Two Old Treasures - Picasso and Mike Cunningham

I am a treasure hunter. I don't mean that I leave the house each morning armed with a pick and a shovel and an old map marked with an X. No. My tools are the Antique Trade Gazette's auction guide, my old motor and forty-years accumulated knowledge of art and antiques. I travel the world looking for mistakes made by auction houses and dealers wherever I can find them. I eat most days, but I'm not getting rich.

Picture restorer, dealer, Mike Cunningham was one of the greatest treasures I ever found. We clicked from the moment we met and I was sure we would grow old together. When he died in his sleep in 2000 I was more upset than when I lost my Dad. Mike was fifty-two years old, fit and full of plans for the future. He had recently decided to sell his London home and retire to Hastings, on the south coast of England, where he and partner Sue already owned a small house in the Old Town. Mike and I had bought many pictures together over the preceding twenty years, most of them turned over quickly for a profit. But when Mike died we were still half shares in a painting that, if we had some provenance, would have secured our futures and that of a small African nation.