Sure, lots of people watched TV shows such as The Antiques Roadshow but in reality they didn't believe they have something of real value. So fortunes were hidden away in lofts or often in plain sight. From time to time the newspapers ran articles about valuable items being discovered at a car boot sale or at an auction for a few pounds. Maybe every few months there would be a story of a valuable antique or painting being discovered that was worth more than the house it was sitting in. But it didn’t happen often, that was why it made the news.
Chapter Ten
THE THREE ANTIQUE DEALERS
Antique dealers spend a lot of time attending auctions. Many of them are held in run-down properties, often in a converted church or chapel with high ceilings and draughty doorways.
One of the most popular places for London dealers was Swinton’s. Being a purpose-built unit meant was one of the nicer places to spend time. In the winter, it was warmer than most and in the summer they even had air-conditioning.
Besides the regular turnover of good quality lots, situated on the first floor was another reason dealers liked it: a lovely old-style tearooms.
The food was of a far higher standard than the usual burger bars found at most other establishments. It was also popular with many of the male customers, because the auction owner’s wife, who ran the tearoom, was rather easy on the eye and known as a bit of a flirt. Heather Swinton was forty-two, very attractive, and could easily pass for thirty-five.
The area was set out across a balcony overlooking the auction so people could sit and consume their food and drink while waiting for the lots they were interested in to come up. It was a place where groups of dealers compared notes on which items they had their eye on and agree not to bid against each other. An illegal practice but still fairly widespread.
Each auction attracted a wide variety of dealers and amongst its regular clientele were a group known to everyone in the trade as ‘The Three Musketeers’ and when waiting to bid on items, were usually to be found taking up residence at their favourite corner table in the tea rooms.
The trio comprised of Francis Tack who had an antiques shop in Notting Hill, Victor Athos with a shop in Shepherds Bush, and Robin Longhurst who was based in Camden in north London. The trio had been close friends for as long as they had been in the trade.
The nickname had been thought up by a couple of rival dealers, not out of spite, but on account they were usually found together and the fact Athos was the name of one of the original musketeers and Robin had previously been a Captain in the army. It had stuck as it was easier than using all their individual names.
Victor Athos had got into the antiques trade when he was made redundant at the age of fifty. He was the oldest of the three. A big man at six feet tall and rather broad, previously he had worked in the removals business. Nine years earlier, he had started off running the business in Shepherd’s Bush as his own antiques shop but with his lack of experience and the short supply of quality stock to sell more recently he had struggled to make it pay. So as each year went past and trade got a little harder he had turned it into an antiques emporium, letting out more and more areas of space to other antique dealers who paid him rent for the privilege.
Robin Longhurst had been in the antiques trade for over twenty years with shop premises in Camden. Five years earlier, he had reached his half-century. His main passion had long been cricket and he was extremely proud of his handlebar moustache. His shop consisted of a small area of antiques at the front and an antiques restoration area at the rear of the premises. Having the ability to buy items in poor condition and restore them had kept the business afloat for the past three or four years. Like the others he had found it more difficult to find high quality stock as the years went by. If it weren't for his army pension that had recently kicked in, he would have found it hard to make ends meet.
If they looked back a few years, the antiques trade was booming and none of them thought hard times might lie ahead. The problem wasn’t selling; it was finding good quality items. It made the difference between enjoying the good life, or just getting by.
Robin took a sip from his cup of Earl Grey tea.
“Look, I’ve got to go downstairs shortly. There’s a lot coming up I’m interested in. It’s from the same country house clearance they had last month where I managed to win a George III William Chawner Old English pattern silver cutlery set. I sold that for nearly three grand. That’s why I like coming here. On the odd occasion you can find a bit of real quality.”
Francis Tack had other reasons for liking the place. Heather Swinton had proven to be rather more than just a flirt. On the right-hand side down the passage to the rear of the tea rooms were the ladies and gents restrooms as they were called. On the left-hand side and marked ‘Private’ was the kitchen stock room where on previous occasions Francis had managed to get Heather alone for a few minutes. His ‘longer than expected absence’ had been noticed by his two friends after telling them he was ‘just popping to the gents’ and then returning some fifteen minutes later, looking red in the face and a little out of breath. It might also
