On our journey from Crouch End to Guildford we talked mainly about Roger, plans for the gallery and the weather. The sun shone as the small party bundled into the old medieval church where we listened to heartfelt readings from extended family members. In the absence of children, Roger’s closest relations outside of Crystal’s family were his two brothers. I’d met them only briefly when I first started at the gallery. Rob, the elder brother, who must have been in his early fifties, read a eulogy. He outlined in grave sentiment the sadness of a wasted life.

It was at the graveside that I noticed James, Roger’s younger brother. A tentative butterfly fluttered in my stomach when he smiled across; a winsome smile with a hint of flirtation. He was as tall as Roger but with much more defined features. I kept my eyes down, aware of Oliver’s ever-closer presence as he took my arm. It was a territorial gesture.

Once inside the local hostelry, everyone’s mood lifted. As we all stood around the bar, immediate family introduced themselves to the mourners.

‘Hi. I’m James. You must be Rebecca, Roger’s right-hand woman.’

‘Hi. Yes, I’m Rebecca. I’m so sorry about Roger.’

Oliver leant across and introduced himself. He was stuck fast to my side.

Something about James’s confidence and arrogance reminded me of Mitch. James seemed undaunted by Oliver’s presence and chatted easily about the gallery and fond memories of his brother.

‘I’ll pop over next week and we can go through the accounts. I’ll give you a call. It was good to meet you both.’ With that, James wandered off and mingled with the crowd.

Once out of earshot, Oliver was quick to belittle the entire family, spouting off under his breath about ‘silver spoons’ and entitlement. The alcohol had loosened his thoughts and his tongue. I decided it was time to go. I suggested we made a move as I wanted to get back before dark.

We didn’t speak much on the drive home but when we reached my flat, Oliver asked, ‘Why don’t I pop up for a quick nightcap? It’s been quite a day. Also I desperately need the loo.’

It was a rhetorical question as he was out of the car before I came up with an excuse. For some reason I still didn’t want to appear rude. He locked the car and followed closely behind, waiting as I took the door key from my bag.

Sharing company, late at night, with people who weren’t Mitch made things worse. It highlighted the sadness. Also I was feeling more and more uneasy around Oliver. I knew instinctively that he was using the turn of events to his advantage.

Once inside, he made himself at home, extracting a half-drunk bottle of wine from the fridge before dimming the already flickering lights. ‘Here’s to new beginnings!’