McQueen's Agency (10 page)

Molly said she had already eaten, which was untrue, but she didn’t relish the idea of sitting with Christie and Mike.

‘Well if you’re sure. I’ll get Joe to bring out something later.’

Molly went out to the shed and the transformation was unbelievable. What had been full of large packing cases earlier in the week was now transformed with beautiful pieces of furniture. Over in the corner were six or seven oil paintings that had an expensive patina about them.

The desk held a large notebook and pen, no doubt to take down the details of any purchases made tonight.

She heard the cars arriving and saw Lena, Joe and Kenneth walk out to greet their guests.

Lena was dressed in a dress of blue taffeta and Kenneth was in a dark suit. Joe looked more casual in a sports jacket and fawn trousers.

Three couples got out of their cars but none looked as well dressed as their hosts.

Then the last car drew up and Widow Marten came out. She looked about fifty years old, quite plump, wearing a frock unsuitable for her ample figure. It was a cross between brown and bronze satin and the fabric was pulled tight over her large bust and hips.

However, it was her jewellery that took Molly’s breath away. She wore three diamond rings on her fingers, all sparkling in the sunlight, and her necklace of red stones, which hung from her neck seemed to glow with a brilliance that Molly had never seen before. They looked like rubies but it was a pity they clashed with the brown frock.

Mike and Christie were standing by the entrance to the shed and also looked smart in their green overalls. Lena brought the guests over and introduced them.

‘You’ve all met Mike and Christie before, but this is Molly who will take any order you care to place tonight.’

Molly was then introduced to Bill and Marlene Farley, James and Laura Small, Ronald and Betty White and Mrs Marten.

The three couples didn’t look rich enough to buy any of the goods displayed here but maybe Molly was wrong. Perhaps they were like the widow and were all filthy rich.

As she was turning back to her desk she caught Mrs Marten staring at her and Molly gave her a smile. The woman turned on her heel and marched into the house.

An hour later, Mike and Christie came back to the shed. Christie perched on the edge of the desk. ‘You didn’t come in for something to eat.’

Molly said no, she hadn’t.

‘You missed a super meal,’ he said. ‘We had soup, Coronation chicken and chocolate mousse.’

Molly was starving but she hoped her stomach wouldn’t rumble at the thought of this great meal. Why hadn’t she gone in? However, she was pleasantly surprised when Joe brought out a plate of sandwiches and a coffee.

Christie stood up. ‘I’d better let you drink your coffee while it’s hot,’ he said, making his way to the far end of the shed.

He switched on the lights to highlight the paintings. Molly was no expert but these paintings looked like old masterpieces.

Half an hour later, Lena led her guests into the shed. They admired the pieces of furniture and the paintings while Kenneth and Joe quietly mentioned the prices.

Laura Small sat down beside Molly. ‘My husband has an antique shop in Edinburgh and we buy some stock from the Lamonts twice a year. They have such lovely things.’

Molly agreed. ‘Do you run the shop with your husband?’

Laura laughed. ‘Oh no, I’ve got my three children to look after. James is the brains behind our business.’

‘Do you all own an antique shop?’ Molly asked.

‘Bill and Marlene do but they’re based in Glasgow. Ronald and Betty are American and he’s working over here. They’ve been married less than a year and they’ve bought a large house in Fife and are furnishing it. Seemingly, they only want the best and are willing to pay for it.’

Lucky Ronald and Betty, thought Molly cynically.

Mrs Marten was bending over one of the paintings. ‘I like this one, Kenneth,’ she said.

‘You’ve a good eye Nelly. It’s by Fergusson, one of the Scottish Colourists.’

‘I’ll take it,’ she said.

‘I’ll bring it over to the shop on Monday and you can pay for it then,’ he said.

The rest of the guests mingled amongst the furniture and Mike and Christie were busy showing off the workmanship. They pulled drawers out and lifted small items to show the undersides and backs.

‘There’s no Utility mark with those pieces,’ said Kenneth.

Ronald and Betty laughed. ‘Isn’t the Utility furniture just too ugly for words?. There’s no decoration. Everything is so basic. Just like the clothes, but now that rationing is almost over maybe we’ll get some great designers again.’

