Water lilies

It began when she came into my shop. She had a picture that she wanted me to look at. Of course she did. Everyone had a picture in the attic...

But a week later, I went down to look at it. This picture. This picture that her Grandfather had brought over from France. This picture that her Grandfather, whose family had lived practically next door to Monsieur Claude, had brought over from France. I had used those seven days. I had checked her out. The picture was of water lilies. Of course it was.

And it nearly took my breath away. It nearly took my fucking breath away. I had to work hard to not let it show. Really hard. We dealers earn our money.
She couldn't wait. "Is it... Is it...?"
I let her down gently. "It's more likely that your Grandpere painted this himself, love!"
"So, is it worth anything at all?"
I looked at it closely. I checked some facts on my phone.
"It is worth..." I checked again, "three pounds fifty... That seems to be the going rate for kindling at the moment."
Giver her her due, she laughed.

I called in again, two months later. I had to make myself promise not to say anything. This was just a keeping-in-touch visit. The plan was to "find" a buyer in another couple of months. "There might even be a couple of hundred in it!"

She was in the garden. She told me that she had cleaned out the pond and she had a small bonfire going - she was burning some uprooted plants and rubbish. She looked quite cute with a smudge of soot across her face. I made small talk and was driving away ten minutes later.

The traffic on the way home was heavy. But all I could see was the water lilies burning on the bonfire.