Still he didn’t give his name. Instead he opened the double doors on the back of the transit to reveal a tartan travelling rug spread across the back half of its interior. Clare moved aside to allow Margaret to get closer. He drew back the rug to reveal a dozen bubble-wrapped objects, two the size of baseball bats, which Clare guessed must be the swords. Glancing behind him, he leant into the back of the van and began unwrapping the items one by one. As he did so, it was all Clare could do to stop her jaw from dropping open. As well as the two swords there was a clutch of what looked like elaborate but enormous bronze safety pins, a dagger with its hilt entirely covered in delicately incised geometric decoration, and a six-inch-high figure of what appeared to be a man with his arms raised high on either side of his head.

Margaret turned to face the man, the palms of her hands turned upwards. ‘May I?’

He nodded, and Margaret reached into the back of the van. Lifting her sunglasses onto the top of her head, she began examining the objects one by one. When she came to the dagger, she picked it up and turned round towards the daylight.

He stepped sideways, barring her path. ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’

Clare held her breath. It had all been going so smoothly. But Margaret was taking enough of a risk taking her sunglasses off. What if he recognised her? And now she was facing him down.

But she needn’t have worried; Margaret didn’t miss a beat. ‘If you want me to purchase these items I need to be sure of what I’m getting. And for that I need daylight.’