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tedious…and then he saw it. Moments earlier, he had removed a heavy gilt frame, standing nearly to his shoulder, which leaned against a far wall. In the gloom, his eyes alighted on the painting concealed behind it. Christ, it stopped him in his tracks. The canvas revealed a stark and somewhat crude image of a naked woman, her limbs angled grotesquely and openly, inviting the onlooker to gape at her large purple breasts and inflamed genitalia. The labia had, in fact, been painted perversely oversized, in minute detail, and effectively portrayed the woman as deformed and unashamed, wantonly baring her available charms, exposing her to ridicule. On closer inspection, the artist had depicted a red scar on the left breast of the nude figure, and further lesions on both her wrists. At first sight, Michael was repelled by the portrait and the nastiness with which the sitter was graphically shown. The pornographic image revealed the artist to be a hater of this woman, for she had been violated permanently in this depiction of ugliness. And yet, in a strange manner, he was irresistibly transfixed by this vision of an alternative take on beauty. It took his breath away because he immediately recognised that Julius had painted the portrait of his wife.
    â€˜What do you think? ’
    He swivelled awkwardly, caught like a thief in a shop. He released the frame as if it was contaminated. It thudded against the wall.
    Michael composed himself sufficiently to hide his awkwardness. ‘Well,’ he gestured with a wide exaggerated arc of his arm, ‘Where do I begin? It’s a real mess to be frank with you. ’ He’d hoped that his theatrical over-the-top motion was sufficient to distract her from the clatter he had just made. The painting embarrassed him, and surely embarrassed her. Why else would it be hidden?
    â€˜Oh,’ she murmured, ‘I was rather hoping you would approve…’
    â€˜ Excuse me ? ’ He was now flustered, and hot.
    â€˜Of my dress, silly! ’ Lauren had an infectious laugh. ‘I’ve changed into something I thought you might like. What do you think? ’
    Michael’s face turned red. Thankfully, she was not referring to the offending canvas.
    â€˜I keep putting my foot into it, don’t I? ’ He said lamely.
    â€˜Somewhat. ’
    He took this opportunity to study her with an appreciative eye.
    â€˜Stunning,’ he said finally. ‘Lovely…you look absolutely lovely. The dress becomes you. I’m beginning to feel that I’m on a date! ’
    She laughed again, tossing her head back, the black silk skirt swaying with her easy body movement. ‘The salmon’s ready. Can I drag you away, or is your professional curiosity above that of having a date with a girl who dresses for lunch? ’
    â€˜I’m honoured,’ he said, laughing. ‘Lead on, I am but your humble servant. ’ In reality, he was still reeling from the sight of the painting, the laughter simply deflecting from this hideous shock.
    Fortunately, Lauren joined in the fun and appeared to have missed his uncomfortable reaction to her creeping up behind him in the studio.
    â€˜And therefore, you must do as I command! ’ She responded with a mixture of gaiety and edginess in her voice.
    He followed her like a lamb to the slaughter.
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    ***
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    Michael washed his hands in the kitchen sink as Lauren laid the table and served the fish and side salad. This was an immensely agreeable time, he reminded himself. These moments helped to deflect from his personal trials and tribulations, by letting him think about her problems. He found himself listening to her with a patience he had never found with Adele, aware that his fixation with this woman who dressed for him and cooked for him was both appallingly pathetic and – he recalled his earlier description – dangerous. For God’s sake, she could be fifteen years younger, he chastised himself