The rhythm and pace of Thea’s life became hard and fast. She kept her wellington boots by her bed and leapt out of bed at six o’clock, straight into them. Once she had swilled out the kitchen and fed everyone, she took Lara for as long a walk as she had time for. Then she checked that whoever was detailed to come in and see to the brood at lunchtime was aware of their responsibilities, got in her car and drove off to the gallery. Thea discovered the sad fact that the more people she had to help her, the longer every job seemed to take.

The main picture hanging, which Rory insisted on attending, took two days and included an over-indulgent evening at Thea’s house, where Rory stayed.

It didn’t take so long because he and Thea argued about what should go where – in fact, their ideas were surprisingly harmonious – but because there was such a lot of work to be fitted in and it was difficult to decide exactly where on the wall to hang each one. It was only when they started the process that they discovered that half the walls weren’t true and had little unsuspected bulges.

‘Rather like when you put on a clingy dress,’ said Petal, who was helping. ‘You find bumps all over the place.’

Thea and Rory regarded Petal, a perfect size ten. ‘But in your case,’ said Rory, ‘the bumps are in all the right places.’

Arranging a lighting system took another two days and more money than Thea could bear to contemplate. But in the end they had one which was flexible, easy to change – provided you could cope with climbing ladders – and made the work look sensational.

Thea said as much to Rory who was offended. ‘I mean, your work is sensational if you see it in a garage with the door shut. But a lot of the artists I have may need a little assistance with the lighting. It’s very important. It’s the same as good framing. It makes all the difference.’

Rory laughed. ‘Sure, I was only teasing you. I know it’s important.’

Ben, who kept away from the gallery, occupied her thoughts only when he had a genuine reason to be there, like when she was wondering if the painted hardboard floor, laid directly over the carpet, was all right. Or if she should have the prices discreetly stuck up next to the paintings, or on a sheet, to be handed to each person. Was Little Chap really thriving and catching up with his siblings, or was it just wishful thinking on her part? In fact, she reckoned wryly, she only thought about him twenty or thirty times a day. That’s practically over him, she told herself.