‘Here, pull this over you,’ he instructs as he sits on the floor, waiting for me to join him.

We lie back staring up at the navy-blue sky framed in the large skylight. In the murky-grey darkness, it looks like a painting. As my eyes continue to adjust, the night sky is studded with a trillion stars.

‘It’s beautiful, Nico. A living canvas.’

He turns his head, but I can’t really gauge his expression, just noting a little gleam as the moonlight makes his eyes sparkle, indicating that he’s smiling.

‘I come here whenever I can’t settle. It reminds me that there must be more to life than what we know. The universe is too vast for us to assume our little planet is it and there is no other life out there. It’s a rather arrogant assumption anyway, isn’t it?’

I keep scanning the heavens, as with every passing moment it’s like peeling away the layers and the longer I look, the more I can see. The flatness begins to open up, revealing depth and perspective in a way I’ve never witnessed before. Almost like the light at the end of a long tunnel, focusing the eye and extending one’s view.

‘It’s a scary thought, though.’ One I tend to push to the back of my mind. ‘How many shooting stars have you seen?’

‘A couple, over the years,’ Nico confesses with a rueful smile. ‘But then I do a lot of sky watching. Enough to know that if you see one, it’s special. You’re the first person I’ve brought up here. This was my mother’s secret hideaway; we used to creep up very late at night to lie back, chat and marvel at God’s creation.’

He expels a few deep breaths, as if he’s following one of Pierce’s relaxation exercises.

‘So, why are you feeling unsettled tonight?’ I ask, wondering if it’s because the château is a lonely place when Nico is here on his own. Do old memories come back to haunt him?

‘There’s been another email about the last painting.’

I turn to face him, hoping it’s going to be good news. ‘That’s a positive step, isn’t it?’

‘Not really. My agent decided to do a courteous follow-up, hoping to recommence talks. He was informed that the gentleman died shortly after our last correspondence and his family don’t wish to discuss the sale of the painting. It’s over, and that was made very clear to him.’