Chapter Eight

Diana Adams was stepping out of a Bentley when Harry drove Toby into the courtyard of Craig-y-Nos the following morning. In sharp contrast to the day before, the weather was glorious. The wind had dropped, the newly washed greenery sparkled with reflected sunlight and it was pleasantly warm with the promise of more heat later in the day. Harry and Toby were both dressed in white flannel suits, white shirts, ties and straw boaters. Determined to make the most of the weather, Toby had asked Mrs Edwards to pack them a picnic. Harry had also taken down the hood on his tourer.

‘How is my grandfather?’ Harry drew alongside Diana and, recollecting what had happened between them the night before, gave her a broad smile.

‘Still very weak after his journey,’ she replied in her brisk medical voice, glancing pointedly from Toby to a gardener who was raking a nearby flower bed. ‘The sister reported that he slept well, although he had little appetite for breakfast.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘Not today, but you can ask again tomorrow.’

‘Just for a few seconds?’ he pleaded.

‘No.’

‘I’d like to give him these.’ He lifted a basket of strawberries from the back seat. He had bought them from a roadside stall in Penycae.

‘I’ll see that he gets them and I’ll tell him that you were asking after him.’ She took the basket.

‘How is my uncle?’ Toby eyed Harry and Diana suspiciously as he left the car.

‘He was feverish first thing this morning. All he could talk about was you and an illustration that you promised to finish by today. He was so concerned about it that my father decided it would be detrimental to his health if he didn’t see it. You have finished the painting?’

‘Of course.’ Toby leaned over the back of the car and lifted out a portfolio, set between two boards and tied with string.

‘We know he’ll work himself into a state if we don’t let him see you, but no more than five minutes – and that painting won’t leave his room if you allow him to touch it,’ Diana warned.

‘Of course.’

‘And I know your attitude to time. Not one second more than five minutes, Mr Ross. I have already briefed the ward sister, so don’t try exercising any of your charm on her. It will be wasted.’

‘It always is on the women around here. They simply don’t appreciate me,’ Toby lamented with theatrical mournfulness.

‘Treat your uncle carefully, he really is worse, Mr Ross,’ Diana said seriously.

‘I promise you, I’ll show him the illustrations and leave.’

‘Are they good?’ Diana called after him as he ran to the front door.

‘How can you doubt it?’ Toby disappeared inside.

‘Nice car.’ Harry looked at the Bentley.

‘My father’s. My runabout is being serviced by Alf Edwards.’ Diana opened the back door and lifted out a basket of eggs.

‘I dreamed about you last night,’ he whispered.

‘There are open windows, Mr Evans,’ she murmured, ‘and people have ears, but I enjoyed our time together too.’ She raised her voice to conversation level. ‘I’ve just returned from the Ellis Estate.’

‘How are Martha and Luke this morning?’

‘Martha’s speech and movements are still slower than normal, but that is to be expected. It will take a few days, possibly even a week or two, for the full effects of the concussion to wear off. And Luke is a different boy. Two brand-new teeth have arrived to drive away the grizzles. Mary is relieved.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that Martha’s no better. Is there anything I can do?’

‘According to David Ellis, plenty.’ She curled her lip in distaste. ‘He told me to tell you that he expects you to pay Martha’s wages until she is well enough to work again.’ She set the baskets on a low wall.

‘I offered -’

‘He knows you did. He also knows that his sister refused to take your money and he’s furious with her for throwing it back at you. But be warned, David is very different from Mary.’

Harry fingered his iodine-stained scars. ‘Not that different.’

‘Oh, he is. Mary’s only aggressive when she thinks her brothers and sister are being threatened. David will take every penny that he can squeeze from you, and he’ll try to squeeze a lot.’

‘It’s only right that I compensate Martha for lost wages until she can work again,’ Harry insisted.

‘As long as you keep it to compensation, Mr Evans. You are not responsible for the family’s plight.’

‘I heard how they came to lose the farm last night in the pub.’

