He nodded. Grinned down at me from his great height. Then he moved his arms right around my waist and pulled me in close. Kissed me properly again. I felt about fifteen standing by the car in the dark. I cursed Celia and Edward, my surrogate parents, in the house.

“It will return, though,” he told me, getting in his car and buzzing down the window. “The moment. Edward's not the only man in South Cornwall on a mission.”

I laughed. Ted let out the handbrake and, giving me a wave, drove away. I realized I was still standing there, smiling broadly, as his car bumped along down the track, and turned out of sight.

Chapter 23

The following day, as I was painting in the gunroom, I got a text from Peter.

“Sorry Mum. I was a bit harsh.”

I couldn't reply quickly enough. I was all fingers and thumbs. Luckily, Roger was asleep.

“No no - I'm sorry, darling.

I totally over-reacted. Let's forget it.”

“Cool.”

I pocketed my phone. Perfect. My heart lifted and soared away, like a bird, one of the gulls, in fact, outside the window, cruising up into the now-cleared air. Not only was the air clear, but the stage set and ready for Ted to perform on later, down at the Mariners, where most people gathered before they went out. Peter would certainly be there, I'd told Ted, and with the reins dropped by me he'd be much more receptive. I picked up my brush and painted on happily, regarding my sleeping beauty.

Roger's face was finished now and I'd wanted his body very relaxed, so I'd said he could snooze. To this end we'd rescheduled our session to after lunch.

“Probably help if I drink heavily, eh, Flora?” he'd said hopefully. “Put me right out.”

“It's not crucial, Roger, I just don't want you too stiff and upright.”

To be on the safe side he'd had a riotous picnic with Babs on board his motor boat, after a morning puttering around the estuary. In the old days the discreet little creek he favored would have found his boat deserted later: anchor down, a darkened cabin, rocking hull. I've no idea if those days were gone, but when he'd crept into the house through a side door later and found me ready and waiting with my palette, he had a very wicked smile on his face. He scuttled to his chair. His bottom hit the seat just moments before the door opened again. It was Belinda.

“Ah. There you are."

“Flora wants me asleep, darling. Must comply. Probably be here all afternoon.” He shut his eyes.

“You smell terrible.”

“Do I? Can't think why.”

“I can. Have you seen Hugo?”

“No, darling.”

“He's missing.”

She shut the door.

His eyes snapped open again. “Missing,” he said grimly. “He's a grown man. Bah!”