I suppressed a grin as I cleaned my brush, wondering how Belinda coped. Well, she didn't, Babs did, and she was like a child herself. I ignored him and painted on happily for a while, my sketch good, I realized, which was a relief. Indeed, I was really getting into Roger: really getting a feel for the breadth of his shoulders and the muscle that was evidently still there – after all, he'd once been a very fit man, could still chop logs all morning – and that all-weather look was still in his face. It wasn't all pouts and smiles. There was the great outdoors and an enquiring intelligence. A love of nature, too, particularly birds, which he'd always had, and that was in his eyes right now as he watched a sparrow-hawk sail across the sky and settle on a bough of the cedar tree. Marvelous. If he could just hold that look, that light, I'd be—

"Flora?"

"Hmm?"

"Fidgety."

I paused. His eyes were wide and innocent.

"You did say . . ."

I sighed. Lowered my brush and looked at my watch. "We've done precisely twenty minutes, Roger."

"Harrumph."

I carried on, ignoring him.

"Would you settle for an hour?" he asked.

"I'll settle for an hour and a half."

He rolled his eyes but I knew I'd got a deal. I painted faster. If I could just get a bit more done I could take a photo and work from that for a bit, but I wasn't telling Roger that. And it wasn't something I generally did instead of sittings. I'd have to be firmer.

Luckily more birds had caught his eye through the window, because that special light had returned, but, when he sat up very straight and I glanced out, I realized it was of a different variety.

"Pretty girl," purred Roger. Janey was coming back up the lawn from the beach in her bikini. I smiled and wondered if I could poke my head out and persuade her to linger, do a few cartwheels. I painted on.

“Very pretty girl," he murmured. Out of the corner of my eye I realized she'd paused to look at her phone.

"And very nice, too," I said.

"Isn't she?" he agreed quickly, instantly perking up. “Smart as a whip. I like her enormously."

“Me too. She's got wit."

“That's New York for you, of course," he told me confidingly. “Sparky bunch." He crossed his legs as he warmed to his subject, which was not ideal as it shifted everything about, but at least he was still here. "Full of wisecracks and smart-aleck remarks. I lived there, you know, for a bit." I could sense a bit of misty-eyed reminiscing coming on, which didn't hurt. Better than a sulk. "Back in the seventies. Surrounded by girls like Janey in the office. Up to here in girlies.” He pointed to his armpits.

"Roger . . .”