Second Time Around Page 18

  ‘My name’s Adrian Pearson. Away is she? Mmm … I’m sorry to miss her …’

  Whilst the young man hesitated, Will had time to unhook the sheet containing a list of names which hung by the telephone. He peered at it; Adrian Pearson was not one of those to whom he was allowed to give Tessa’s working telephone number.

  ‘It’s just that the last time I saw Tessa—we were having lunch together actually—she mentioned that you have some pieces of furniture that you might want to sell. I’m an antique dealer. I should have mentioned that earlier. Sorry if I’m speaking out of turn. It’s just that I’m in the area for a few days …’

  There was another pause. Will thought quickly. Obviously Tessa had seen this young chap at the time when they were debating how they might raise some money to buy Bea out. He and Tessa had talked about the possibility of selling some of Mathilda’s pieces and perhaps she had seen this Adrian fellow and mentioned it to him. It was a coincidence that Bea had raised this subject only that morning at breakfast. What with the few items of furniture which she had inherited from her mother and Will’s personal bits and pieces, the house was rather overcrowded. They had talked about installing a modern stove and perhaps putting in some central heating and had wondered whether the sale of an item or two might not be a good idea. They both knew that Tessa felt strongly about Mathilda’s things, nevertheless there were certain repairs to be done and they needed to keep warm …

  All these thoughts ran through Will’s mind whilst Adrian made tentative noises on the other end of the line. Will made a decision. There would be no harm in this young man coming to look at, and perhaps value, a few things. Obviously Tessa thought that he could be trusted.

  ‘If you would like to check with the office,’ Adrian was saying, ‘I can give you the number. Or you could speak to Mrs Carrington at , Ivybridge.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Will, who remembered Tessa talking about Mrs Carrington and her bureau. ‘Since you’re in the area why not come and see us? Tomorrow morning? About eleven? Excellent. Now you’ll need some directions …’

  Will dropped the last potato into the saucepan. After all, no decisions need be taken at once and it would be interesting to see how accurate the young man would be in his valuations. Will tried to remember what had happened to the inventory which James had given to him; in Mathilda’s bureau, perhaps? He decided that after supper he would hunt it out.

  Twenty-one

  TESSA LAY WATCHING THE moonlight streaming through the window. Sebastian, curled beside her in the narrow bed, was heavily asleep. She wished that she, too, could fall into such deep oblivion. She was wide awake and as confused as she had been when Sebastian had telephoned the previous evening. On the journey into the dockyard—aware of Charlie Custard’s reproachfulness emanating from the back of the car—she had tried to analyse her feelings. She knew that she must not let Sebastian take her over; that she must resist his attempts to override her own wishes.

  ‘But what do I want?’ she asked herself as she drove into Plymouth. She still had not answered this question when she reached the Camel’s Head Gate. Sebastian had been waiting for her at the end of the jetty. He flung his grip on to the back seat, said, ‘Good God! Did you know you had a bear in your car?’ and guided her out of Devonport en route to the nearest off-licence. It was impossible to remain uninfected by his high spirits and witty remarks and, by the time they were back in Mary Tavy, she had relaxed and was enjoying his company.

  He was unimpressed by Freddie’s bungalow—and her plans for supper—and took her out instead to the Elephant’s Nest, leaving Charlie Custard to enjoy his long-awaited dinner. It was strange to be sitting at the same table where she and Giles had had lunch together and she felt an odd qualm which disappeared when Sebastian took her hand and told her how he had missed her. As usual his physical presence undermined her doubts: he was Sebastian. So she laughed at his jokes—and wondered what would happen when they got back to Freddie’s. Since she was driving she drank only one glass of wine but, once they were at home again, Sebastian opened the carrier bag from the off-licence and produced a bottle of Chardonnay and some cans of beer.

  They sat together in front of the fire, Charlie Custard snoring heavily on the hearth rug, and Tessa was soon aware that willpower was ebbing away and when he kissed her she responded readily.

