‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she admitted, handing it back to Cate. ‘It’s not really my area of expertise. It looks like an old Girl Guide badge or something, only it’s too old for all that. Why don’t you ask Laurence at stall twenty-eight? I have a feeling it’s something to do with the war. That’s his particular passion.’Cate slipped the little badge back into her jeans pocket. ‘Where is stall twenty-eight?’‘Through the passage on your left and right to the end,’ the woman directed her. ‘Laurence Friedman.’‘Thank you.’Cate walked through the passageway of Alfies Antiques, through the close, crowded stalls, filled with furniture, clothing, some bursting with fine antiques, some cluttered with kitsch memorabilia. All tastes were catered for here at Alfies. Spanning over four floors, it was one of Europe’s largest antique markets and a great treasure trove where the past came to life in the wonderful collections of passionate enthusiasts.Right at the back, Cate spotted stall twenty-eight.
