‘Now, the painting,’ Rory said, handing Sullivan a tray of paints. ‘There’s plenty of spare wood if you’d like to do one too, Eliza?’

‘Please, Eliza!’ Sullivan said. ‘You too, Rory. Not to be competitive – to share in the fun of working on a creative project together.’

‘Well, Eliza?’ Rory said. ‘Shall we share in the fun of working on a creative project together?’

Several minutes later, they were painting side-by-side at the table. The workshop fell quiet. Sullivan was busy adding golden eyes to his lemur. Rory was drawing a boat in full sail on a blue sea.

Eliza had thought about it, then begun to draw the tall green vase that had belonged to her mother. She didn’t need to have it in front of her, she realised. She had drawn it so many times over the past thirteen years. She used a mixture of light and dark shades of green paint to give it shape and definition. She added a quartet of red roses in full bloom, mixing deep crimson with lighter pinks for the petal detail, more shades of green for the leaves. The feeling of total absorption in her work was as familiar and comforting as ever.

His lemur done, Sullivan looked over at her painting. ‘Eliza, that’s wonderful! You’re an actual artist!’

Rory agreed. ‘You’ve got a real gift. I should hire you to do a whole flower range.’

They helped Rory lay their paintings onto the trays to dry. He’d do the next steps – the cutting and varnishing – later that week, he said, and give them to Eliza when they were ready. He showed them some of his other finished puzzles. An ocean scene, with the pieces cut into the shape of fish. A city scene, the pieces in car shapes. They were about to leave when Rory took an uncut puzzle from the drying rack, set the fretsaw working and slowly, methodically, cut it into pieces. It was the letter S.

‘There you are, Sullivan,’ he said, giving it to him. ‘Your own S-for-Sullivan jigsaw puzzle.’

Sullivan’s smile lit up the workshop.

An hour later, they were in a nearby café. They’d just had fish and chips. Sullivan was now scraping at the last mouthfuls of a bowl of ice cream. He finished and sighed happily.

‘I always wanted days like this with my parents. You two are more fun. You haven’t fought once.’

‘It probably helps that we’re not married,’ Eliza said.

‘Or your parents,’ Rory added.

‘Tell me about your parents, Rory?’ Sullivan asked.

‘Well, my dad’s name is Edgar Montgomery. My mother was called Ruth but sadly she died when I was younger than you. Since I was eleven, I’ve had a stepmother called Olivia.’

‘My godmother,’ Eliza added. ‘The lady you met the other day.’

‘Two mothers in one lifetime,’ Sullivan said. ‘Which was your favourite?’

‘Sullivan!’ Eliza admonished.