‘It’s a tragic story, but then I’ve heard a number of those since my father took up this post. It hasn’t been easy for us to accept that there is nothing we can do to help the tenant farmers around here except give them our worthless sympathy. Mary Ellis is exceptionally single-minded and a fighter, but I don’t doubt she’ll eventually be evicted, as all her neighbours have been.’

‘After yesterday, you don’t have to tell me about Mary Ellis being a fighter.’

Diana’s smile broadened. ‘You’re not reluctant to face her again, are you, Mr Evans?’

‘Frankly, yes. I really feel that I owe them money but I’d rather post it,’ he replied honestly. ‘Or you could take it up there tomorrow?’

‘I’m not an errand girl.’

‘Can you spare me half an hour now?’ he pleaded.

‘Sorry,’ she repeated, looking anything but. ‘I’m far too busy this morning to chaperone a coward.’

‘It’s a bodyguard I need, not a chaperone. Come on,’ he coaxed, ‘it’s a nice day, the sky’s blue, the sun is shining. Mrs Edwards has packed a picnic that Toby and I can stretch to feed a guest. Don’t you feel like a run-out?’

‘I’ve had my run-out for the day, and I’ve far too much to do to here to waste any more time visiting.’

‘Then I’ll wait for Toby.’

‘You expect him to protect you?’ she smiled mischievously.

‘I’ll ask him to keep the car’s first aid kit in readiness while I talk to the Ellises.’

‘If I might make a suggestion, why don’t you drive down to the village and buy another basket of those strawberries? Martha loves them.’

‘Don’t they grow any on the farm?’

‘I know it was raining yesterday, Mr Evans,’ she said loudly for the gardener’s benefit as he moved on to a flower bed even closer to them, ‘but didn’t you notice what a bleak spot the Ellis Estate is in? It’s as much as Mary can do to grow a few potatoes, carrots and cabbages in the sheltered area in front of the house.’

‘Martha really likes them?’ He pressed the ignition.

‘She does. Just a moment, a strawberry has dropped on your back seat, it will stain the leather.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper when she leaned over the car. ‘Are you staying in the valley tonight?’

‘I’m living day to day. One of my sisters is ill and I may have to go home at a moment’s notice. But I am reluctant to leave until I know that my grandfather has settled in.’

‘If your grandfather is well enough, I’ll ask my father if you can see him tomorrow.’

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate it if you would.’

‘And if you’d like to go for a walk this evening, I’m off duty at eight and I usually go for a stroll alongside the river from the sanatorium up to the hills. The scenery is very pretty around there.’

‘I’ll look forward to seeing it, Miss Adams.’ He gazed into her deep-blue eyes.

‘Away from the hospital, I allow my friends to call me Diana.’ She raised her voice. ‘There, I have the strawberry, Mr Evans.’ She flicked the offending berry on to a flower bed.

‘And you consider me your friend?’ He gave her the smile that he flattered himself had melted a few female hearts.

‘Not yet, but after another evening like yesterday’s, I might,’ she whispered.

‘You’ll tell Toby I’ll be back for him in ten minutes.’

‘I will.’ She waved him off.

In the hope of ingratiating himself with the Ellises, Harry bought a large basket of raspberries as well as one of strawberries. He returned to the sanatorium to find Toby sitting on the doorstep, his chin resting on the edge of his portfolio, a disconsolate expression on his face.

‘Your uncle is worse?’ Harry guessed.

‘He looks dreadful. I didn’t see him yesterday and I can’t believe the deterioration in just two days.’ Toby flung his portfolio into the back of the car and slumped in the passenger seat. ‘It’s ghastly to watch him grow weaker by the day.’ He looked intently at Harry. ‘I’m not sure how much more I can take.’

‘If he can take it, so can you.’ Harry was aware that if Dr Adams did allow him to visit his grandfather he would soon be facing the same ordeal.

