And Thereby Hangs a Tale

“Julian Farnsdale Fine Arts Ltd.,” he said, placing one of his cards in front of her.

She wrote out the name and the amount slowly, and double-checked them before signing “Gloria Gaynor” with a flourish. She handed the check to Julian who tried to stop his hand from shaking.

“If you’re not doing anything special tomorrow night,” she said as she rose from her chair, “perhaps you’d like to come to my concert?”

“How kind of you,” said Julian.

She took two tickets out of her bag and passed them across to him. “And perhaps you’d care to join me backstage for a drink after the show?”

Julian was speechless.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll leave your name at the stage door. Please don’t tell Millie or Susan. There just isn’t enough room for everyone. I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course, Miss Gaynor. You can rely on me. I won’t say a word.”

“And if I could ask you for one small favor?” she said as she closed her bag.

“Anything,” said Julian. “Anything.”

“I wonder if you’d be kind enough to deliver the egg to the Park Lane Hotel, and ask a porter to send it up to my room.”

“You could take it with you now if you wish, Miss Gaynor.”

“How kind of you,” she said, “but I’m lunching with Mick. . . .” She hesitated. “I’d prefer if it could be delivered to the hotel.”

“Of course,” said Julian. He accompanied her out of the shop to the waiting car, where the chauffeur was holding open the back door.

“How silly of me to forget,” she said just before stepping into the car. She turned back to Julian and whispered into his ear, “For security reasons, my room is booked in the name of Miss Hampton.” She smiled flirtatiously. “Otherwise I’d never get a moment’s peace.”

“I quite understand,” said Julian. He couldn’t believe it when she bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Julian,” she said. “I look forward to seeing you after the show,” she added as she climbed into the back seat.

Julian stood there shaking as Millie and Susan joined him on the pavement.

“Did she give you any tickets for her show?” asked Millie as the car drove away.

“I’m not at liberty to say,” said Julian, then walked back into his shop and closed the door.

The smartly dressed young man writing down some figures in a little black book reminded her of the rent collector from her youth. “How much did it cost us this time?” she asked quietly.

“Five days at the Park Lane came to three thousand three hundred, including tips, the stretch limo was two hundred pounds an hour, sixteen hundred in all.” His forefinger continued down the handwritten inventory. “The two items you purchased from the jewelry shop came to fifteen hundred.” She touched a pearl earring and smiled. “Meals along with other expenses, including five extras from the casting agency, five autograph books, and a parking fine, came to another nine hundred and twenty-two pounds. Six tickets for tonight’s concert purchased from a tout, a further nine hundred pounds, making eight thousand, two hundred and twenty-two pounds in all, which, at today’s exchange rate, comes to about thirteen thousand three hundred and sixty-nine dollars. Not a bad return,” he concluded as he smiled across at her.

She glanced at her watch. “Dear sweet Julian should be arriving at the Albert Hall about now,” she said. “Let’s at least hope he enjoys the show.”

“I would have liked to go with him.”

“Behave yourself, Gregory,” she teased.

“When do you think he’ll find out?”

“When he turns up at the stage door after the show and finds his name isn’t on the guest list, would be my guess.”

Neither of them spoke while Gregory went over the figures a second time, then finally closed his little book and placed it in an inside pocket.

“I must congratulate you on your research this time,” she said. “I must admit I’d never heard of Robert Adam, Delft, or Chippendale before you briefed me.”

Gregory smiled. “Napoleon once said that time spent on reconnaissance is rarely wasted.”