Angus took a sip of his coffee. ‘You could have a flying cosmetic surgeon,’ he mused. ‘He could get in his plane and fly off to deal with remote cases of dissatisfaction with the shape of a nose or something. You could get that.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Big Lou.

‘Where’s your sense of humour?’ Angus asked. ‘I was just speculating.’

Big Lou said nothing. She had put down her cloth and sat down on her chair behind the counter, picking up her book as she did so.

‘She’s offended,’ whispered Matthew. ‘You’ve offended her, Angus.’

‘I can’t see why she’s so touchy,’ protested Angus. Big Lou appeared to be far more sensitive than usual and it seemed that he could say nothing without incurring her disapproval.

‘Perhaps she’s contemplating cosmetic surgery,’ said Matthew.

He had spoken in a low voice, not one he would have thought that Big Lou would hear, but she looked up sharply and gave Matthew a look that made him wonder – absurd thought – whether he had alighted, unintentionally perhaps, on the truth.

20. The Aphrodite of Dundas Street

Some time later, Angus Lordie and Matthew went their separate ways, leaving Big Lou to serve a small group of visitors who had wandered down her perilous steps. These newcomers had caught a whiff on the street of the coffee brewing within and had been drawn down towards it, as by Sirens.

Angus, although reluctant to leave, returned to his studio in Drummond Place. He would have willingly stayed at Big Lou’s the whole morning, talking to whomsoever would engage him in conversation, verbally sparring with Big Lou or discussing the world and its ways with Matthew. But he knew that he could not put off his return to his studio indefinitely; he had a painting to finish, he had a life to lead, even if it was a life of loneliness and longing for something else that he could never quite define, and would probably not recognise if he ever found it. For his part, Matthew crossed the road to his gallery. In the past he had stuck up a Back Soon notice on the front door when he went off for his coffee break, but recently he had decided that this was unprofessional and had engaged an assistant to help him in the gallery for several hours each morning and to cover for him when he went out for his regular coffee session. This young woman, Kirsty, was a student, as had been Pat, his last employee, but there the similarity ended. Whereas Pat had been a relatively quiet girl, an observer, Matthew thought, rather than a participant, Kirsty was gregarious and enthusiastic, perhaps even a bit opinionated at times. But she was forgiven that – not only by Matthew, but by everyone – on the quite simple grounds of her extreme physical beauty. And the beautiful are forgiven; no matter how egregious their shortcomings, they are forgiven.