‘You’re right, of course. I can’t leave him, not now. But I tell you something: if there is a God and I come face to face with him in the hereafter, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. Frank’s brain is sharper than it’s ever been, his creative ability is undiminished. He has ideas and passion enough to create hundreds if not thousands more paintings and illustrations that would dazzle the world and give pleasure to untold millions who appreciate art. And he hasn’t even the strength to hold a pencil, let alone do anything with it.’

‘How did he like your illustration?’ Harry asked, trying to lift Toby’s spirits.

‘He didn’t entirely, but then he never does. He made a few suggestions for improving it, but not as many as usual. And that’s not a sign I’m becoming more skilled as an artist.’ Toby turned and checked that the portfolio was secure in the back. ‘Raspberries as well as strawberries? We’ll be sick if we eat all those.’

‘They’re not for us. I bought them for that little girl I told you about.’

‘The one you knocked down?’

‘I was hoping you’d call in at the farm with me. But if you want me to drop you off somewhere first so you can start painting right away, I will.’

‘As I’m in no mood to start work right away, a spin up the valley sounds just the sort of time-wasting exercise I need. Besides, I can always fool myself that I’m scouting for locations for the next illustration.’

Harry pushed the car into low gear when they started climbing upwards. ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’

‘Frank wants me to paint the lake next, so I need a stretch of pretty water and a shapely arm to rise out of it to hold Excalibur. I have the sword in my room, as the last illustration Frank completed was Arthur wielding Excalibur for the first time in battle. You should see it, Harry. It’s a huge, magnificent canvas. It’s bound to be exhibited at the Academy.’

‘I’ll make a point of going next May.’

‘We’ll go together, if you like.’ Toby fell silent, and Harry sensed that he was thinking of what would happen to Frank before next May.

‘I spotted a reservoir below the farmhouse last night that might do for your lake,’ he said in an attempt to distract Toby.

‘A reservoir?’ Toby exclaimed disdainfully. ‘How unromantic. I can tell you now, it will never do.’

‘You haven’t seen it,’ Harry remonstrated.

‘I don’t need to. I need a proper, natural lake. And as all anyone will see of the lady is her arm, it will have to be a very beautiful and young one, with no wrinkles, a slim wrist and manicured nails.’

‘Won’t the skin on the tips of the fingers have water crinkles if the lady lives in the lake?’

‘Idiot, the hand will be out of the water.’

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes Arthur to see it.’

‘And of course, your Excalibur is the genuine article?’

‘Absolutely.’ Toby fell in with Harry’s mood. ‘As verified by Merlin himself, who, incidentally, was a marvellous old shepherd who wandered into the bar one night. Frank wanted him painted with Nimue at the moment of her betrayal. Nimue was a model he used in Paris, so I was able to follow his sketches of her. Merlin was all mine, and it took me four days of following him around the mountains before I managed to portray him to Frank’s liking. But I have yet to find my Morgan le Fay. However,’ he gave Harry a sly glance, ‘from the way you looked at the Snow Queen this morning and, more importantly, the way she looked back at you, I have hopes of seeing her transformed into Guinevere in love some time soon.’

‘What look?’ Harry asked warily.

‘The “sick calf in love” look, and if I had any doubts, the guilty one that’s on your face right now has dispelled them. So what gives between you two? Tell Uncle Toby all.’

‘There’s nothing to tell.’ What had happened between him and Diana had been so sudden and unexpected, and was so new that the last thing Harry wanted to do was talk about it.

‘Don’t believe you,’ Toby chanted maddeningly.

‘She freezes me out in exactly the same way she freezes you out.’

‘Still don’t believe you,’ Toby sang out.

‘All right,’ Harry conceded when he realized Toby wasn’t going to give up. ‘I had supper with her last night after she dressed the cuts on my face.’

‘My oh my, you don’t waste any time.’

‘I’m sure she only invited me because she’s bored witless by the lack of social life in the valley.’ Harry deliberately tried to sound casual. Even after she had invited him for a walk that evening, he could scarcely believe what was happening between them. And he wasn’t at all sure where their relationship was leading, or even if they had one.

‘There’s always church this evening.’

