This was the question Lomita felt propelled to answer and would it make any difference whatever she said: where did she begin? She could most definitely see talent, she could see why the artist had attracted attention in the first place. But did he meet the wrong people when he came into town? Did he not meet his Tarantino? Was he like her? He didn’t make the right person sit in wonder and awe. Is that because he never met them, or because his work was not good enough to demand that response? Would anyone ever know the answer to the question of luck, good fortune and synchronicity. Being in the right place, to meet the right people, at the right time?

Was it just that?

Lomita wheeled herself towards the door.

‘Please stay. Tell me all that you were just thinking.’

‘I think he was alone.’

Lomita delicately suggested.

‘And if you don’t have a spiritual guide, you need a human one, I don’t think he had that. He was good Ever, he was.’

‘But not brilliant, genius?’

‘You know the answer to that. How many are in a century? Or not necessarily even every century. But it doesn’t change anything. What we make, do, create, are.’

‘Of course it does. It defines us.’

‘Then no, he wasn’t a genius. Is that what you want to hear? Does it make it better if I say he was?’

‘Why do we make such a lot of fuss about being on this planet, why do we put ourselves through such pain? Is it to be immortal? Why are we so driven to be successful?’

‘Not everyone is.’

‘He wanted to be. He thought he deserved to be.’

‘How do you calculate that?’

‘What?’

Said Ever.

‘Deserving? Through the agony you put yourself or others through? That doesn’t make you better.’

Ever opened the door, with no effort; they passed Miss Money-Root at her marble slice of a desk.

‘Would you ask Mr Lorken if indeed he is free for lunch on Friday, as it was suggested he might be?’

‘Of course, Miss Nairn. His only two days at the gallery here are Monday and Friday, so he does get extremely busy, but if he suggested Friday then I am sure it is in his diary. I will email Mr Jacob to confirm.’

‘Would you please bring the car round.’

Ever was told directly, and oddly, as he wasn’t driving, but correctly sensing the suggestion of dismissal, he obeyed and went to inform Manita. Lomita stayed with Miss Money-Root with the intention of purpose; and Miss Money-Root, in anticipation of purpose, paid attention.

Lomita followed in due course, wheeling with an energy, but making a slow and proud exit. Ever stood waiting with the door open to the car, on the street outside the gallery.

*

John Everett Millen had got his showing in the Gehry building after all.

A posthumous exhibition.