2 #2
‘I’m live in London most of the time, but I don’t really have much of a permanent base because I’m away a lot.’
‘What do you do?’ I look around the rest of the room.
I’m playing for more time in the beautiful drawing room we’ve just entered.
There is so much here I’m interested in – as well as the china, there’s more paintings and some beautiful art nouveau furniture.
But I’m beginning to wonder if this house clearance is going to be too big for me to cope with after all.
My shop is only small; I will have to put some of this in storage until I have the room to sell it in the shop – either that or list it online for sale.
‘I work in music,’ Adam says. ‘So I travel quite a bit.’
‘Oh, yes, what sort of music?’ I say a little absentmindedly as I open up one of the cabinet doors, turn over a china dog and look at the maker’s mark underneath.
‘Can’t you tell?’
I put the dog down and turn to look at Adam. He’s standing with his legs apart, and his arms and hands out to the side, as if he’s asking me to guess.
‘Er … pop music?’
‘Er, no! Rock ’n’ roll, baby!’
‘Oh … yes, of course.’
Adam’s eyes narrow. ‘Do you like music?’
‘Yes. Who doesn’t?’
‘What sort?’
I really hate small talk. I just want to get to more of the lovely things this house contains. But I know it has to be done. Building a rapport with the client is essential to negotiating a good price.
‘Erm, eighties and nineties music mostly.’
Adam nods. ‘Vintage – makes sense. Any particular artists?’
‘No, not really.’
Adam pulls a face.
‘Why, what does it matter?’
Adam looks wounded. ‘The fact you’ve even asked that tells me so much about you as a person.’
Don’t bite. Don’t bite! That’s what he wants. I’ve only known him for about forty minutes, but I can tell Adam enjoys winding people up for his own amusement.
‘I’m guessing you like rock music?’ I answer as politely as I can.
‘I don’t like rock music – I live rock music!’ he says without a hint of irony.
‘Indeed. Music is your job and your passion, I get it. I feel the same about antiques.’
Adam grins now.
‘And why is that funny?’ I ask calmly, but I’m beginning to feel myself getting riled up. You’re biting, Eve , I warn myself . Be careful! Adam shrugs. ‘I would hardly compare the two.’
‘I would,’ I say, standing my ground this time when it comes to my own passion. I look him straight in the eye. ‘I think they are both very similar, actually.’
‘Go on.’ Adam looks intrigued. ‘You need to explain now you’ve put that statement out there.’
‘Right then, I will,’ I reply defiantly.
I think for a moment. ‘As you’ve probably guessed by now, I adore all things vintage and antique.
Like I said a few minutes ago, I also love discovering items from the past and finding out that particular item’s backstory.
Every object has a story, from who it’s belonged to, to the houses it’s lived in.
I love discovering what that story is, sharing it with others, and then eventually placing that item in a new home so it can begin a new story with a new family. ’
‘That’s actually quite poetic,’ Adam says, looking surprised.
‘Whereas you clearly love music,’ I continue.
‘From the look of you and your T-shirt, I’d say you have a particular love of classic eighties rock music.
Although you’re just a bit young to remember it when it actually happened, so you dress like you were there instead.
So in the same way as I love items from the past, you love music from the past. We’ve both chosen to work with our passion in life, and we’d both probably quite like to go back and witness past history too – but for very different reasons.
So, although it’s not the same by any means, our passion is actually very similar. ’
Adam stares at me. Then he grins.
‘That is very astute of you,’ he says. ‘And scarily accurate too. I work as a roadie for a band. Actually, quite a lot of bands, depending on who is touring at the time.’
‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘Yeah, I do. I’m probably getting a bit old for it now, to be honest.’
‘Forty isn’t old.’
‘In music it is – unless you’re the Rolling Stones, of course, and then I’d be a baby.’
I smile at him.
‘I sold a Rolling Stones album once,’ I say, assuming he will like this reference. ‘Not through my shop, but at auction. It was signed by Mick Jagger.’
‘Nice. Made a fair bit, I bet.’
‘Yeah, it was a good little profit.’
‘So, what do you think about my grandfather’s stuff,’ Adam says, looking around the drawing room. ‘Do you see a good little profit in this house?’
‘Some of it.’ Even though I need to make a profit from house clearances, I’m always honest about valuations. ‘It’s a little larger a project than I’m used to, to be completely honest. I usually take on much smaller clearances.’
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought when I looked you up. But my grandfather was insistent in his requests that you do the clearance and sell the contents of his house.’
‘I’ve been wondering about that – do you know why?’ I ask, closing up my notebook.
‘I’ve no idea. I only arrived here earlier today myself. I’ve been dealing with all the paperwork and stuff from London. He just said it must be Rainy Day Antiques in Clockmaker Court in Cambridge.’
‘Perhaps he used to visit the shop when my grandparents were alive? They owned the shop before me.’
‘Perhaps. I really don’t know. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee maybe?’ Adam says, looking around, and I wonder if he even knows where the kitchen is. ‘Sorry, I should have offered you one when you arrived.’
‘I’d say yes, but if you only arrived today is there actually anything in the kitchen?’
‘Another very astute and likely correct observation!’ Adam says, grinning. ‘What about a birthday drink, then? We can hash out the finer points of how this all works. There’s a couple of good pubs here, that I do know.’
