With that she jumps up and walks off in the direction of the orchard. How strange that felt. It was almost as if she wanted to tell me something, then changed her mind.

‘I wondered where you were. I owe you yet another apology. Seems I keep making a habit of it with you.’

Smiling up at him, he looks very relaxed this evening in an open-necked white shirt and navy blue, denim jeans. He’s wearing a cologne that has a citrussy edge to it and, judging by his damp hair, he’s freshly showered. Our eye contact is easy, comfortable, and he indicates towards the bench.

‘Can I sit, or was the lovely Patricia heading off because you wanted some quiet time? I didn’t chase her away, did I?’

‘No, not at all. She’s just a little shy. Please, take a seat.’

‘How did the sketching go?’

I can feel his eyes scanning the side of my face; the bench is small and we’re sitting very close together. It’s a little bit unnerving for some reason. Nico adjusts his position, the seat being a little too low for his long legs, and he stretches them out in front of him. He half turns towards me again, flinging an arm over the back rail.

‘Good, well, I think. It’s funny though, yesterday’s session blew my mind a little and that was a complete surprise. I never imagined myself as being a dauber, but that’s what I did yesterday when I picked up the biggest brush on the table and went for it. Today it was all about the intricate detail and I thought that was where my interest would be, but I’m itching to get my hands on a brush again.’

He smiles and the white of his teeth against his beautiful skin makes me feel a little nervous. How utterly ridiculous I’m being; he’s curious about one of his new students and that’s only natural.

‘I saw your painting before you finished it yesterday, but then you disappeared and took it with you,’ he says, frowning.

‘Well, it was my first attempt. Sadly, I dropped it on the way to my room so it ended up in the bin, I’m afraid.’ It just seems easier to make light of it, as I don’t want to make it sound like I thought it was any good. ‘I was inspired by the painting on the wall in my room. That’s not plagiarism, is it?’

This time his laugh is throaty as he continues to look at me. For my part, I continue to avoid his glance as I scan the view in front of me.