she didn’t have to put up with their hushed voices, creeping footfalls, sympathetic looks and enquiries every few minutes.

‘Morning Tony, the usual?’ she put on her best Welcoming Landlady voice as one of The Ship Inn’s Regulars, Tony Cookson, walked in through the door.

‘Yes please Sarah. Lovely ‘do’ yesterday, everyone did Mike proud didn’t they?  I really should be working today, but imbibed a bit too much of the old whisky with Cliff and Paul last night, so decided to take today off, and start again tomorrow. Although drinking at lunchtime probably isn’t going to help me recover any quicker!’ He laughed, desperately hoping to get some sort of response from Sarah. She looked terrible, and he didn’t think she had heard a word he had said.

‘Morning Paul, the usual?’ said Sarah, as Paul Black, another Regular, walked up to the bar taking off his coat as he moved.

‘Morning Sarah, how are you?’ Realising after several seconds of silence he would not be getting a response to his question, Paul continued hurriedly ‘Not for me, I’ll have a half of orange juice and lemonade please. Have to go back to work this afternoon, but took the morning off as drank too much last night.’ He grimaced, looking at Tony. ‘You too mate?  Although you are obviously feeling better than me, look at you with your pint of bitter!’

‘No, I feel terrible, but decided that hair of the dog and a day off work would be my best road to recovery,’ laughed Tony, all the time exchanging glances with Paul as they tried to silently and subtly communicate with each other about the awful state of their beloved landlady behind the bar.

At that moment Mike’s father appeared from upstairs ‘Hello boys, I’m surprised to see you two in here, you were the final ones to leave last night. Did you sleep in the snug?’ he joked.

Relieved to find someone else in the pub with whom they could converse, Tony and Paul engaged Sarah’s father-in-law in jolly conversation and reminisces of Mike’s funeral the day before, soon joined by other locals and Sarah’s parents and her mother-in-law. Within half an hour the pub was alive to the sound of story-telling and laughter, and Sarah felt a sudden urge to run away again.

But this time she held her ground.

For one thing she was limited to two other members of staff working that day, as she had only contracted the extra staff until Mike’s funeral, and for another she resolved to give herself a month in which to decide if she was going to be able to run the pub on her own, or if she was going to sell up. Everyone had been telling her not to make any rash decisions, that she should leave it at least three months before making any plans, and that it would be better to wait a year as grief takes at least twelve to eighteen months to work its way through your system. What a load of bollocks, thought Sarah, every time a well-meaning friend or family member handed out their unasked for advice. What do they know about it?  None of them have been let down like she had. None of them were in her position. No, she would give it a month and then act on her decision one way or another.

Chapter 21

Saturday 16
th
January 2016, 7.00pm

‘Oh hello, how are you?  Are you settled in to your new job now?’ Paul Black was back in The Ship Inn, again drinking orange juice. He was entered into a ten mile run in Swanwick the next day and knew that his mid-week alcohol excesses would take their toll on his race time so he didn’t want to exacerbate this with any more debilitating libations. On entering the pub his face lit up when he saw Jennifer Isaac walking towards the bar alone. They first met at her father and Gemma’s wedding, and Paul had managed to spend quite a lot of time trying to flirt with Jennifer who he thought was extremely attractive. But he hadn’t been able to convince her to agree to a date with him since then.

‘Oh, hi,’ replied Jennifer, her previous good mood evaporating. Here was that annoying man again, all leery and in her face. At twenty-six years old Jennifer was young enough to be this man’s daughter, and old enough to recognise a seasoned Lothario when she met one. It was the first time they had met since her father’s wedding, although she was now living and working in Woodford she had managed to avoid Paul whose attention had been unwelcome and mildly creepy.

‘Yes I have, thank you. Excuse me,’ she said firmly, as she continued her journey to the bar to order another round of drinks. Sarah saw what was going on and smiled knowingly as Jennifer reached the bar and pulled a face at her.

‘Same again all round Jennifer?’ she asked brightly.

‘Yes please Sarah’ said Jennifer trying to create an aura of intense concentration and focus and touch-me-not prickliness as she felt Paul’s presence come into her personal space. Oh hell, now what?  These situations are always awkward, the man was clearly interested in her, he appeared to have no idea about body language, seeming to believe he was irresistible to any female he took a fancy too. She had tried to be polite and friendly without encouraging him every time he grabbed the opportunity to monopolise her during the wedding, but she was damned if she was going to allow him to repeat his behaviour every time they bumped into each other.

