Any offence he may have taken from Petra’s weirdness was smothered by Suki’s unwarranted warmth, and he sloped off to the bookshelves.

‘What’s that all about?’ Suki asked Petra quietly when she got back to the counter.

Petra glared at her. ‘You’re telling me you’re totally over him smashing up the shop?’

Suki was incredulous. ‘Who? Freddie?’

‘I’m not totally losing it, you know.’ Freddie studiously pretended not to be listening, flipping a comic’s pages idly through his hands.

Suki sighed and put her hand on Petra’s arm, stopping just short of patting her. ‘It was a horrible incident,’ she said quietly. ‘Very frightening. But we spoke about it then, didn’t we?’

Petra remembered that they were both badly scared, but Suki was clearly over it, and Freddie was acting like the incident had never happened. ‘You’re telling me it wasn’t…’ Petra stopped talking and tried to replay the incident.

‘That arsehole won’t dare come back here, I’m sure,’ Suki went on. ‘And if he does, we’ll call the police straight away, alright, Pet? He was just a nutter. You can’t take it out on poor Freddie, though.’

Petra had been so sure it was Freddie, but now that she thought back on it, she wasn’t sure why. He had different clothes, a totally different manner. She’d have to let it go.

Suki slid in behind the counter and propped herself on the stupid stool, and suddenly it made sense. She looked like someone in an advert for designer stools, perfectly poised; the black patterned fabric of her skirts draping in a dynamic swoop to the silver and black thrust of her boots, unifying with the jewellery and tattoos on her bare arms. ‘Guess what I got this morning?’

‘Tell me.’

‘An invitation from your man.’

A brief jolt of hope sparked and sputtered. Suki wasn’t talking about Vincent. ‘Which man is that?’

‘Curtis Worthing.’

‘Huh? An invitation? To what?’

‘To his birthday party on Saturday, at Brook Street Studios.’

Petra jerked upright. Any last remnants of opiate mist that hadn’t been dissolved by Freddie’s return were now ripped away. ‘Christ, Suki. That’s not right. It has to be her.’

‘Who, love?’

‘Olivia Jouval. Why on earth would Curtis Worthing invite you to an event, here, now? In the place where Vincent and I… It’s a setup. It’s a trap.’

Freddie couldn’t help glancing around at this.

‘Calmez-vous, darling. I always get invited to these things; a certain middling circle of the well-heeled in the shires. Normally, I just never go. Come with me. I think it will be good for you. Asked around some more; turns out Curtis isn’t such a bad old stick. Something of a moral conscience. Quite the socialist compared with many. Come on, Pet – promise me you’ll come.’