that had always been Annabelle's way. It was no fun creating havoc if she couldn't leave behind her a trail of guilt and remorse. Unbelievable, isn't it?"
"It sounds unbelievable to me. But if Chips said that, then it has to be true."
"I knew that, too. He went and saw Annabelle that very evening. Had it out with her. He walked up to White Lodge and got Annabelle on his own. At first she tried to bluff it out, insisting that it could be nobody's child but mine. But then he faced her with what he had told me. About the other man. And when he came out with his name, Annabelle broke down and admitted that he was right. It wasn't necessarily my child. She just liked to think that it might be. I never saw her again. She went back to London a couple of days later, taking the little boy and his nanny with her. And Chips and I agreed that it was time that I went, too. I'd been marking time for far too long."
"Does Phoebe know about all this?"
"No. I didn't want her to know, and Chips agreed that it would be better if she didn't. Hopefully, there would be no repercussions, and there was no point in upsetting her or creating any sort of trouble with Mrs. Tolliver. Penmarron is a small village. They had to go on living there, both of them part of a fairly tight community."
"What a wise man Chips was."
"Wise. Understanding. I can't begin to describe to you his kindness to me at that time. Like the very best sort of father. He fixed everything for me, even lent me some money to see me through till I found my feet. He gave me letters of introduction to friends of his in New York, but most important, he sent me off with a letter of introduction to Peter Chastal in London. In those days the gallery had been going only for a couple of years, but he'd already earned something of a name for himself in the art world. I took a great folio of my work for him to look at, and by the time I left for America, he'd agreed to exhibit for me and act as my agent. And that's what he's done ever since."
I thought of the ecstatic review I had read on the train. "He's done well for you."
"Yes. I've been fortunate."
"Chips used to say it was no good having a talent if you didn't work at it."
"Chips used to say a lot of sound things."
"Was it working that kept you away for eleven years?"
"I like to think so. I don't like to think I was trying to escape from what had happened. But perhaps I was. Running. Further and further away. New York first, and then Arizona, and then San Francisco. It was while I was there that I first became interested in Japanese art. There's a big Japanese community in San Francisco, and I found myself involved with a group of young painters. The longer I worked with them, the more I realised how little I knew. The traditions and disciplines of Japanese painting go back for centuries. It fascinated me. So I went to Japan, and there I became a student again, sitting at the feet of a very old and famous man. Time ceased to have any meaning. I was there for four years. Sometimes it seemed like a few days. At others, eternity.
"This exhibition at Peter Chastal's is a direct result of those years. I told you I didn't want to come back for it. Opening days do genuinely terrify me. But as well, I was afraid of coming back to England. On the other side of the world it was possible not to think about Annabelle and the child that might be mine. But coming back ... I had nightmares about being in London and seeing Annabelle and my child walking up the pavement towards me."
"Wasn't coming to Cornwall something of a risk?"
"It all seemed predestined. Meeting a stranger in a pub, being offered a lift. I very nearly didn't come, but I wanted so much to see Phoebe again."
I thought back to yesterday. I remembered how quietly he had sat at the bar downstairs while I chattered on about Mrs. Tolliver and Charlotte. "Daniel, when I told you Charlotte was here, at Penmarron, staying with her grandmother, you must have realised that she was the
"It sounds unbelievable to me. But if Chips said that, then it has to be true."
"I knew that, too. He went and saw Annabelle that very evening. Had it out with her. He walked up to White Lodge and got Annabelle on his own. At first she tried to bluff it out, insisting that it could be nobody's child but mine. But then he faced her with what he had told me. About the other man. And when he came out with his name, Annabelle broke down and admitted that he was right. It wasn't necessarily my child. She just liked to think that it might be. I never saw her again. She went back to London a couple of days later, taking the little boy and his nanny with her. And Chips and I agreed that it was time that I went, too. I'd been marking time for far too long."
"Does Phoebe know about all this?"
"No. I didn't want her to know, and Chips agreed that it would be better if she didn't. Hopefully, there would be no repercussions, and there was no point in upsetting her or creating any sort of trouble with Mrs. Tolliver. Penmarron is a small village. They had to go on living there, both of them part of a fairly tight community."
"What a wise man Chips was."
"Wise. Understanding. I can't begin to describe to you his kindness to me at that time. Like the very best sort of father. He fixed everything for me, even lent me some money to see me through till I found my feet. He gave me letters of introduction to friends of his in New York, but most important, he sent me off with a letter of introduction to Peter Chastal in London. In those days the gallery had been going only for a couple of years, but he'd already earned something of a name for himself in the art world. I took a great folio of my work for him to look at, and by the time I left for America, he'd agreed to exhibit for me and act as my agent. And that's what he's done ever since."
I thought of the ecstatic review I had read on the train. "He's done well for you."
"Yes. I've been fortunate."
"Chips used to say it was no good having a talent if you didn't work at it."
"Chips used to say a lot of sound things."
"Was it working that kept you away for eleven years?"
"I like to think so. I don't like to think I was trying to escape from what had happened. But perhaps I was. Running. Further and further away. New York first, and then Arizona, and then San Francisco. It was while I was there that I first became interested in Japanese art. There's a big Japanese community in San Francisco, and I found myself involved with a group of young painters. The longer I worked with them, the more I realised how little I knew. The traditions and disciplines of Japanese painting go back for centuries. It fascinated me. So I went to Japan, and there I became a student again, sitting at the feet of a very old and famous man. Time ceased to have any meaning. I was there for four years. Sometimes it seemed like a few days. At others, eternity.
"This exhibition at Peter Chastal's is a direct result of those years. I told you I didn't want to come back for it. Opening days do genuinely terrify me. But as well, I was afraid of coming back to England. On the other side of the world it was possible not to think about Annabelle and the child that might be mine. But coming back ... I had nightmares about being in London and seeing Annabelle and my child walking up the pavement towards me."
"Wasn't coming to Cornwall something of a risk?"
"It all seemed predestined. Meeting a stranger in a pub, being offered a lift. I very nearly didn't come, but I wanted so much to see Phoebe again."
I thought back to yesterday. I remembered how quietly he had sat at the bar downstairs while I chattered on about Mrs. Tolliver and Charlotte. "Daniel, when I told you Charlotte was here, at Penmarron, staying with her grandmother, you must have realised that she was the
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