The first sign that things weren't quite right with Emily was when she came home with a large wrapped rectangle under her arm.
"What have you got there?" I asked.
"A brand new canvas," she said, brightly. "A painting I bought from that new boutique down by the docks."
My face must have betrayed my concerns because she immediately folded her arms and scrunched her face together.
"Don't start!" she said. "It's just a painting."
I nodded and tried not to ask the question that both of us knew I wanted to ask.
"How much?"
The question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Emily sighed. "It wasn't expensive. You don't need to worry." She put the wrapped painting on the kitchen work surface and began to rummage through her bag. "I've got a receipt here, somewhere, if you don't trust me."
I sighed. "Please don't, Emily. You know Dr James told me to look out for the early signs."
...
