He stops looking upwards and our eyes meet. ‘I was only allowed to paint in a loft, in one of the barns, out of sight of him. It was a couple of years before he realised what I was doing. He never visited my school; my mother went on her own as he was too wrapped up in himself to show any concern over what was going on around him.’

I swallow hard, feeling sad for a young boy expressing his talent and yet having to hide it.

‘One day he was desperate for a drink. My mother and I had just returned from a shopping trip and were carrying boxes through to the kitchen. I went out to get the last few things, while my mother moved the pickup truck. As I walked back inside, he was combing through the boxes. Wine bottle in hand, he discovered a bag with tubes of watercolour paint my mother had purchased for my birthday. At that time, it was all she could afford, and we made up the canvases together, because it cost very little.’

I can’t help but suck in a deep breath as I can see he’s in the moment, transported back more than twenty years. I don’t want to move, or make a sound, fearful of breaking his train of thought.

‘He looked at me as if I was a traitor. The wine bottle slipped from his hand, splashing droplets of the rich red colour and tiny pieces of glass over our feet. He grabbed at one of the tubes, angrily, and made a fist, crushing it until the side fractured and I remember the stain of Prussian Blue as it forced its way between his fingers and started to drip onto the floor.

‘He screamed at me “You want this?” as he unclenched his fist, holding up his paint-splattered palm. “Then you are more of a fool than I took you for, Nico. It is destroying me, and it will destroy you, too; a foolish father begets a foolish son.” He spat the words at me.’

My heart feels crushed for that young boy.

‘The farm was losing money and when my mother’s parents passed on it was decided we should move to France and take possession of the château, rather than sell it. She said there was no point in trying to keep the farm going and she was tired of it all.

‘When we were packing up, that’s when my father discovered my canvases. Many had paintings on both sides and my passion had grown to the point where I did odd jobs for neighbours in order to buy more materials.