A French Affair by Katie Fforde Read Free Book Online Page A

probably right. Be careful! It’s heavy.’
    ‘I must say, the Volvo is quite Tardis-like, isn’t it? I would never have guessed all that would go in the back of an ordinary estate car.’
    ‘That’s why we antiques dealers love them.’
    As they walked into the building together, both with their hands full, he went on, ‘I’ll give it all the once over and price it before I put it out.’
    Once everything was safely stored away Matthew said, ‘Now, would you like a grand tour of the place?’
    Gina looked at her watch and gave a small scream. ‘Is that the time? I’ve got an appointment with the
Advertiser
in fifteen minutes. I want them to put my PR leaflets in their paper. I thought I had loads of time.’
    ‘Well, don’t panic. I’ll take you home. Where is the appointment?’
    ‘In Summerwick!’
    ‘No problem. Jenny?’ he called out into the depths. ‘Can you mind the shop for a bit? I need to take Gina back.’
    Minutes later they were speeding through the roads and lanes, Gina half terrified at how Matthew threw his old Volvo around and half pleased to think she wouldn’t be late.
    ‘Sorry, did I frighten you?’ he said as they drew up outside her cottage.
    ‘It was fine. You got me here. I’ve just about got time to change my top and then run into town. Thank you so much.’
    He tipped his hand to her and drove off as she let herself in.
    ‘That was really quite dashing,’ she said to her reflection as she pulled a clean shirt down over the jeans. ‘Matthew Ballinger is rather a surprising man.’
     
    Sally had invited Gina for supper that evening to hear all about how she’d got on at the fair, and, as hoped, Gina arrived in time to help the girls with their bath and read to them. Alaric was cooking and Sally was finding homes for a large population of Sylvanian Families. As Gina read stories, cuddled up with the girls in their parents’ bed, she knew her sister was finding the right home for each fuzzy animal. No throwing it all in a box for her. Would her attention to detail make her a good antiques dealer? Sorting fuzzy toys didn’t seem like a transferrable skill in this particular case, but you could never tell.
    ‘The trouble is,’ said Gina later, a glass of wine in her hand, her elbows on the kitchen table, having eaten a wonderful lentil curry, ‘antiques are so diverse. I don’t think we can possibly learn enough about them – even one tiny aspect of them – to make a profit in the time Aunt Rainey intended us to.’
    ‘And you didn’t have a chance to look at the stock she left us?’
    Gina shook her head. ‘No, I had to dash off. But the point is we wouldn’t know if things were worth a pound or a thousand pounds.’
    ‘Well, Matthew will know,’ said Sally. ‘We’ll get him to price everything up and we’ll sell it. It can’t be that hard, can it?’
    Gina sighed ‘I think it can. On those TV programmes the experts offer tiny amounts for things. Are they ripping the dealers off or do the dealers overcharge hugely? You see? We have no idea.’ And whilst Matthew had seemed quite encouraging today, how long would it be before his patience wore out? He had his own part of the business to run, and the centre to look after.
    ‘Are you staying over?’ asked Alaric, a bottle poised over her glass.
    ‘Yes please. I’ve got rather fond of your sofabed over the years,’ she said. In fact she was fonder of her own bed but she needed to really put it across to Sally how difficult things would be and more wine would help. She was the one who had wanted to make a go of it but once Sally agreed to something she would often ignore the ‘little things’ like practicalities. If they were going to succeed in this venture it was important they both knew what was involved. ‘This is going to be tough, Sally.’
    ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Sally, true to form. ‘Anyway, I plan to sell my own stuff and not just antiques.’
    ‘You’ve really got good at them recently