The Ullswater Undertaking by Rebecca Tope (read dune .TXT) 📕

‘I guess that depends on what he plans to do with the information.’ He rubbed his face. ‘Honestly, Sim, it’s not a very good time. Aren’t you supposed to be at the baby clinic?’

‘I’m putting it off till next week. This is more interesting.’

He gave a sceptical laugh. ‘How can anything be more interesting than our baby?’

‘I didn’t mean it like that. Is everybody at your meeting? Isn’t there a girl somewhere who’d like to do a bit of dandling?’

Christopher looked at Robin, who was already in his buggy. ‘We won’t be much longer. Have a look round while you wait. There’s some really nice Moorcroft just in. Even you can recognise Moorcroft, can’t you? Just don’t break it.’ He looked at his son again. ‘You won’t turn up with him like this when he’s three, will you? He’ll be in full vandalism mode by then.’

He then hurried back to the meeting and Simmy turned to Ben. ‘Looks as if we’ve got to wait,’ she said.

‘I know. I heard. Let’s check out that Moorcroft, then. You know it’s the single most consistently sought-after china there is, don’t you? People never seem to get tired of it.’

‘I expect some real antique snobs look down on it, for that very reason.’

‘Possibly,’ said Ben dubiously.

They went into the big saleroom and started to look around. ‘That must be the Moorcroft over there.’ Ben pointed to a shelf.

They found a group of three slender vases, all the same shape but with very different decoration. ‘They’re so elegant,’ breathed Simmy. ‘Nothing bulbous or fiddly. The more you look at them, the more gorgeous they are.’

‘A triumph of form,’ nodded Ben. He then looked around at the large area that was the main saleroom. ‘Where do they put the memorabilia?’

‘It hasn’t been sorted yet. There aren’t any lot numbers on anything. These stickers are the vendor numbers.’

‘Hey – get you!’ he said. ‘You’re picking it all up, aren’t you?’

‘Only the basics,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll never work out the system they use for deciding on the lot numbers. Apparently it used to be alphabetical by vendor, but there were complaints because the same people always came last, when most buyers had gone home.’

They wandered aimlessly around the disorganised-looking tables, the buggy barely squeezing between the rows in some places. Large items of furniture were lined up against the back wall, with rolled-up carpets and rugs leaning against some of them. ‘It’s all rather magical,’ said Ben. ‘I can see how people could get addicted.’

Then a woman approached them, and their wait was over. ‘Fiona,’ said Simmy. ‘I’m sorry if we’re a bother.’ Suddenly their intrusion felt embarrassing and foolish. She and Ben would have to be careful not to say too much. Any mention of the Armitage family would be ill-advised, for a start. ‘Do you think we could check out a sale you had here two years ago on your computer? We’ve already asked Christopher about it.’

Fiona looked very pale and droopy. Simmy remembered that there was potential rivalry between her and Pattie for Josephine’s job. Perhaps the meeting had decided in favour of Pattie, leaving Fiona to sulk. Except this looked more like grief than resentment. ‘Are you all right?’ Simmy asked.

‘More or less. Everything’s changing, and we’re all in a muddle.’ She waved a hand at the piles of objects. ‘We’re at least a day behind with all this, and then Oliver calls a meeting that puts things back even further.’

‘Oliver’s here, is he?’

Fiona nodded. ‘We don’t seem to be able to manage without him.’

Before any more could be said, Christopher appeared, followed by Pattie, Oliver and a woman Simmy didn’t recognise. ‘Come on then,’ Christopher said to Ben impatiently. ‘Let’s get it over with. Everyone’s going for lunch now, so we’ve got a bit of time.’ The whole group seemed jaded and discordant. Only Pattie acknowledged the presence of baby Robin, and she was nowhere near as enthusiastic as she’d been two days before. ‘He’s looking very contented,’ was all she said.

Christopher led them into the small office, where the buggy was very much in the way. He sat Ben at the computer and, leaning over him, tapped a few keys. ‘What date was it?’ he asked.

Ben extracted his phone and showed his picture of the auction house label. Christopher copied the date and lot number and then stepped back. ‘There it is,’ he said, without giving the result a proper look.

‘“Two boxes of papers and letters from the 1940s”,’ read Ben. ‘Hammer price six pounds. Right. Seems like a bargain.’

‘Does that leave you any the wiser?’ asked Christopher.

‘Can we see who sold them and who bought them?’

‘It’s all there. Scroll down a bit.’

With a surprised glance from Simmy to Christopher and back, Ben did as advised. ‘Vendor was somebody called W. J. Bolt, and buyer was a person called H. M. Armitage. Right. As we expected, really. Any idea who the Bolt character is?’

‘Um … wait a minute. That date. Just over two years ago. I think that was my very first time as auctioneer. The date is engraved on my heart. I made a right mess of the whole thing. I was so slow we didn’t finish until gone seven o’clock. It was pouring with rain and there was a big football match on, so there were very few buyers, either here or online.’

‘Do you remember this lot, by any chance?’

Christopher read the description for himself. ‘Oh God,’ he said, turning a nasty shade of grey. ‘I do. It got me into trouble with Oliver. That and a few other bloopers. Gosh – it’s all coming back to me now. That wretched old woman – she came up to me later, when she was collecting the boxes at the end. Full of herself, she was, smiling from ear to ear. “You don’t know what you’ve just let go for peanuts,” she gloated. I tried not to take any notice, but a few days later, Oliver gave me a bollocking because