‘Now, is it all right with you if I get back to work?’ he asks, talking to my back as I’m heading over to slip the muslin off my own canvas.

‘Feel free. I’m in the mood to paint.’

Before he can respond, his phone lights up and begins to buzz. I turn, glancing in his direction, and he checks the screen before raising it to his ear. Then he saunters off into the little workroom.

It’s not that I’m eavesdropping, although I move slowly so as not to make any noise. He’s talking in Spanish and he sounds totally different. His voice is so smooth, and the words sound almost poetic. There’s laughter in his voice, too, which surprises me.

I’m in need of a clean rag, so I tiptoe down closer to the door. Nico’s leaning against some of the racking, facing away from me, but I’m pretty sure he’s smiling as he talks. I can hear the inflection in his voice. The conversation sounds like it’s coming to a close.

‘Eres demasiado amable, mi bella Marquesa.’

So, I’m guessing that last bit was probably my lovely Marquesa. Amable… nice, kind? It’s good news then, but the way he’s talking to her… his voice is soft, almost seductive. Intimate. Sexy.

Edging backwards quietly, I don’t take my eyes from the door until I’m back in position. Then, quickly grabbing a brush, I start fussing around with one of the colours on my palette.

Hearing his footsteps behind me, he doesn’t say anything, and we work in silence until well after midnight. Eventually my eyes begin to feel heavy and I start tidying up. Standing back, though, I’m pleased with what I’ve done tonight. Up close, it’s still vague, but from a few feet back, it’s clearly a mass of roses dripping from an intricate network of intertwined stems, fastened to trelliswork on a brick wall. I glance at the photograph which I can now see is just a flat piece of paper, whereas my canvas is starting to come alive. It has texture, it has form and it’s beginning to have depth. But it also has feeling, and I’ve been able to communicate that without any conscious effort.

‘Nico?’

I turn to look at him and he glances across at me, frowning.

‘Tomorrow night, can you show me how to get that little glint, you know, on the tips of the petals. Where the sunshine catches them. I’m happy with the shading and I think I’ve nailed that velvety finish so far. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me there’s a technique and I can’t just soften a titanium white and go crazy.’