I took a deep breath, my hand on my chest. ‘I’m not sure. It comes from… I don’t know.’

‘Something dramatic, though. It has to be, after that build-up. But, please, no more blood. You barely have enough for yourself.’ He touched the dark circles under my eyes with his thumb then gently lifted my chin. ‘Promise?’

I looked away. ‘It’s art. There’s only a couple more. It wouldn’t be much.’

‘Abi, please.’ But defeat dripped in his tone. He knew I would. He knew I had to. My mind was on the next portrait. Rohan was right. Something dramatic was looming. I could feel it building inside me and dread slid through my veins like poison. Rohan would be back in New York when I painted the remaining canvases and I wasn’t sure how I would get through the process. If I would get through the process.

‘Can I take a couple of photos and call Francesca?’ Rohan was tapping his phone. Back on safe ground.

‘I…’

‘She hasn’t seen them, has she? I think she should. It’ll help her choose the right space for your exhibition. She’s going to go crazy when she sees these. Trust me.’

He started snapping, bending low to get different angles. ‘Right. I’ve sent them.’

I flopped onto the sofa, empty, while Rohan paced the attic. ‘She’s seen them… she’s typing… okay. She wants to phone. That’s fine, isn’t it?’

Moments later, his phone rang. ‘Hi, darling. How are you?’ he said. ‘So what did you think? Amazing, aren’t they? Even better in the flesh.’ His eyes flicked to mine. Bad choice of word. ‘The things she’s done… they blow me away.’

I listened to Rohan’s side of the conversation. He was animated, pacing, stopping abruptly, gesticulating at the pictures and talking fast. He didn’t mention the blood. After he hung up, he came over to where I was sitting, squatted down and put his hands on my shoulders so he could look directly into my eyes. I could smell the beer on his breath.

‘She thinks they’re incredible. And she never minces her words. She can’t wait to see them herself.’

‘Only when they’re finished.’

Rohan chewed his lip. ‘She was hoping sooner, but maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better she sees the entire story. Anyway, Abs, the main thing is you’re totally on the right track. This is going to be the show of the year. I’m so proud of you!’ He plonked himself down next to me on the sofa and started to massage the back of my neck between his finger and thumb.

‘But tell me one thing. Where did this come from? What goes on in that head of yours? And what does Grace do to pull this out of you?’