  Now, as she watched the shadows on the wall, she felt confused. There was something missing, she told herself, but what? Her inexperience was unable to supply the answer. She loved him and, even though she had remained uneasy about having him here for the night, she had enjoyed his lovemaking. Gently she eased her body away from his inert form and slid from the bed. She stood still, waiting, but Sebastian did not stir. Taking her dressing gown from the chair and picking up her slippers, she went quietly out and down the passage to the kitchen.

  Charlie Custard, stretched on his sofa, opened an eye and felt a twinge of misgiving. He hoped that more patting and stroking would not be necessary. He decided that he was not cut out for social work after all and, groaning gently, he settled himself more comfortably. Tessa—clad now in dressing gown and slippers—stood staring out of the window whilst she waited for the kettle to boil. Moonlight stippled the grass with silver and the shadows lay long and black across the meadow. The lean form of a fox prowled in the shelter of the hedge, disturbing the small roosting birds in the bare branches above him. On an impulse Tessa opened the back door and wandered out, hunching her shoulders against the cool breeze. Charlie Custard raised his head to watch her. Now what? Curiosity hauled him from sleep and he padded out after her, sniffing at the air and following her down to the meadow. The fox slipped silently away and somewhere to the east a cock crowed.

  In Tessa’s bed Sebastian stirred and came suddenly awake. He lay quite still, reviewing the events of the past night and wondering where Tessa had gone. Needing a cigarette, he slid out of bed and went to feel in his trouser pocket. As he picked his trousers up.from the chair his attention was caught by a movement outside and he paused, staring out of the window. Across the pale-washed grass of the meadow Tessa walked, slim and straight in her long dressing gown, the great dog at her heels. There was something almost medieval in the scene and Sebastian was moved beyond his usual desires and sensations. For the first time he saw Tessa as other men might see her; not as the adoring girl who could be picked up and put down as his whim took him—but as an intelligent, successful and desirable young woman. She had enterprise, property and a great deal of generous charm. As he stood watching her, he remembered the name she had mentioned earlier: Giles. She had spoken of him again in the pub. ‘Giles brought me here,’ she’d said.

  Sebastian took his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. He lit up thoughtfully, staring out at Tessa as she stopped, looking at something beyond his vision, her hand on the dog’s head. His heart moved in his breast as he imagined a future with Tessa in the background; waiting for him when he came home from sea, gracing ladies’ nights and parties, pouring out her love upon him. Turning abruptly away, he dragged on his shirt and trousers, crammed his bare feet uncomfortably into his shoes and went out through the kitchen and into the meadow.

  She turned as he came through the gate, standing still, her hand still resting on the dog’s head. She looked remote and unapproachable in the ghostly light and he knew a moment of fear. He came up to her, taking her by the elbows and staring down into her face.

  ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I’ve just realised it. Will you marry me?’

  She stared at him in amazement, wondering if it might be some kind of joke. ‘Marry you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He shook her slightly, frightened still further by her remoteness. Surely she loved him? ‘I thought you loved me.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘Yes I do. But—’

  ‘No.’ He crushed her against him. ‘No buts. It’s right. I just know it. It is, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said—but a kind of terror possessed her. Was
it right? He began to kiss her and the terror ebbed and relief took its place. Of course it was right. This was what she had longed for; waited for all these years. ‘Yes,’ she repeated and began to tremble.

  ‘Come back inside.’ He was dragging her with him. ’You’re shivering. Come in and we’ll have some hot coffee. Oh, Tessa. I do love you.’

  They went inside, forgetting Charlie Custard who wandered around for a while before pushing the back door open and padding into the kitchen. There was no sign of them but Tessa’s dressing gown lay in a pile on the floor. He sniffed at it, climbed on to the sofa and settled himself to sleep.

