Page 71 of Sisters Making Mischief
‘That iron cat door stop, that you used to prop open the linen cupboard. I noticed it had a maker’s mark on it; Hubley. Which means it could be valuable. How much are you selling it for?’
‘Five euros.’
‘Then put an eight in front of that. Trust me, it’s worth a lot more than five,’ I said. I turned the screen towards her to show her one that was identical and had sold in Paris for one hundred and fifty euros. ‘And that one had some slight damage.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘And the enamel petrol signs. What price have you put on those?’
Isabel shrugged. ‘Twenty euros. But I know those are really old because they used to be in the garage in town. Where Louis’ father worked. You can see the shotgun marks on them from when Louis used them as a target.’
‘Then they are genuinely old, not just modern reproductions. I’d suggest you put two in front of that. There are some here that sold only recently for five hundred dollars.’
Isabel looked absolutely gobsmacked for a moment.
‘Some of them are rusty, and the enamel is damaged.’
‘That goes to reflect how old they are. TheTrain Blusign is incredibly rare, and worth about five hundred euros. You can’t possibly sell it for twenty. And the blue glass ashtray, that’s vintage from theSS France. The biggest ocean-going liner until the Queen Mary 2 was built.’
‘One euro?’ Isabel said hopefully.
‘Twenty, if not more,’ I replied.
‘Flipping heck,’ Isabel said rather shocked.
‘And you remember that odd, sort of oblong piece of lace?’
‘The one that came in the house clearance?’
‘It’s called afichu, hand-made lace and its worth at least a hundred euros, maybe more. I’m just about to look at the prices online for embroidered French linen sheets. Those ones with themonograms that don’t look as though they have ever been used. I think you’re going to be surprised,’ I said, ‘no wonder people are paying to ship them back home. They are really valuable.’
‘I had no idea,’ Isabel said, ‘I suppose I should have looked. But when people just throw these things out, how am I to know?’
‘Leave it to me,’ I said, ‘I’ve got the time to do the research.’
‘That’s a bit boring, isn’t it? Wouldn’t you prefer a good book?’
I laughed and then winced as my back gave a warning twinge.
‘Actually, it’s not. And I’m finding out so much about French history. It’s easy to go down rabbit holes of research, like Bill said about cyanide.’
‘Ooh, that reminds me, I’m going to pop in and see if he’s killed anyone yet. Well, if you’re sure? Now then, eat your dinner before it gets cold. Darn it – I’ve forgotten the bread. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’
‘I can do without,’ I said, but she had already gone to fetch it.
I had a few mouthfuls, and it was delicious. With a rich, slightly smoky taste that could only have come from the addition of a lot of red wine. I’d watched Isabel cooking quite a few times since I’d been here, and most of her recipes seemed to need a good slosh of wine at some point.
I heard her footsteps returning on the newly laid gravel path.
‘I am going to start using more wine in my cooking when I go home,’ I called, and spooned in another mouthful.
‘I hope that will not be too soon,’ Luc replied.
I swallowed hard with the shock of seeing him.
‘I’ve come to bring you your bread,’ he said, ‘you know no meal in France is complete without it.’
He put his mobile phone and a little wicker basket down on the table in front of me and sat down in the other chair.
