‘I don’t believe it,’ said William. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Someone’s jumped up to ten million. Haven’t they?’

William’s breathing echoed loudly down the line.

‘William?’ said Theresa, trying to sound level. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Tell us!’ echoed the others.

‘Just a minute, Theresa.’ William had cupped his hand over the receiver. They could hear the muffled sounds of him talking in French with someone in the auction room.

‘Perhaps they leaped up to twelve!’ shouted Zoe in the direction of the phone on the table. This received no more than further muffled sounds from William.

Then he said abruptly, ‘I’ll call you back,’ and hung up.

As Theresa put the receiver back into the base, a strange silence fell on the group. All smiling, but biting their lips with anticipation.

‘Perhaps someone fainted?’ suggested Sally.

‘Probably Benjamin, thinking about all those drugs he could buy.’

‘Shut up, Zoe.’ Sally slammed her cup down on the saucer. ‘You know he’s stopped all that stuff.’

Carol grabbed the receiver.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Sally. ‘He said he’d phone us back.’

‘I can’t wait. I’m phoning him.’

Theresa wrestled the receiver from her hands. ‘Carol. Sally’s right. Something has clearly happened. Someone’s been taken ill or whatever . . . I’m sure William, of all people, will phone us back the moment he gets a chance.’

Carol rose from her seat and strode round the room like a prisoner trapped in a cage. She threw her arms up and cried to the ceiling: ‘I just can’t stand the waiting.’

‘Shall I make some more tea?’ suggested Theresa, also rising from the table.

‘No,’ everyone called in unison.

‘But a stiff gin wouldn’t be out of the question,’ added Zoe.

Theresa went to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out a bottle of Bombay Sapphire and plonked it down in the centre of the table beside the phone, then went back for glasses, bottles of tonic and a lemon.

At this moment the phone rang again.

Zoe was first to grab the receiver. ‘William, dear boy, how rich are we?’

The others were silenced.

Sally reached forward once more, trying to activate the speakerphone button.

‘What do you mean? . . . But they can’t do that. You’re not serious? So now what? The bastards. I understand. I’ll tell them. Yes.’

Zoe put the phone down. She sat well back in her chair and whispered, ‘Sod it!’

The others gathered like vultures around a dead cow.

‘Well?’

‘We’re bolloxed.’ Zoe grabbed the gin bottle, poured some into her teacup and knocked it back in one. ‘Zero,’ she said. ‘Nil, nought, nothing, bugger all. The bastards!’

‘But . . .’ As she sank into her chair, Theresa felt oddly calm. ‘How can that be?’

‘The sale was stopped and the mosaic was withdrawn.’

‘By William?’ Sally slammed her fists on the table, rattling the gin bottle. ‘Has the man gone mad?’

‘You won’t believe this.’ Zoe sighed and poured another measure into her teacup. ‘Lawyers arrived . . .’