A Programme Without Lies

Fleur already had the proof in her bag when Hester came out of the hall. She had not put it on the table. The afternoon meeting would have to start without Hester because Merel's appointment took precedence; the decisions about the public had to be settled before then. Tessa stood by the foyer with her camera bag over one shoulder, watching the clock in a way nobody could accidentally miss.

'I've got until one,' she said. 'Then I'm off to my other client. My assistant's there already.'

Fleur took the proof out of her bag. On the front was an old photograph of De Werf, overlaid with the words Back to the Beginning, Together. Hester could see herself in the doorway, a hand on the frame, her face half turned towards somebody outside the picture. There was nothing wrong with the photograph. She could no longer bear the line above it.

'This isn't going to the printer,' she said.

'We've already decided that,' Fleur replied. 'I'm showing you what we're throwing away. Not what I'm secretly planning to hand out anyway.'

Tessa took the proof and crossed out the line in pencil. She did it without drama, as she might change a crop. 'We don't need this photograph either. There are people in it who don't want to share a poster now.'

They sat at the table beside the entrance. Hester chose it so that suppliers could find them and because she did not want a private meeting in the old office. She noticed how natural the decision had become. No chairs were needed upstairs now, no boxes someone supposedly had to get into. Storage for the event would be downstairs, in the rear storeroom off the side corridor.

Fleur's laptop showed the current list. Eighteen people had signed up for Saturday's limited preview, all adults involved with the works or the preparations. Many more had been approached about Sunday, with different messages on different days. The false cancellation had got mixed in with them. There was no button they could press to reach everyone reliably at once.

'We'll ring anyone we've got a number for,' Hester said. 'The others get a fresh confirmation the same way they received their invitation. A small gathering, people dropping in during the agreed hours, without a retrospective on her death. No need to sign up, so anyone can simply decide to stay at home.'

'The association wants a notice for its newsletter,' Fleur said. 'If we use the word investigation, it'll be on every local website within two hours.'

'Then we don't use it to draw people in. We say the original programme has changed and questions about the gathering should go to you. We don't promise revelations.'

Tessa moved her chair towards the screen. 'Or that we're finding closure together. That sounds as if everyone's lined up ready for a photograph.'

Fleur changed the text. It was slow work. Every smooth phrase she began to type promised something they could not deliver: healing, a tribute, a fresh start. In the end it said that a small selection of work would be on display, with its makers' names where these had been established. Anyone who wanted a conversation could have one. The organisers would not discuss individual statements given to the police.

'That last bit's rather stark,' Fleur said.

'It's what you can say if someone asks who's guilty,' Hester said. 'It doesn't have to go on the door in big letters.'

They wrote two versions, one for the invitations and one for the staff. The first took less than half a page. The second was longer. Anyone asked about Brecht's death was not to refer people to Robin as though she were a living information desk. Nobody would be photographed without being asked. There would be no surprise speeches. People who did not want to come owed no explanation.

Fleur briefly closed the laptop. 'I gave her the addresses. For the invitations.'

'You've told us that,' Hester said.

'Yes. But a list of what we aren't doing makes it sound as if I'm just the responsible organiser now. I helped her set this up. I thought we needed a shock. Then we'd all have one proper conversation and be able to move on.'

Tessa took the pencil out of her hair. 'You still want us to be able to take a group photograph afterwards. Just not today.'

Fleur did not smile. 'Maybe. I'm trying to work out what I'm actually organising without that photograph.'

Hester saw the tiredness beneath her eyes. It was no reason to give her a happy ending after all. 'A small gathering you made arrangements for. You don't have to get more meaning out of it than the people bring themselves.'

Someone knocked at the outer door. Hester went to let in Sanne de Boer, who was early for the discussion of her shifts. She already had her reading glasses in her hand and carried a notebook repaired down the front with broad tape.

'Good,' she said when she saw the table. 'I can pester everyone at once. Which version's the real one? I've got three emails and a screenshot.'

She put down her phone. The screenshot was the false cancellation, to which someone had now added question marks. Fleur began explaining how confusing the week had been, but Sanne held up a hand. 'I can well believe it. I just need to know what to say if someone turns up tomorrow.'

Hester pulled the staff instructions towards her. 'Saturday, half past one until six, limited number of invited guests. Sunday, eleven until four. You cover the foyer and the list, and we don't all go round the back at once. Amir's in the building from eight on Saturday and available for maintenance until five. After that Fleur takes over as the point of contact. The front door and rear exit stay usable. The towpath gate isn't a public entrance.'

Sanne noted the times and asked where the first-aid kit was kept. Then she asked whether anyone would be closing alone. Hester named herself and Fleur; they would check together and mark off the staff as they left. Sanne drew a little box beside both names. It was reassuring that she saw nothing exceptional in the procedure. They were normal questions for a building with visitors.

They walked the route. Foyer, hall, the side corridor with the kitchen and storeroom, the door to the yard. Sanne opened the rear door herself and checked that it would not hit a crate. Hester showed her where the no-access sign would go at the foot of the wooden stairs. Upstairs were the little workshop landing and the old office. There was nothing belonging to the programme to see there.

'A sign won't stop a curious guest,' Sanne said.

'That's why we keep an eye on it too. Speak to anyone who wants to go upstairs. No little party following a familiar face because they say they know the way.'

'Not even family?'

Hester did not hesitate. 'Not even family. There are no family tours.'

Fleur stood by the stairs looking up. Usually she would have been the one to make an exception for an old volunteer, an alderman or someone who still knew where a key was kept. Now she took out her phone. 'I'll put it in the confirmation to everyone involved. Upstairs closed. Materials handed over downstairs, by arrangement.'

Tessa did not photograph the stairs. She had not taken her camera out. 'I've agreed to an hour on Sunday. It stays an hour, with photographs only if the makers want them. I'm not going to document how well everyone behaves.'

Sanne looked from one to the other and left it there. Hester took her aside by the coat rack, where they could hear each other without everyone else listening. She explained that there were tensions about the past and that a notice had been forged. If someone applied pressure or tried to change an arrangement, Sanne was not to mediate. She should fetch Hester. In a direct threat, she should call for help without first seeking the board's permission.

'Have you got reason to think someone will turn violent?' Sanne asked.

Hester felt the importance of not dressing up her answer. 'There are serious concerns about pressure on people involved. I can't predict an attack. That's why we're keeping it small and not working alone in a closed room. If anything new comes to light today that makes this irresponsible, we'll change the plan.'

'Then I need you to tell me straight away. I'm not going to play the hero for a fixed fee.'

'I'm not asking you to.'

When they returned, Fleur had the new confirmation ready. Tessa had chosen a photograph of a blank panel for the top: no people, just work in progress. They read the text aloud, not to make it sound beautiful but to hear what it promised between the lines. Tessa stopped at reunion. Fleur changed it to gathering.

The co-owner emailed his agreement to the restrictions and revised access arrangements. The sale was separate from these two days; he wanted a businesslike account of costs and any incidents. Hester sent him her amended safety arrangements.

At five to one Tessa closed her bag. She sent Robin a quick message asking whether the label under the sketch was correct, and left without waiting for a ceremonial goodbye. Sanne took the printed instructions to read through again at home. Fleur remained beside the proof they would not be using.

'Shall I keep it for the file?' she asked.

'One copy, dated. The rest can go.'

Hester checked her phone. Merel had sent only a thumbs-up to her message saying she was on her way. She picked up her coat. As she went out she heard the shredder start behind her. Fleur stopped after the first sheet; there was still a staple in it. Hester did not turn back to remove it. She needed to be on time for her sister.