Sarah saw the look of desperation on Jennifer’s face, and could see that Paul was homing in on her for an intense seduction effort which was clearly not welcome, so took pity on both of them and said ‘You go back to your family Jennifer and I’ll bring the drinks over in a few minutes.’

‘Thank you,’ smiled Jennifer gratefully, the relief and understanding at what Sarah had done for her positively beaming from her face, and she turned away from Paul and hurried as fast as she could back to relative safety.

Sarah watched Paul as he followed Jennifer’s progress through the pub. When he turned back to Sarah she leaned across the bar and said in a conspiratorial whisper ‘Take my advice Paul, find someone your own age and settle down. You are not as young as you used to be, you have used and abused all the available and not-so-available women in this town and surrounding area, you are rapidly becoming a laughing stock, and the air of desperation around you is palpable. That young lady is clearly not interested in you, in fact by the look on her face you make her skin crawl.’

Satisfied she had successfully put him in his place she turned away and started to take the drinks order from the person standing next to him, leaving Paul in a mild state of shock with his mouth open. After a few seconds he came too, shut his mouth, and left the pub.

At forty three years old the twice-divorced father of two had been happily living under the illusion that his love ‘em and leave ‘em approach to life made him the envy of all men and irresistible to all women, and that it was a lifestyle choice he could continue until he decided to stop, which was not going to be any time soon. But Sarah’s blunt speech stopped him in his tracks for the first time ever. Despite all the hearts he had broken over the last ten years since his marriage to Christine was destroyed by her discovery of his affair with another woman, the wide wake of misery he trailed behind him and the occasional emotional outburst directed at him by cheated girlfriends and cheated-on boyfriends and husbands, it had never occurred to Paul that his behaviour could be viewed in anything but a positive light. He honestly believed that he was desired by women and the envy of all the men who met him. As he walked the two minutes back to his home, a small cottage he had built alongside his auction house, he started to contemplate the uncomfortable truth that rather than being the object of many people’s jealousy and admiration, he was actually turning into a figure of fun.

Meanwhile Sarah was feeling satisfied that she had spread a little of her own bad feeling to someone else, as she continued with her bright landlady façade for the rest of the evening.

‘Was that Paul Black you were talking to at the bar?’ asked Gemma after Jennifer had returned to the table and they had all been served with their Starters. ‘Watch him, he is notorious for seeking out fresh meat and I am very much afraid that a stunning intelligent young woman like you would be right up his street.’

‘Hey!  Don’t describe my daughter as fresh meat!’ complained Peter.

Jennifer laughed. ‘Don’t worry Gem, I have the measure of him. He spent most of your wedding day trying to chat me up. Men like that are just sad, destined to end up bitter and alone. I can’t imagine why any woman finds them attractive enough to fall for their transparent attempts to get them into bed!’

‘No, neither can I, but believe me we see enough of them sobbing into their teacups in the tearooms to know there is more to Paul Black than his own publicity,’ sighed Gemma. ‘Anyway, on a much more positive subject, we keep forgetting to ask you where you bought that amazing bronze your dad’s work colleagues gave us as a wedding present?  When we quizzed her, Jackie Martin said you found it for them.’

‘Oh yes!  Lovely isn’t it. We have an antiques and collectors fair every week in the market square back home, and one of the stalls sells those bronzes. He usually has one or two different ones every time I go there, and when I saw the Staffie I immediately thought of you and bought it to give to you myself. But then I saw that lady who makes those tapestry wedding samplers, and Jackie asked me for wedding present suggestions even though you said you didn’t want any, so I gave her the bronze and had a sampler made up to commemorate your wedding day.’

‘Really? You bought something as beautiful and well-crafted as that bronze from a market?’ queried her dad.

‘Yes, they have some really quality antique items there, as well as the typical rubbish you would expect. It all seems to sell,’ shrugged Jennifer. ‘The sampler lady stalls out at that market too, and that is where I bought your Alpaca wool slipper socks from.’

‘Once we buy our new house maybe we should spend some time scouring the antiques markets and car boots Gemma?’

‘Mmmmh, maybe,’ said Gemma, who thought the idea sounded terrible!