  ADRIAN PEARSON SAT FOR some moments in his car at the head of the track. He was taking a tremendous chance. Supposing that Tessa’s father had telephoned her to ask about this young antique dealer? She would say, no doubt, that she had never said that her family wished to sell any of their belongings. He knew he could bluff it; say that he’d muddled her with someone else or completely misunderstood something she’d said. He’d carry it off and, after all, the old bloke had asked him to come. Tessa had let out a few things over the sandwich in the Pack Horse; not much, but enough to get him started. She’d talked of the old house in the cove somewhere near Kingsbridge and he’d looked up the name of Rainbird in the telephone directory. There were very few of them …

  It was always worth a chance. He’d discovered that. In these hard times, there was a good chance that someone—generally an old person, living alone—was in need of ready cash. It was easy to disarm them with his sympathetic approach and public school voice; and he never rushed or harassed them. He made it clear that there were other pieces around and that they should give it serious thought. The touch about phoning the office was a good one, especially as the ‘office’—a small back room where his girlfriend manned the phone—was in London. Many people had telephoned it but, since his targets were always in the West Country, no one as yet had turned up on the doorstep.

  ‘If anyone wants to come, make sure they make an appointment,’ he’d told her. ‘You can be well away. Otherwise keep the door locked. Don’t worry. No one will bother.’

  His cards and leaflets were very professional; his own local contact number was his mobile telephone. He had had one or two frights but he was making a very nice profit, selling the pieces on to a friend in Essex who fed them at discreet intervals to a London showroom. It was worth taking a few chances. A hunch had led him to the cove. He had a sixth sense which was invaluable to him. He spent a great deal of time getting to know each small area that he targeted. He would sit in cafés, watching lonely old women who talked to the waitress about how hard the times were and how they longed to see their grandchildren; he sat in pubs and listened to lonely old men who missed their wives and were struggling to manage on their pensions. He generally avoided the younger women, who might need cash for their student children, but were fairly well clued up on the value of old furniture. He did very well out of the old and vulnerable. Adrian glanced at his watch, started up the engine and swung the car into the track.

  Will was filling the coal hod at the bunker by the back door. He straightened up and watched Adrian park, wishing that he could have had a word with Tessa. He had telephoned earlier but there was no reply.

  ‘I hope she’s all right,’ he had said worriedly to Bea.

  ‘Probably walking the dog,’ she’d answered. ‘Stop fussing.’

  Will dusted his hands on his old cords and went to meet the smart young man who was climbing out of the car. They shook hands and exchanged banalities. Will led him inside, introduced him to Bea in the kitchen and took him upstairs to the drawing room. Adrian’s eyes were making a quick inventory although his remarks were studiedly casual.

  ‘What a place you’ve got here, sir!’ He strolled to the window trying not to show his excitement at the sight of the bureau in the alcove. Putting his hands in his pockets he stared out over the sea, wondering if they knew that they were using a valuable Georgian table in their kitchen or that the chest on the landing was probably Jacobean. ‘Fantastic! ’

  ‘Pretty good, isn’t it?’ agreed Will genially. ‘My cousin is making us some coffee. Sit down, won’t you?’

  Bea arrived, somewhat out of breath, with the tray. ‘Never mind central heating,’ she muttered to Will. ‘What we need is a dumb waiter.’

  He laughed and gave her a tiny private wink. ‘Good for the waistline,’ he said. ‘I hope we haven’t got you here on false pretences, Mr Pearson. I’m not certain what Tessa said …’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, sir—’ Bea, pouring coffee, raised her eyebrows at the ‘sir’—‘I was hoping to see Tessa, actually. That’s the real reason I telephoned. The other was of secondary importance but if there’s anything I can do while I’m here …’

  ‘Why not?’ Will shrugged. ‘It’s always nice to know if one owns anything worth having. We’ve inherited a lot of this stuff. Haven’t got a clue, have we?’

  He smiled ruefully at Bea who shrugged noncommittally and retired with her coffee to a distant chair.

  ‘Some of it looks like jumble sale to me,’ she said. ‘That old table in the kitchen …’ She shook her head and sipped at her coffee.

  Adrian felt his excitement rising. ‘It’s often a disappointment to people,’ he said, ‘when I make them an offer for their treasures.’

  ‘I believe you,’ said Will. ‘Never mind. Luckily we’re not desperate yet, are we, Bea?’

  ‘Aren’t we?’ she answered grimly. She snorted. ‘If you say so.’

  Will looked terribly embarrassed. He laughed a little, smoothed his hand over his hair and coughed awkwardly. ‘I expect you’re kept pretty busy, Mr Pearson …?’

