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This story may or may not end in Venice and in silent, unacknowledged tragedy but let it begin here, in London, where RubyTuesday and CallMeIshmael first meet in person, having arranged to do so under the tapestry which hangs in the lobby of The British Library   Neither RubyTuesday nor CallMeIshmael will realise until they visit the museum where the original hangs on permanent display some seven months later that this tapestry is actually a reproduction of a famous painting They will wander into an upstairs gallery late one Sunday afternoon where RubyTuesday will stop dead, chin tilted, before a painting identical in image, if not in form, to the tapestry under which she and CallMeIshmael first met She will point this out to CallMeIshmael who will say, A tapestry of a painting? That’s like a drawing of a photograph And RubyTuesday will laugh in that gurgling way he likes, the way he secretly thinks sounds a little like she is being choked sexually –consensually – and while she’s still laughing, CallMeIshmael, to his surprise, will propose   The Company advises you that there may be risks of dealing with Members acting under false pretences or with criminal intent Be careful in dealing with other Members You alone are responsible for ensuring that your interaction with other Members is lawful   The reason CallMeIshmael will not recognise the painting when they walk into the gallery in Edinburgh is that he never really noticed the tapestry reproduction of it in London, seven months previously, beyond the fact of its being a tapestry, and the one under which they had arranged to meet, being too nervous about his first ever meeting with RubyTuesday to consider it in any detail Here he is now, fifteen minutes early He’s standing against the wall, under the hanging tapestry, his back to it If he were to look up at the tapestry he might notice the neuralgic sunset, the apocalyptic palm trees, the poet with a hearing aid cradled by a Gauguin babe; he might notice, in the top left-hand corner – though he may not recognise it as such – the watchtower of Auschwitz But CallMeIshmael is looking down He is inspecting his brogues, wondering if he should have left them unpolished He