‘Nothing matches the true quality of really old antiques. They were made to last,’ said Lena. She walked over to the desk with a paper list and Molly was surprised to see how much money had been made in one night.

‘Molly, can you make up the invoices for each of the sales and the customers will take them away with them? Don’t make out an invoice for Mrs Marten’s painting as Kenneth will deal with that himself.’

Molly was busy for the next hour while Christie and Mike tied nametags to the pieces that had been sold. The customers were also busy making arrangements for the uplifting of their purchases.

‘My van will come and collect as usual on Monday,’ said James.

Bill nodded. ‘I can’t manage till Tuesday but it’ll be in the morning.’

However, Betty and Ronald couldn’t wait that long. ‘Do you mind if we turn up tomorrow?’

Lena smiled. ‘Not at all. We’ll be here all day so just come when it suits you.’ She turned to her guests. ‘Now let’s all go back to the house and have a drink, or coffee if you prefer it.’

Molly wasn’t sure what she had to do but Lena said, ‘Leave the copies of the invoices in the office and come into the lounge and have a drink.’

Molly wasn’t keen on this but it seemed bad manners to refuse. She hadn’t been in the lounge before and was totally taken with the view. A large window overlooked the river and lights from the opposite shore twinkled like fairy lights.

The room was furnished with exquisite items and there were three large squashy sofas grouped around the fireplace. Lena had placed a large silver tray with coffee and tea plus a bottle of whisky and sherry.

Molly settled for coffee as did most of the women. Mrs Marten, however, had joined the men and held a large glass of whisky in her chubby fingers, the diamonds glittering brightly.

The guests then said their goodbyes.

‘Safe journey,’ said Kenneth and, as soon as the three cars were gone, Joe muttered something and made his way to the sheds.

Mrs Marten hadn’t left and gave Lena a resigned look. It was obvious Joe was well known for his churlishness.

Lena smiled at her. ‘Come in and have another drink, Nelly.’

Molly stood inside the lounge door, unsure what to do but Lena said, ‘That will be all for tonight, Molly. Thank you for working and we’ll see you on Monday.’

Kenneth came out with her to the car. ‘You’re a big help to us, Molly. Lena has a lot of pain with her broken arm and she could never have got through tonight without you.’

Molly felt her face go red but thankfully it was getting dark so she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

‘I wanted to say …’ he said but a voice called out from the front door. It was Nelly.

‘We’ve poured out your whisky, Kenneth.’

He gave Molly a grin. ‘My mistress calls,’ he said and strode back into the house.

Molly drove through the gathering darkness and she was glad when she reached the house. Marigold’s light was still on and Molly saw the curtain twitch as the car went past.

Marigold appeared. ‘How did it all go?’ she asked. ‘Come in and tell me all about it.’

Molly was tired but she didn’t want to hurt her neighbour’s feelings.

Molly described the people present and all the lovely paintings and furniture. She left Mrs Marten to the last. ‘She’s a widow but when her husband was alive, they lived in Holland for many years.’

‘She must be very rich to afford all that jewellery,’ said Marigold.

Molly said she had the impression she had inherited it from either her own family or her husband’s, but added, ‘She bought one of the paintings. A Fergusson, I believe, and Kenneth said she had a good eye for quality.’

Molly stood up. ‘I’d better get off to bed. I must go over to the office tomorrow and catch up with some office work.’

Later, as she lay awake in bed, she thought she heard a car stopping on the street and then the sound of it driving off again.

Maybe someone is lost she thought or picking up a passenger from one of the other houses.

She didn’t hear the car come back and park a few yards away from the garden or see the figure emerge to stand in the deep shadows of the large holly tree at the foot of the garden.

Tam was on his way with Rover to see his friend who had an allotment on the slopes of the Law. He was going to get some flowers to take to Harry’s grave.

It was a damp, drizzly morning and, because it was a Sunday, most people seemed to be having a long lie in bed. The streets were quiet as they made their way along Byron Street and up towards the allotments. Tam knew Bert would be in his plot at this early hour. He loved his allotment where he could potter about, get dirt under his fingernails and enjoy growing his flowers and vegetables. Rover also loved this place as there were rabbits to chase and lots of space to run around.

