had bought from John Lobb in St. James’s Street. “Unless you get a pair of made-to-measure from Lobb. They’re rather expensive.”
Marcia repeated her direct question. “How much?”
William looked embarrassed. “Two and a half thousand pounds,” he said. “But they last a long time.”
Marcia let out a whistle. “Imelda Marcos! You didn’t, did you …” It was meant to be a question but it came out as an accusation.
William sighed. “I’m afraid so. But they’re extremely comfortable. At least Freddie didn’t choose to chew them …” He stopped. A terrible possibility had occurred. And if the worst came to the worst, would he be able to forgive two and a half thousand in the same way he had forgiven one hundred and seventy?
Marcia had reached the same conclusion as William. “You’d better go and check,” she said. “Or would you like me to do it for you?”
William shook his head. “I’ll go.”
He went out of the kitchen. While he was away, Marcia looked down at Freddie de la Hay, who looked back at her, uncertain as to what this latest development meant. Was he in renewed disgrace? he wondered. And if so, why?
84. James Reveals His Good Eye
WILLIAM RETURNED, smiling; Freddie de la Hay’s aberration had been confined to his Belgian Shoes and nothing else had been eaten. So while Marcia finished preparing the coquilles St. Jacques, he went to the telephone to dial the number of the flat downstairs. Dee answered and confirmed that Caroline was in; she had a friend round, Dee said, but she was sure that she would be happy to speak.
“My friend Marcia and I need some advice on a painting,” William said to Caroline when she came to the phone. “I wonder if you would be able to come up for a drink, or coffee, later on? Perhaps you would look at it.”
“You’ve bought a painting?” asked Caroline. “How exciting.”
“Not quite bought,” said William. “Sort of … sort of found, I suppose.”
“Even more exciting,” said Caroline. “And of course I’d be happy to come up. May I bring my friend James? He’s doing the course with me but he knows much more than I do. He could be helpful.”
That, said William, would be perfect, and rang off. Then it was time for the coquilles St. Jacques, which Marcia had cooked to perfection. They ate them in silent mutual enjoyment. There was no real need to say anything, at least on William’s side, as he felt quite happy and replete. The new arrangement with Marcia, which removed all the threat from an otherwise tricky situation, was an unmitigated relief. Eddie was no longer living in the flat and inflicting his music on him—another cause for relief, if not outright celebration. And although he had lost a Belgian Shoe, his John Lobb shoes had escaped the attentions of Freddie de la Hay. The world, or his very small corner of it, could have been in a far worse state, and he was grateful for it. And for the scallops and Sauvignon Blanc too.
When Caroline and James arrived half an hour later, William and Marcia were ensconced in the drawing room, Marcia on her sofa and William in his chair. Marcia had made no attempt to persuade William to sit on the sofa with her—a sign, he thought, of her better understanding of the relationship between them. So James was able to sit next to Marcia while Caroline occupied the small tub chair alongside William’s armchair.
William asked James about his course and where it would lead. “I’d like to work for a gallery or one of the auction houses,” James explained. “I’ve been promised an internship at the end of the course, and that might help. But there are lots of people after those posts. Everybody wants to do that sort of thing. Or everybody who has a degree in the history of art, that is.”
“Well, it must be wonderful work,” said William. “I sometimes go to the wine auctions at Sotheby’s. I understand the excitement.”
“I’d like to work in the Old Masters department,” said James. “I wish!”
“James has a very good eye,” said Caroline. “He really does.”
“Go on,” said James modestly. “Just because …”
“No, you do,” Caroline persisted. “Remember when we saw that Brescia-school painting and everybody said that it was something else, and you said, no, it was Brescia. Even Professor Marinelli was wrong about that. And what he doesn’t know …”
James laughed. “Beginner’s luck.”
“Well, we won’t be showing you anything special,” said William.
“What will you