‘I wish she had. I keep thinking if I hadn’t been pushing Giles to have Man Proposes ready for the show, Meredith wouldn’t have been here all alone. We could have got her to hospital –’ He covers his face with his hands.

The sofa creaks as John reaches across and grabs my hand. The office lights are too bright, but I sit there, wide-eyed, thinking about how far people are prepared to go for money. And for other things.

***

Swindon offers to escort us to the mousehole, the only entrance still in use this late at night, and make sure the guard lets us out without any problems.

‘Everyone is on edge now,’ he says, running a hand across his still-immaculate coif.

We walk slowly through the exhibition gallery. All the guests have gone and only a few waitstaff remain, picking up discarded wine glasses and fallen serviettes. A waiter passes us with a full tray of champagne flutes and seconds later there’s an almighty crash. We spin around. He’s dropped the entire load, and now the floor in front of Man Proposes glitters with broken glass, like an extension of the ice. The three of us look at each other, then turn away and keep walking.

At the mousehole, Swindon shakes John’s hand and then turns to me.

‘Thank you, Alex. I’ve got a lot to deal with here. Obviously I want to keep the publicity to a minimum, but I doubt that will be possible once they turn the spotlight on Meredith’s death.’

‘And if Cottrell’s sold other fakes, the buyers may come forward,’ I say.

Swindon winces. ‘Hopefully they’ll be too embarrassed at being taken in to want to do that.’ We look at one another and he sighs. ‘Yes, most likely too much to hope for. You’re probably going to be caught up in it too, I’m afraid.’

I give him a weak smile. ‘Can’t be helped and really, business has been so slow I could use a bit of publicity, particularly if it centres on my ability as a dealer to spot fakes.’ I don’t feel nearly as happy or confident about it as I sound.

When Swindon sticks out his hand for me to shake, I oblige.

‘What I was trying to say was, I have a lot to deal with, but I wanted you to know, Alex, that the job Barbara Cottrell offered you is no longer available.’

I’d thought this might happen, but it still feels like a kick in the guts. I drop his hand and turn away.

‘It’s not available, but I have a very recently vacated position as Head of International Art and I’d like to offer it to you.’

I slowly turn back to look at his face. ‘Are you serious?’