Chapter 22

Monday 18
th
January 2016, 12.30pm

Rebecca’s morning had again been disrupted by arriving for work at half past nine and finding her boss was already closeted in his office. She was still none the wiser about the reason for this change in work routine, and found that it wasn’t only his timing which had changed, but also his attitude. For the nineteen years Rebecca had known him Paul had always been a bit of a joker, never taking anything very seriously, and more than likely to take the Mickey out of anyone and everyone he came into contact with. But for the past few weeks his jokes were fewer, his demeanour was more harassed than happy, and his relationship with clients was starting to be affected.

Conflict is inevitable when you manage an auction house, but dealing with it had been one of Paul’s strong points up until recently. Because of the variety of auctions they held Paul and his team were usually able to steer items into the most suitable sale, but recently Paul had been turning away potential vendors telling them bluntly their belongings were not of the quality he was looking for. Although this had been the case in one or two situations, Rebecca counted at least five others which she thought Paul would have accepted a few months before, including a couple of items from a dealer who was regularly consigned goods for auction, and was one of Paul’s friends.

On the mornings when Paul came into the auction house earlier than usual the workplace took on a slightly disjointed air, as though everybody was waiting for some major explosion to shake everything back into place. So far no explosions had taken place; instead the build-up was continuing to rise.

Daniel Bartlett, Gemma’s tall, blonde haired son and another of Paul’s employees, usually started work at eight thirty in the morning, when he would either be hard at work preparing items for the online and printed catalogues for the next sale, or he would be out on the road with one or more of the other employees clearing houses or collecting and delivering auction items. That morning he was out first thing, and had just arrived back from delivering some furniture which had been sold in the previous Friday’s sale.

‘Hi Rebecca, I’m just popping down to mum’s, do you want me to get you anything for lunch?’

‘Oh yes please Daniel, whatever the soup of the day is and a ham roll would be great. Shall I phone and order it?  What are you having?’

‘Oh, no thanks. If you don’t mind waiting a bit I said I’d help her with one of the lights, the bulb needs changing and she can’t reach. I’ll be back in about half an hour.’

‘OK, thank you!’ she called after him, just as he and Cliff did a little dance past each other as one went out and one came in through the door.

‘Morning Rebecca, cor it is cold out there. Is Paul in his office?’ The initial awkwardness Cliff and Rebecca felt when they were newly separated and she first became an employee of Black’s Auctions had long since evaporated. They saw each other most days either here at the auction house, or at the former family home where Rebecca lived with their children, and seemed to have settled into an easy way of coping.

‘Hi Cliff, yes he is, and he is on his own. He has been in a troubled mood all morning, so maybe you can jolly him out of it. I am just keeping my head down out here!’

‘Ah, another screwed-up romance?’ guessed Cliff, and they both laughed. ‘How did he get on in the race yesterday?  He usually posts on facebook, but I haven’t seen anything yet.’

‘I don’t think he ran yesterday. Daniel mentioned he thought Paul was at home just after lunch when he popped in to return the tables he borrowed for the Swanwick Car Boot.’

Cliff knocked on the closed door of Paul’s office, which was not normally shut, and waited a few moments before opening it and walking in, despite not being given the go-head by the man closeted inside.

‘Morning Paul, time for a spot of lunch at the tearooms?’  Cliff noted that his friend looked drawn and pale. ‘Are you alright? Not going down with something are you?’

‘No, no I’m fine. Just a bit tired,’ sighed Paul. ‘Yes, lunch at the tearooms is an excellent idea, thanks. I could do with a bit of fresh air; the walk down there will do me some good.’

‘Did you not compete yesterday then?’

‘No, no I didn’t. I’ve got some stuff on my mind, mate. Couldn’t get in the right headspace for running yesterday.’

‘Oh?  Sounds more like a pint and plate of chilli at The Ship is in order, than a bowl of soup at the tearooms.’

‘No, no way, I don’t think I’ll be going back in The Ship for a while Cliff. Sarah gave me a right mouthful on Saturday. I know she is grieving for Mike, but she was evil!’

‘What on earth did you do to deserve that?  What did she say?  Please tell me you didn’t try to pull her!’

‘No I did not!  I’m not that bad.’

‘You are,’ laughed Cliff.

‘No, I am not,’ said Paul carefully. ‘Anyway, I regard Sarah as a friend. Or I did. I am not sure after Saturday.’

‘Is that what is up with you then?  Something Sarah said to you?’ asked Cliff, showing a touch more concern than he had previously.

