‘I can understand why Gustavo wasn’t supportive of his daughter’s creative ability. It must have rubbed salt into an already open wound. Actually, Yara, I can’t help but feel sympathy for him,’ I admitted.

‘He wasn’t a bad man, Senhorita Maia, just weak,’ Yara agreed. ‘So when Beatriz turned eighteen, she told her grandfather she was going to Paris to enrol at the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, just as she knew her mother had done before her. She stayed in Paris for over five years, only returning to Rio when she heard that Maurício, her grandfather, had died. I think she had many adventures,’ smiled Yara wistfully. ‘And I was happy for her.’

The picture Yara was painting of the woman I had met five days ago here in the garden was so different from the one I had conjured up in my mind. I realised I had imagined her to be far more like Luiza. But perhaps that was simply because she was old and had been so determined not to acknowledge me.

‘And what happened to Antonio?’ I asked.

‘Oh, he recovered, as my mother always thought he would,’ Yara said with a smile. ‘He went to live at the Fazenda Santa Tereza, and with the small amount of money he’d been handed by Gustavo to start again, he bought a tomato farm. You might remember I told you before that they are the financial mainstay of Paty do Alferes. With his head for business, by the time Antonio died, he had what you might call a tomato empire, owning most of the local farms surrounding the fazenda. I remember that like Senhora Izabela before her, Senhora Beatriz used to love it there when she visited. Her grandfather adored her and taught her to ride and swim. He left the farms to her, and it is those that have provided the source of her income since her husband passed on. It’s not much, but it has paid the bills here.’

‘Who was Beatriz’s husband, my grandfather?’ I asked her.

‘Evandro Carvalho, and he was a very talented pianist. He was a good man, Senhorita Maia, and it was a true love match. After Senhora Beatriz’s difficult childhood, our family were so pleased to see her happy. And the Casa finally came back to life. Beatriz and Evandro held soirées for the creative community here in Rio. They also set up a charity to raise money for the city’s favelas. I can assure you, Senhorita Maia, that while age and pain have affected her as she nears the end, she really was very beautiful when she was younger. Everyone who knew her respected and loved her.’

‘Then it’s such a pity that I will never see that side of her,’ I mused.

‘No . . .’ Yara sighed heavily. ‘But death comes to us all.’

‘And . . .’ I steeled myself to ask the question that had been burning through my brain for the past ten minutes. ‘Beatriz and Evandro had a child, didn’t they?’