‘You are not interested?’
‘Not at all, I’m afraid.’
‘Suppose my client goes up to twice the price? How would you feel about that? Or how would Mr Hammond feel about that?’
‘Mr Hammond?’
‘Well, I am not quite certain who owns the article. That is why I mention the gentleman. Perhaps I should have contacted him. It was Mr Hammond who gave me the cheque.’
‘The table is mine. A gift. I would rather you didn’t contact Mr Hammond.’
‘Well, that is that, then. But since I have acted in your interest in this matter, Mrs Galbally, thinking that I should report the offer to you without delay and involving myself in travelling expenses etcetera, I’m afraid I shall have to charge you the usual agent’s fee. It is the ruling of the antique dealers’ association that a fee be charged on such occasions. I feel you understand?’
Mrs Galbally said she did understand. She gave him some money, and Mr Jeffs took his leave.
In his house Mr Jeffs considered for a further hour. Eventually he thought it wise to telephone Mrs Hammond and ascertain her husband’s office telephone number. He went out on to the street with a piece of paper in his hand which stated that he was deaf and dumb and wished urgently to have a telephone call made for him. He handed this to an elderly woman, pointing to a telephone booth.
‘May I know your husband’s office telephone number?’ said the woman to Mrs Hammond. ‘It’s a matter of urgency.’
‘But who are you?’
‘I am a Mrs Lacey, and I am phoning you on behalf of Sir Andrew Charles of Africa.’
‘I’ve heard that name before,’ said Mrs Hammond, and gave the telephone number of her husband’s office.
‘You say you have been to see Mrs Galbally,’ said Hammond. ‘And what did she say?’
‘I don’t believe she fully understood what was at stake. I don’t think she got the message.’
‘The table was a gift from me to Mrs Galbally. I can hardly ask for it back.’
‘This is an excellent offer, Mr Hammond.’
‘Oh, I don’t dispute that.’
‘I was wondering if you could use your influence with Mrs Galbally, that’s all. If you happen to be seeing her, that is.’
‘I’ll ring you back, Mr Jeffs.’
Mr Jeffs said thank you and then telephoned Mrs Hammond. ‘Negotiations are under way,’ he said.
But two days later negotiations broke down. Hammond telephoned Mr Jeffs to say that the table was to remain the property of Mrs Galbally. Mr Jeffs, sorrowfully, decided to drive round to tell Mrs Hammond, so that he could collect what little was owing him. He would tell her, he decided, and that would surely now be the end of the matter.
‘I’m afraid I have come up against a stone wall,’ he reported. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Hammond, about that, and I would trouble you now only for what is owing.’
He mentioned the sum, but Mrs Hammond seemed not to hear clearly. Tears rolled down her cheeks and left marks on the powder on her face. She took no notice of Mr Jeffs. She sobbed and shook, and further tears dropped from her eyes.
In the end Mrs Hammond left the room. Mr Jeffs remained because he had, of course, to wait for the money owing to him. He sat there examining the furniture and thinking it odd of Mrs Hammond to have cried so passionately and for so long. The
‘Whoever are you?’ said a child, a small girl of five.
Mr Jeffs looked at her and endeavoured to smile, forcing his lips back from his teeth.
‘My name is Mr Jeffs. What is your name?’
‘My name is Emma Hammond. Why are you having tea in our house?’
‘Because it was kindly brought to me.’
‘What is the matter with your mouth?’
‘That is how my mouth is made. Are you a good little girl?’
‘But why are you waiting here?’
‘Because I have to collect something that your mother has arranged to give me. A little money.’
‘A little money? Are you poor?’
‘It is money owing to me.’
‘Run along, Emma,’ said Mrs Hammond from the door, and when the child had gone she said:
‘I apologize, Mr Jeffs.’
