“We’re so happy to have you here,” she says at last. “We hardly ever get the chance to meet Ben’s friends.”

“I know Ben was excited to come and see you,” I say. “He says you are his family.”

“Oh, we are close,” she nods. “He was such a lamb as a boy. So inquisitive.” Her voice is soft and affectionate. “He was already painting and drawing when he came to us, but the way he flourished here…” She shakes her head. “He’s got real talent.”

“And you would know,” I say. “Judging by all that beautiful work downstairs.”

“It’s true, we’ve seen it all,” Gert says. “And Ben is capable of great things. We’re both very proud of him. His work changed, of course, after his mother died.” She looks up, her face open, her wide blue eyes guileless. “Has he spoken to you about her?” she asks.

“Not really,” I say. “Just that she was very young when she had him.”

“He will,” she says certainly. “That poor boy has needed someone to confide in for years. Lili and I tried, but…” She smiles at me. “I’m so glad he’s found a nice young lady at last.”

“Oh, we’re just friends,” I say awkwardly.

Gert smiles serenely. Her expression is innocent, but I think she sees a great deal more than she’s letting on.

When Gert and I head back downstairs it’s to find that several more guests have turned up to see Ben. In fact, over the next few hours a sort of rolling cocktail party takes place in Gert and Lili’s living room. The bell jangles and jangles and people stream in, starting conversations right in the middle as though they’ve been here for hours. Lili reigns from one of the battered armchairs and people buzz around her like worker bees around their queen.

Sometime after a delicious dinner of bread and stew has been handed around in chipped and mismatched plates and bowls, I am in the corner, deep in conversation with a beautiful man with dark brown skin, a French accent and long-lashed, dancing eyes, about the medicinal uses of lavender, when Ben squeezes through the crowd towards us.

“Excuse me, Alphonse,” he says, patting the man on the shoulder, “but I wondered if I could steal Bea away for a moment?”

Ben takes me by the hand, just as the scrape of moving furniture is heard and the wheeze of the record player begins. “Come on,” he whispers, “quick!” and he tugs me through the crowd. As we dodge through the doorway I look over my shoulder to see Gert and Lili leading the charge to the makeshift dance floor, their arms wound tightly about one another.