‘They asked for you by name. I took them into the day room as I wasn’t sure you could just walk away from, you know, whatever paint you’ve mixed up there.’ She glances first at my mixing palette and then at the array of paint tubes scattered all over the side table. The floor is littered with more than a dozen sheets of paper, most of them already dry.

‘Oh, it’s fine. I’ll just clean my brushes up, though, and pop the lid on. I’ll be ten minutes, tops. You said they, did they say what they wanted?’

‘No. Sorry, I didn’t like to ask any questions in case it was personal. I did say you were working and might not be able to break off. I know Nico has a do not disturb rule when he’s in here. Look at you, working away as if you’ve done this all your life.’

I feel myself colouring up; my cheeks warming as I smile back at her.

‘I’m still feeling my way along. Should I change?’ I glance down at my old T-shirt, which is now almost as paint-splattered as the ones Nico often wears.

‘No. It might be referrals wanting to know more about the retreat. I’m sure a bit of paint isn’t going to put them off and it does make you look like the real thing if they’re artsy folk.’

Dee-Dee hangs around while I clean up, wandering up and down to stop and stare at each of the canvases in turn. Then we head across the courtyard together, the lights of the day room glowing out into the gathering darkness. The cold air hits me and I shiver as I struggle to pull on my jacket.

She turns to look at me for a moment.

‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it. And don’t forget to grab something to eat. It’s really not a good idea to work through dinner. I expect Nico will be back soon, too, so maybe you two can eat together? The others have gone into town for a late supper and I’m about to sink into a relaxing bubble bath. Catch you tomorrow.’

Glancing at my watch, I see it’s just after eight p.m., but the dark nights make it feel much later and I realise that I am hungry. Looking across to the parking area I make out the shape of a car I don’t recognise. I’m cross with myself for not grabbing the iPad in case I need to check availability, but I know we don’t have any vacancies until the middle of April at the very earliest. As I push open the door to the day room and step inside, my stomach drops to the floor and zips back up into my chest, threatening to knock me off my feet.