Daddy's Dirty Boss

“Time for the action,” he said, and his hand was such a support, held tight to my lower back as he led me on through to the gathered crowd.

The gathered crowd including my dad.

I saw him there in the front row at the last minute, and did a double take just to make sure it was really him. He hadn’t told me he was coming, giving me short answers and radio silence through most of the week out of disappointment, and it only made my heart kick up another notch – another pair of eyes watching me that I really didn’t want to disappoint.

Miles raised a hand and nodded his support before disappearing off to the sidelines, not all that far away from my dad, and I took very careful steps up to the podium, well aware of the chatter in the room dying down.

It was everything I’d imagined it would be. A whole mass of stares fixed hard on me standing there. A whole wall of people I had to engage with and drive on to bid harder.

And there she was. Erica. Heading right on through at the last minute and positioning herself right in the centre of the crowd at the back. It was on purpose, just like everything bitchy she ever did, lining herself up to be a prime distraction and shunt me from my flow.

Her eyes were catty and her sneer was vile, and she was so desperately out to trip me up. To ruin my big moment and make me look like a stupid little girl who couldn’t achieve shit in this place.

But I wouldn’t let her. Not for anything.

This was my time to shine.

I cast one final glance at the item listings on the sheet in front of me, and cleared my throat, making sure the little microphone at the top of the podium was working.

Stephen approached from the warehouse door, ready to lift the smaller items for display as I called out the item numbers, and I shot him a smile, nodding that I was ready to roll.

And I was ready to roll.

Everything I’d ever planned through watching a zillion hours straight of auction programs had led right to this moment. I only hoped I’d been right the whole time to plan to do it my way. Because that’s what I was going to do. Do it my way. Be me. Totally me.

Be me and do this well.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” I spoke into the mike. It was a relief to already know so many of them from weeks of telephone calls on reception, and queries I’d made so many times through different departments. I knew so many of them by their first names. I knew their bidding history from checking out their client files and slipping their paperwork into their folders in the filing room. “I’m so pleased to be here for my first ever auction. I just hope you’ll stick with me if I mess this up. Don’t judge me too hard, please.”

The laughter was warm, and so was mine.

I daren’t look at Miles or my dad, too worried it would knock me off kilter. Instead I took another deep breath and called attention to the first item.

“Lot one,” I said, and Stephen held up the vase. “We have here a nineteenth century Chinese Canton ivory baluster base, beautifully carved in high relief throughout. The neck is a succession of beasts amongst clouds with a lotus leaf design below.” I paused. “What a truly gorgeous item, everyone.”

It was a gorgeous item, too. Something that definitely deserved to reach its estimate of six hundred to eight hundred pounds.

It was my time to shine and make that happen.

“Will someone start me at four hundred?” I asked, and my heart did a leap as several hands went straight up in the crowd.

Most auctioneers I’d ever seen did the usual fast rhythm of presenting the values, zooming through the flow without letting up for even a second. But I’d never wanted to be like that. I’d always thought there was another way.

I could feel the surprise as I kept my cool and engaged with people as myself throughout the bidding, laughing that the vase was such a stunner that she deserved the very best from the crowd, and the clients laughed along with me, the room buzzing.

Mr Richmond won the bid, coming in at a strong seven hundred and hitting right in the middle of the estimate, which was a really good outcome. Enough to make me smile bright.

Enough to make both Miles and my dad smile bright too, as I dared to shoot a glance in their direction.

So on I went. Through the Victorian cast iron garden bench, and the Regency parcel gilt metal jardinière stands. Through the Georgian lowboy chest of drawers and the French wingback armchair.