‘Edward! You came!’ Thea returned his embrace heartily, forgetting how important and influential he was, and thinking only how pleased she was to see him. ‘Come in and have a drink. Let Rory show you the work.’

‘Oh, Rory’s here, is he? How did you manage to keep him in line when so many of us have failed?’

Thea laughed and asked quietly, ‘Do you think Veronica will come?’

‘Darling, I don’t think she could keep away.’

To her relief, there were a few serious art journalists among the gossip columnists and photographers. They fought their way to Thea who had just discovered she was mistress of the soundbite. Deliver a few snappy sentences with confidence and people actually think you know what you’re talking about. You even got to believe it yourself. She decided to put Veronica to the back of her mind. If she did come, she might not spot Thea, or better, Thea might not spot her.

But even while talking to genuinely interested people, she found her eye constantly flicking towards the door, looking for Ben and Toby. She had sent Toby a personal invitation, adding in pink pen ‘promise you’ll come’. She had had a sweet note back from him promising that he would.

Her expensive dress, which was causing a minor sensation among her friends who were more used to seeing her in jeans, had been for Ben’s benefit. In her private heart she knew that. As was the make-up, the hair styling, in fact, everything that wasn’t directly concerned with the gallery. If she hadn’t been hoping to prove to him that she too could be attractive and glamorous, she would never have let Molly talk her into any of it. She wanted Ben to see her at her shining best and wonder why on earth he had let her get away. It was petty, childish and about as unfeminist as it was possible to be, but it was human and she couldn’t help herself.

It seemed several lifetimes had passed spent talking, introducing Rory, smiling and having her photograph taken, before at last she saw Ben’s tall figure appear in the doorway.

Toby wasn’t with him, but two thin, glamorous women were. One was Veronica, wearing a twist of fuchsia-coloured silk and a diamond choker; the other was a much younger woman. Ben was holding the younger woman’s elbow in a very protective way, probably guarding her from Veronica.

Thea’s simple black silk sheath, which had seemed so expensively perfect, felt far too hot. How on earth should she greet Veronica? As if they were old friends? And did she still believe that she’d kidnapped Toby? She suddenly felt in need of a bit of protection herself. She looked wildly around and spotted Rory. For the moment he was unattached, probably looking for a drink. ‘Hold my hand, Rory, quickly, please,’ she whispered urgently.