Free A French Affair by Katie Fforde Page B

cu— cans. They’re so contemporary!’
    The dealer raised his eyes and smiled. ‘Late-eighteenth/early-nineteeth-century Wedgwood.’
    ‘That old?’ Gina’s amazement was genuine. The cups had a blue and white chequered pattern with little emblems on the white squares. ‘Really, you wouldn’t be surprised to see these in Harrods as part of some new collection.’
    ‘Indeed. But I think you’d probably want to give a whole set as a wedding present – darling – and this pair are probably beyond our price range.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Gina, who’d had a good scan of the stall, ‘you’d have thought second-hand things would be cheaper.’
    Her reward was a pinch on her arm. ‘Anything else you like, my love?’ said Matthew.
    ‘I quite like that vase.’ She indicated a rather odd-shapedarticle which, from a distance, could have been the outline of a woman with nothing above the shoulders. Closer to one could see a painting of a woman with butterflies for hair and a spider at the centre of her torso.
    ‘I don’t think Evangeline would though,’ said Matthew.
    ‘Evangeline?’ Where on earth did he get a name like that for their fictional bride? she wondered. ‘Oh, I always call her Angie. I forgot she had that weird name.’ She pinched Matthew this time. Being clamped together had some advantages.
    She was seeing a whole new side to Matthew and she rather liked it. Deciding it was time she spoke for herself, she unclamped herself and asked the stallholder, who seemed good-natured and friendly, ‘What about that tile thing? Is that expensive?’
    ‘This is a Compton Pottery plaque, made about nineteen hundred,’ he said.
    ‘And how much is it?’ said Gina, worried that Matthew would expose himself as a dealer by saying ‘What’s your best on that?’
    ‘Two hundred pounds to you, love,’ said the dealer.
    ‘And a lot less to anyone else probably,’ Gina replied. ‘Come on, darling, let’s find a nice chandelier.’
    She was aware of Matthew shaking as they walked along, again clamped in a newly-weds’ clasp. ‘Are you laughing?’ she demanded. ‘That was my very best acting. I should get an Oscar.’
    ‘You do have a certain comic talent and you mustn’t mind if I laugh.’
    Gina found she didn’t mind at all. ‘I’ll forgive you.’
    ‘But we’re no nearer getting you anything for your stall,’ he said, steering her to a relatively quiet spot whilst theytook stock. ‘Here’s another plan. You go to a stall, on your own, and ask the price of anything you like. Choose a few things. Then back away as if it’s all way too much. I’ll spy on you from a distance and see how many of the things I can get at a reasonable price.’
    ‘It sounds brilliant but how good were you at Kim’s game as a child?’
    ‘Sorry?’
    ‘You know, there are a number of objects placed on a tray and you have to remember as many as possible after the tray is taken away. Children’s parties? Didn’t you play that?’
    ‘I think that was probably more a game for girls,’ he said disparagingly. ‘But I do have a good memory for objects. It goes with the territory. Off you go. There’s a likely stall over there.’ He pointed to one full of little bits and pieces – much like the stuff Rainey had in her suitcase. Gina’s eyes lit up. This was more like it, surely she could find something here to buy and at a good price.
    She enjoyed looking at the objects and hoped Matthew was able to see which ones she was asking about. She found a small vase even she recognised as Moorcroft, which she hoped wouldn’t be beyond the budget; she held it up, hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, but wanting to make sure Matthew saw it in between the other people milling round the stall. Next she spotted a pair of candlesticks she just thought were pretty but turned out to be worth over a thousand pounds. She shook her head and a charming nightlight in the shape of a lighthouse caught her eye. It seemed a snip at fifty.