Chapter Eighteen
By the time she got home, Aster decided she had had enough of being scared. This whole fight-or-flight response was out of control. She had allowed her emotions to take charge and because of that she was screwing up. It was time to focus. Pulling her phone towards her, she called her sister.
‘Hey you, I need your help about this fabric.’
Clem’s voice was an instant tonic. Straight to the point and distracted. She loved Clem to bits, but of all her sisters, she was the least perceptive, which was just what Aster needed right now.
‘What do you need?’
Aster grinned. No how are you, how have you been, just what do you need . So she replied in kind.
‘First, is this the stuff the same quality as ours?’
‘One hundred percent.’
‘And can it be made anywhere else?’
‘Really unlikely.’
‘Okay, is this our muslin?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Aisha tells me how much is being produced and that’s what we receive.’
‘And Aisha is?’
‘She’s our UK based contact for the Indian co-operative. She used to live over there, but we now employ her here. It turned out she had an excellent head for business and wanted to leave home so we set her up here. Lots of her cousins work in the factory out there, so she knows the business inside out.’
‘And you trust her?’
‘No reason not to. You met her at last year’s summer party.’
Aster shrugged, at the summer parties she only had time for her family and people she knew. She never bothered with the outsiders.
‘Okay. I’ve had a look at the people who are distributing the other version and they are highly suspect. Tomorrow I’m going to interview Aisha. And see if I get any sense that she knows what’s going on.’
‘That’s not a good idea,’ said Clem slowly.
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s excellent at what she does. I don’t want you upsetting her.’
Aster laughed. ‘That’s your forte, not mine. I’m just going to talk to her and try to understand the supply route. Incidentally, I’ve just sent you some photos. Have a look and tell me if I’m looking at stolen or counterfeit gear. It’s definitely hooky.’
‘Will do.’
Aster could tell Clem was about to hang up, but she jumped in quickly with a more personal question.
‘How are you doing?’
‘Life’s shit and I’m a failure. Other than that, just peachy. All I’m good for now is selling fabrics and dressing patterns.’
‘Oh well,’ said Aster artlessly. ‘Everyone has barren spells. And I bet those sewing patterns will sell really well. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Talent doesn’t last forever, you know. Now let me know what you make of those photos I sent you. Bye.’
‘Hang on a minute!’
Aster ended the call and switched her phone off. Clem had been building up a head of steam and Aster had no wish to hear her sister explode. Sighing to herself, she hoped that goading her sister like that would spur her into action. Clem thrived on strong emotions. Aster hoped this would fire her back into gear. She only wished that she could manipulate her own behaviour as easily. As soon as she put the phone back down, her mind had switched instantly to Edward and her earlier meeting. This morning she had woken up smiling, delighted to have saved the painting for the nuns, and now she was back to square one. Jittery and distracted.
Shaking her head, she opened her laptop and dug into the Hiverton files until she found Aisha’s contact details and work address. She’d call on her first thing in the morning. Finally, an e-mail from Otto gave her the details of a restorer that was looking forward to working on the painting. Aster dropped a note to the auction house to have the painting delivered to the restorer’s workshop.
Giving her video one final check, she saw the numbers were still rising, but as yet Marcus Barrie hadn’t been identified. Closing the laptop, she padded over to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of rosé and headed out into the garden. As dusk fell around her, she focused all her attention on Edward.
Now she had a name, soon she would have an address. And then what? Knock on his door? Run away like an idiot.
As she watched the stars come out, she replayed his words in her head. Each sentence rolled around in her head as she remembered how he had looked at her. His surprise — and was that relief, when he first saw her? And then his arrogance, telling her off for spoiling the auction. She smiled when she remembered how she had schooled him and pointed out that he had potentially risked losing a great treasure. But when he took a step towards her and looked down at her, she had felt an overwhelming connection as their eyes locked and she panicked.
Now as she sipped her wine, she wondered about that panic. Certainly, he was tall and good looking. His size was almost a threat and in that small room, Aster had nowhere to escape to. That was it. She had felt backed into a corner. Her flight was a perfectly normal response. Relieved that she had put her sense of unease to rest, she finished her glass and smiled to herself as an owl hooted in the distance.