Daughters of the Silk Road: A beautiful and epic novel of family, love and the secrets of a Ming Vase (24 page)

‘He is only five years old,’ said Mori.

‘I know, but in two years’ time, he’ll be old enough to start learning the trade. And for the next two years, being around Frans, watching his men at work, he will get used to it.’

‘You think he should be apprenticed as a mere child? Not to learn to read, nor develop his mind? You think he is not clever enough?’ Mori felt her eyes stinging with tears – of indignation, as well as sadness and disappointment.

‘No, I think him very clever. But can’t you see that I have a duty to ensure that he and you and Isabel have a secure future?’

‘You talk as if we will never see you again.’

‘Mori, you must know that is the last thing I would ever want. I know now that I love you more than anyone else. If I was not already married, you know I would marry you. But I am determined that while I am away no harm comes to you; that you are cared for. . . and happy. . . and have a future. I intend to return, but, you know, these journeys are not without risk. Do this for me, Mori. Trust me one more time. Have I ever let you down?’

M
iranda
, Jeremy and Georgie had arranged to meet at half past nine in the morning. Jeremy arrived promptly at nine twenty-five.

‘Good, you’re here,’ said Miranda, almost pulling him in through the front door. ‘I’ve been awake since about five this morning. Georgina found something on the Internet last night which I want to show you. I nearly rang you, actually, but it was rather late. I’ve not really slept since. Come into the kitchen.’

Georgie sat at the kitchen table with her mother’s laptop open.

‘Look at this,’ she said to Jeremy.

Anstruthers, Hong Kong

‘
O
h my God
’, said Jeremy. ‘Where did you find that?’

‘It’s an online catalogue for an auction happening in Hong Kong in twelve days’ time,’ said Georgie.

‘You are brilliant,’ said Jeremy. ‘Are we sure it’s the same vase?’

‘Well, the two pictures are identical,’ said Miranda.

Georgie pulled up the two images side by side on the laptop.

‘Bloody hell. What a bastard,’ said Jeremy. ‘It’s bloody Ming! Do you have any idea what that means?’

‘Not really,’ said Miranda honestly. ‘But the point is, Jeremy, how do I prove that it’s mine? I mean, he paid me for it. He bought it. All right, so he duped me. But is that illegal?’

‘You didn’t cash the cheque and you didn’t get a receipt. Surely, he would have to prove that he’d bought the item before he could offer it for sale. Otherwise it might be nicked? No reputable auctioneer like Anstruthers would take a piece like that knowing it was stolen.’

‘Unless they knew it was worth a fortune and their share was going to be a fortune too,’ said Miranda gloomily.

‘Cynical,’ said Jeremy. ‘No, I don’t believe that. Now, first things first. We have to approach this very analytically.’

Georgie and Miranda stared at him expectantly.

‘Now, the first thing we have to do is to prove that you were, and hopefully still are, the rightful owner. And the only way of doing that is to contact that solicitor in Cirencester who dealt with your Great Aunt Celia’s bequest. Miranda, you’d better give them a call. They won’t want to speak to me. Secondly, we need an expert on our side. Someone who knows everything there is to know about Ming China. I’ll do some research there and come up with a couple of names. We’re going to have to have our wits about us if we are to catch Charlie out. The good news is that we already know what his game is. The thing is… Is he still in the country and is the vase still here too? It would be easier to get it back if it’s still in the UK, obviously.’

‘How will we find that out?’ asked Miranda.

‘Mum,’ said Georgie excitedly. ‘Didn’t you get his address when you took that cheque from him?’

‘Yes, I did. God knows what I did with it. I had it on a piece of paper somewhere.’

‘Didn’t you put it in your phone when you were going out with him?’

‘No, I kept meaning to but I just never got round to it. And he never took me there or invited me there. We sort of existed here. His life at that house had nothing to do with me. Does that make sense?’

‘Yes, it does. But either way, we need to find that address,’ said Jeremy hurriedly.

‘It was the The Manor, somewhere… Hampshire.’

‘The “somewhere” being the crucial detail, darling,’ said Jeremy, pacing back and forth across the kitchen. ‘G, could you go and ransack your mother’s room until you’ve found it? Miranda, you need to get on the phone to that solicitor. You’ve got his details somewhere, I presume?’

