‘No statements, Molly,’ said Rory firmly. ‘They’re shite and they interfere with the work on the wall.’

‘They wouldn’t be on the wall. They’d be in lovely shiny folders, on laminated sheets. Look!’ She produced a folder of impeccable glossiness from the bag which hung over her shoulder.

‘Oh, Molly! More money!’ Thea wailed.

‘They’re only samples,’ she said to Thea and then turned back to Rory. ‘People like to know what they’re looking at.’

‘They can see what they’re looking at,’ Rory told her. ‘They’re landscapes. They’re not abstracts; they don’t have any secret codes in them. What more can they possible need than a bloody great picture, eight foot high?’

‘I’ve visited a lot of galleries just lately to find out what they do and I like to have something to read.’

Rory laughed. ‘Shite galleries, if you’ll forgive the expression.’

‘Oh, don’t apologise now,’ snapped Molly. ‘You’ve already used that word several times.’

Thea put her hand on Molly’s arm, to make up for the fact that she was on Rory’s side in this matter. She’d visited a lot of galleries with Magenta and mostly she found the statements embarrassing. ‘Rory’s right, Molly. His work doesn’t need any explanation and I like things simple. People should be able just to wander around and enjoy themselves without having to carry a huge book to refer to.’

Rory, who’d made his stand, was getting bored. ‘So, when you’ve got the rest of the prints up it’ll be finished, with a whole day to spare. You’ve worked miracles, Thea.’

‘We have,’ Thea agreed. ‘But we haven’t got a day to spare. Have you seen the state of the lavatory?’

‘I suppose I must have done. I’ve certainly used it.’

‘Then you’ll realise it needs decorating.’ Thea had hoped they’d get away without doing this, but when Molly pointed out that ‘Kim luvs Simon’ and other far less acceptable graffiti was clearly visible, she was forced to capitulate. ‘You wouldn’t like to do it for us? I’m sure you’ve got time before your hot date. I can lend you a boiler suit.’

‘Sure, I’d love to help you. But you know I told you I’ve got to see a woman about – ’

‘Please say it’s about a dog, or even a whole pack of them. I’d let you off painting the John for that.’ Thea, who was still going home to soggy newspaper and piles of poo, had given up hope of Rory ever taking responsibility for Lara and her pups again.