Poppy couldn’t help feeling sorry for the women in Caspar’s life.
Not Angie, who was quite old enough to take care of herself. But Poppy certainly felt for the girlfriends who so patently adored him and whom he treated so casually in return. Fibbing over the phone to them on Caspar’s behalf was one thing; Poppy had had plenty of practice doing that.
But when the girls were nice and you had to deal with them in person—actually face to face, with that awful trusting look in their eyes—it was hard, sometimes, not to interfere.
If you had an ounce of compassion in your soul, it could be downright impossible.
Jake was out on a buying expedition when Kate Mitchell came into the antiques market. She waited patiently for Poppy to finish selling a Staffordshire stirrup cup to a middle-aged Swedish woman in a purple mac.
Poppy liked Kate, who was sweet-natured, friendly, and fragile-looking. When she discovered the purpose of Kate’s visit she knew the time had come to start interfering like mad.
‘I know it’s only October, but I always buy my Christmas presents early,’ Kate explained with an apologetic smile. ‘The thing is, I’m a bit scared of antique shops but I knew if I came here you wouldn’t let me be ripped off.’
‘’Course I wouldn’t.’ Poppy thought what a shame it was that Jake couldn’t be here to eavesdrop on such a compliment. ‘And we’ve got some terrific presenty-type things. Who are you buying for, family?’
‘Caspar actually.’ Kate’s cheeks went a fetching shade of pink. ‘I don’t have much money but I really want to get him something nice. In fact, I spotted something a moment ago while you were with the lady in the mac…’
Poppy’s heart sank. Kate was leaning over the glass-topped jewelry cabinet pointing an almost translucent index finger in the direction of a diamond tiepin. The ticket price was four hundred pounds, which she knew perfectly well Kate couldn’t afford.
Poppy also knew it didn’t matter how nice a person she thought Kate was; Caspar was beginning to tire of her puppy-like devotion. A turkey had more chance of lasting until Christmas than this relationship did.
‘A… tiepin?’ Poppy hesitated, stalling for time. ‘Um, does Caspar own any ties?’
‘It’s all right.’ Kate blushed again. ‘I know he doesn’t. It’s kind of a private joke between us. You see, I was teasing Caspar, telling him he’d have to wear a tie one day when he got married.’ Throwing caution to the wind she added in a rush, ‘So I thought what a brilliant present it would be… and who knows, it might even prompt him to… well, think weddingy thoughts…’
Poppy felt numb. How embarrassing, and she wasn’t even the one saying it.
‘Couldn’t you just buy him a tie?’
‘Come on, unlock the cabinet,’ pleaded Kate. ‘It’s okay, I know how much it costs. That doesn’t matter.’ Shyly she added, ‘Caspar’s worth it.’
He’s not, Poppy wanted to shout, but all she could do was unlock the cabinet and hand over the tiepin. She could hardly cram it into her mouth secret-agent style and swallow it.
‘Four hundred pounds,’ Kate murmured, gazing at the center diamond and turning it this way and that to catch the light. ‘Four hundred pounds…’
This was what people did when they were too nervous to haggle. Normally, to put them out of their misery, Poppy would have said, ‘Well, for you, three fifty.’
‘I know, and I’m afraid I can’t drop the price.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Jake can be so mean sometimes. If you ask me he’s gone way over the top with this one. I doubt if it’s worth two hundred, let alone four.’
‘Oh, but it’s so beautiful—’
‘In fact,’ Poppy had an inspired thought, ‘I’m not even sure Caspar likes diamonds. I’ve got a feeling he thinks they’re naff. What I know he really likes is topaz.’
Kate looked startled. ‘Topaz?’
‘Topaz and silver. He was talking about it just the other night. According to Caspar it’s a classic combination, like Laurel and Hardy… caviar and vodka… Pearl and Dean…’ Poppy waved frantically across to Marlene, whose stock of jewelry was more extensive than Jake’s. ‘Hey, Marlene! D’you still have that tiepin, the topaz and silver one I saw yesterday?’
Marlene nodded. Poppy turned triumphantly back to Kate.
‘Take my advice, get him that one. It’s a dream, Caspar will love it.’
‘But—’
‘And don’t be afraid of Marlene. The ticket says eighty,’ Poppy beamed. ‘Be firm. Tell her you won’t go a penny over forty-five.’
