Thea wished she’d got a better look at the woman, or could see her now. But at least she knew that this was indeed the gallery in question, and it gave her some satisfaction that the pictures they wanted were in hers. Possession, after all, was nine-tenths of the law. In theory, anyway.

‘I did explain.’ Rory sounded apologetic. ‘It is a little difficult. I promised this woman I’d show with her first.’

‘You really don’t need to worry about that,’ the woman was soothing yet adamant. ‘After all, she isn’t anybody. No one would expect you to keep your word made in those circumstances. I mean, she may have got you to show your work to her, but that doesn’t give her any rights to it whatsoever.’

‘Well–’

‘She didn’t buy any of it, did she?’ This time the voice was edged with irritation.

‘She did pay to have the drawings and sketches framed.’

Well, thank you, Rory, for remembering, thought Thea.

‘Then all you need to do is pay her back for the framing. A cheque will do it. You don’t have to hide your work away as well.’ Her voice became cooing and Thea was willing to bet she was now holding on to Rory in some way.

Thea began to shift about uncomfortably. She was definitely eavesdropping now. Rory didn’t know she was there and he was talking about her. If she didn’t reveal herself soon, it would get to the stage when she couldn’t.

Just as she was plucking up the courage to say something ingenuous like ‘Oh, hello, Rory, I didn’t know you were here’, to her enormous surprise she saw Toby and a young woman approach the door of the gallery. This was somehow a greater shock than coming across Rory. In the nick of time she stepped behind an elevated circulating fridge and avoided being seen. What the hell was Toby doing here? Surely not just looking at art with his nanny.

Toby moved to the woman and said in a polite but strangely unenthusiastic voice, ‘Hello, Veronica.’

Thea’s heart started jumping in her chest. She felt blood rush up through her body and sweat broke out at her hairline. Suddenly she seemed like the victim of some horrible plot. Don’t panic, she ordered herself. Veronica could be anyone; she doesn’t have to be his mother. It’s quite a common name – probably.

But ‘Veronica’ put out her arm and pulled Toby to her. ‘Hello darling. I see you’re wearing that new shirt I bought you. It might look better tucked in.’ There was no doubt. Only a mother or a teacher would tell a boy to tuck his shirt in.

This was the moment. She moved from behind the suspended fridge and cleared her throat. ‘Hello,’ she said, wishing she could think of something less banal.

‘Thea!’ said Toby and Rory at the same time.