The Best Offer Page #4

In the meantime make

do with this one.

How much would the

automaton be worth

if we manage to make it work?

Think of a really,

really high figure.

- Do you have one in mind?

- Yes.

You've probably

pitched it too low.

You're good at talking

without saying anything.

I'll take that as a compliment.

Should things go the

way I trust they will,

you'll be very

handsomely rewarded.

I didn't mean to talk about money.

It's a real privilege for me.

Where did you find these?

There are very precise rules

in the world of antiques.

It's forbidden to

reveal one's sources.

There's a few more gears

but bigger in that corner.

Gather them together. I'll take

care of the cataloguing myself.

Of course.

Candlesticks.

- Which period?

- 17th-century. Repair.

Mr. Oldman.

Mr. Oldman.

Yes.

What have you decided about

the furniture in this wing?

We're only drawing

up the inventory.

Later you can tell me

what to leave out.

Thank you.

Listen, Miss lbbetson, I can't help

thinking about your situation.

I'm sorry to have intruded

on your thoughts.

That's not the point.

I've been wondering how

you can live like this.

I'm organized and

self-sufficient,

I don't need any help but I

appreciate your concern.

You're welcome.

- See you soon, then.

- Have a good day.

Mr. Oldman!

Your contract.

I read it and it

seems fine to me.

I initialed every page

and signed the last.

That's how it's done, isn't it?

Perfect.

But your personal

details are missing.

Take them from my passport.

But it expired quite

some time ago.

- Personal details never expire.

- That's true enough, I suppose.

I was just a girl then but

it'll do for your purposes.

I wanted to mention that

in certain critical cases

my advice is to proceed

directly to restoration.

You know best.

It means the whole thing

will take a little longer.

We can widen the scope

of the valuation.

I understand.

You dye your hair.

I never noticed.

I'm disgusted by people who

don't trust their own hair!

I don't trust people who

think so much of themselves

that they won't come outside.

Ah, Sir, there'll be no more

caretaker service as from Monday.

I'll just come in to bring

Miss lbbetson her shopping.

- The matter is of no interest to me.

- These are the keys.

- Why give them to me?

- It's what Miss lbbetson wanted.

In case you needed access

for further inspection.

When you come in, slam the door,

otherwise she'll get

scared and panic.

I'm going off my head

trying to work out the

alignment of these devices,

trying to figure out which

one fitted into which.

- That can't be easy.

- But not impossible.

You know, gearboxes

are like people.

If they've been

together long enough,

eventually, they take

on each other's forms.

So, you believe time can make any

kind of cohabitation possible?

Yeah, well, absolutely.

You've reminded me of a friend

who met a much younger girl.

She had agoraphobia.

Fear of open spaces

and distances?

Exactly. She lived for years locked

up in an apartment on her own.

Recently, she gave him the keys

to her house and ever since,

he's been in a state of...

permanent anxiety.

What did I tell you? Now he'll

be constantly worried about her.

He'll be thinking,

"What does she need, shampoo,

medicine, tights... yoghurt?"

it's beautiful, isn't it?

I'm not so sure.

Tell your friend to stay calm,

'cause time is already

working on their gearboxes.

And there you are, Mr. Oldman.

- Are you angry with me?

- Why should I be?

- What I said about your hair.

- Not at all.

I was just calling to ask

if you wish the sale of the furniture

to be identified by your family name.

Or do you prefer anonymity?

- Anonymity, anonymity.

- Good.

This time, I did see you.

- Oh?

- On TV.

I don't generally give

interviews but I was forced to.

You're more intriguing this way.

You'll be a great success

with the ladies.

So, we go to Lot 132.

Gustave Rett, Portrait

of a Woman With a Hat.

1956. Oil on canvas.

80 x 100 cm.

This one goes to the best offer.

10,000.

Fred, any news from Miss lbbetson?

She hasn't answered in days.

It's a while since

I heard from her.

I've been in bed all week, ill.

Who's been bringing her food?

Miss lbbetson?

Miss lbbetson?

Miss lbbetson? Answer me!

Claire?

Claire, are you alright?

Oh, no. Please!

- No. It's me, Claire.

- Get out!

- It's me, Mr. Oldman.

- Go away!

- Listen to me, it's Mr. Oldman.

- Get out!

There's nobody else here.

Calm down.

What's wrong? Tell

me what happened.

I wasn't well.

I didn't know who to call.

Nobody answered.

And then I fell.

I fell and I hit my...

Open the door.

You need to see a doctor.

No, please! Please!

Please, no!

Can you fix a broken

auctioneer as well?

I wouldn't know where to begin.

It's good to see you

again, Mr. Oldman.

Is something wrong? You seem

more preoccupied than usual.

Too many woodworms

and spider webs

and too few masterpieces.

Could we put it that way?

- So, how's our toy coming along?

- Ah.

Well, I've managed to put

some sections back together.

But, I mean, there's just still

too many pieces missing.

The entire exterior.

We can't establish what

kind of character he is.

Like my friend and his

girl in the tower.

Yeah, maybe, although we've

never seen our android.

We're still groping

around in the dark.

So is he.

He speaks to her

through a closed door.

- Closed door?

- Yes.

If anybody moves in the house, she

barricades herself in her room.

- He's never seen her face?

- Not only him, no-one has.

That's like when two young

people meet on the Internet.

They get to know each other,

then reveal themselves.

She won't reveal herself.

Maybe he hasn't got

a good strategy.

So, it's more difficult for my

friend to succeed in his enterprise

than for us to reconstruct

the Vaucanson automaton?

Depends on the number of Rusty

pieces you're able to bring me.

Well...

here's one more.

That's a mobile phone.

This is brand new.

I'm the one that's Rusty because

I don't know how to use it.

Could you teach me before

your girlfriend gets here?

- Hello.

- Good evening, Mr. Oldman.

It's Claire Ibbetson.

Am I disturbing you?

No, not at all, Miss lbbetson.

I told you, from now on, you

can call me any time you like.

I wanted to thank you for...

everything, really.

No need. All that's important

is you're feeling better now.

Yes, it was just a small cut

on the head. I'm much better.

I wanted to tell you, I

looked over the inventory.

Oh! What do you think?

You've done a great job.

Really, you have.

But I'm troubled

by so many doubts.

I'm not sure if it's a good idea

to sell. What would you advise?

I couldn't say. I don't

know what your plans are.

Why did you decide to

sell in the first place?

Out of necessity in order to start

life afresh or another reason?

All of the above, I suppose.

I'd even sell the house.

It's too big for me now.

Sometimes, I feel as though

I were in a public square.

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