‘Erm … shall we finish looking around the house first?’ I don’t want to offend him by declining his offer, but I know time is ticking away.
‘Yes, of course. You lead the way.’
‘So, give it to me. What’s your expert opinion?
’ Adam asks as we finish our tour of the house in a room that’s a cross between a library and a study.
The walls are lined with shelves of books and there’s a large walnut writing desk at one end of the room.
‘Has my grandfather left me a pile of gold within this house or a crock of shi … sorry, rubbish?’
‘There are definitely some items that I’d be happy to take off your hands and some items that might have more sentimental value, but which I could still sell if you’d like me to take them too. Your grandfather had a good eye and there’s some very interesting pieces here.’
‘Interesting and valuable?’
‘They’re only valuable if someone else wants to buy them,’ I reply carefully. ‘It’s very subjective.’
‘True … again, a good comparison between our two worlds. Music is only profitable if people want to buy your records and pay to watch you in concert.’
‘Indeed.’ I look around the room. ‘Take for instance that grandfather clock over there. I think it’s beautiful – the carving on the door in particular is very well done and also very unusual.
But grandfather clocks are really difficult to sell these days, because most people don’t have houses big enough to put them in.
That doesn’t mean I won’t try to sell it, though.
You just never know when the right buyer might pop their head around the shop door looking for exactly what you have.
And that cabinet on the wall by the window.
It’s filled with all sorts of action figures and stuff from comics.
Not exactly antiques, and I have to admit I don’t know all that much about that kind of thing.
But I know it’s becoming more collectable all the time. ’
I turn back to Adam and find that he’s silently watching me.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask, wondering if he’s OK.
‘Yes, I was just thinking about that cabinet. I always wanted to play with some of those figures when I was a child, but I was never allowed to. They were my grandfather’s pride and joy.’
‘I can leave them if you like? If they have sentimental value?’
‘No, take them,’ he says abruptly. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Would you like me to take all these books too?’ I ask quickly, hoping I’ve not upset him.
‘I can’t house them in my shop, but I know a dealer who could probably sell them on.
It’s a shame – we used to have a lovely second-hand bookshop next door to my antiques shop.
But they closed down last year and no one has taken on the shop since. ’
‘No,’ Adam says sharply again. His manner has been so relaxed until now that I wonder what’s made it change. ‘I’d like to keep them.’
‘Sure, not a problem. There’s quite a lot, isn’t there? Do you have room for—’
‘I’ll make room if I have to,’ Adam says shortly.
‘Like I said, not a problem.’ I glance down at my notebook.
‘Sorry. The books remind me of happier times, that’s all.
Happier times long gone …’ He gives a little shake of his head as though he’s clearing away those memories.
‘How about we get that drink now?’ he asks, sounding much more like his usual self again.
‘I could do with a pint. Who knew antiques were such thirsty work?’
I can’t help wondering what he means by ‘happier times long gone’, but it’s really not my business so I glance at my watch.
‘Perhaps just a quick drink?’ I agree to be convivial.
After all, the deal isn’t 100 per cent completed yet – we still haven’t talked money.
‘I do have to be back at my shop for five, though.’
‘Do you have staff that finish then?’ Adam asks as we begin to walk towards the front door.
‘No, it’s just me today. It’s actually the other shopkeepers in Clockmaker Court – they’re putting something on for my birthday.’ I feel embarrassed telling him. ‘It’s nothing much, but there’s going to be a cake and I think a few drinks afterwards. I can’t let them down.’
Adam nods. ‘Lucky you, to have people that care it’s your birthday. It sounds cool.’
‘Are you doing anything for yours?’ I find myself asking. Even though I pretend my birthday isn’t something I’m overly bothered about, when you only get a proper birthday every four years, I know that actually you care very much about marking it.
‘No, not tonight.’ Adam shrugs dismissively. ‘I don’t know anyone here – only you now, of course – all my mates are in London.’ He pauses for a moment. ‘We plan to go out next weekend – you know, for a really big night out.’
He doesn’t look quite as convinced about this statement as his words suggest.
My idea of a good night these days is settling down on my sofa with a blanket, a box of chocolates and a good book. The luxury of being left to read undisturbed for several hours far outweighing any temporary high alcohol might give me.
But I don’t tell Adam this.
‘Are you heading back to London tonight, then?’ I ask instead.
‘Nope, I’m staying here. Probably heading back tomorrow.’
Before I know what I’m doing, my mouth – despite trying to teach it over the years to always listen to my head first – says, ‘Why don’t you come into town and join us for a few drinks? I can’t have a fellow leap-year baby on his own on our special day.’
I don’t know if I’m more shocked by the fact I’ve actually said this, or the fact that Adam looks delighted by my invitation.
‘If you’re sure I wouldn’t be crashing your celebration?’
‘No, of course not. I mean I’m sure it won’t be the kind of thing you’re used to. The pub we usually go to is pretty quiet and—’
‘I’d love to,’ Adam says firmly before I can change my mind. ‘You can tell me more about your antiques business and how you got into it all. I’m sure your story will be just as interesting as some of the items you sell in your shop.’
Interesting is not the word I’d use to describe my story, I think to myself as I wait in the hallway for Adam to lock up the house and accompany me back to Clockmaker Court.
But the chances of me telling my story to you – a virtual stranger – is about as likely as me finding a lost Van Gogh in the attic of this house.