A Trick of the Light by Ali Carter (books for 5 year olds to read themselves TXT) 📗

is not.’ Oliver moved along to the next painting on the wall, Horses at Bay. ‘I’m familiar with the brush work of Landseer and this one here is definitely by him.’

‘How can you tell?’

‘One has to be on an eye level to analyse paint. Come here.’ We went on to Dogs in the Moonlight. ‘Look, I’m not trained in art fraud, I’m here to value the pictures for insurance purposes, but I know Landseer well enough to see there’s something a bit wrong with these brush strokes.’

Once again, I wasn’t sure what he meant and I began to wonder if Oliver’s tentative suggestion it was a copy was because it’s incredibly difficult to ever be certain.

The oil sketches on the landing have very different brush strokes. Even I can see that. So perhaps Landseer was bridging the styles when he painted Dogs in the Moonlight. Or having a bad day. Us artists do from time to time. Some pictures work and others don’t. It’s a constant struggle trying to achieve the best.

‘Can you see,’ he said, ‘the brush strokes are all wrong in this picture, the texture of the paint with that plastic consistency is modern and I’ll bet you it’s on an acrylic ground – primer of that type has only existed since 1955. To me it doesn’t look like old nineteenth-century paint.’

‘Could they have had the pictures restored?’

‘That’s outside my remit but I don’t think so.’

I could see a sheen on the surface and when I asked, ‘Would you mind explaining the paint in more detail? It sounds interesting,’ Oliver took the bull by the horns.

‘When a painting has been around since 1840, and therefore it’s almost two hundred years old, the paint begins to dry – craquelure. It starts to crack on the surface. This is very important when looking for an old painting. If it hasn’t got the right craquelure it looks as if it’s not a nineteenth-century picture.’

‘Go on,’ I encouraged.

I live in an old house, my studio is cold and sometimes I worry commissions will crack if clients hang them in a warm room. Oliver might be about to help me out.

‘If you look at the first painting and the third, they both have a very obvious cracked surface, telling you the paint has been sitting on the canvas for a hundred years or more. Whereas, in this painting and the second one over there, there’s no cracking effect.’

‘Can one avoid paint cracking?’

‘In a hundred years from now we’ll know. Modern materials need to be tested over time, they haven’t been around long enough yet.’

‘I’ve heard of copiers baking the paint to make pictures look old. Much like dipping documents in tea. Is that true?’

‘Copiers try all sorts of things to produce a craquelure effect, but it doesn’t look right, you can always tell.’

‘Do you really think two of these are copies?’ My heartbeat rose as I said it.

‘I’m not making it up if that’s what you’re implying. It drives me mad when people undermine an art history degree.’

‘Oliver, I’m sorry, I honestly didn’t mean that.’

‘The Muchtons might well be thinking they can get away with submitting copies for public display.’

I tried to console him. ‘Zoe and Fergus wouldn’t do this to you.’

‘Well, I’ve seen the provenance of the originals. Fergus Muchton owns them and I’m pretty sure two of them aren’t here.’

‘Could they have been sold by one of his ancestors? Maybe they had them copied and never said. Or maybe they sold the originals by mistake? These do look just like Landseer to me.’

‘No fool would make that mistake. The owners will have sold the originals on the black market, it’s the only way they’d get away with it under the radar. That’s probably why Fergus has no idea.’

‘Surely if you’re going to be deceitful it’s better to fool the black market than your relations?’

‘Any underground specialists would have sniffed out a fake. By having them copied, they’re gambling with the likes of me that they can pass off these as originals.’ Oliver let out a long breath.

‘What are you going to say to Fergus?’

‘Nothing. I certainly wouldn’t do it face to face and anyway it’s not my job. When I’m back in the office I’ll mention it to my boss. He’ll give Fergus a call in a day or two to arrange a visit from Jamie Tumbleton-Smith, the current Landseer expert. It shouldn’t be a problem, I happen to know Jamie lives in Scotland, not too far from here in fact. He’ll come and give a definitive assessment and then we’ll all know where we are.’

‘Wow, I can’t actually believe you might be right.’

‘I’ve confided in you. I might be right, I might be wrong, these pictures are awfully good, but either way you mustn’t say anything to the Muchtons.’

Is Oliver backtracking? I think he might be doubting himself.

‘Yes, yes. I get that,’ I smiled. ‘Thank you very much for being so open with me. It is all rather fascinating.’ I looked down the wall of paintings. ‘Unfortunately I have to go to breakfast now. I’d so much rather stay and look a bit more. But at least you can get on without me asking more questions.’

‘Well, it was nice meeting you,’ Oliver smiled.

‘I wish they’d let the students I’m teaching in here.’

‘Nothing unusual about that. Quite a few owners closet their most valuable pieces of art away.’

‘Lucky me then.’ I hastily made my way to the door. I’m suddenly afraid Fergus might appear. I have been up here quite a long time.

‘Bye,’ said Oliver, retrieving the key.

He closed the door behind me and I paused on the landing. I wanted to know where Zoe had hidden the key last night. To the right of the door was a Landseer oil sketch and as no one was around, I thought, let’s see if it comes off.

My fingers were pressed against the frame but the picture didn’t budge until I released my hands and there was the sound of a click. I