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A-list celebrities. Everybody had their own suggestions to make, and at one point Melissa and Derek wrangled briefly over two of the names. One was the art critic of an important broadsheet who had previously been a lover of Melissa’s, had dumped her, and had been the subjectof a vendetta by Melissa ever since. The other was a young female artist shortlisted for last year’s Turner Prize, who had poured beer over Derek at an Ellsworth Kelly retrospective and called him a pretentious wanker. When, it had been pointed out by the rest of those present that both critic and artist were too important to omit from the guest list, the grumbling subsided and the meeting moved on to the business of fixing an exact date for the opening. This was largely dictated by the availability of the most important guests, which Chay had already ascertained, and they eventually settled on the evening of the first Saturday in March.
    ‘I’ll have some invitations designed and let you all see them first. Anything else we need to discuss?’ asked Chay, lighting another cigarette and glancing round.
    ‘Just one thing,’ said Graham Amery. ‘What about that idea that you floated before Christmas, Chay – the one about the restaurant and the cinema? I mean, it would obviously enhance the museum if we could have more than a coffee shop, and although the cinema idea is ambitious, I think it’s worth looking at. There’s certainly enough space on the site, and it seems a pity not to utilise it.’
    ‘I agree,’ said Melissa. ‘The coffee shop’s all very well, but a decent restaurant would be fantastic. Shoreditch is only beginning to wake up as an area, and it could be just the thing the museum needs. Obviously it would be a long-term project, but I really think we should definitely investigate it. A cinema would be marvellous, too – art house movies, Basquiat, that kind of thing …’ She waved a vague hand, then added doubtfully, ‘I suppose that would be rather expensive, though.’
    ‘Well, that’s the trouble,’ said Chay. ‘Money. I’m all for the idea in principle, but where would we get the funding?’
    Nobody said anything for a few seconds. Everybody was thinking the same thing. Surely Chay was rolling in the stuff, so why didn’t he fund it himself? But as Chay’s office staff could have told them, Chay was remarkably tight-fisted. He hated parting with his own money, kept a strict eye on the teabags, and, anyway, he would have argued, he had already expended a considerable amount on refurbishing the brewery. He wasn’t about to volunteer to build a restaurant and a cinema with his own money, not if he could find someone else to pay for them.
    ‘There are grants,’ said Leo. ‘Possibly Lottery money.’
    ‘Why don’t I look into it?’ said Anthony, scribbling it down with the rest of his notes. He was bored and hungry and wanted to get away. ‘Maybe Tony can help with finding out the sort of funding that’s available.’ He glanced at Tony Gear, who nodded.
    ‘Fine,’ said Chay. ‘See what you can come up with.’
    The meeting broke up. Anthony picked up his coat and went to join Leo. Just as they were leaving, Melissa stopped them at the doorway and touched Leo’s arm. He was startled, unaware that she had been anywhere near him, and almost flinched. The musky breath of her perfume enveloped him.
    ‘Leo, I was wondering … Are you going in my direction? My car’s being serviced, and you know how hard it is to find a cab around here.’ Her beseeching smile was too winsome for a woman of her age, and somehow repellent. The last thing Leo wanted was to be alone in a car with this woman.That was how the whole thing had started – by giving her a lift home after that first trustees’ meeting. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.
    He moved his arm from beneath her hand. ‘I’m going in the opposite direction, I’m afraid. I’ll be happy to ring for a cab, though.’
    ‘Oh, no, don’t