‘You’re going?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it.’

Harry looked sideways at Toby. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for the religious sort.’

‘Oh cynical one.’ Toby pulled a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and stuck two into his mouth. ‘The truth is I need to paint a room in the Castle of Corbin – you know the scene where the maiden appears to Lancelot in a dream, shows him the Holy Grail and foretells the achievements of Galahad? Well, there’s a corner of the vestry that’s absolutely perfect for the castle. It has old stone walls with leaded glass windows set at shoulder-height. They’re ideally placed to convey ghostly rays of golden light on the maiden. I asked the vicar if I could use it, and he agreed. Unfortunately his wife overheard me so somehow or other I also found myself agreeing to use their daughter as the maiden.’ He lit both cigarettes and pushed one into Harry’s mouth.

‘And when are you painting her in the vestry?’ Harry drew on the cigarette before removing it.

‘Tomorrow morning. Her father wouldn’t allow me to paint her on a Sunday, and her mother, who never, never stops talking, not even to draw breath, is chaperoning us. Join me?’ he said hopefully. ‘You could paint your own Grail scene. They’re very popular in galleries right now.’

‘Liar. Besides, if I see my grandfather I hope to drive back to Pontypridd tomorrow.’

‘Oh, my good kind Lord.’ Toby hung over the side of the car.

‘Get back in before you fall out.’ Harry grabbed the bottom of Toby’s jacket and hauled him back.

‘Do you see that?’

‘Crai Reservoir. It’s the one I told you about and you insisted would never do for your lake. Go on, admit it’s pretty.’

‘Pretty?’ Toby rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘Forgive him, oh great creative ones. It’s not his fault that he lacks an artistic soul. It’s nothing as ugly as a reservoir, you philistine, it’s an Arthurian lake.’

‘I saw it marked on a map before I drove down here. It’s a reservoir that was built by the town council of Swansea in nineteen o-seven -’

‘Now you sound exactly like Diana Adams.’ Toby blew a plume of smoke in Harry’s direction but it was carried away by the breeze. ‘Are you going to marry her and breed a column of solemn-faced lecturers who’ll think it their duty to bore the world?’

‘You can be an ass at times, Toby,’ Harry grumbled.

‘After you’ve done whatever it is you want to at the farm, bring the picnic hamper down, will you? I’ll get a head start on a couple of sketches.’

‘You expect me to haul that hamper all the way down to the reservoir?’

‘I’ll give you my spare sketchbook and an art lesson in return. And there is no reservoir, only an Arthurian lake, and it will be known to all as such by the time I’ve finished with it.’ Toby dared him to say otherwise before turning back to absorb the magnificent view.

Harry had only known Toby Ross for a few days, but he had already discovered that there was no point in trying to talk to him while he was creating paintings in his mind’s eye, so he concentrated on the road and the majestic, magnificent scenery of sweeping hillsides that rose and fell around them.

But as they approached the Ellis Estate, he couldn’t help agreeing with Diana Adams that, for all its beauty, it was a bleak and lonely spot.

Harry dropped Toby off at the entrance to a track signposted ‘Crai Reservoir’. Studiously ignoring it, Toby strode off, haversack on shoulder, sketchpad and pencil in hand and a look of intense concentration on his face as he studied the vista below him. Harry carried on to the farm, but instead of driving into the yard as he had done the night before, he turned the car around and parked on the road opposite the house. Taking the two baskets of fruit, he walked through the arch into the farmyard.

Dogs started barking as soon as he set foot on the cobbles, but to his relief, he noticed they were securely penned. Chickens scratched between the cobbles and wandered in and out of the barn. Ducks waddled around a small pond, splashing water over the weeds that encroached at the sides. Two enormous sows snorted and scuffed in an open sty that fronted the outbuildings at the far right-hand corner of the yard. The doors to a cowshed and milking parlour opposite him stood open, a freshly swept pile of manure heaped in front of them, but the stalls were empty and there was no sign of any of the Ellises. He was halfway to the back door in the hope of finding someone in the house, when he heard a noise in an outbuilding on his left.

