It was a kitchen, cooker, fridge and microwave, only everything was made from tooth-rot-pink plastic, and covered with sequins and diamanté. Lace curtains served as the microwave’s door, the cooker’s hotplates were made from doilies, but on inspection it turned out that they were ceramic. The longer she looked, the more surprises she found – the black velvet washing-up gloves with fingers covered with rings, a lurex washing-up brush, plastic goldfish floating in the washing-up bottle, which was filled with glycerine soap, and cooker knobs made from icing. She was chuckling to herself, searching for a comments book, or some indication about how she could get hold of the artist, when a tall, elegant, extremely pretty girl appeared.

‘Is this your work?’ asked Thea. ‘I absolutely love it! I want to show it in my gallery.’

The tall, elegant, pretty girl threw herself into Thea’s arms.

Cheered by this, Thea went round the rest of the show having decided that unless the work made her respond as strongly as the Barbie Kitchen had she wouldn’t consider it. She had to feel passionate about everything in her gallery. Even if she didn’t particularly like it, she had to admire it and feel it really was good.

She slept as Ben drove her home. She had a bag full of artists’ postcards, business cards and addresses, and three rolls of used film. She had picked far more than she would need from just one art school, but she wanted to have plenty to choose from the first time.

She slept because she was very tired, and because it would save her having to talk to Ben about what she’d seen and chosen. At the beginning of the day she’d wanted him to be with her and take responsibility. Now she didn’t want him disparaging her selection. When she’d got all the work in, she might show him. Or she might not.

He commented on her reticence two days later, when he took her north to Leeds. ‘At first you wanted me come in with you to hold your hand. Now you won’t even tell me about the work.’

‘Once I’d realised you were right about me needing to decide on my own, I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion clouding my judgement.’ She bit her lip and turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile. That’ll teach him!

Their last trip was to Cornwall. Ben had stayed the night with Molly and collected Thea very early in the morning. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to be ready,’ he said, when Thea appeared, brushed, made-up and eager to go. ‘I thought no woman could get dressed in under two hours.’

Thea gave him a disparaging look. ‘You don’t know many real women, do you, Ben? We were in Ireland together; surely you noticed that my time spent in the bathroom was minimal.’