“Of course, I had seen Lily around and about before then and we had chatted, but that Christmas…” Flynn senior’s deep, educated voice tailed off for a few moments. “Something happened between us. It was as though we both realised that we couldn’t keep dancing around one another or pretending the attraction we had for one another didn’t exist.”

I felt Flynn’s attention switch from his grandfather to me. We both exchanged heated looks. Then we snapped our attention away from one another.

“When I dropped the painting off to her at her bakery on Christmas Eve, she was thrilled.” He paused. “I also secreted a key inside the frame and told her about it.”

“A key to get into Merry Wood?” I asked, visions swirling in my head of Lily locking up the house that day that Harley had destroyed part of the fence.

“Yes.”

Flynn senior blushed under his dashing moustache. “I wanted to paint her in my studio so much, and just to spend a bit of time alone with her… It meant everything to me.” He performed a shadow of a smile. “Having that key meant we could be together and shut out the outside world for a while. When she took it in her hand, I’ll never forget the way she looked at me.”

Flynn senior’s gaze was steady. “What we did was beautiful. It wasn’t sordid.”

I nodded and gave a small smile of understanding. Some people waited a lifetime for love like that and yet it never comes.

I found my attention drifting to Flynn again.

“Did you feel guilty about Grandma?” asked Flynn.

“Of course, I did,” said Flynn senior, clicking his tongue. “But your grandmother… well, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how difficult she can be.”

“I know she can be awkward at times, but all the same, Grandfather…”

Flynn senior fired a look at his grandson.

“I’m sorry if I’m going to sound judgemental over this, but while you were flirting with the little redhead across the way, my grandmother was knee-deep in her charity work.”

An odd expression gripped Flynn senior’s features. He opened and closed his mouth, as though debating what to say. “Still the doyenne of the underprivileged, isn’t she?” he managed after a pause. “Good old Astrid Talbot. Bring me your hungry and your oppressed.”

“Grandfather…” Flynn’s tone was threatening. “There’s no need to be sarcastic. Stop it.”

Flynn senior swung to look at me, ignoring his grandson. “You have no idea what it’s like to be married to a woman like that. It was as if she was living a double life. She had two faces. One for me and our son and one for the public.”