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At the end of the valley, Becker turns right, driving north-west towards the coast. The speedometer has barely touched sixty when an ambulance shrieks past, blue light flashing, and within a mile the road is blocked. It’s a bad one, the young policeman manning the roadblock grimaces. Motorcyclist. It’s going to be a while. You’re probably better off going the long way round.

Becker turns back, racing through the valley, his eye drawn to the clock on the dash. If he doesn’t get to Eris before 10.45 he’ll miss the tide, and it’s 9.12 now, so that means, hang on, what does that mean? He fiddles with the GPS, reroute, reroute, you stupid bloody thing , his foot heavy on the accelerator. As he takes the final, sharp corner at the head of the valley, he feels the back end of the car start to slide. He slams his foot on the brake, stomach lurching and heart pounding as the vehicle swings wildly across the double white line. In his mind he sees Grant Wood’s Death on the Ridge Road , the black saloon seeming to cower in terror before the onrushing red lorry, he sees his own body, crushed between seat and wheel, he imagines Helena’s voice as she answers the call, wavering before it breaks.

Light-headed with adrenaline, he drives on, back down to forty miles an hour now, trying to lower his heart rate by focusing on the matter at hand. There’s an opportunity here, he needs to seize it, he needs to handle this business with Grace Haswell just right.

He’ll start with Division II . This disputed rib – that’s his way in. He’s assuming that Haswell won’t know anything – nothing definitive , in any case – about the origins of that bone, so he can then ask whether there were preparatory sketches or other notes about the piece, and from there, he can segue neatly on to the subject of Vanessa’s journals.

He has read a couple – they were sent along with the second shipment of paintings – but knows from interviews that she wrote in notebooks throughout her working life so there should be dozens. Letters, too, and photographs – all manner of invaluable material. But he’s going to have to handle things delicately if he’s going to get anywhere, to undo the damage that was done by Sebastian’s father and his lawyers.

The fact is – the fact no one acknowledges because of the circumstances – this entire affair has been mishandled. That was partly understandable – the contents of Chapman’s will came as a shock to everyone in the art world. No one imagined that she would leave her entire artistic estate to Fairburn, the foundation established by Sebastian’s father, Douglas Lennox, Vanessa’s former gallerist and, for the last part of her life, her bitter enemy.

When the news became public, Douglas crowed. Vanessa Chapman had seen sense at last! The bequest represented, he claimed in interviews, a posthumous apology. It was an admission of the terrible wrong she had done him all those years ago; evidence that even after more than a decade of estrangement, Vanessa had not forgotten him or all that he had done for her. Their connection, deep and intimate as it was, had never been broken after all.

It took more than a year for probate to come through, but once it had, the shipment of pieces to Fairburn began. That was when things began to go awry. Without providing evidence, Douglas claimed that paintings were missing. He wrote to Grace Haswell, Vanessa’s executor, accusing her of incompetence. Later, he all but accused her of theft. Lawyers were engaged on both sides.

It was into this mess that Becker arrived. Sebastian’s old college pal and a Vanessa Chapman expert, he was initially under strict instructions not to meddle in the Haswell affair – it was being handled by the lawyers. But then suddenly – tragically – Douglas died. Accidentally shot during a deer cull on the estate.

All bets were off. The lawyers were stood down while Sebastian and his mother grieved. Sebastian’s forthcoming wedding to Helena Fitzgerald was postponed. The family’s business interests were restructured, the Highlands estate sold. Sebastian took over the running of the business. Then the pandemic hit, muddying the waters further, delaying any possibility of direct action.

This new development, however – this thing about the bone used in Division II – has presented Becker with an opportunity to take a fresh approach to the situation.

The mistake that Douglas and Sebastian and their lawyers have made all along, Becker believes, has been to treat Grace Haswell as Chapman’s executor. She is , of course, but she was also Chapman’s friend, her companion for almost twenty years, her carer towards the end of her life. There are rumours that they might have been lovers.

For Becker, the opportunity to meet this woman is tantalizing: there can be no one better placed to offer an insight into the real Vanessa Chapman. She is a contact to be cultivated, not ostracized, surely?

Who knows what she might have to give them? What insights she could offer? What stories she has to tell?