Some artists who worked in oils used canvas, others painted straight onto hardboard, but a few, like himself, liked to paint on gesso. This was a compound made for him by David Graham, his framer, comprising white glue, calcium carbonate and zinc with white pigment, heated then applied to hardboard; it was a modern version of the moist lime plaster, fresco, that many of the great Italian Renaissance painters, including Michelangelo, used for their murals. Jason liked to work with it because, in addition to brushes, he used a scalpel to get certain effects, one of which was animal hairs, which he achieved by scraping away the paint, very finely, down to the base.

He selected a board from the three different-sized ones stacked against a wall, checked it for imperfections – rare, as David Graham was a total perfectionist, to the point of being a pain in the arse at times – and lovingly placed it on the easel. Beneath it, he pinned the photograph of the dogs and his composition sketches. He worked in three sizes, with prices accordingly. This commission was for a medium-size: 40 x 40 cm.

Walking back over to his laptop, he opened iTunes and went to his playlists, feeling in a London Grammar mood today, and clicked on one of their albums.

As the lead began singing deeply and softly in the background, he tied on his black, paint-spattered apron, pulled a fresh pair of surgical gloves out of the box, and snapped them on.

Next, he went over to his trestle table, on which he had laid out everything he needed – the sheets of paper for mixing his paints, the jar of white spirit in which he kept his brushes, the scalpel and spare blades, the tubes of Winsor & Newton paints, and his pencils and charcoal for sketching.

He selected a pencil then stood in front of the blank gesso board, focusing, getting himself into the zone. Behind him, he heard the sound of the door opening, then felt Emily’s presence, coming up behind him. He felt a flash of irritation. She knew how much he needed solitude to work and never interrupted him, unless it was an absolute emergency. And she was well aware how tight he was on time, and just how important this commission was – his client was the CEO of a digital advertising company and had talked about commissioning him to do paintings for the lobby of their London Docklands office. He absolutely had to deliver a good piece, and on time.

For some moments he ignored her, leaning forward and making the first mark on the board, outlining where he felt the sofa should be positioned.

But she was distracting him too much.

He turned around, irritated. ‘What, darling?’

It wasn’t Emily.

21

Sunday 16 December

It was a woman in her thirties, with short dark hair, smartly dressed in a black suit with a white blouse. She stood there for a fleeting instant with a strange smile on her face.