There were no more than twenty cars in the overflow parking lot; when she rounded through the gates of the brewery, she guessed there were maybe sixty cars parked there. A metal traffic sign was stashed behind the pillar of the gate: Sling Sutton Brewery Temporarily Closed. The buildings still looked in decent condition – simply shut rather than abandoned. A couple of brewery trailers were still parked around the back and there were still pallets and vats stacked up behind locked fences. When did a temporary downturn turn into permanent collapse, Petra wondered. Had the owners given up hope of reopening?

Beyond the car park was a short queue at a security and baggage check outside a small gatehouse that served as the brewery’s gift shop, and beyond it a couple of hundred people gathered outside the building’s huge main doors in loose groups, waiting to be let in. Intimacy and Cabinet had run for six days each, but from what she knew, the finale of each season was a one-off event. If all the ticket holders were here tonight, she would have expected a bigger crowd. Maybe not everyone had received the invitation to this final show. She tried to scan for Vincent, but the figures were silhouetted by the glare of the uplit monolith – she’d have to get closer.

When she got to the security checkpoint, she joined the short queue waiting at the bag check table. She should have counted on delays parking and queues and checkpoints. It had been a simple plan – arrive, find Vincent, bring him back to Gloria – but she hadn’t given it enough thought, even on the drive here, when her mind was entirely occupied with finding her way and not being crushed by a Land Rover speeding towards her on the pitch-dark country roads. At a linen-decked table, two cast members – one in a tux and slick side parting, and the other in a showy scarlet ballgown and luxuriant red Jessica Rabbit waves – were collecting bags and phones and placing them in lockers arrayed in a temporary rank behind them. Although she’d become used to the plague masks at Cabinet, Petra was glad the staffers weren’t wearing them here – the dark night and the looming location were eerie enough, and Petra wasn’t in the mood for more disquiet tonight. Simple plan: quickly in and out. She watched as the usher in the red gown clicked a bracelet onto the wrist of the blond-haired woman in front of her, who was shivering in a gold designer dress, high heels and trench coat.

Jessica Rabbit checked her tablet. ‘You’re Lucinda James tonight. The gold Chanel. Mm, one of my favourites. Did you have any trouble at the outlet?’

‘No, none at all. The process was incredibly smooth. They had the dress waiting for me and they did the nips and tucks within a couple of days. I’m really impressed.’