‘Hi, thank you for getting back to me. This is me, Bruce. When you want to come and see?’

Ever suffered a momentary loss of breath, he needed to take a gasp to restart the process, it was the realisation that he was continuing on this path. A path, certainly not to glory, but to completion and the defence of a life lost.

Details taken, he was calming himself when his bit of peace was broken.

‘Miss L is resting, do you want anything to eat?’

Asked Manita, following the door knock and entry.

‘No thank you, I’m fine, really, but would you mind telling Lomita that tomorrow’s exhibition, which she knows about, is quite a formal affair. She might like some advanced warning. Notice, you know, in terms of what she was going to wear.’

Why he was carrying on explaining to the woman who ran Lomita’s life suddenly struck him as ridiculous, but it didn’t stop him. It was polite, guilt, overkill.

‘Sure.’

Door closed.

Shopping channel? No, he denied himself the agonising pleasure.

Why was Lomita allowing all this to continue? The saviour, everybody wants to be a saviour. He felt tired by his day’s endeavours; lay down, hot and feeling weak, and closed his eyes. He had the dream of the pale blue hand and woke from the already-awake sleep in a sweat.

Chapter Twenty-three

The Same Old Shit was about to get under way.

From SAMO to the biggest exhibition in town.

The valet parking had quadrupled in size and the lines were endless. Fortunately for Ever and Lomita, Manita was driving them in the black Suburban and was able to drop off, wait, and find her own space, in her own time.

Ever helped Lomita, resplendent Lomita, out of the car and waited while Manita extracted the wheelchair from the black mass. While standing, Lomita’s impact was evident and able to be fully appreciated.

She was adorned in a flowing black A-line dress, pintucked at the waist, which caressed her black velvet low-heeled shoes, just avoiding the floor, with rhinestones covering the body and the full flow of the skirt. Her hair was pulled into a chignon, she wore a white orchid pinned to the fabric at her shoulder, her make-up was minimal, a necklace of white gold with a pear drop diamond circled her neck, with earrings to match. A ring of equal diamond size adorned her finger. She was, by any standards, and there were some standards there, absolutely unquestionably beautiful, delicate, with the effortless quality of the unashamedly rich.