CHAPTER 4

At ten in the morning, I collected Stephanie, who I’d phoned the previous night. My second bottle of wine seemed to think it was a good idea but now I wasn’t so sure; we had little in common, except, of course, Maxine. Max had told me that I was one of the few males Stephanieliked.

‘Jeez, there’s not much room in these cars, is there? Sometimes wish I was one of those short, petite sorts.’ She leant over and kissed me lightly on the cheek. ‘So, how’reyou?’

The car’s indicator clicked like a pulse as I manoeuvred out of the gutter. ‘All right, Iguess.’

‘Good. I mean, of course, you’re not good but…you know… I’m always here if you feel like you want to talk. I mean…whatever suits you. Sorry, I’ll shutup.’

I looked at the road ahead. ‘I’m all right.’ I was pleased to have silencevisit.

Stephanie broke first. ‘So, what’s it a paintingof?’

‘I think it’s a beach scene, a house…I’m notsure.’

‘A beach scene….with a house …did she know who the artistwas?’

‘Don’t thinkso.’

‘How much did itcost?’

‘Not sure.’ I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, I was trying to crush it. Better than telling her to shutup.

Stephanie turned her gaze to the passengerwindow.

Eventually, we weaved our way around the Western RingRoad.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I know it’s painful.’ She put her hand lightly on my arm, and I patted hers quickly, as if to say, ‘Iknow.’

‘I just want to get it right. So, you’re saying that Max said that she knew the place – you know, the house, the scene, whatever – in thepainting?’

I swallowed, took my time. ‘She s