She’d got half of it up and was wondering if she’d ever fit it into her car to take to the tip, when Petal called down the stairs, ‘Hi! Are you there? I’ve brought Dave over to have a look at the space. He’s in the third year, so he’ll want to be in your next year’s graduate show.’

Oh, the confidence of youth! Thea wasn’t certain of anything happening next year, except perhaps Christmas. ‘How nice.’

‘And the phone man’s here. And I brought a letter for you from home. It’s from Rory.’

Thea dropped the length of carpet she was holding and went upstairs. She snatched the letter from Petal as she passed and greeted the telephone man.

Only when he was happily muttering about junction boxes and extra lines, and Petal had made tea for everyone (she would have made it just for Dave, but her sense of fair play kicked in) did Thea take out the letter and open it. A cheque fell out of it.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!’ she said loudly. ‘Oh, sorry, everyone. But this is dreadful. Fucking – sorry Petal – Rory!’

‘What? What’s happened?’ Petal was worried. Thea rarely swore and hearing her do it now was alarming.

‘I can’t believe it! I’ll read it to you! It says,

Dear Thea,

I’m sorry if this is disappointing news for you, but I’ve decided that I really must show my work in London first. I’ve got a gallery really interested and they’ve advanced me some money! I enclose a cheque and I’d be grateful if you’d arrange to have my pictures sent to this address asap.

And the address is just for someone’s house, not a gallery, so I don’t know where he’s intending to show.’

‘What does asap mean?’

‘As soon as possible. He seems to have forgotten that he already owes me money for the framing and stuff! This is intolerable.’

‘You mean, you won’t have a show?’

‘Exactly. Because f—bloody Rory has decided to show in London first, in spite of promising me –’ Then she remembered the promise had been rather dragged out of him and she’d always known he might take his work away from her. ‘What I want to know,’ she went on more calmly, ‘is how he managed to get a gallery so interested when he didn’t have any slides.’

‘But he did have slides,’ said Petal, surprised. ‘I sent them to him.’

‘You what?’

‘He rang one night – can’t remember when – and said you’d said you’d put them in the post, but as he hadn’t had them, he thought you’d forgotten.’

‘Forgotten on purpose. I didn’t want him to have them!’