‘Sarah, this is Alan Nesbitt and his wife Dorothy Martin. Mr Nesbitt is a retired policeman. We met yesterday in Cheltenham.’ She turned to us. ‘My friend, Sarah Robinson. I hope I got your names right.’ Everyone made the appropriate noises. ‘I’m so sorry for intruding,’ I said, ‘but the door was open. We didn’t know . . .’ ‘Of course not.’ Ms Robinson had recovered her manners. She was a woman in her forties, not beautiful, but extremely tidy and well-groomed. She pushed her glasses back on her nose. ‘Not your fault in the least. There’s another big painting coming in, so we left the door open. But I do have to ask you to leave. The security system isn’t . . . that is, the insurance . . .’ Alan came to her rescue. ‘We understand. And I’m terribly sorry I stumbled over the painting, but I don’t believe I’ve done any damage. You might want to take a look to be certain . . .’ He stopped speaking. Neither Ms Robinson nor Ms Carter was paying him any attention.
What do You think about The Evil That Men Do (2011)?
