How many artists were shit to their wives and girlfriends rather than their models? Did it make a difference if the predatory behaviour took place in the home or the studio? The rules of engagement seemed to be changing fast, but the same men still went ahead and broke them.

People in big business podcasts always talked about taking risks, but they were always the people whose risks turned out to be smart moves.

Estelle told her the story of how she’d waited until Antony had gone away with his family to Palermo for a fortnight then took a jar of emergency cash she had literally buried in their back garden, went to a woman in Koreatown and had her tubes tied in secret.

What was strategic about that? What was so cost-effective about being on your own? How was work so lucrative and alluring if this was how it manifested in the body? No, this was the truth she’d brought back from the dark place. Independence had always been an illusion.

The gallery was both a teething child and an ageing parent—it needed constant care and maintenance. It required vigilance.

You just had to ask yourself, is this a deviation from the vision?

Em had a slight lankiness to her. She wasn’t just slim, she was skinny, scrawny maybe, in a way Pat noticed other women noticing.

A man’s death leading to a life-changing amount of money. How it felt like receiving a paycheck for the work of enduring their cruelty.

‘New problems.’ ‘I tried to tell you this when I got the star. Remember? You were pushing and pushing, wanting me to open a second place, a retail range. But more success brings bigger problems. Do you want to be happy?’ Her mother was looking at her, concerned. ‘Of course.’