He knocked and the door swung open. Mary Ellis was standing in front of a trestle table, turning the handle on a butter churn.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he apologized, when she jumped back nervously.

‘I heard the dogs but there’s a puppy that starts them off and he barks at nothing … Mr Evans! Your face! Did I do that?’

He touched his cuts and bruises lightly. ‘They only look this way because Miss Adams put iodine on them to prevent them from getting infected.’

She glanced at him in confusion before looking down at the table. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to return.’

‘I saw Miss Adams this morning. She told me that your brother thought that I should pay Martha’s wages while she’s too ill to work. And I quite agree with him.’ He set the baskets down, pulled his wallet from his inside jacket pocket, opened it and extracted two white five-pound notes. He held them out to her.

Avoiding his gaze, she shook her head. ‘We couldn’t possibly take that much, sir, Martha only earns seven shillings a week.’

‘It’s not just Martha’s wages, Miss Ellis. It’s also the upset and pain I’ve caused her and your family. Please.’ He folded the notes, placed them on the table and pushed them towards her. ‘Nothing will make me feel any the less guilty, and this is no more than Martha deserves.’

She hesitated, and he sensed her wavering.

‘It’s not charity, Miss Ellis; it’s compensation for Martha. Sensible people would see it that way.’

‘Perhaps just one, sir.’

‘Please, take both, and my name is Harry, not sir. I’m not that much older than you.’ She made no effort to pick up the notes. ‘Miss Adams said that your sister is still suffering from the effects of concussion.’

‘She is.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’ He pointed to the baskets. ‘I brought her some fruit.’

‘That is kind of you, sir.’

‘Not at all.’ Aware that he was making her uneasy, he backed out of the doorway.

She stared down at the banknotes before slowly, almost unwillingly, pocketing them. ‘Thank you for the fruit.’ She dropped the handle of the churn and picked up the baskets. ‘I’ll take these into the scullery and draw some water so Martha can clean them.’

‘Would you like me to carry the baskets for you?’

‘No, sir.’ Her refusal was emphatic.

Sensitive to her disquiet, he said, ‘Is it all right if I leave my car parked outside your house for a few hours? My friend has walked down to the reservoir and I’m going to join him.’

‘What has he walked down there for?’ There was resentment as well as suspicion in her voice.

‘He’s an artist, and he wants to paint a picture of it.’ She looked confused, so he added, ‘He wants to put it in a book as an illustration.’

‘Our reservoir? In a book?’

‘You may not realize it after seeing the mountains and reservoir every day, but your house is in a very lovely spot.’

‘We like it,’ she bit back defensively.

‘So do I, all the more after living in a city for the last three years.’

Weighed down by the baskets, she joined him in the yard. ‘I’ve never been to a city.’

It was the closest they’d come to a normal conversation. Wary of provoking further unease or aggression, he settled for a bland, ‘Never?’

‘I went to Swansea a few times with my mother, when she was alive. She used to sell our butter and cheeses to the farmers’ wives who had stalls on the market. She used the money they gave her to buy our clothes. But Swansea’s only a town.’

Harry glanced at her black cotton skirt and blouse. Both were patched with material of a lighter shade, and she coloured when she saw him looking at her. Hoping to alleviate her embarrassment, he asked, ‘and what did you think of Swansea, Miss Ellis?’

‘It was noisy and dirty.’

‘Most industrial towns in Wales are. They wouldn’t be anything else with all the coal mining that goes on here. But they do have their advantages. Theatres, dance halls, picture houses, shops, art galleries …’ He recalled how poor the Ellises were and how ridiculous it was to talk about picture houses, plays and the theatre to a girl who couldn’t afford to pay her rent. ‘Is there a picture house or theatre in the valley?’ he asked, wondering if he dare suggest that he take Martha, and any of the other Ellises who wanted to go as further atonement for knocking her down.

