'Last night was amazing wasn’t it?’ Alice-Miranda slipped her hand into her father’s as the family walked along Fifth Avenue towards the Met.

‘Wonderful, darling,’ her mother replied. ‘Granma Clarrie’s certainly energetic. That dance-off with Dolly was something to behold.’

‘And surely there had to be a certain amount of satisfaction in seeing your old enemy get his comeuppance, Cee?’ Hugh grinned at his wife.

‘I thought I must be going mad with all the things that were happening at the store. I’m just glad that Morrie’s been brought to his senses. But I wish you’d have told me about Ruby Winters last week when you found out, Alice-Miranda,’ Cecelia finished, looking at her daughter.

‘I tried to, Mummy, but you were so busy. I didn’t want to worry you with anything else,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

‘Speaking of busy, your mother and I promise, Alice-Miranda, no more running off to meetings and other things – we’re going to make the most of our last week together,’ Hugh grinned.

‘And no more secrets?’ Cecelia glanced at her husband.

‘I promise, darling, no more,’ Hugh replied.

‘Is it really true, Daddy, that Uncle Xavier didn’t die all those years ago?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

‘Yes, sweetheart, the evidence seems to suggest so,’ her father replied.

The happy trio reached their destination.

‘You know, the man I met when I was drawing the Degas – the one who was admiring that picture from Pelham Park,’ Alice-Miranda explained, ‘he lectured our class last week.’

‘Was he any good?’ her father asked.

‘Yes, he’s wonderful. He has some paintings here in the gallery. I think you might be very interested once you see them.’

The family reached the top of the steps and headed into the cavernous foyer.

‘Wait here a moment,’ the tiny child instructed. ‘I just need to do something.’ Alice-Miranda rushed over to the information booth.

After a short exchange the young woman at the booth picked up the telephone. ‘He’ll be here soon, miss,’ she said after she finished the call. ‘He’ll meet you in the gallery.’

Alice-Miranda skipped back to her parents.

‘Well, why don’t you show Mummy and me this mysterious painting from home?’ Hugh asked.

‘I will, but there’s something else I want you to see on the way.’ Alice-Miranda led her parents through the Grecian antiquities and the Indigenous exhibits upstairs to the west galleries.

‘It’s in here,’ Alice-Miranda explained. ‘Over there.’

‘Oh my goodness.’ Hugh frowned and rubbed his temples. He stared at the intricate painting in front of him.

Alice-Miranda looked at the citation and read aloud. ‘Dragons and Knights by Edward Clifton.’

Alice-Miranda looked up at her father, wide-eyed. He was mesmerised.

‘That picture. And the name. That’s my mother’s maiden name,’ Hugh whispered. ‘Is it possible?’

‘Daddy, I think there’s someone you should meet.’ Alice-Miranda stared at the tall man with the thick shock of salt-and-pepper hair who had slipped silently into the gallery.

Hugh looked at his daughter and then to his wife. Alice-Miranda pointed behind him.

Hugh spun around and Ed Clifton stepped forward and offered his hand.

‘Hello little brother.’

On that sparkling Sunday afternoon in Central Park, two men who had been lost to one another as boys began to get to know each other properly for the very first time.

‘Mummy, come and look at this,’ Alice-Miranda called to Cecelia, who was lying on the grass reading a magazine.

Cecelia stood up and went to see what her daughter was looking at.

‘We’re gonna miss that kid, Harry,’ said Lou Gambino, as he watched the family from behind his hot dog cart. He smiled at Alice-Miranda, who was darting in and out of the trees chasing the squirrels. ‘But you know, I have a feeling she’ll be back.’

Harry Geronimo pulled the chess board from the small cupboard on the side of his cart. ‘I think you might be right. You know, Lou, this is a good life, a very good life indeed.’