Bert was surprised to have an early morning visitor. ‘Hullo, Tam. What brings you out so early?’ He put down his hoe and sat down on the bench beside the wooden shed. He took out his pipe and tobacco. This was one pleasure he wasn’t allowed to do at home.

Tam mentioned the flowers. ‘You know I told you about that chap who was drowned? Well I thought of taking a walk to Balgay cemetery later and leaving a wee bunch of dahlias.’

‘That was the chap that you didn’t think had an accident?’

Tam nodded. ‘Aye, it was, but the police said everything points to an unfortunate accident so I’ll have to accept that.’

Bert gathered a bunch of dahlias, gave them to his friend and as Tam made his way back with Rover, he took his spade and began turning over the rich brown loamy soil.

Once back at Gellatly Street, Tam climbed the two flights of stairs and let himself into his small flat. He placed the flowers in the basin of cold water before opening a tin of dog food, which he put into Rover’s bowl.

He then opened a small tin of tomato soup and cut two slices of bread for himself.

‘When I’ve had my dinner, I’ll go to the cemetery,’ he said to the dog. ‘But I’ll leave you here, Rover, because I’ll be getting the bus.’

It was still grey and misty with a fine drizzle when Tam set off for Shore Terrace and the bus stances. Luckily there was a number 17 bus already waiting.

The bus meandered slowly up Lochee Road towards Tullidelph Road and Glamis Road. Tam got off at this stop as it was the nearest to the gates of the cemetery.

Quite a few other passengers also got off here and they made their way to the rows of pre-fab houses that had been built beside Balgay Park. Tam would have liked to have one of these pre-fabs. He’d heard all about their labour saving kitchens and bathrooms. The stairs at Gellatly Street were becoming a trial to his tired old legs as well.

Also, Rover would love the park to run around in.

The cemetery was busy as people tended the graves of loved ones, changing the flowers and generally tidying up the ground. Tam made his way to Harry’s grave and was pleased when he saw a small headstone had been erected over the small plot.

DS Johns had said there was money left over from Harry’s insurance policy for this headstone and Tam had chosen the epitaph.

Harry Hawkins. Home is the sailor home from the sea.

Tam went to get water from the cold tap which was situated a few yards away and he arranged the bunch of dahlias as best he could. Flower arranging wasn’t his strong point but the dahlias made a colourful splash against the wet grass.

He sat for a while on the wooden bench. He liked to sit and watch the world go by and breathe in the fresh country air. He missed the sea and the ships; the salty tang of the ocean and the height of the wild waves which sometimes threatened to overturn some of the old boats he had sailed on.

He thought of Harry and all the adventures he must have experienced as a sailor. Coming through the horrors of wartime, only to drown in the harbour at Dundee. Life could be so cruel.

Tam rose slowly to his feet. It was time to get back and take Rover out for his evening walk. He would then have a boiled egg with toast for his tea.

The bus was quieter on the return journey and Tam was glad to make his way back to the house. He never locked his door. For one thing, none of his neighbours did and he didn’t have anything valuable to steal.

As always he took delight in his large nameplate, which he kept shining with a daily clean of Brasso. It had come from one of the ships he had been on and he had acquired it when the old vessel went to the scrapyard.

He had just turned the door handle when he became aware of a shadow behind him. It was reflected in the brass plate and he turned his head to see who was coming down the stair from the top flats.

A sharp pain exploded in his shoulder and he was vaguely aware of an arm with some kind of cosh. The arm was raised up high and was about to come down on his head when a white blur rushed past him. Snarling and baring his teeth, Rover grabbed the assailant’s arm and wouldn’t let go. Tam heard some muffled cries as the dog’s teeth bit into someone’s flesh.

Suddenly there was sharp yelp of pain followed by whimpering. Tam tried to stand up but couldn’t. Rover was obviously hurt.

Tam began to shout for help and he heard the sound of footsteps running down the stairs.

After a few minutes he heard the door across the landing open and his neighbour, Mrs Kidd, hurried over.

‘What happened, Tam? Did you fall down?’

Tam said, ‘Can you see if Rover’s all right, Mrs Kidd.’

The dog was silent now and he heard the woman gently talking to it. She hurried back up the stairs. ‘He’s been hit with something, Tam, and it doesn’t look too good. I’m going to get the Bobby.’