He clucked his tongue impatiently. ‘I paint under a pseudonym, so you’re not the only one,’ he said. ‘Fame ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, Sal. I had a shot at it once before – and it did me no good at all.’ He dumped the knife alongside the clean brushes in a jam jar and stood up. ‘Which is why I live out here – far from the madding crowd – and under my own terms.’

‘But if you’re earning top quid, you could at least afford a few comforts.’

‘I have all I need right here,’ he said softly as he stroked Brandy’s head. His hazel eyes met her brown ones and he smiled. ‘I reckon you’d better get on if you want to paint that storm,’ he said. ‘If it starts to thunder then the top of those rocks is no place to be.’

She grasped his hand. ‘Max, you haven’t told me why this Sam Butler’s visit concerns me.’

He frowned in his vague kind of way and shuffled his feet. ‘He followed me into the shed where I store the canvases and saw some of your work. He got very excited and wanted to take a couple of them back with him. But I wouldn’t let him,’ he said quickly. ‘Not before I talked to you first.’

‘Bloody hell,’ she breathed. ‘He liked my work? Really?’

‘Yeah, that’s about the strength of it.’ He tugged his hat brim. ‘But don’t let it go to your head, Sal. These things have consequences, and I don’t reckon you’re ready for that sort of exposure.’

Sal’s pulse was racing as her thoughts and emotions whirled. Yet, as she stood in that sunlit clearing with the storm clouds gathering beyond the canopy of trees, she knew Max was right. There was indeed a great deal to think about – for her secret had been carefully guarded over the years and, like a mother giving life to her children, such precious and private treasures were not something to be easily shared with strangers.

‘I did do the right thing, didn’t I, Sal?’ he asked tentatively.

She smiled back at him and nodded. ‘I’m not ready to make that leap of faith yet – and you, my darling Max, are a wise mentor and good friend. I don’t know how I would survive without you.’

He reddened and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Fair go, Sal. There’s no need for all that soft talk. Go and paint your storm.’

She almost skipped to the shed that had been attached to the back of the cabin. Her secret was safe with Max until she felt ready to reveal it – but the confirmation that her passion had not been misguided, and that she did indeed have a talent which had been recognised by such a man, was intoxicating.