Nick waggled his hand in a way that suggested perhaps. ‘I see a few nice things.’

Then he turned to me, wicked eyes twinkling. ‘See, Juno, selling, it is easy. Knowing what to buy’ − he tapped the side of his nose knowingly − ‘that is the difficult part.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘I have good idea.’ It was Nick on the phone, again, next morning. ‘You come round and see me, yes?’

‘I come round and see you, no,’ I responded. I’d just got back from my morning’s travails and was trying to grab a sandwich before I had to go out again. I was only listening with one ear, the phone tucked into the crook of my neck whilst I sorted through that morning’s post − all highly uninteresting − a pile of bills and a mystery package, a free gift from an overseas charity. ‘I’m busy,’ I told Nick firmly, extricating the contents of the package, which turned out to be a cheap pen with my name embossed on it in gilt lettering. If the charity thought I was going to use it to write them a cheque, they were out of luck. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘No tomorrow,’ he insisted. ‘Come today.’

‘What’s it about?’ I asked crossly.

He chuckled down the phone. ‘You see.’

I gave in with a sigh, abandoning all hope of a sandwich. ‘Oh, all right. See you in ten minutes.’

‘Is good,’ Nick responded, and put the receiver down.

I was still muttering grumpily to myself as I approached Nick’s door, but it was opened by Paul and my bad mood vanished as he smiled and stepped back to let me in.

Nick was standing in the corridor leading to the storeroom, next to a pair of beautiful, Edwardian balloon-back chairs made of a dark, glossy wood, with deeply buttoned seat cushions of rich green velvet, edged with a fringe.

‘Those aren’t the same chairs!’ I cried, gaping.

Nick chuckled and nodded. ‘Paul do good job.’

‘He certainly has.’ I turned to look at him. ‘What will you do with them?’

‘They’re Nick’s chairs,’ he said, ‘but I’m taking them to—’

‘Yes, yes!’ Nick interrupted him excitedly, ‘that is why I want you, Juno … come upstairs … we talk!’

‘Don’t worry,’ Paul murmured in my ear as we followed him up, ‘I’ll make the tea.’

‘Do you know what this is about?’ I whispered.

‘I do.’ He looked a bit sheepish. ‘I’m afraid it’s my fault.’

Nick started as soon as I sat at the kitchen table. ‘Juno, I have great idea. Paul, he go to—’

‘Have you heard of Somerset’s Summer Antiques Fair?’ Paul interrupted, setting the kettle on the stove and then turning back to look at me.

‘Vaguely.’ I knew a fair was held on some disused airfield in the middle of the Somerset Levels each year, but I’d never been.