His artistic temperament makes him feel things to the extreme and while it doesn’t manifest in a temper, I often see it in his eyes. He holds on to things – memories, old hurts and a hint of fragility that sits uneasily alongside that tremendous strength and willpower. Lying just beneath the surface, it never leaves him and threatens to pull him down. Two very opposite sides of a man who works hard to keep himself on an even keel.

I walk back out into the day room, searching for him, but he’s not there. Neither is Isabel. I’m not in the mood to sit and chat, so I say goodnight and head off to the studio. It’s in darkness and as I switch on the lights, I feel a sense of contentment. I love this room.

Swapping my jumper for a loose, painting T-shirt, I stare down at it. Every little blob and smear is like a badge of honour. What I didn’t show Isabel is the little pile of canvases that will never see the light of day. Rolled up ready to take home, and languishing in the back of the cupboard, they are an important reminder of my journey. Days of exasperation, followed by Nico’s very patient tutoring as he guided me through the pitfalls of my learning curve. Treasures, in one way, because they chart my development, but there’s always that feeling you could have done better. That’s when I knew I was always meant to be an artist and I began signing my canvases.

‘You’re still here?’

Nico enters just as I’m about to begin clearing up. It’s shortly after one-thirty in the morning and it’s been a very productive, satisfying session.

I glance at him, wondering where he’s been, because he doesn’t look tired. More wired.

‘Isabel has just gone to bed. She’s leaving early tomorrow morning.’

He sounds apologetic for some reason. I don’t know why.

‘You’re not starting work now?’ I remark.

‘No. I saw the light was on and wanted to check you were okay.’

As I wipe my brush on a rag, I focus on what I’m doing, avoiding his gaze.

‘You need to tell her everything, Nico. She’s trying to help you move up to that next level and yet she feels you aren’t committed. Her loyalty to you is now in conflict with the business side of her. You can’t have it both ways if you keep her in the dark. You owe her that, at least.’

When I do look up at him, he hangs his head.

‘You’re right. I know that. But I’ve lived in fear for so many years that it won’t leave me. I’m not ready to tell her, but I will consider planning a trip to Seville at some point this summer.’

Argh! He’s so stubborn at times.