‘Everyone calls me Viv,’ I reply, jumping up from the chair in the foyer as Hannah greets me. We shake hands, and she beckons me into the office. While the public parts of the museum are all polished wood and ornate chandeliers, the staff areas appear to have a more beleaguered air. The grey carpet in the cavernous space is grubby, and desks are cluttered with paperwork, the odd tired-looking plant, and wire trays bearing messily stacked folders.

There’s tons of stuff on the walls: calendars depicting wildlife and city scenes, and posters of various exhibitions held here – Jewels From The Tombs, Pictish Village Life, Curios Under Glass: The Art of Taxidermy. All look slightly yellowed and are curling at the edges. There’s a smell of dust and a hint of disinfectant. Various whiteboards and charts have apparently been scribbled on in haste – unless everyone has terrible handwriting around here – with marker pens. I follow Hannah through to a smaller room, right at the back of the main space, presumably so we have privacy, although the only other staff I have seen this evening were the front desk personnel.

‘Please, take a seat,’ she says. This is far cosier, more like a snug than an office. There are two squashy armchairs upholstered in burgundy velvet, with a small low table in between.

I spot my proposal sitting there.

Hannah picks it up. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. I’d guess her at late thirties; her face is make-up free, apart from a neutral lipstick, and she is wearing a khaki linen button-through dress and tan flats.

‘Thanks for taking the time to see me,’ she says with a bright smile. ‘I really appreciate it, especially after all the work you’ve done on this already.’

‘That’s okay,’ I say. ‘I was happy to come in.’

‘I won’t keep you too long, I hope.’

‘It’s fine, I’m not in a great hurry.’ I give silent thanks to Jules for having Izzy after school today.

‘Can I start by asking how well you know Penny?’

So, here I go.