Page 9 of Traitors Gate

‘Milk and sugar?’ Mrs Lomax asked once the tray had been placed on the table between them.

‘Milk, no sugar, thank you,’ said Beth as she settled into the corner of a sofa already occupied by a large ginger cat who clearly had no intention of moving. After handing Beth a cup, her host offered her a biscuit which Beth placed on the chipped Wedgwood plate beside her.

‘You must be wondering, Mrs Warwick, why I wanted to see you.’

Beth considered asking her to call her Beth but thought better of it. ‘I was delighted to come,’ she said. ‘When I first entered the art world after leaving university, your husband was among the few people who welcomed me as if I were his equal. Something you don’t forget when you’re young.’

‘Gordon thought very highly of you, my dear,’ ventured Mrs Lomax, ‘and made no secret of the fact he hoped you would eventually become director of the Fitzmolean, as he didn’t have a lot of time for the present occupant. However, I read inThe Timeshe’d recently resigned.’

Only just before he was sacked, Beth didn’t add.

‘Should I presume you are now the favourite to replace him? Because if you are, I can tell you nothing would have pleased my husband more.’

Beth felt guilty that she hadn’t attended the funeral. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m on the shortlist, but there are three other candidates who are also well qualified for the job.’

‘I’m sure you’ll get it,’ said Mrs Lomax with a confidence that lacked authority. ‘But as I said, you must be wondering why I wanted to see you.’

‘I assume it concerns the gallery,’ replied Beth, ‘and I’m only too delighted to help, if only to point you in the right direction.’

‘Can I top you up?’ asked Mrs Lomax, picking up the teapot.

‘No, thank you,’ said Beth, keen to find out the answer to the old lady’s question.

‘I do hope Oliver isn’t bothering you, my dear.’

Beth looked at the cat, who hadn’t stirred or purred, and said, ‘Not at all.’

‘We named him Oliver because we weren’t quite sure who his parents were.’

Mrs Lomax sipped her tea before she continued. ‘Gordon’s grandfather, as you may know, founded the company in 1873 and, under his stewardship, it flourished for many years until his death in 1919, when Gordon’s father, Bertie, became chairman following the Great War.’

Three words that dated an entire generation, thought Beth.

‘When my husband took over,’ Mrs Lomax continued with a sigh, ‘Dutch landscapes were much sought after. However, that changed soon after the end of the Second World War, which coincided with Gordon taking over the reins. Although the gallery remained prosperous for several years, my husband’s most loyal customers began dying off, and it quickly became clear that Dutch landscapes were no longer fashionable, especially among the young.’ She paused and took another sip of tea. ‘I confess it’s been some years since the gallery has made a profit.’ It was some time before she continued. ‘Sadly, Gordon and I weren’t able to have any children, so there’s no one to leave the gallery to.’

Beth didn’t interrupt the old lady as, so far, she hadn’t revealed anything she didn’t already know.

‘But then a kind gentleman who I’d never come across before turned up at the funeral to pay his respects. During tea following the service, he rather took me by surprise when he asked if I had considered selling the gallery, and if so, he had a client who might be interested.’

Who, and how much, Beth wanted to ask, but kept her counsel, like a well-trained detective.

‘Such a kind man,’ Mrs Lomax repeated. ‘You know, he gave the vicar a donation of a thousand pounds for the church restoration fund—’ she paused again, ‘in memory of Gordon.’

Beth was now desperate to find out who and how much but waited patiently for Mrs Lomax to tell her in her own good time.

‘Sotheby’s have recently valued the gallery’s stock at around a million pounds, and the kind gentleman said his client would be willing to match that. I’ve never had a head for figures, so I just wanted to be sure I was doing the right thing and thought you were the obvious person to advise me.’

‘Does the company have any assets other than the stock?’ was Beth’s first question.

‘The gallery in Jermyn Street which I couldn’t possibly afford to keep going. In fact, I’ve just received a rates bill for the next quarter of twenty-six thousand pounds which I can ill-afford. So, the quicker I get it off my hands, the better.’

‘That’s no more than the going rate for a gallery in the West End,’ Beth assured her.

‘I don’t suppose you would have any interest in taking it over, Mrs Warwick?’

‘I’m afraid not, Mrs Lomax,’ said Beth firmly. ‘I fear your husband was right. I’d be more suited to managing a public gallery than a private one.’

Mrs Lomax couldn’t hide her disappointment.

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