‘G-goodness,’ stammered Kate, backing away in the direction of Marlene’s stall. ‘Thanks, Poppy.’
‘Thanks Poppy,’ said another quiet voice behind her.
Brimming with guilt she spun round. Jake was back from trawling the auction rooms and had—quite unfairly, she thought—sneaked in the back way rather than through the glass double doors of the main entrance where she could have spotted him at once.
Poppy squirmed and wondered how long he’d been listening.
‘Long enough,’ said Jake, since the unspoken question was fairly obvious. He took off his glasses and rubbed them on the elbow of his threadbare black cardigan. It was a habit he resorted to when his patience was tried, usually by Poppy. That and the sorrowful look he gave her—minus the terrible glasses—always made Poppy feel ashamed. It would be so much easier to bear if he’d only yell at her, call her an imbecile, give her a Chinese burn…
‘Jake, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t sell her the tiepin.’ In the nick of time Poppy remembered to lower her voice. ‘The poor thing’s crazy about Caspar… she doesn’t know he’s about to dump her! And she’s only an apprentice textile designer so she earns peanuts. Think about it, Jake, you can’t stand by and let someone spend that much money when you know they’re about to be ditched.’
Slowly Jake shook his head. He knew Poppy’s intentions were good. He just wished they didn’t have to cost him so much.
‘Okay, I see your point. But Poppy, please. I have rent to pay, bills to settle’—he paused for added gravitas—‘your wages to find each week.’
Poppy looked miserable. ‘I really am sorry.’
‘Just remember, we’re here to try and make a living. Caspar French’s love life isn’t my concern—’
He broke off as Kate returned. She was clutching the tiepin, now gift-wrapped.
‘You were right,’ she told Poppy happily, ‘this one’s perfect, much more Caspar’s style.’
Poppy still thought it was like buying a CD for someone who didn’t have a CD player, but that was up to Kate.
‘Right, well, I’ll see you on Thursday,’ Kate went on, ‘for Caspar’s preview night. You’re going, aren’t you?’
Poppy nodded. The Denver Parrish Gallery on Cork Street was showcasing the work of three artists, one of whom was Caspar. The exhibition was attracting a huge amount of interest and the preview night promised to be a glitzy affair.
‘And you too?’ Kate turned and smiled at Jake, who looked uncomfortable.
‘Oh no, I haven’t been—’
‘Yes!’ exclaimed Poppy, seizing the opportunity to make things up to him. ‘Of course you must come! You can be my partner. It’ll be great, free champagne and all the pistachios you can peel—’
‘I can’t.’ Jake cut across her frenzied babbling. ‘I’m meeting someone on Thursday night.’
‘He wasn’t happy with me,’ Poppy confided later on that afternoon. Jake had popped out to the bank and Marlene had wandered over for a gossip. They were sharing a bag of Lemonheads. ‘Poor old Kate, she doesn’t have much luck with men. I even caught her discreetly giving Jake the once-over. Didn’t have the heart to tell her he was gay.’
‘Probably gay,’ Marlene corrected. ‘We don’t know for sure.’
‘Bet you fifty pence he is. Damn’ —Poppy looked dismayed—‘is that the last one? We’ll have to break it in half.’
The phone rang while Marlene was sawing energetically at the last Lemonhead with an Edwardian letter opener.
‘Hello?’ said Poppy, picking it up.
‘Oh, hi.’ A male voice sounded surprised. ‘Um… Jake not there?’
‘I’m afraid he’s popped out. Can I help you?’
‘Okey-doke. If you could just pass a message on to him.’ It was, Poppy realized, an extremely camp male voice. Like Bruno on helium. ‘Tell him Ellis called and I’m ever so sorry but I can’t make it on Thursday night after all. Something’s come up’—he tittered—‘so we’re going to have to get together some other time.’
‘Gosh, this is a terrible line,’ said Poppy, before pressing the phone triumphantly against Marlene’s ear, ‘could you say that last bit again?’
‘Okay, okay,’ Marlene grumbled two minutes later, ‘you were right and I was wrong, Jake’s gay and I owe you fifty pence.’
‘Not to mention half a lemon sherbet.’
‘Consolation prize.’ Marlene popped both halves into her own mouth.
‘Poor Jake, stood up by Ellis. Never mind.’ Poppy brightened. ‘Now he can come along to Caspar’s opening night after all.’