‘I’m really not sure what to say, Barbara.’ I try to sound like the idolising student she still thinks I am. She smiles. Then I jab my elbow hard into Fiona’s stomach and start running.

***

It wasn’t that I thought Fiona was much of a threat, I just really wanted to get one in for Meredith.

I’ve only gone a few steps before a figure looms up in front of me and with a shriek I crash straight into a chest and outstretched arms.

‘Alex, Alex. Stop!’

‘John?’ I stop flailing about and for a brief moment, my head rests in the crook of John’s neck, then I ease back a little and look up into his face. ‘It’s Barbara and Fiona. They’re in it together. The fakes. Only nobody is going to believe me. They’re back there.’

‘It’s okay, Alex. You’re okay.’ His arms are still around me.

I shake my head wildly. ‘Of course I’m okay. Except Barbara’s got the paintings and she’s going to … Everything I’ve worked for.’

Suddenly overhead spots snap on, bathing the Great Hall in harsh light, and over by the wall I can see Giles and Robert Swindon, the Museum Director. He must be the one who flipped the switch. I loosen my hold on John enough to turn around. Barbara and Fiona are still there. For a moment I lock eyes with Barbara, then she folds her arms and strides forward, Fiona trailing in her wake.

‘Thank God you’re here, Robert,’ she calls. ‘We have a situation that needs to be dealt with immediately.’

Giles and Robert start moving and everyone converges on our patch of floor. I make an effort to pull myself together, taking comfort from John’s arm around me. He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Giles stops a little way back, but Robert steps past John and me, almost ending up toe to toe with Barbara.

‘Yes, I heard there was a situation, which is why I’m here and not schmoozing with some of our biggest benefactors.’

‘I understand. You shouldn’t be wasting your time. But I’m sure we can clear things up quickly.’ Barbara places a hand on his arm, a bony little claw with an incongruously perfect manicure. ‘Alex Clayton seems to have developed some mad conspiracy theory about fraudulent art and the unfortunate death of Meredith Buchanan. And she’s inveigled her gentlemen friends into assisting her.’

I’m so angry my vision almost goes white and I start forward, but John’s grip suddenly tightens and he holds me back. He leans down to my ear. ‘Shhh.’

I shoot him a sideways look and he does it again, exaggerating the shape of his mouth. ‘Shhh.’