Matthew had noticed this when he was still a schoolboy. There had been a boy his class, Hector McFarlane, who had been blessed with a countenance and smile so appealing that even the sternest heart would melt on being exposed to this double-barrelled charm offensive. This youth, whose boisterous boyish misdeeds were legion, got away with them all because none of the teachers could bring themselves to punish one who looked so like a Florentine painter’s image of innocence in the garden. And this had continued, Matthew believed, throughout Hector’s career. Women forgave him everything, and men too, although none realised that they were doing it. Lookism, thought Matthew in retrospect. Like ageism and sexism, lookism was everywhere, resulting in the good-looking getting the best jobs, winning all the plaudits, being let off the most parking tickets by soft-hearted traffic wardens; being generally favoured.

And Matthew himself had been guilty of this in his choosing of Kirsty for the position of his assistant. Kirsty had seen the advertisement early and had been the first to telephone to arrange an interview. Matthew had invited her down to the gallery and had asked no more than three questions when he offered her the post.

‘You’re just the person I’ve been looking for,’ he announced. ‘If you want the job, it’s yours.’

Kirsty had been slightly surprised and had asked him if he wanted to hear about the experience she had had in helping out in a Glasgow gallery owned by friends of her parents.

‘Yes, of course I’d like to hear about that,’ said Matthew politely. ‘I was going to ask you. Do tell me.’

He half listened as she told him of the exhibitions she had helped to organise, but his heart was not in it and when she had finished he merely nodded and said, ‘That’s all fine. When do you want to start?’

Angus had seen Kirsty when he had walked past the gallery on the day that she started work. He had paused, pretending to look at a painting propped up on an easel in the window, but had been secretly staring at the glamorous new assistant sitting at the desk on the other side of the room. Later he reported to Big Lou what he had seen. ‘Matthew has a new little helper in the gallery,’ he said. ‘I take it you’ve seen her.’

‘I have not,’ said Big Lou. ‘Have you?’

Angus rolled his eyes. ‘Very pretty.’

Big Lou gave him a scathing look.

‘I don’t know where he finds these girls,’ Angus went on. ‘That girl Pat was attractive enough, but this one, my goodness me!’

‘Matthew’s a married man,’ said Big Lou. ‘I’m sure that how this girl looks is neither here nor there.’

Angus corrected himself. ‘Of course, of course. It’s just that … well, she’s very … how shall I put it?’