‘I’ve got some leaflets by the counter,’ Claire said. ‘They’ve got all the information you need, including contact details for the artists. Hang on, let me go and grab one for you.’

A moment later she was back, holding a folded leaflet which she handed to Dee.

‘This is great,’ Dee said. ‘Just out of interest, how much do these paintings sell for?’

‘This one that you’re looking at right now,’ Claire said. ‘Was sold yesterday for £1,500. In fact, most of Annie’s paintings have already been sold, I’m afraid. But if you like what you see here, I’d strongly recommend going to visit the studio. We’re only able to display a tiny fraction of the artists’ work here.’

‘I think I’ll do that.’ Dee smiled. ‘Thanks so much for your time, Claire. I hope this isn’t the last time I get a chance to visit your lovely gallery.’

‘If you’re serious about Annie’s work,’ Claire said, ‘why don’t you hang around a bit longer? She normally drops by around this time to say hi. In fact, speak of the devil. Here she is now. I’ll introduce you. Annie! Come over here, darling. There’s someone I want you to meet.’

Dee watched as the woman from the pub walked across the gallery to them. She walked with a slight limp, barely noticeable unless you were watching her carefully. As Annie drew closer, something flashed across her face, fear or surprise; Dee couldn’t tell which.

‘Hello,’ she said, looking at Dee. ‘I think we’ve already met, haven’t we?’

‘Dee Morrison.’ The use of her ex-husband’s name was automatic. Something she’d done time and again in her career, to prevent anyone looking her up on the internet and realising she was a journalist. She hadn’t changed her name when she’d married Billy; it had gone against her feminist principles to do that. But using his surname when it suited her, that was another matter entirely.

Dee held her hand out, noticing the hesitation before Annie put out her own hand to return the handshake.

‘Dee’s just been admiring your work,’ Claire said. ‘I’ve suggested she should visit your studio and see what else you’ve got. As you know, most of the work here has already sold.’

‘I have seen you before!’ Dee exclaimed, doing her best to sound surprised. ‘The Town of Ramsgate, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s right. You seemed to think we’d already met?’

‘Menopause brain,’ Dee said. ‘You look like a friend of mine. Sorry. I really was convinced you were her for a moment. I can see now you don’t actually look that much like her at all.’

Annie didn’t say anything, leaving it up to Claire to break the awkward silence.