‘All I have done is message his wife with feedback from the prospective buyers as they said it wasn’t quite what they were after and they did seem particularly alarmed by the Pampas Grass out the front of the property. And I may have mentioned that her husband was at home and I was sorry if I had startled him and his friend.’
‘Good call,’ said Heather. ‘Cheaters need outing.’
‘Unprofessional,’ muttered Amir.
‘Who’s unprofessional?’ asked Ludo, coming out of his office and immediately looking at Blythe. That look hurt her more than she cared to admit.
‘Blythe here has just exposed a man’s extramarital affair,’ said Amir, rather too quickly.
‘He exposed himself,’ said Blythe. ‘In more ways than one.’ She feared it would take a while to rid her mind of the picture of his bare bum.
‘Not really for us to get involved,’ said Ludo.
‘I was there with prospective buyers and I’m certain the only reason they didn’t place an offer was because of his antics. How was I supposed to explain that to his wife? And anyway, what woman wants to buy a new home, take on a bigger mortgage and think about starting a family with a cheating arse like him?’ There was the image of his bum again flashing into her mind. Blythe blinked quickly to rid herself of the mental picture.
‘Again, not for us to decide,’ said Ludo.
Amir moved to stand at Ludo’s side and he nodded sagely. ‘We shouldn’t be getting involved in the private lives of our clients,’ said Amir.
Ludo did a double take as if Amir had crept up on him. ‘No, but I have to say that morally what this man has done is deplorable.’ Ludo watched Amir for a response.
‘Oh, yeah. Totally. He deserves all he gets.’
Blythe shook her head at Amir. He was such a weasel.
*
The Christmas tree auction was the next big event in the Holly Cross Christmas calendar and Blythe’s family were heavily involved as Greg played the part of auctioneer.Played the partwas the key phrase because Greg’s only experience of auctions was the few episodes he’d watched ofCash in the Attic. Otherwise he hadn’t got a clue what he was doing but when had that ever stopped him? Greg was one of life’s carefree folk who actually enjoyed making a fool of himself so when he got on the podium his main aim was to make people laugh as well as sell some trees. Blythe could see Leonora already tensing up as Greg tapped the microphone and grabbed the attention of the amassed crowd.
‘Evening, everyone, and welcome to the hundred and seventy-second Holly Cross Christmas tree auction,’ he said with a theatrical wink. ‘Tonight you have the opportunity to purchase a one-off…’ He waved his hands in an upward motion and paused. ‘This is where you whoop with enthusiasm.’ The crowd tittered. Greg cleared his throat and tried again. ‘These trees are one-offs…’
‘Ooh!’ replied the crowd.
‘Better,’ said Greg, with a smile. ‘They are top quality…’
‘Ooh.’
‘And they are guaranteed to drop needles all over your carpet.’ There was laughter and confusion from the crowd. Greg pretended to check his notes. ‘Oh, sorry. Guaranteednotto drop needles. Anyway they are beautiful firs, the like of which are already gracing Buckingham Palace and every posh pad from here to Balmoral…’
‘Doesn’t the king spend Christmas at Sandringham?’ asked Leonora, scratching her neck and looking particularly stressed.
‘Relax, Leonora, they know he’s joking. Nobody’s going to sue us because they’ve not got the same tree as the royal family,’ said Blythe.
‘Right,’ said Greg. ‘We are starting with the big trees. The seven-footers. Here’s an example modelled by my lovely assistant.’ Sarvan held one of the biggest trees steady so everyone could get a good look at it. The rest of the trees were wrapped in mesh, waiting on the back of a truck with some village lads poised to pass them down to the winning buyers. ‘How this works is we auction them off for the highest bid. The highest bidder in each size category also receives a handmade door wreath. Everyone else is encouraged to pay the same amount for their tree or within ten per cent of the winning bid. Remember it’s all for charity, folks.
‘I need to see clear hand gestures for bids. Not that sort of hand gesture, Phyllis. Really?’ Greg playfully shook his head while Phyllis giggled. ‘Are you ready?’ There was a mumble from the crowd. ‘I said, are you ready?!’ This time they roared and the auction began.
The thing with Greg was that whilst he had no idea about being an auctioneer, he did an excellent comedy impression of one. Most of what he was saying was inaudible but had the rhythm of an actual auctioneer. He interspersed this with the occasional marker so folk knew what was going on. ‘Forty pounds I’m bid by the man in the Christmas pudding bobble hat – excellent headgear, sir.’ And then he was off on his incomprehensible babble. When he was confident they had topped out the bids he slammed down his gavel. Greg yelped as he pretended to smash it on his thumb and took a round of applause from the crowd as happy punters went to pay and collect their trees. While that was happening, Blythe went to grab a mulled wine from Jassi who was manning a pop-up pub stall for the night. She was in the queue when someone tapped her on the shoulder – it was Sam.
‘Ah, the Grinch himself. Good evening and how are you?’
‘I’m bearing up given the level of festivities. Have you been at the mulled wine already?’ he asked.
‘It’s a lack of mulled wine that’s causing the problem. What’s made you venture out this evening? You’re never buying a Christmas tree, are you?’
‘No way. Dead shrub in the corner of the room, festooned with the tat of Christmases past. It’s not for me.’
‘And yet you paint such a charming picture,’ said Blythe. ‘So what brings you here?’
