‘But anyway, I digress,’ Grace said after a pause. ‘If it weren’t for me pushing you that night, you’d never have painted anything. Do you remember that? When I said, “Why don’t you just paint – if it’s what you want to do so much?” I don’t know why you’d never thought about it.’ She laughed. ‘So, yeah, if it wasn’t for me, you’d probably never even have had that exhibition. You’d be managing some blue-chip business somewhere. You’d be some suited and booted company-bot, unsatisfied and bitter. You probably wouldn’t even have met the “wonderful” Rohan, so you’ve got me to thank, for that, too.’ She laughed and pointed her finger at me. ‘I’m right, and you know it!’

She doesn’t mean to be so… hard, I told myself. But she had a point. Everything she said was right. Out of everyone, it was she who deserved to see my work.

‘Okay,’ I said, and Grace’s eyes snapped back to me, as if she hadn’t actually expected me to say yes. She stood up and held out her hand.

‘Key, please.’

Silently I took it from my jeans pocket and handed it to her and, equally wordlessly, she turned and left the kitchen but, as I heard the stairs creak under her feet, dread flooded my body, ice-cold and suffocating. I launched myself after her.

‘Grace! Stop! It’s not ready! Come back!’

‘Too late,’ she sang, and I heard the lock click. I dashed into the attic after her. The two finished portraits were on easels, angled away from the door to best catch the light. I thought Grace would go straight over but she stopped abruptly on the threshold of the studio, her open mouth reminding me of that time she first saw my painting.

‘This is where you paint?’ she exclaimed. She moved further in, turning this way and that as she absorbed the size and space of the room. She took in the flowers stencilled on the walls then went over to the boxes shoved into the corner.

‘Are these yours? They look old.’ She poked a finger at the dusty cardboard.

‘They were here when we bought the house,’ I said.

‘What’s in them?’

‘Old stuff. Clothes. Dolls.’

‘Oh, how interesting. I’d love to look through them.’

‘Be my guest.’

‘I will. But first, the famous paintings.’

I watched as she went over and studied the canvases. What would she think?