‘I never knew that. Francis never told me.’

‘Poor James. So innocent.’

I preferred to think of myself as experienced, so I didn’t reply. The music covered the silence. Jessica was nodding along with it, and making occasional taps on the table with the neat crescent of her nail to simulate the beat. Something had been bothering me since she had first shown me the article, a low mental buzz that had seemed too vague to mention. I decided to take advantage of her receptive mood, and articulate my worries. ‘Jessica, did it ever occur to you . . . did you ever think we might not just be in trouble with the police?’

She cocked her head on one side, and a frown furrowed her brow. The glass fell over. I caught it before it rolled off the table. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, let’s take a worst-case scenario. If the police do cast doubts on the picture’s authenticity, and they manage to discover that someone sold the original . . .’ I pulled up short. I wanted to test my logic, to see if she would reach the same conclusion without prompting.

‘Yeah?’ Jessica was impatient of her own ignorance and it whetted her tone. I waited a few more seconds, but saw nothing beyond mounting irritation.

‘Don’t you think we might want to watch out for the buyer? I mean, the first thing you did when you found out was to see what steps you could take to cover yourself. Don’t you think it’s possible he might have taken the same course of action?’

‘Who, Augustus White? That fat old fool we met in the club? Christ, he must be about sixty by now. A bit too old to go breaking out the crowbars, don’t you think?’

‘You know, I never told you guys this, but he threatened me. Told me if we ever told anyone what we had done, he’d kill us.’

‘What did you expect him to say? “Rat me out and I’ll give you a biscuit?”’

This made me laugh despite myself, and though I still wasn’t convinced I decided to leave the matter. There was no point in forcing her to feel more worried than she already was. Jessica dipped her chin and looked at the table, proud that she had made me laugh against my will.

‘You know the really sad thing?’ I asked her.

She smiled. ‘Which one is the saddest?’

‘It wasn’t even that much money. I mean, I know that sounds spoilt, it sounds awful, but the senior partners at my firm make twice that much in a year. We gave up our lives for that.’

‘Don’t be melodramatic,’ she said. ‘We didn’t give up our lives. Well, I mean, at least you and I . . . Do you want to leave here?’

‘What?’ I asked.

‘Do you want to go somewhere? We’ve been in your flat all night, and I’m not going to get to sleep. We could go on a field trip.’