Cosa Nostra

My mum, it seems, has been invited to join some sort of West Yorkshire underground art mafia. A breakaway splinter sect of the Menston Art Club, meeting in secret in a church hall in Adel on alternate Thursdays. Presumably to trade illicit gouache, or something.

“Were you followed?”
“No, I lost my tail.”
“Excellent. Do you have your portfolio?”

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