As he travelled the country from fair to fair hoping for his ‘big break’, Norman would be back in London tending the tiny antiques shop below the apartment they shared. As much as he loved being with Peter, he had little interest in travelling and standing in draughty halls attending antique fairs. He much preferred dealing with customers as they came into the south London shop, looked round and stopped to chat or discuss important things. Like the weather.
Despite Peter’s optimism that 2014 and then 2015 was going to be ‘his year’, both had come and gone and still no new money-making ideas had presented themselves.
During the first week of March 2016, after a particularly bad day, not helped by being delayed for three hours on the motorway. Peter came home feeling at a very low point,
“I’ve failed Norman. I’ve tried everything. I promised myself I would be a millionaire by the time I was thirty. When that passed with little change I swore it would be by the time I reached forty. Now look at me. I’ll be fifty next month. It just seems like everything I try turns to dust.
“Don’t let it upset you lover. It’s just a matter of time. I have faith in you. Just hang in there. Norman said, handing him a glass of his favourite whiskey. Remember, you’ll always have me.”
The following weekend, Peter had a stall booked at one of the largest antiques and collectors fairs he had ever attended. It was a two-day event being held in Manchester over the Saturday and Sunday.
On the first morning, after an initial flurry of activity in the first couple of hours things had quietened down, as they often did, usually until the next ‘rush’ at around lunchtime. Peter wasn’t too concerned as he had sold enough to ensure his costs were already covered but he couldn’t help but notice the stamp and postcard dealer on the next unit seemed to have been the busiest dealer by far. As Peter looked, he could see the stall was extremely well stocked, displaying a wider range of items than he had ever come across with similar dealers.
Taking advantage of the lull, Peter ventured over to the stamp dealer who was dressed smartly in a grey suit with a crisp white shirt with black hair and a face that seemed to show a permanent smile. He looked to be in his mid-fifties but still with an athletic frame.
“Hello, I’m Peter from London. Have you attended this fair before?”
“I’m Martin Young from Runcorn. Yes, I’ve been coming here for three years now.”
“I wasn’t sure if it would be worthwhile. The cost is three times what I normally pay to attend a fair but I figured nothing ventured.”
“I shouldn’t worry. The people who come here seem to want to spend money. I’ve always done extremely well. Of course I have built up quite a few regular customers and they tend to come prepared to spend. I’m sure you’ll do fine. If you need any help please feel free to ask.”
“That’s extremely kind of you. You have a wonderful display. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another dealer with such a wide selection of stamps and postcards.”
“Thank you. You have some nice paintings. Although I suspect a few of them are reproductions?”
“Yes. It’s getting harder to find good quality stock, although you don’t seem to have that problem.”
“Yes, I guess I’m just lucky,” said Martin.
As they chatted further the two men seemed to hit it off and spent the next hour and a half chatting until the lunchtime crowd turned up, eager to spend their money.
By the time the event closed at six pm., Peter was pleased with the amount he had taken, until he noticed the stamp dealer counting up his day’s takings. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter watched Martin, and as best he could estimate, saw he had taken over four thousand pounds. Peter thought he had done well by taking a little over twelve hundred.
A couple of minutes later Martin wandered over. “Peter, I just wondered if you had any plans this evening. I know a nice little restaurant with some fine wines. I’ve really enjoyed our chats today. It would be my treat. I feel we clicked and to be honest, there aren’t many people I get on with like that, so I’d enjoy your company for the evening, if you’re free that is?”
“That’s extremely kind of you. I’ve nothing planned and really enjoyed chatting with you too. I’d be very happy to accept your kind invitation. Thank you.”
After three delicious courses, helped down by two bottles of a most agreeable Chablis, they headed to the hotel where they were both staying.
By the time the taxi arrived at its destination, what had started off as one 'thank you for the lovely meal' peck had developed into several passionate kisses and both men couldn't wait to get back to the room.
Thirty minutes later, they were in Peter's bed making love. What Norman didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
The following morning, both men were back at their stalls and each one dealing with the early flurry of customers.
What Peter noticed was each time Martin sold items he reached into the boxes under his stall and brought out new items so that his stall was still full of saleable items. Peter knew from experience that many dealers had a hard time finding fresh stock.
So during the next ’lull’, Peter brought up the subject as tactfully as he could.
Following their night of passion, it seemed Martin was more than happy to open up and reveal his secrets to Peter of how he managed to keep his stock refreshed.
“Look, Peter, to be honest, six years ago my business was really struggling, he said, at the same time putting a large wad of notes into his cash box. I was on what I thought would be
