the gates of my childhood home. He whistled through his teeth as we drove along the drive, the house not yet in view.
I squirmed, embarrassed by our perceived wealth.
Mum was at the door when we pulled up and I hurried in, expecting Thomas to follow. Instead he was looking around, agog at his surroundings.
‘Mum, this is Thomas,’ I said, in an effort to shake him out of it.
‘Mrs Russo,’ he said, almost jumping to attention. ‘So very pleased to meet you.’
I watched as Mum gave him the once over and could tell from her expression that she was quietly impressed. I let out the breath I’d been holding in.
After the niceties were exchanged, I said, ‘Thomas can look at that wine whilst he’s here.’ I picked up the last remaining crumbs of lemon drizzle and popped them in my mouth. It was sacrilege to leave even the tiniest morsel. ‘If you want him to?’
‘Well, only if you’ve got time,’ she said, already up out of her chair and walking towards the cellar.
I rolled my eyes and tilted my head at him to follow, whilst I helped myself to another slice of cake.
‘So . . .?’ I whispered as she scuttled back in a few minutes later, clearly as eager as I was to convey her thoughts.
‘Ooh, he’s lovely, Beth,’ she enthused. ‘A real gentleman.’
I smiled and felt warm inside. That’s how much Mum’s opinion mattered.
‘Is it serious?’ she asked.
I nodded. ‘I think so . . . I hope so. I really like him.’
‘And he really likes you,’ she said, knowingly. ‘I can tell by the way he looks at you.’
I giggled like a schoolgirl, only pulling myself together when Thomas reappeared in the room. It was so obvious that we’d been talking about him and I felt myself flush as he raised his eyebrows questioningly.
‘So, do you want the good news?’ he said into the awkward silence.
Mum and I both nodded.
‘You’ve got a really good collection there, Mrs Russo.’
‘Please call me Mary,’ she said, her voice akin to the put-on telephone voice I used to tease her about when I was younger.
‘Some of them are worthless,’ went on Thomas, ‘but you’ve got a few there that I’d love to sell for you.’
We looked at him expectantly.
‘I would hazard a guess, at a conservative estimate, of five thousand pounds.’
‘Five thousand pounds?’ Mum and I shrieked in unison.
‘There’s some vintage cognacs in there and one or two whiskies that someone will pay handsomely for. It might even go higher.’
‘Wow,’ I said, looking between him and her. ‘You’ve been sitting on a treasure trove.’
‘Goodness, I can’t even begin to get my head around it,’ she said. ‘So, would you be able to sell them for me? They’re no use to me here.’
‘If that’s what you want, then I’d be very happy to sell them for you.’
I looked at Mum and we both nodded.
‘Okay, so let me go and catalogue them all properly and let’s see what we can get.’
‘Are you okay for him to do this?’ asked Mum, under her breath. ‘They say you should never mix business with pleasure. I don’t want him to feel awkward if they don’t fetch as much as he thinks they will.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘He’s very professional. I’ve seen him deal with clients and he knows what he’s doing. If it doesn’t reach that figure, it’s no loss, is it? They’ve been sitting there gathering dust for over twenty years, so anything we get is going to be a bonus.’
Mum nodded thoughtfully.
‘Okay, so I’ve got everything I need,’ Thomas said when he walked back in the room. ‘I’ll see who’s in the market and get you the best price I can.’
‘So, this is what you do for a living?’ Mum asked.
‘Yes,’ he said, smiling.
‘That must be interesting. I had no idea such a thing even existed.’
‘It’s a growing industry,’ he said. ‘Back in the eighties, it was something you did to be flash and pretentious, when everybody thought they were Gordon Gekko.’ We all laughed, remembering Michael Douglas’s character making unethical get-rich-quick deals.
‘But it’s got a bit more serious in recent years,’ Thomas went on. ‘Now, it’s actually about the wine and the genuine connoisseurs, who know what they’re buying. It’s real money now, being used to make real investments, by people who are passionate about what they’re doing.’
‘So, they’re making a living out of it?’ asked Mum, slightly awestruck.
He nodded. ‘They are. I am. For some people it’s just a game they like to