‘I’m needed here!’ Nico exclaims, and now everyone around the table is listening to the back and forth between them.

‘But you sell more paintings if people see you, meet you in person. You know that. It is time for a trip home.’ Her tone changes and I can see she’s serious.

Nico glances at her, frowning. ‘This is my home now, Isabel. I’ll think about it. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.’

Margot’s cassoulets are wonderful, and I can only hope that Isabel isn’t a vegetarian and she likes rabbit.

I glance her way a couple of times throughout the meal and she seems happy enough. I have Kellie on one side of me and Dee-Dee on the other, so I end up being party to two very different conversations.

Once everything is cleared away, people drift off to do different things. Nico and Pierce end up playing cards and I’m left sitting opposite Isabel, so I feel obliged to go and sit next to her. She’s wearing a soft pink cashmere jumper that clings to her slender body like a second skin and a beautifully tailored pair of black trousers. Simple, but she still stands out above the crowd. Next to her I feel rustic. As these thoughts are going through my head, I begin to laugh and she looks at me, startled, as I lower myself into the chair next to her. Rustic? Or boring?

‘Sorry, my head was somewhere else for a moment, there. Nico is very fond of the rose painting,’ I explain. ‘He thought it would brighten the entrance hallway during the winter months.’

I don’t know why I feel it’s necessary to fight his case for him.

‘As may be. He will be paid handsomely for it. An artist cannot get sentimental and some pieces will sell more easily than others.’

Even when she’s delivering what could be regarded as a rather curt message, her warm Spanish accent seems to take the sting out of the words.

‘I have a lot to learn,’ I admit.

‘Nico’s paintings can command the middle range of five figures and within five years it will be six figures if he continues to listen to me. But we need to release the right paintings at the right time. Now you,’ she looks at me pointedly, ‘different market. You are more commercially viable. I hope you intend to be prolific. People like to impulse-buy but at the right price. They look for colour, the brighter the better. A statement piece to set off their beautiful room as an accessory, rather than an investment. Do not be offended by that because in time, who knows? Maybe they make a huge profit, too. But the demand is high, and I will give you my card. Is good for you, is good for me. Yes?’

I nod. ‘Thank you. I don’t really know what to say.’