Page 288 of Double or Nothing

Foster continues studying the catalogue.

He’s waiting.

Bryce predicted he’d enter at one eighty, based on past biddings. I said two hundred.

Time to find out which of us is right.

I lift my paddle.

“One hundred and seventy thousand at the back,” the auctioneer says.

Several heads turn.

Dalloway looks over her shoulder.

Not at me. She hasn’t clocked me, yet. She looks straight at Foster, assuming he’s the counter bidder.

Interesting. This must run deep.

Her paddle rises.

“One eighty,” the auctioneer pushes, and Foster raises his paddle.

“One hundred and ninety thousand,” the auctioneer says.

Dalloway turns slowly enough to make certain he sees her.

Her paddle rises.

“Two hundred thousand.”

The room wakes up.

Not dramatically. This lot isn’t important enough for that. But shoulders shift. Catalogues lower. Everyone recognises when an auction moves from interest into combat.

Foster’s eyes remain on Dalloway. Not the sculpture.

Never the sculpture.

He bids two twenty. Dalloway answers at two forty. And I remain still. My work is done.

The pair of them believe the other wants the sculpture, which means neither can withdraw without conceding something far more valuable than money.

Status.

The bidding climbs.

Two sixty.

Two eighty.

Three hundred.

The auctioneer gives every increment enough space to sting.

Dalloway’s adviser leans close and whispers into her ear. She waves him away.

There it is.