May switched on the smile which could blind at a thousand paces. ‘How lucky you are. Back home, we are forced to rely on rich individuals.’

A group of women, all wearing identical green plastic macs, filed in through the entrance and Jean-Luc’s attention was diverted. Laure asked May if she wanted to see her install the bridal veil which she had earmarked for Room 2.

‘I get it,’ said May on entering and surveying the display. ‘The theme is clothing.’

One wall of the room was taken up by a full-sized display case, approximately six foot by twelve.

There was a plain white T-shirt on which was printed ‘Iron Maiden’. The positioning of the transfer, however, had been imprecise and the ‘I’ was lost under the armpit. At a quick glance the legend read: ‘ron Maiden’.

‘Ron Maiden?’

‘I’ve a soft spot for him,’ said Laure. ‘He makes me laugh.’

‘He sounds a loser.’

‘Apparently he was.’ Laure pointed to the label and May read out. ‘He couldn’t even get the T-shirt correct.’

Laure wrestled with the lock to the cabinet. ‘Pass over the veil.’

Laure worked at arranging it and made sure that the bite mark was evident. May took a tour of the objects in the cases and halted in front of the cabinet by the door. ‘A puppet?’

Laure tugged at the final fold of netting, arranged the label and backed out of the cabinet. Standing back, she assessed her handiwork. Draped and folded, the layers of white netting projected an intense aura. ‘It’s a marionette, actually.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘Marionettes always have strings and are manipulated from above, puppets don’t.’ She glanced at May. ‘Hand puppets. Glove puppets.’

‘Tell me about this one.’

‘Marenka? She comes from a Czech marionette theatre. The Marenkas were used for the ingenue parts, including Sleeping Beauty.’ Laure did not need to check up on her for she knew her contours and jointed crevices as well as the lines on her hand. Every painted, rattling inch of her.

‘She’s quite a girl,’ observed May. ‘She sort of… sort of dominates.’

It was true. Dressed in a calico gown with an intricately patterned lace veil thrown over her head from which a brown plait hung down behind, Marenka dominated the back of the display cabinet and demanded attention. Look at me. Properly. I connect with your deepest, darkest fears. I feed your hungry imagination.

May took a step back. ‘Creepy?’

‘You get used to her.’ Laure pointed to a space between the windows. ‘When she first came, we hung her on the wall over there, which is the traditional way. But if a draught caught her, she clacked. Chantal and others found it a bit disconcerting. I did, too, I suppose.’ She smiled. ‘Banished to the display case, she has to behave.’

‘Can I touch her? Please?’

Laure unlocked the cabinet and, reaching inside, May nudged Marenka who, obediently, shook out her limbs.