A Hallowed Place by Caro Fraser

was just what he needed. Lots of space, good light.’
    ‘It must be costing a fortune to do up,’ said Leo.
    ‘He’s got a grant from English Heritage to restore the fabric of the building, so that’s a start. And, of course, Lord Stockeld is chipping in a hefty sum to help fund the collection. The rest is all Chay’s own money,’ said Anthony. ‘But, as he said, there’s a good chance of lottery money once the trust is up and running.’
    They went in through the large front door, which stood open. They found themselves in a small vestibule, and beyond they could hear the sound of voices. Passing along a short corridor, they emerged into a large, airy room, as high as the building itself, with a gallery running round.
    Chay was at the far end, with three other people. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Anthony and Leo. ‘Good to see you. Leo, let me introduce a few of your co-trustees. Tony Gear, MP, Derek Harvey, Graham Amery. This is Leo Davies, who’s going to add a bit of legal weight to the show. I’m afraid Lord Stockeld can’t be with us this evening. He’s in Frankfurt on business.’
    Leo shook hands with each man in turn, he and Amery giving one another a brief grin of recognition. From what he could recall of the Barrett’s Bank case a few years ago, Amery’s dapper, slightly self-deprecating air masked afiercely conscientious and industrious personality, and Leo wasn’t surprised he had risen to become its chairman. Gear, in his mid-thirties, was some fifteen years Amery’s junior, a short, rotund creature, with bright, ambitious eyes set in a clever, schoolboyish face, and floppy dark hair. He was dressed in a nondescript grey suit and suede shoes. Leo had trouble recalling whether he was Labour, Conservative or Lib Dem. Certainly his face and his faintly aggressive, gravelly voice were familiar from news soundbites. He was a regular spokesman on some issue or other, but Leo couldn’t for the life of him remember what. Derek Harvey he recognised from the small, blurred black-and-white photograph which accompanied his column in one of the daily papers. He was taller than Leo had imagined, with curling grey hair and pouched, tired features, dressed in a long, shabby raincoat over jeans and a sweatshirt.
    ‘Quite a venture, this,’ remarked Derek Harvey. ‘Good location.’ He gestured round the lofty room. ‘This will be superb for large installation pieces.’
    ‘I was just showing everyone round,’ said Chay, ‘while we wait for Melissa. She rang to say she’s running late. Come through and I’ll show you the area that I’ve got marked out for the video installations. I think you’ll like it.’
    Chay led them through a series of high-ceilinged areas. Work had begun on whitewashing the brick walls and on fitting lighting. The floors were still littered with the debris of builders and electricians, and as the group picked its way among planks, spools of flex and pots of paint, Chay kept up a running commentary on the functions of each individual area.
    Eventually he glanced at his watch. ‘I think we’d better make a start,’ he said. ‘Melissa didn’t say how late she’d be.’ He led them all through to a long, low-ceilinged meeting room, which still smelt of fresh varnish. An oval table stood in the centre, surrounded by chairs, and everyone sat down.
    The meeting commenced in an orderly fashion. Chay, who was normally something of a laid back individual, had been galvanised by enthusiasm for his project, and had set about organising matters with surprising efficiency. It helped that Anthony had been drafted in to act as secretary and general legal consultant. For this Leo was grateful; he hadn’t wanted his own role in all this to be too onerous.
    Chay opened the meeting with a little speech about the aims of the project, then Leo added his signature to the others on the trust documents and a general discussion began about the museum’s collection policy. At this