‘There’s a theatre in the sanatorium. Madame Patti used to give concerts there. My father and mother took me when I was little. But it hasn’t been used since she died.’

‘You don’t have any picture houses?’

‘There may be one in Pontardawe, and there are magic lantern shows in the chapel vestry sometimes. But it takes us so long to walk down there and we’re so busy in the evenings; we haven’t been for a few years.’

‘The farm must take all your time,’ he sympathized.

She went into the scullery and left the baskets of fruit next to an enormous stone sink before going to the kitchen door. ‘I have to start making the dinner now.’

He touched his boater. ‘Would you mind if I came up to enquire after your sister again?’

‘There’s no need. Miss Adams said Martha will be fine.’

‘Then, if you prefer, I’ll make my enquiries with Miss Adams in future.’ The girl was obviously frightened of him and he decided that it might be as well if he sent more fruit up with Diana.

‘David, you’re back early.’ Mary looked past Harry to her brother, who strode into the yard with his sheepdog and Matthew trotting at his heels.

The dog growled when David pointed an accusing finger at Harry. ‘I stopped shearing when I saw his car parked outside the house.’

‘Mr Evans called to give us money.’

‘At least a fiver, I hope.’ David glared at Harry and made no effort to silence his animal. Harry had never been afraid of a dog in his life, but after being attacked the day before, he stepped back warily.

‘He gave me ten pounds, David,’ Mary murmured.

‘Merlyn!’ David snapped, and the dog fell silent. If David was surprised by Harry’s generosity he showed no sign of it. ‘It’s no more than Martha deserves after what he put her through.’

‘I was just asking Miss Ellis if she would allow me to call and enquire after your sister’s health again …’ Harry debated what he should call David Ellis. ‘David’ was too familiar, boys under sixteen should be addressed as ‘master’, but there was nothing of the child about David Ellis. Fortunately, David interrupted him.

‘As long as you know that we expect you to carry on paying for what you did to Martha until she’s better.’

‘David, that’s bad manners,’ Mary said.

‘How much more do you want me to pay?’ Harry asked.

‘Her wages.’

‘I think the ten pounds will cover those.’

‘The doctor’s bills,’ David added.

‘Miss Adams has told me that she won’t charge you for her visits.’

‘She’s not a proper doctor,’ David said truculently.

‘Then when you call a proper doctor, please tell him to send his bill to me.’ Harry slipped his card case from his pocket, opened it and handed David one. ‘That’s my home address. I’m staying at the inn in Abercrave at the moment. The doctor can leave a message for me there if he calls in the next day or two.’

The boy took the card. ‘He will.’

‘I’ll wait to hear from him.’ Harry touched his cap again. ‘Miss Ellis, it was good to make your acquaintance. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances.’

Toby added a few lines to his rough sketch of the reservoir and the surrounding hills before shading his eyes and studying the scene for a full minute. Then he closed the book. He glanced across to where Harry was sitting, sketching surrounded by the tins and boxes he’d lifted out of their picnic hamper. ‘It sounds like your young David Ellis is a right charmer.’

‘He’s not “my” David Ellis.’ Harry gazed critically at the clump of grass he’d drawn in the foreground of his landscape. ‘And I can’t say that I wasn’t warned. Diana Adams told me this morning that he was going to try and get all he could out of me.’

‘Good for you for fighting back. A lesser man would simply have handed him more money.’

‘You think I should have given them more than ten pounds?’ Harry asked seriously.

‘Ten pounds plus a face full of scratches and bruises is more than enough for an accident that was as much the girl’s fault for walking in middle of the road in a storm as yours.’ Toby opened his knapsack and stuffed his sketchbook inside. ‘So, what are we eating?’

‘Ham and cheese sandwiches, pork pie, pasties, cheese straws, salad, apple turnovers and two of the biggest slabs of fruit cake I’ve ever seen. Oh, and four bottles of beer.’ Harry handed Toby a plate.

‘Thanks, I’ll take a piece of pork pie, a ham sandwich, cheese straw, salad and a bottle of beer. You do have an opener?’