‘Oh, no. Well, yes that as well. But no. I am still struggling to know what to do about these ... items. The vendor is trying to put pressure on me to catalogue them as nineteenth century Vienna cold-painted bronze, but I really want to be sure they are before I do. I can’t afford the hassle if I get it wrong. But worse than that, the more I think about it the more I think my client has been deceiving me for years.’

‘So you have been brooding about this all weekend instead of getting out there and doing what you love. Who is it? Do I know them? Are you any closer to finding out the truth?’

‘Don’t give me a hard time! But no, put like that, no I still don’t really have an idea about what is going on, or what to do about it. Come on, let’s go and have some lunch.’

The two men walked in silence the five minutes from the auction house at the top of Woodford High Street to the Woodford Tearooms near the bottom of it.

Once inside, they found a table to sit at, ordered drinks and food, and continued to sit in silence for a few more minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually Paul roused himself ‘Why did you walk up to me if you wanted to come here?  You could have phoned me, and then just come next door from your place. You are not still hoping Rebecca will fall into your arms are you?’ he said, with a wry smile.

Cliff gave Paul a sideways look. ‘No, I have given up all hope that I can win her back. Why would she, or any woman for that matter, want me now after what I have done?  I am definitely damaged goods where women are concerned. But any excuse to see her, and if that means walking
all the way
up the High Street and back then she is worth it,’ he sighed.

‘Oh mate, you really need to move on. Why don’t you join an online dating site?  Loads of women on those!  I can recommend a really good site I am on at the moment.’

‘No!  Stop!  I am not going to start taking relationship or dating advice from you, Paul Black’ laughed Cliff.

‘Hey, that hurts!’ Paul looked genuinely upset.

‘No offence Paul, but the seduce ‘em, shag ‘em, two-time ‘em, method isn’t a life choice I want to pursue. I loved being married, and that is what I want again.’

‘Quite right Cliff, good for you,’ the two men looked up as Gemma Isaac appeared with their plates of ham, egg and chips. ‘I highly recommend it,’ she laughed, before turning to Paul. ‘I hear you have been pestering my step-daughter, Jennifer?  Lay off Paul, she doesn’t need or want your sort of attention.’

‘Alright, alright!’ Paul looked quite cross as he leaned back in his chair, holding his hands up as though to defend himself from further attack. ‘Anyone would think she was some young girl and I was a paedophile the way you lot are behaving. Sarah had a go at me in the pub on Saturday about her too, but all I was doing was making polite conversation.’

‘Maybe you should pay attention then, if more than one person has commented on your behaviour,’ said Gemma, before walking away.

As she went back to the kitchen she wondered if she had been a little harsh with Paul. His conquests and their inevitable messy endings were the stuff of legend in Woodford, and she and Lisa had previously enjoyed the gossip and latest stories of Paul Black’s most recent liaisons being re-told at the tables of their tearooms, but all of a sudden they weren’t so entertaining any more. Never having had a daughter of her own she was surprised at how defensive she was about Paul’s clearly unwanted attentions towards Jennifer. She had a feeling Jennifer would not be pleased if she knew what had just taken place between them, and resolved to keep quiet in future. She hoped Paul had got the message, but doubted it.

‘Alright Boss?’ Daniel appeared at Paul and Cliff’s table, carrying a large brown paper bag containing his and Rebecca’s lunches. ‘I thought I would crack on with photographing the Chinese vases this afternoon, is that OK?’

‘Yes, that’s OK. Everything go alright this morning?’

‘Yup, all delivered and installed in the lady’s house. What a gorgeous place. She and her husband designed it themselves, and it took five years to finish! She was really pleased with everything, especially the refectory table, the size of it fitted perfectly with their kitchen.’

‘So she should have been, that was a real bargain. Once upon a time it would have cost her about eight thousand pounds!  Anyway, thanks for that Daniel, hopefully she and her husband will be back for more stuff to fill their new home.’

‘Oh I think she will be, plus his grandmother has just died and they want you to go and price up to clear her flat. One of them will give you a ring later today. I’d better go; Rebecca is waiting for her lunch.’

‘Nice lad,’ commented Cliff after Daniel had left the tearooms and they could see him heading up the High Street. ‘Always difficult to find and keep good staff isn’t it?  If they have anything about them they steal your business, and if they don’t they ruin your business. It’s a No Win situation!’ he laughed. ‘Right, back to your problems. Come on, tell me the latest.’