The Bronze Lady (Woodford Antiques Mystery Book 2) by Kathy Morgan Page A
Authors: Kathy Morgan
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to see them.
Despite his apparent willingness to shrug off the one thousand pound loss to his business, and his fears of the inevitable knock to his reputation with one of his most reliable buyers from whom he had earned over three quarters of a million pounds the year before, John was hiding his true feelings very well.
He was seething.
Rumours about these knock-off bronzes had been circulating for years, and every now and then he would suspect an item of his was dodgy, but it usually wasn’t a major problem. Bronzes have been faked for hundreds of years, even the nineteenth-century Austrian factories who produced the stunning cold-painted bronzes also legitimately made their own brass or spelter copies. To an antiques dealer like John and his customers these imitation bronze statues were still quality antique craftsmanship, and deserved the hundreds and thousands of pounds that were exchanged for their ownership.
But this item was different. This bronze had been chosen by him and sold to him as a genuine bronze twentieth century piece of erotica. He had loved it, revered it, stroked it, and appreciated it for its beauty and its age.
And he had been wrong.
Once the teas had been drunk, the breakfasts eaten, and the treasures passed around and admired or dismissed, the antiques dealers went their separate ways. Cliff and Tony walked back to Tony’s van, each lost in his own thoughts.
Chapter 10
Monday 30 th November, 7.00pm
‘You three look thick as thieves holed up in the corner here, what are you whispering about?’ asked Sarah Handley as she brought over another round of drinks and started to clear away the glasses from the first round.
The three men looked up guiltily.
‘Nothing, nothing, just some deal we are trying to put together,’ said Paul hurriedly. He and Tony had not resolved their differences, but were carefully skirting around the subject instead.
As Cliff and Tony took their pints from the tray they both took a sip before setting their glasses down carefully, waiting until Sarah was out of earshot again before continuing their conversation.
‘We could do without the public getting to hear about this’ said Paul nervously. ‘Go on Tony, you were saying?’
‘It sounds as though it really was a very good fake,’ said Tony. ‘From John’s description I wouldn’t have known it was brass, but then bronze figures are not really my field of expertise.’
‘Nor mine,’ agreed Cliff. ‘But I would have thought an experienced dealer like John Robson would have been able to suss it out. He looked like a beaten puppy, I really felt sorry for the man. He has possibly lost a consistently good customer over this, and I know how hard it is to win back customers’ confidence,’ he tailed off to stare gloomily into his pint glass, as he thought about his own dismal business and personal situation.
‘Yeah we know you do mate,’ Paul leaned over and gave his friend’s shoulder a rub. ‘But you are doing really well again now? I thought business in the antiques centre was picking up again. Another two new dealers joined you this month?’
‘Yes things are starting to look up again, at last. If you had told me this time last year what was going to happen I would have shut up shop, sold everything, and moved to Turkey like Gary Wadley!’
‘Hmmh, and look what is going on in Turkey,’ commented Tony.
‘Oh, not where Gary is living. Turkey is a huge country and most of the trouble being reported in the news is all going on in the south-east, on the Syrian border. Kalkan and areas further to the west are not affected.’
‘Not all of it mate,’ chimed in Paul. ‘Look at all those suicide bombings in Istanbul and Ankara!’
‘Well that is a bit like saying no one should have moved to Northumberland in the eighties because of the troubles in Northern Ireland and bomb attacks in London!’ exclaimed Cliff.
‘Anyway,’ said Paul heavily, ‘let’s get back to the
Despite his apparent willingness to shrug off the one thousand pound loss to his business, and his fears of the inevitable knock to his reputation with one of his most reliable buyers from whom he had earned over three quarters of a million pounds the year before, John was hiding his true feelings very well.
He was seething.
Rumours about these knock-off bronzes had been circulating for years, and every now and then he would suspect an item of his was dodgy, but it usually wasn’t a major problem. Bronzes have been faked for hundreds of years, even the nineteenth-century Austrian factories who produced the stunning cold-painted bronzes also legitimately made their own brass or spelter copies. To an antiques dealer like John and his customers these imitation bronze statues were still quality antique craftsmanship, and deserved the hundreds and thousands of pounds that were exchanged for their ownership.
But this item was different. This bronze had been chosen by him and sold to him as a genuine bronze twentieth century piece of erotica. He had loved it, revered it, stroked it, and appreciated it for its beauty and its age.
And he had been wrong.
Once the teas had been drunk, the breakfasts eaten, and the treasures passed around and admired or dismissed, the antiques dealers went their separate ways. Cliff and Tony walked back to Tony’s van, each lost in his own thoughts.
Chapter 10
Monday 30 th November, 7.00pm
‘You three look thick as thieves holed up in the corner here, what are you whispering about?’ asked Sarah Handley as she brought over another round of drinks and started to clear away the glasses from the first round.
The three men looked up guiltily.
‘Nothing, nothing, just some deal we are trying to put together,’ said Paul hurriedly. He and Tony had not resolved their differences, but were carefully skirting around the subject instead.
As Cliff and Tony took their pints from the tray they both took a sip before setting their glasses down carefully, waiting until Sarah was out of earshot again before continuing their conversation.
‘We could do without the public getting to hear about this’ said Paul nervously. ‘Go on Tony, you were saying?’
‘It sounds as though it really was a very good fake,’ said Tony. ‘From John’s description I wouldn’t have known it was brass, but then bronze figures are not really my field of expertise.’
‘Nor mine,’ agreed Cliff. ‘But I would have thought an experienced dealer like John Robson would have been able to suss it out. He looked like a beaten puppy, I really felt sorry for the man. He has possibly lost a consistently good customer over this, and I know how hard it is to win back customers’ confidence,’ he tailed off to stare gloomily into his pint glass, as he thought about his own dismal business and personal situation.
‘Yeah we know you do mate,’ Paul leaned over and gave his friend’s shoulder a rub. ‘But you are doing really well again now? I thought business in the antiques centre was picking up again. Another two new dealers joined you this month?’
‘Yes things are starting to look up again, at last. If you had told me this time last year what was going to happen I would have shut up shop, sold everything, and moved to Turkey like Gary Wadley!’
‘Hmmh, and look what is going on in Turkey,’ commented Tony.
‘Oh, not where Gary is living. Turkey is a huge country and most of the trouble being reported in the news is all going on in the south-east, on the Syrian border. Kalkan and areas further to the west are not affected.’
‘Not all of it mate,’ chimed in Paul. ‘Look at all those suicide bombings in Istanbul and Ankara!’
‘Well that is a bit like saying no one should have moved to Northumberland in the eighties because of the troubles in Northern Ireland and bomb attacks in London!’ exclaimed Cliff.
‘Anyway,’ said Paul heavily, ‘let’s get back to the
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