The Collected Short Stories - Jeffrey Archer [253]
The four of them met at a small taverna in the center of the town for lunch. Over a plate of souvlakia Arnold tried to convince Deirdre that as they were visiting five islands in the course of the trip, it might perhaps be wise to wait until their final port of call, so they could purchase the dinner service at the last possible moment.
“Prices will undoubtedly fall,” declared Arnold, “the closer we get to Athens.” He spoke with the air of a true entrepreneur.
Although Deirdre had already seen a thirty-two-piece set she liked, at a price well within their budget, she reluctantly agreed to Arnold’s suggestion. Her acquiescence was largely brought about by the fact that it was her husband who was in possession of all the travelers’ checks.
By the time the ship had docked at Heraklion, on Crete, Arnold had vetted all the British nationals on board, and had permitted a major (Territorial Reserve) and his spouse to join their table for lunch—but only after discovering that the fellow held an account at Barclays. A dinner invitation followed once it had been established that the major occasionally played bridge with Arnold’s area manager.
From that moment Arnold spent many happy hours at the bar explaining to the major or to Malcolm—neither of whom actually listened any longer—why he should never have taken his father’s advice and followed him into the bank, since he was after all one of nature’s born entrepreneurs.
By the time the ship had weighed anchor and sailed from Santorini, Deirdre knew exactly the type of dinner service she wanted, and how to establish quickly which potter she should trade with as soon as they set foot in a new port. But Arnold continued to insist that they should wait for the bigger market as they approached Athens—“More competition, forces prices down,” he explained for the umpteenth time. Deirdre knew there was no point in telling him that prices seemed to be rising with each sea mile they covered on their journey back toward the Greek capital.
Paros only served as further proof of Deirdre’s suspicions—if proof were still needed—as the prices there were noticeably steeper than they had been on Santorini. As the Princess Corina steamed on toward Mykonos, Deirdre felt that although their final port of call would probably be able to supply her with a satisfactory dinner service, it would surely no longer be at a price they could afford.
Arnold kept assuring her, with the confidence of a man who knows about such things, that all would be well. He even tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. The major and Malcolm had reached the stage of simply nodding at him to indicate that they were still awake.
Deirdre was among the first down the gangplank when they docked at Mykonos that Friday morning. She had told her husband that she would carry out a reconnaissance of the pottery shops while he did the same with the banks. Joan and the major’s wife were happy to accompany Deirdre, since by now she had become something of an expert on the subject of Greek pottery.
The three ladies began their search at the north end of the town, and Deirdre was relieved to find that there was a greater variety of shops in Mykonos than there had been on any of the other islands. She was also able to discover, with the help of several black-clad ladies, that the town boasted a potter of genuine fame, whose work could only be purchased from one shop, the House of Pétros.
Once Deirdre had located this establishment, she spent the rest of the morning inspecting all the dinner services they had to offer. After a couple of hours she came to the conclusion that the “Delphi” set, which was prominently displayed in the centre of the shop, would be a prized possession for any housewife in St. Albans. But as it was double the cost of anything she had seen on any of the other islands,