Charlie continued to reveal ways in which he had saved the day, and Julius’ mind began to wander. Sipping on his beer, he wondered if he could cross-check the provenance with the auction catalogues held in the Courtauld Institute.
‘... but that wasn't the most interesting thing about it!’
Julius quickly replayed the last few minutes: a grateful Cardinal, canoe trip in Borneo, malarial antidote, two sisters and some absinthe, a wooden codex, a child's toy. A child's toy? That was the last thing he mentioned. What had been interesting about that?
‘You don't say?’ Julius said, playing for time.
‘Inside was a note saying, 'The first doll has the egg'.’
Julius was struggling to keep up. He couldn't remember what the toy was. ‘No, I'm sorry you've lost me.’ He tried to piece together everything that Charlie had been saying in the past few minutes. There was a Russian doll's house, maybe, something about a doll having an egg and a note in Russian. Julius was lost.
Charlie banged his pint on the table. ‘What do you think, hey?’ Having made the announcement, he headed back to the bar for another round of drinks whilst Julius thought over what he had said.
A note about an egg hidden in a Russian doll might mean anything. But it was impossible not to rush to the obvious conclusion. A Fabergé egg.
‘Well, what do you say to that?’ Charlie returned to the table and placed a second pint in front of Julius.
‘Tell me again about the toy.’
‘I was in Poland visiting the new exhibition on Lost Childhoods and I got chatting to this little babushka. She said she’d offered to sell an old matryona set to the museum but they weren’t interested. Well, you know me. I'm always one to have a look. And I’m a sucker for Russian nesting dolls.’
Julius raised an eyebrow. Charlie was a well-known dealer in museum quality artefacts, but sometimes he sailed very close to the line regarding stolen antiquities and pillaged sites. Charlie was never one to turn down a back-alley deal or an interesting lead.
He had caused an absolute stink in Iraq last year, when he was found to have a Mesopotamian vase on him that he was apparently in the process of returning to the Iraqi Embassy. The problem was that he was in the airport at the time, heading home to the UK. The British Museum vouched for him, saying they were preparing to authenticate and preserve it, but there were some very uncomfortable conversations on both sides.
Julius took a swig of beer and motioned for Charlie to continue. The pub was beginning to fill as the office workers arrived for a quick drink before heading home.
‘Well, we went back to her flat, where she pulled out as fine a samovar as you’d be likely to see outside of a museum, and started to make tea. Her flat was a little cavern of treasures. Every sideboard was full of trinkets, every wall covered in paintings and mirrors and hangings. It was really quite marvellous. Anyway, she bustled off to another room and returned with a Russian doll set. I saw at once why she thought the museum might be interested. It was very old. At a glance I felt certain it was pre-war, but it was missing the largest doll. And whilst it rattled, I couldn't initially open the first doll up.’
‘So, how do you know there was a note in there?’
Charlie drank deeply and smacked his lips. ‘Patience. Anyway, she told me how much she wanted for it, and I could see why the museum had baulked. I asked her if she wanted to sell anything else, and she said that this was the only thing she was interested in getting rid of. It had a sad history and she wanted it out of her house.’
‘Sad history?’
‘Well, yes, that certainly attracted my attention, but she refused to say any more. By now we were on to the vodka and I must have been mellowing, because lo-and-behold I went and paid her the full price! I wandered back to my hotel with the doll in a plastic bag, chiding myself as a fool for the little old lady routine. Anyway, I boxed it up and posted it home, and flew on to Baghdad.’
‘Baghdad. They let you in?’
Charlie seemed peeved for a moment, and then remembered there was no point in acting indignant in front of Julius. They knew each other too well.
‘Yes, now then, you see, that was a misunderstanding,’ he said, and they both laughed. Julius was properly intrigued now.
‘So what happened when you got home?’ he asked.
‘Well, the central heating had done its standard job and had very gently dried the wood, and voila, it opened up. Inside were five more nested dolls. I opened each doll, lining up the whole set, and inside the final one, the size of a thumbnail, was a little folded note.’ Charlie paused. ‘Thirsty work, this.’
Julius grinned and headed to the bar. He had to wait as a bunch of students debated over the various merits of ale or lager. One of the girls stepped aside to let him stand at the bar beside her. As she smiled at him, he remembered he needed some more toothpaste. Getting his drinks, he hurried back to his friend.
‘You are rubbish with girls, aren't you?’ Julius looked at Charlie, puzzled. What on earth was he on about? Sometimes that was a clear failing in Charlie. Always off on a tangent.
‘The note! What did the note say?’
Charlie rolled his eyes. At school, the other boys had marvelled at Julius’ lack of self-awareness. A few subtle advances also ruled out his interest in boys as well. He just seemed utterly without
