‘It’s fabulous, you know that, and I expect Ben’s said the same. I suppose he’s also told you that you might have to wait a couple of years at least for a London show.’

‘Yeah. Which is why I’m going to send slides to the States. Try and track down the guy who showed my work before. I won’t have to wait for so long and the British art scene won’t get another chance to thumb its nose at me.’

‘It was years ago and even you admitted you behaved appallingly. There’s no reason to refuse to show here now. Not when you’re so good. They’ll all realise they were wrong.’

Rory pulled out the oars from where they lay under the gunnels. ‘Fish about under your seat, you should find the rowlocks.’

Thea fished, fearing she’d lost his attention. After a bit she came across a pair of metal things. ‘Are these them?’

‘That’s it, can’t row without them.’

‘You’re not going to row all the way back?’ She watched him fit the rowlocks into the holes on the side of the boat and begin to row.

‘We’ll row until you’ve got whatever it is you want to say off your chest.’ He looked at her chest and she felt suddenly self-conscious, although there wasn’t much he could see of it through Molly’s borrowed puffa jacket.

‘It’s difficult to know where to start, but what I want is for you to wait for me to open an art gallery, in the provinces – I couldn’t possibly afford London rates – and let me show your work. All of it, together, in one place. And possibly your drawings and sketches too.’

‘It sounds a grand idea, but how long will it take you to set up an art gallery? One year? Two? I might as well wait for something to turn up in Cork Street.’

‘Do you think a posh Cork Street gallery would be willing to show all your work? They wouldn’t have the space. I can make sure I get premises that have big enough walls.’

‘Sure, but when? Now I’ve exposed my work to you lot, I want the world to see it.’

Thea realised he was lumping her in with Ben and Molly, Petal and Toby, when before it had been her and Rory. A tiny part of her was sad, a delicious affair with a gorgeous Irish artist was such a lovely idea in theory. ‘The world will see it. With Ben’s contacts –’ Thea wasn’t exactly sure what these were, but that didn’t bother her. ‘We’ll get the art world to come to … to … wherever my gallery ends up being, to see your work. Mohammed coming to the mountain. Or is it the other way round?’