She interrupted the invitation, with a mild annoyance.

‘I understand what you are saying.’

‘It took away his will.’

Ever continued.

‘I think in a way watching his heart break broke mine. My brain anyway, well that’s not entirely true, and, well, this will probably get me kicked out of the house, but I have had a lot of mental problems, well, issues, and I don’t blame him or anything, but I have been filled with a desire, a real burn, to correct what I thought, what I think, is wrong.’

‘Why are you blaming someone who paid good money for his work and afforded him some kind of lifestyle, I am assuming, anyway?’

Ever had often tortured his way around this one; he didn’t have to think to reply.

‘It was the fact that nothing sold.’

Ever paused, looking at the ice in his glass, it was in the last throes of its usefulness. The ice was melting. It must be so relieved, he thought, its job was nearly done, flowing into a liquid peace. Lomita was wating for his eyes to raise. When they did it took Ever no time for his pain to return.

‘Well…’

He started with little confidence knowing that he was going to be exposed in his argument.

‘I thought, as he did, that nothing had sold but then I found out that over half of the paintings sold eight years ago.’

‘Well that’s…’

‘No hear me out, sorry, please.’

‘Of course.’

‘Thank you. Somehow that makes it all worse. Because he never knew, that’s the point, he never got any money, which apparently he wasn’t entitled to… anyway…’

Ever swirled the glass to break down the last fractures of ice. There was a gentle tinkle from the glass.

‘So that is almost worse to me, that is just cruel.’

‘Why?’

‘Not telling him anything basically, so he was none the wiser.’

‘But is that what stopped him painting?’

‘He lost his belief, yes, his confidence in his talent.’

‘Carmen Herrera is in her hundreds and still painting and she didn’t get her first show till she was in her fifties or sixties; she just gets up and does it every day. That is belief, that is belief in self. Not affected by outside forces, by approbation.’

‘So?’

‘So maybe you’re blaming the wrong man.’

This sat like a lit, unexploded firework; no one sure whether to go near it again.

There would have been time to cook potatoes in the bonfire.

‘Jesus, I’m sorry,’

Ever acknowledged the hiatus.

‘I really am, I’d only just found this out, about the sale, you know, when…’

‘When you roped me in on all this.’

Lomita’s statement was a flatline of emotion. The confusion and contortion were disconcerting, he was evidently spongeing up all the pain.

‘How much?’

‘What?’

‘How much did they sell for?’