If the discovery of the delft barber's bowl had been an epiphanic experience, so had been his first glimpse of Dawn, one day when he'd stopped by the shop to deliver a creamware dinner service.

Dawn had been helping the shop assistant with the window displays. At the sight of her, Alex had stood rooted to the pavement, transfixed. Never had he seen anything so beautiful, so perfect; and then she had met his eyes through the glass and smiled.

After that, she'd begun coming by his stall on Saturday mornings to chat. She'd been friendly rather than coy or flirtatious, and he'd immediately sensed her loneliness. His weeks began to revolve around the anticipation of her Saturday visits, but never had he expected more than that. And then one day she'd shown up unannounced at his flat. "I shouldn't be doing this," she'd said, ducking her head so that wisps of blond hair hid her eyes, but she had come inside, and now he couldn't imagine his life without her.

"Does Karl know?" he asked Otto.

The other man shrugged. "I think you would know if he did. But you can be sure he will find out. And I would hate to lose a good customer. Alex, take my advice, please. She is lovely, but she is not worth your life."

"This is England, for heaven's sake, Otto! People don't go round bumping people off because they're narked about… well, you know."

Otto stood and carefully reversed his chair. "I wouldn't be so sure, my friend," he replied before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Bollocks!" Alex muttered, resolved to slough off Otto's warning, and he ate his dinner and drank his wine with determination.

His good humor somewhat restored, he walked slowly back to his flat, thinking of the other find he'd made that day- not a steal as the delft bowl had been, but a lovely acquisition just the same, an Art Deco teapot by the English potter Clarice Cliff in a pattern he had seen Dawn admire. It would be his Christmas gift to her, an emblem of their future together.