‘Unless you see a pig you can’t resist.’
She smacked his arm. ‘I should never have told you that.’
One of their many conversations had drifted to hobbies and he’d been stunned to hear about her porcelain pigs. The only comparable thing he could come up with was hardly a secret — it was his inability to walk past a bookshop without buyingsomething. Gage had blushed like mad when she’d asked how much he’d spent over the years on a storage locker to house his growing collection of books while he’d travelled around the globe. One reason for the bookshop was his realisation that he wouldn’t live long enough to read them all, so sharing the pleasure with other booklovers made sense.
‘I don’t mind admitting I’ll have to do the sitting-on-my-hands thing when a certain Wemyss pig comes up. It’s very rare, from the 1930s. There are very few of the Irish-shamrock designs around. It’ll cost an absolute fortune.’
After navigating around a ridiculous number of potholes, she was relieved that all the tyres had survived and the windscreen had no noticeable scratches from the onslaught of drooping branches and overgrown bushes. The glossy online pictures of the Elizabethan house must’ve been Photoshopped because the grimy building in front of them was covered in scaffolding, a good number of the leaded windows were shattered and weeds sprouted up around the house’s foundations.
‘Not quite what I expected.’ Gage commented with raised eyebrows.
Tamara followed the car in front to the temporary parking area in a field and pulled into a spot at the end of a row. ‘I should’ve dropped you off so you don’t have the uneven ground to deal with.’ At least the rain had finally stopped.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Gage grimaced as he eased out of the van, but she held her tongue. The stubborn man insisted he didn’t need crutches today because Evelyn had lent him a stout walking stick. He didn’t protest, though, when she linked her arm through his and matched his slower pace.
The spacious marble hall was full of people milling around, but she steered in the direction of the viewing room and picked up a catalogue on the way. The furniture was towards the back,so they headed there first to examine the chairs they’d marked out as possible purchases. Some she marked with a tick in her catalogue, and others were crossed through because they wouldn’t suit for a variety of reasons.
‘Right, let’s get a good seat before the rush starts.’
‘At the front?’
She laughed. ‘Absolutely not. You want a clear view to scan the room and size up the competition — especially when we start bidding.’
Gage’s cockeyed smile made her tingle all over.
They headed for the far side of what must have been a spectacular ballroom in its day, its ornately panelled ceiling adorned with fading but beautifully painted scenes from Greek mythology. Its inlaid wood floor only needed sanding and polishing to restore its glory.
Tamara plonked down at one end of the back row. This was when her height was a plus because it was easy to look over the heads of the people in front of them. An hour later she was beaming with satisfaction after securing the chairs they wanted.
An adorable Victorian wingback upholstered in faded dark-green velvet. A matching pair of tan leather 1930s club chairs, whose every scratch and worn spot showed how well loved they’d been. The prize for the best deal went to the two-seater Edwardian love seat she’d picked up for a song — no one else had wanted it because it’d been tastelessly re-covered in bright pink brocade. In the short term, they’d use it with enough scatter cushions to dim its garish colour and later she could reupholster it. They also bought half a dozen mahogany dining chairs that weren’t wonderfully exciting, but serviceable for extra seating, and several small tables. Gage had done as promised — sat on his hands and not uttered a word.
‘Right, that’s us done. Are you ready to pick up our winnings?’
‘Where do we go for the stuff?
‘There’s a door around the back for loading.’
‘Fine. I’ll go pay if you bring the van around. I’m sure I can find someone to help us load since I’m useless.’
‘Nothing’s overly heavy. I can manage.’
‘Of course you can. Superwoman.’ There was no hint of sarcasm, only good-humoured admiration. Very different from when they’d first met. ‘I’ll see you outside. I’ll return that if you like.’ He snatched the bidding card away from her.
‘Cheers.’ Tamara’s spirits soared. They were good.
* * *
Gage swiftly paid for their purchases then sneaked back into the auction, just as the auctioneer announced they were moving on to the decorative pieces and gestured to his assistant, a thin young woman in black, who held up a large porcelain pig.
He waved the card in the air as the auctioneer started the bidding at a hundred pounds. If he was successful, he could claim it’d been bought as a lucky mascot for the shop. In truth, this had nothing to do with the shop, but everything to do with them. Gage wasn’t a man for grand romantic gestures and she’d already told him flowers and the like weren’t her thing. This would hopefully be a different story.
An older woman with a hooked nose, fierce eyes and a tightly pursed mouth stared fiercely at Gage and raised her own card as the auctioneer called for another fifty pounds.
‘One thousand pounds,’ Gage shouted, wanting to cut to the chase.
A gasp ran around the room.
With an angry headshake at the auctioneer, and a vicious glare at Gage, the woman conceded defeat. She rose from her seat and swanned out of the room, followed by a small ferret-faced man who scuttled behind her like the White Rabbit inAlice in Wonderland.
