keeping watch over the grand room.
My eyes travel the width of glass, fascinated by the clean lines in such an old, worldly, sumptuous room. But the flow of my drifting gaze falters when something catches my eye, and I squint, trying to zero into the blackness beyond the glass.
A chill spikes my skin. There’s someone watching me, I can clearly see an outline of a body. I step forwards, drawn in closer by the shadow, but then the silhouette slowly fades to nothing, dissipating like a puff of steam, like it was never there. Frowning to myself, I cock my head thoughtfully, staring into the blackness.
‘Tea,’ Mrs Potts says from behind, startling me. I swing around, finding her ambling towards me with a tray in her hand loaded with a teapot and some china cups decorated in a floral pattern.
She indicates a couple of large leather captain-style chairs, sets the tray down on a side table, and sits down, the chair creaking under the strain of her round frame. ‘It won’t give,’ she says, a light flash of a smile on her face. ‘They don’t make furniture like this these days.’ She pats the matching chair next to hers. ‘Take a seat.’
I gingerly lower myself to the chair, brushing down my skirt. I feel dowdy and out of place among such valuable treasures.
Mrs Potts hums happily as she serves the tea, giving me a traditional teacup and saucer. I accept and smile my thanks. ‘Drink up, dear.’
So I do, feeling awkward under her watchful eyes travelling back and forth with the cup as it journeys to and from my mouth. I awkwardly make my way through half my tea before softly placing the china cup on the matching saucer.
‘Wonderful.’ She looks truly delighted as she takes the fine china from my grasp and sets it aside. ‘Show me your hands.’
I hesitate, frowning, but she smiles warmly to encourage me, and I slowly extend my arms, watching while she runs observant eyes over my hands. ‘Very steady,’ she muses, taking a gentle hold. ‘No shaking.’
I smile nervously. Is she going to read my palm or something? Or produce tarot cards? ‘Why would I shake?’ I ask.
‘Nerves,’ she confirms. ‘We can’t have butterfingers around all these fine pieces.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘We only deal in the finest, dear.’
‘You have many beautiful things.’ It’s a million miles away from what I’m used to, and I’m alive with the potential of working with these wonderful antiques. I want to work here. If I saw the cab thief now, I might kiss him instead of slapping him. I can see myself lost among these treasured artefacts of history. I’m suddenly buzzing, full of enthusiasm. I have to nail this.
Mrs Potts releases my hands and casts a proud eye around the room. ‘That we do. Now, how are your archiving skills?’
‘You mean filing?’
‘Chronologically, yes.’
‘Very good,’ I confirm, because they are. I expect there will be a few more files here than my father had, but I’m ready for the challenge. ‘My father’s records go back decades. They were a shambles before I rebuilt his filing system.’
She smiles. ‘Your telephone manners?’
‘I’m very diplomatic.’
‘That’s good. We deal with the top auction houses – Sotheby’s, Bonhams, not to mention our clients who are mostly English aristocracy. We need to be polite.’
Sotheby’s? Bonhams? I could scream my excitement. Mrs Potts’s head cocks, and I know she’s thinking about my earlier outburst when I couldn’t see a damn thing in that dark alley.
‘I’m very polite.’ When I’m not trapped in a pitch-black hole with no escape.
‘Indeed. Now, how broad is your knowledge?’ She casts her arm around the room, and my eyes follow, taking it all in again.
This is a test. My chance to impress. ‘Well, over there is a pencil portrait of Francis of Lorraine. He was the Duke of Guise. I believe François Clouet was commissioned by the duke himself.’ I smile when Mrs Potts nods, eyes bright. ‘And that over there next to Anne Boleyn’s necklace’ – oh my fucking days, it’s her actual necklace – ‘is a solid gold statue of King Tutankhamun. Or King Tutankhaten, before he changed his religion. It weighs sixty pounds, and I believe it was lost in history until an American named Professor Limmington unearthed it on an expedition in Cairo in 1845.’ I’m almost breathless, because this room is truly mind-blowing. ‘And I know that that over there is a rare example of a Louis the fourteenth chair.’
‘With original gilding,’ Mrs Potts adds,