‘On my trusty penknife.’

Toby sat next to Harry. ‘You know the major and most serious problem with the poor is that when you put baksheesh into their hand, they come to expect it on a regular basis.’

‘That a proverb or did you just come up with it?’ Harry pulled a handful of green salad from a tin box lined with greaseproof paper, and sprinkled it on to his plate, before handing the box over to Toby.

‘I came up with it. And it’s born of bitter experience. You start giving those children handouts, they’ll come to rely on them, and before you know it, you’ll either be keeping them or they’ll be in the workhouse. And if they’re incarcerated, you’ll be racked with guilt even though you are not responsible for them. It wouldn’t surprise me if that grasping little beggar asks you for another ten pounds next week – and should you be idiotic enough to give it to him, another tenner the week after that.’

‘If he does, he’ll get short shrift.’

‘You say that now, but what will you do if he tells you that Martha is worse?’

‘I’ll ask to see her.’

‘And if she is?’ Toby pressed.

‘Diana Adams says she’ll make a full recovery and I believe her.’ Harry demolished a cheese straw in two bites. ‘From the way you’re talking, it sounds as though you’ve doled out charity once too often yourself.’

‘I did, with a young model in Paris. It was the closest I’ve ever come to a serious disagreement with Frank. And much as I hate to admit it, he was right and I was wrong. He said it would end in disaster, it did, and I’d rather not talk about it. So,’ Toby dusted the crumbs from his hands and looked enquiringly at Harry, ‘let’s see that sketchbook I gave you.’

Harry handed it over.

Toby opened it. ‘Not bad, not bad at all.’

‘Really?’ Harry would never have admitted that he was looking for a compliment. He only hoped that Toby wasn’t being sarcastic.

Toby pulled a pencil from his knapsack. ‘If you extend this line, shorten this one and add a bit more detail here …’ A few seconds and pencil strokes later, he had completely transformed Harry’s sketch.

‘One minute’s work and you’ve made it come alive,’ Harry said despondently.

‘Don’t forget it took four years of hard graft at the Slade to learn those tricks, and make no mistake, they are tricks.’ Toby handed the book back to Harry and picked up his ham sandwich.

‘I’d like to say it was just a doodle, but I really thought I was making headway,’ Harry complained.

‘You were.’ Toby consoled. ‘And I know just how you feel. There have been times when Frank has taken my efforts apart in the name of constructive criticism and left me thinking that I’d never produce any work worth a penny damn.’

Harry set the book aside and spread mustard over his slice of pie. ‘Can I see what you’ve done?’

‘Later, when I’m past the taking notes stage and know exactly how my lady’s arm is going to look coming out of the lake – when I find it. The arm, I mean. The lake is perfect, as are the surrounding hills. I can just see Arthur and Merlin riding over the crest of that hill on their trusty white steeds, draped in red tapestry stitched by the adoring court ladies, and looking down on this wild and lonely place – I’d have to paint out the farmhouse, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Harry agreed drily.

‘I told you all the ideas are Frank’s, but that’s not to say I won’t run this one past him.’ Toby finished his sandwich, lay back, crossed his arms behind his head and stared up at the sky. ‘This really is glorious. I wish …’

‘What?’ Harry prompted when Toby remained silent.

‘That this moment would last for ever. That nothing would ever change.’ He sat up suddenly, and pulled the sandwich box towards him. ‘The weather, you, me, eating like kings in this peaceful place with nothing to do but try to produce art – whatever that word means. That publishers who demand at least two illustrations every Monday morning be content with what they have, without nagging me to hurry up and send more.’

Harry wasn’t fooled by Toby’s mention of publishers. He knew that he was thinking of Frank and looking ahead to a time when his uncle would exist only in memory.

He imagined his grandfather and sister lying in strange rooms, in strange beds surrounded by people who, for all their professional expertise and well-meaning attempts to care for them, were still strangers.

And he resolved to demand that he be allowed to see his grandfather first thing the following morning, whatever Dr Adams said.