  ‘Please call me Adrian, sir.’ His voice was earnest and kind. ‘Try to see me as Tessa’s friend who happens to have some knowledge of antiques.’ He glanced at Bea. ‘She’s a delightful girl, if I may say so.’

  ‘You may say what you please, young man,’ said Bea. ‘I am not responsible for her genetic brew nor did I bring her up.’

  ‘Please, Bea,’ murmured Will. He shot a distracted look at Adrian who gulped back his coffee and rose to his feet. ‘Shall we … ?’

  ‘Where would you like me to begin, sir?’

  ‘Let’s start in the study,’ suggested Will. ‘Through here.’

  Bea sat perfectly still in her chair, listening to their voices. Presently they reappeared. Adrian was making notes in a small book; Will was jotting figures on a piece of paper. He glanced at Bea, who swallowed the last of her coffee and stood up.

  Will smiled at her. ‘If you’ll excuse us for a moment, my dear?’

  She stared at him for a moment then collected the cups and the tray and went out. Will shrugged and blew out his lips a little. Adrian smiled sympathetically, his eyes on the bureau.

  ‘I’ve noticed,’ he said tentatively, ‘that the women seem more ready to part with their treasures than the men …’

  ‘Well, there you have it,’ said Will with a measure of relief. ‘I’m reluctant to part with things, d’you see? Pure sentiment, according to my cousin, but there it is. And she’s right. We need a new stove and central heating …’ He sighed heavily. ‘Never mind. You don’t want to hear my problems. Let’s get finished. By the way, not a word to her for the moment, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I quite understand, sir,’ said Adrian. ‘And if you need to contact our office, just to put your mind at rest …’

  ‘No need for that, my boy,’ said Will. ‘Now what about this bureau …?’

  A PIECE OF CAKE, thought Adrian as he drove away. The old biddy’s got her claws into him, all right. He’ll be back. No wonder he didn’t want her to see my quotes. He’s probably going to snaffle a bit on the way through. Good luck to him.

  He turned on to the main road and began to make some very satisfying mental calculations.

  ‘THE MAN’S A CROOK,’ said Will softly, his eyes gleaming. ‘I laid all the traps and he walked right in to
them. You were splendid, Bea.’

  Bea looked modest. ‘Good thing we’d decided on a code. What made you suspect?’

  Will shook his head. ‘Some gut feeling. On the phone first, just a twinge, and then when I saw him. I don’t know what it was … but I was right.’

  ‘So what shall we do?’

  ‘I’ll phone the London office for a start. No.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I’ll try and get hold of Tessa first. See what she really said to him and how he got on to us. I’m sure she didn’t give him our address.’

  ‘But he had our number,’ Bea pointed out.

  ‘Could have got it from the book. He certainly knew her name and there aren’t that many Rainbirds about. Hang on. Let me try Tessa again.’

  Bea watched whilst he dialled and stood waiting. ‘Hello. Tessa? Oh good. I was trying to get you earlier but there was no reply … Gone to what …? But who …? Well, of course I am. It’s just rather sudden … Yes. Yes, I see. Well, it’s wonderful … For tea? Why not …? Yes, and Charlie Custard, too … See you then. ’Bye, my dear.’

  ‘Will,’ said Bea, infuriated, ‘whatever are you talking about? Who is Charlie Custard and why didn’t you ask her about Adrian Pearson?’

  Will sat down suddenly at the kitchen table. ‘I didn’t feel I could,’ he said. ‘She’s just got herself engaged to be married and she’s bringing him over to tea.’

  ‘She’s got herself engaged to someone called Charlie Custard?’ Bea shook him by the shoulder. ‘Pull yourself together, Will. What’s going on?’

  Will sighed; he looked anxious. ‘Some childhood sweetheart called Sebastian has turned up out of the blue and they’ve got engaged. They’ve been to Plymouth to buy the ring and she wants to bring him over to meet us. What could I say? It was hardly the time for talking about crooked antique dealers. The child is over the moon. She was hardly coherent.’