Clarabellas Secret

Scene 2 of Chapter 1

Marcus awoke to find that he had a really cold nose, actually it was very cold generally. He was wrapped up in his duvet listening to the radio, deciding how much longer he could stay in bed and not be late to open the shop. It was actually very cold in the bedroom, doubtless that the rest of the house would be just as cold. Whilst contemplating the temperature of the cottage he could just make out a distant sound, a bit like a phone ringing, a bit like a phone ringing downstairs in his living room. Marcus sprung out of bed, grabbed his dressing gown of the back of the bedroom door and headed downstairs trying to put his dressing gown on as he went. Through the kitchen and into the living room where he launched himself at the phone.
“Don’t you dare bloody hang up now!” he shouted at the phone.
He grabbed the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Hello there, my name is Jenny Clements, is that the owner of the antique shop in the High Street?” asked an elderly lady.
“Yes, I’m Marcus Moss, I own Moss Antiques how can I help?”
The old lady paused for a second.
“Oh my manners, sorry to have got you up so early, I mean I just wanted to make sure I could come and see you today. I have a very old painting I’d like you to look at, a friend of mine says it could be very valuable.” She gleamed.
“Well I’d be happy to look at it for you; do you know who the artist is?”
“It says Bentley in the corner and there is a little square box with a dot in it, looks a bit like a dice.” She sounded a little puzzled.
Marcus thought for a while, a Bentley, a new Bentley by the sounds of it, he needed more information.
“What’s it a painting of, what’s the subject?” He asked.
“Well, it looks like there is a large fire in the middle of a forest clearing with some fairies near it.”
This dampened his spirits a little, it sounded like The Dance, a well known work by Bentley but not seen for quite some time, so not a new discovery but possibly a rediscovery, this then cheered him up a again.
“OK, it sounds very interesting, I’ll be at the shop in about.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “About 45 minutes”.
“Oh lovely, I’ll bring the painting along with me, bye bye.” She chimed.
At that she put the receiver down. Marcus was still looking towards the clock on the wall by the front door, just to the left of it to be exact, at a small painting called The Skylark. It was a painting of a hayrick being piled up, the guys in the picture, five of them, were having a break. Two were on the top of the almost full cart, two were in the shadow of a nearby hay stack and the other was feeding the horses. Now there seemed to be somebody else in the picture. Marcus got a little closer, there were two more people in the distance, the appeared to me measuring or surveying something. He’d never noticed them before. Then something occurred to him. He was bloody cold and his feet were freezing, time to get showered and dressed.

Marcus got out of his car and made his way to his shop, it was a cold frosty day and the sun was just about to clear the buildings on the other side of the street, the sun would soon be streaming into the shop and would help heat it up. As he rounded the corner there was an elderly lady carrying what he guessed was the painting, this must be the lady that called this morning. He waved to her as he approached the shop front.
She waved back.
“I’m so sorry to have woken you up so early this morning Mr Moss but I couldn’t wait to see you.” She said apologetically.
“That’s quite alright” He unlocked the two locks on the door and went it, there was a gentle ring from the old fashioned sprung bell that was above the door. Moss Antiques was a small shop barely twenty five feet wide, uneven wooden floors, wooden beams and white walls. Antique books, devices, Victorian toys, pocket watches, snuff boxes and other knick-knacks were carefully arranged onto equally old wooden shelves. The shop may not have been very wide but it was over one hundred feet long. The back quarter of the shop was on a lower level and you’d have to go down three stairs to get to it. This is where all the paintings, old photographs and other artistic creations were stored. Marcus went through the shop turning off the alarm system and turning on the lights and the heating.
“I’ll be with you in just a minute” he said as he popped his head round from a corner of the shop. A moment later he returned.
“Now, shall we have a look at your painting?” He led the old lady down to the back of the shop.
“Let’s pop it up on the counter shall we and see what we have.”
Marcus carefully unwrapped painting and laid it down on the counter.
“Well, this is interesting” said Marcus. The old lady cocked her head a little and smiled.
“I just want to check something, can you wait here a second?” And with that Marcus went behind a curtain at the back, rummaged about for a few moments and came back out with a large book. He thumbed through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
“Ahh, here we are”. He opened the book which had a large photo of a painting almost identical to the one the old lady had brought in.
“Well, your painting certainly looks like The Dance by Bentley but I’m a little confused. The illustration in the book shows the fairy folk dancing round the fire in the woods. Yours shows some of the fairies dancing round the fire but the others are starting to run off to the right, they are clearly frightened by something coming from the other side. What’s puzzling is that this appears to be an original, it’s almost identical to the original dance. All the leaves and the trees are perfect.”
“I don’t understand Mr Moss”.
“I don’t either Mrs Clements, you seem to have an original Bentley but I don’t think it’s The Dance, it looks like another attempt, I’m not sure if it’s earlier or later though. Do you mind if I keep hold of it for a few days, I’d like to call my friend at the auction house to get an expert opinion?”
“Is there something wrong?” the old lady asked.
“Not really, I mean it looks like The Dance by Oscar Bentley but it’s different in a few ways.”
Marcus moved round to the other side of the table and showed the book to Mrs Clements.
“If you look here you can see that the forest is identical in every way, even the brush strokes appear to be the same. It’s really quite confusing. Occasionally a work will be uncovered from a well known artist that will predate there most celebrated work. A sort of first attempt at an idea. This might be one such attempt. How long have you had this?”
“Oh…since I was a little girl, I can’t remember when I got it though. It was looked after for me. I must admit it looks a little different from how I remember it.”
“Well, it may not be The Dance but I’m fairly sure that it’s an original Bentley and will still be valuable. I’ll have to have one of my friends have a look at it if that’s OK?”
“Oh of course, when will you know, should I go to the Antiques Roadshow?” The old lady beamed.
Marcus lust looked down his nose at her, a warm, crooked smile crept across his face.
“One of my friends is an expert on the program, Charles Marlow”.
Here face lit up with recognition.
“Oh, I know, the young man that wears all those lovely bow ties.”
“Yes that’s him, I’ll call him today and se what he says.”