‘Ye-es,’ said Miranda uncertainly. ‘I suspect his letter is still in my filing tray on the dresser. G, have a look, will you?’

The letter was duly found at the bottom of the tray, and as Jeremy filled the kettle, Miranda dialled the number.

‘Hello, could I speak to the person who handled the estate of Mrs Celia Drake, please?’

There was a long pause before a man came onto the line.

‘Hello, I am Charles Martin; I dealt with that particular estate. To whom am I speaking, please?’

Miranda went on to explain her circumstances. ‘So, to sum up really, my great aunt left me several items in her will. I have your letter, which indicates that I was left some bits and pieces – “a variety of items that I might find either useful or aesthetically pleasing” – that is how you, or she, put it in the letter. But there was no actual list of the items. I do know what she left me, obviously – dishes, a quilt and so on. But, and here’s the thing, I was left a vase – a blue and white Chinese vase. Someone recently persuaded me to part with it and rather recklessly I did. It turns out to have been rather valuable – Ming, in fact. I just wondered if you had any other details from the bequest that indicate precisely what my great aunt left me so that I can prove that the vase is legitimately mine. And any other information about it would be hugely useful – a valuation, perhaps, or how she had come upon it?’

‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ tutted the solicitor, ‘Ming you say? Very valuable, then. I shall search the records and get back to you.’

Miranda put down the phone. ‘It doesn’t sound hopeful,’ she said. ‘Anyway, he said he’d get back to me. But I wish I could go down there really and meet him. Have a rummage through those records of his.’

‘Found it!’ shouted Georgina from upstairs. She came thundering down to the kitchen.

‘Here,’ she said breathlessly, putting the scrap of paper on the table. ‘Here’s the love-rat thief’s address – you’d written it on a post-it and stuck it in your diary.’

‘Oh, well done, G,’ said Miranda. ‘How did you think of looking there?’

‘Instinct,’ said Georgie.

‘Right,’ said Jeremy. ‘Don’t just sit there, look it up on the net.’

They typed in “The Manor, Chattleton, Hants” and pressed “Search”.

The first Google entry appeared to be an advert from a letting agency for the house. Miranda clicked on it. The advert was six months old. She found a Google map of the house and clicked on “street view”. The house was a large Georgian manor set in several acres of grounds. ‘God, I can’t believe I never did this before. I could have been stalking him all this time. This is a seriously beautiful house.’

Jeremy leaned in over her shoulder and peered at the laptop. ‘Phew, it is, isn’t it?’

‘No phone number, but I could call the letting agency.’

‘Go on then,’ said Jeremy.

She dialled the number.

‘Hello, Hemming and Partners.’

‘Oh, good morning. I wonder if you could help me. I’m interested in a property on your books – the Manor, Chattleton, Hampshire. I wondered if it was still available to let?’

‘Let me just check. I’m afraid that property has already been let.’

‘Oh, what a shame,’ said Miranda, ‘I’m very interested. I don’t suppose you know when the lease might be up for renewal, or if the present tenants are staying on?’

‘I’m afraid I’m not allowed to give out any information about the present tenants, but I do believe the lease is coming up shortly.’

‘Do you think you could keep me on file and let me know if and when it comes up, just in case the present tenants don’t want to renew?’

Her details were duly noted, and Miranda hung up.

‘That’s quite a house isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I mean, if he lives somewhere like that, he can’t be short of a few quid.’

‘First impressions can be deceptive,’ said Jeremy darkly.

‘Mmm…’ said Miranda. ‘Rather a large house to live in by yourself, isn’t it? Not really a bachelor pad.’

‘Oh Miranda,’ said Jeremy. ‘You think there might be someone living there with him?’

‘Well, it’s got to be a possibility, hasn’t it?’

‘Darling, you don’t want to think about that.’

‘Don’t I? Maybe it’s what I
do
need to think about. Maybe the love-rat is actually a two-timing love-rat or a married love-rat. I’ve had one of those before, so I’m familiar with the species. Look, you two, how do you fancy a bit of a day out?’

‘Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?’ asked Jeremy.

