Crystal walked into the offices behind him, clutching the arm of a much younger man. The man certainly didn’t possess Roger’s elegance. Two other men followed behind. One of them tapped Crystal on the shoulder and hugged her tightly when she turned round. I waited until everyone had gone inside before I left the café and headed towards the offices.

Mr Baines Senior sat at the head of the table and looked up at the clock when I entered. It was ten minutes past ten.

‘Sorry I’m late. Rebecca Carrington. I work at the gallery.’

The silent gathering nodded in unison with reverential muted greetings. Oliver raised his hand in my direction.

Mr Baines Senior opened proceedings by telling us that the wishes of the deceased which related to immediate family members would be dealt with in a private session later. For now he wanted to read out a recently added addendum to Mr Roger Pennington’s Last Will and Testament.

‘To Oliver Moreton, a trusted and responsible employee, I leave the painting Provence by Herbert Flambert. This gift is given on the proviso that Mr Moreton signs a two-year contract to continue his employment with the gallery.’

The bequest was tied in, which we later learned, with other conditions. Crystal was forbidden from selling the gallery at any time in the future. It had been in Roger’s family since the early twentieth century and he hadn’t wanted to take the risk that it would be sold, with proceeds funding his estranged wife’s future with her younger lover. That was what Oliver and I surmised.

‘The Mother and Child sculpture I leave to Miss Rebecca Carrington. This is in lieu of her work at the gallery, her loyalty and her discretion. Miss Carrington must also sign a two-year contract to continue with her employment.’

The surprise gift certainly lifted my spirits. I knew its value. As I smiled across at Oliver, it hadn’t yet occurred to me that my sculpture was double in value to his bequest.

After a short question and answer session with the solicitor, Oliver and I left and headed to the pub, leaving the rest of the family round the table. We were both light-headed and in shock from our unexpected windfalls. If Oliver felt aggrieved at my larger prize, he didn’t use this particular moment to say so.

‘Mitch and I have split up,’ I blurted.

Oliver and I were celebrating our windfalls over a bottle of champagne, and the time seemed as good as any to ask a few questions. I was convinced Oliver knew more than he was letting on.

‘Shit. I’m sorry. What happened? I haven’t seen him for a while.’

‘Neither have I. He seems to have disappeared and I wondered if you’d any idea where he was.’

Oliver sipped his drink, pausing a moment too long before he answered.

‘I’ve no idea. I’m really sorry.’