I can hear Hannah’s tiredness in her sigh. ‘Some people have a party and a divorce cake to celebrate their new-found freedom. Guess you aren’t out partying tonight, then?’

‘I’m alone, sipping coffee at the bed and breakfast. At least I have two blissful weeks in Canterbury, sketching and painting while I get to know Rosemary, my potential new business partner. I’ll soon know whether it’s the right thing to do, but it’s scary buying into an art gallery and the thought of giving art lessons. But with a sizeable bank balance from my share of the house and the sale of over a dozen canvases thanks to Isabel, I have capital. But now I’ve given up work I will need some sort of regular income. Everything in my life is decidedly lacklustre at the moment. Committing to the next step feels like an impossibility because my emotions are all over the place,’ I admit.

‘Did you open the letter the Marquesa gave you?’ Hannah’s gentle probing tugs at my conscience.

‘No. It’s still in my bag, but I can’t bring myself to open it.’

‘That’s silly, Fern. Read it and then maybe you can really get on with your life. It’s not like you to be so indecisive. Buying into that gallery in Canterbury is a great opportunity and if you keep putting off making a decision, someone else will step in and you will regret it.’

I know she’s right. ‘I have a deadline. Two weeks, but it’s scary, Hannah. What if I never sell another piece? The money I have could dwindle and I will have thrown it all away.’

‘Hey, you’ve done well so far and the Marquesa is supporting you every step of the way still. She wouldn’t do that if she thought someone else’s work would sell better. It’s time to have some self-belief, Fern. And that’s an order. Love you and get some rest, for goodness’ sake. And long, head-clearing walks.’

I start laughing. Since when did my little sister start mothering me? As I put down the phone, I decide the time has come; grabbing the letter and my thick jacket, I saunter out onto the balcony. There’s a slight chill on the breeze and in the fading light I’m overcome with a sense of loneliness. Happiness seems like a distant dream these days, something I once had but may never have again.