‘Let’s visit Hampshire and see if we can track him down at the house. Maybe we could drive on to the solicitors afterwards. They’re not that far away – just an hour or so cross-country. What do you think?’

Jeremy exchanged a worried glance with Georgie.

‘Mum, do you really think this is such a good idea? You’ve been so upset and I don’t want you to be really hurt. You’ve no idea what you’ll find if we go down there.’

‘No, it’s fine. I’m actually feeling much better today. I was very fond of him, maybe beginning to fall in love with him, but now that I know what his real motive was, all that’s just evaporated really. And if there’s a chance that we can track him down and retrieve the vase, we’ve got to take it. I’m not going to let that bastard steal my vase. Whatever we find at that house – a wife and six kids, a harem – I can handle it. So, are you coming? If you’d rather stay here, I understand. I know you’ve got schoolwork and stuff before the start of term.’

‘Are you kidding? No way! Yes, I’m coming.’

Miranda called the solicitor back and arranged an appointment for later that afternoon to discuss Celia’s bequest. Armed with his address, they locked up the house and set off in the Volvo.

The drive to Hampshire took just over an hour. During their journey, Jeremy called three of the porcelain experts and emailed them the image of the vase in the catalogue, plus Miranda’s own picture of the vase on her phone. ‘I think you’ll agree that they appear to be identical. If you could give us some idea of valuation, it would be so helpful,’ he explained. They promised to call back as soon as possible.

The M3 flowed smoothly and they took the turning towards Winchester. The A road turned into a smaller winding lane, which cut sharply through a deep, green valley lined with ancient woods and the occasional small red-brick village or hamlet. It struck Miranda with a certain irony that her first visit to her ‘boyfriend’s’ house was being conducted in such strange circumstances. Had he not disappeared, perhaps she and Georgie might have been driving down here to spend a long weekend with Charlie. But as it was she felt like a stalker or a second-rate detective.

Georgie had taken charge of directions from the back seat. ‘We should be there any time soon,’ she said.

‘Well done, G. I had no idea you could read a map,’ said her mother proudly.

‘Actually, Ma, I’m using the sat nav on my phone.’

T
he red brick
mansion stood at the end of a long drive, set well back from the road. The entrance was through a pair of impressive metal gates hung on tall brick pillars topped rather incongruously – given that this was Hampshire and not the African veldt – by a pair of stone sleeping lions.

‘Gosh, it looks even more magnificent in real life, doesn’t it?’ said Miranda, parking the Volvo a little further along in a small lay-by. The house and its grounds were surrounded by tall brick walls; they followed them back towards the gates and peered through, up the drive, hoping not to be seen. There was a brand new VW off-roader parked outside the house. Next to it stood an old Peugeot and a Land Rover. There was no sign of the Audi.

‘Looks like someone’s home,’ said Jeremy. There was an intercom on one of the brick pillars and before Miranda could stop him, he had pressed the button.

‘Hello,’ said a disembodied woman’s voice.

Miranda’s heart sank.

‘Hello,’ said Jeremy. ‘I wonder if I could have a word with Charles?’

‘Charles?’ said the voice. ‘Are you a friend of his?’

‘Yes, in a way. I’ve done some business with him in the past, and have something I’d like to show him. I happened to be passing and thought I’d see if he was interested.’

‘Well, you’ve had a wasted journey,’ said the voice.

‘Oh dear,’ said Jeremy. ‘Is he not here?’

‘No, he bloody well isn’t.’

‘I wonder,’ said Jeremy, ‘whether I might just come up to the house and perhaps I could show you the thing I was going to offer him; it’s rather rare and beautiful.’

Miranda gesticulated at Jeremy, and mouthed: ‘what are you doing? What thing?’

Much to her horror, the voice answered: ‘OK. I’ll buzz you in.’

The three walked up the long drive and knocked on the glossy black front door.

It was opened by a dark-haired young woman. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed and she looked pale and tense. ‘Hello, I’m Callie. Do come in.’

She led them through to the kitchen at the back of the house. Miranda took in the sleek oak cabinets and marble worktops. There were tall French windows that looked out onto an impressive terrace, filled with teak furniture, which overlooked extensive grounds beyond. She glimpsed a tennis court and a swimming pool.