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– all the sense of direction of a sock. And then Boxer neighed and something answered and we saw it standing on the hill ahead of us. Biggest horse I ever saw in my life. We couldn’t get close, but I followed it down. And the sheep followed me. Martin brought up the rear. And here we are.’
    He disappeared. I heard him clattering off down the landing, singing. A door opened and closed.
    Silence fell.
    A special sort of silence. The silence of expectancy. The expectancy of a dark, snow-filled night on Christmas Eve.
    I looked over to the dim corner of the room and smiled. ‘I can see you, you know.’
    He came towards the bed, swishing his tail and filling the room with his smell of ginger biscuits.
    ‘ Jenny, my dear friend. ’
    I could hardly speak, but he would want me to make an effort. ‘Thomas.’
    ‘ How are you? ’
    ‘Well, thank you.’
    ‘ And the little one? ’
    ‘See for yourself.’
    I pushed back the bedclothes, wobbled to my feet, and brought her over.
    She stared up at the big, golden horse and the big, golden horse stared down at her.
    ‘ Jenny, she is quite beautiful. ’
    ‘Yes,’ I said proudly. ‘She is, isn’t she?’
    ‘ Does she have a name? ’
    ‘Yes, I named her after you.’
    That startled him. ‘ You named her Thomas? ’
    ‘No. I named her Joy.’
    She screwed up her face, smacked her lips, and tried to suck her tiny fist.
    ‘ Jenny … She’s an angel .’
    I smiled at him. ‘I always remember the last time I saw you. Up on the moor. Galloping away over the crest of the hill. And then, just before you disappeared, you kicked up your heels for the sheer joy of living. So I named her Joy because you bring me joy. Even when you’re not actually here. Speaking of not being here, thank you for bringing Russell home safely.’
    ‘ He was lost, Jenny. He didn’t know which way to go. ’ He sighed. ‘ He hasn’t changed much, has he? ’
    ‘Actually, I think he has. He doesn’t drink so much. He doesn’t shout so much …’
    ‘ But …? ’
    ‘But he doesn’t paint so much, either. It’s as you said – he doesn’t know which way to go. He’s lost,’ I said sadly, silently cursing my lack of life experience. ‘I should be helping him through this and I don’t know what to do.’
    ‘ Jenny, I think you’ve already done it. I think he draws his inspiration from his own life as he is, at that moment, living it. When he was younger, more brash, more confident, his work reflected that. Now he is older. He’s had had his fair share of disappointment and heartbreak. Just as all of us do, Jenny. It’s called life. He is, at the moment, very unsure of himself, especially in this new role as father – a very novel sensation for Russell Checkland and one which won’t do him any harm at all. He will emerge. You wait and see. And now, you’ve given him this little person to care for. ’
    I smiled. ‘And you, Thomas, how are you?’
    ‘ I’m well, and, as always, all the better for seeing you. Sometimes, I miss you very much. ’
    ‘I miss you, too.’
    ‘ Ah, but you have this little one now. Sometimes … ’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘ Sometimes I wonder if you will forget me. ’
    ‘You know I never will. I owe you too much.’
    ‘ Jenny, I did nothing. You did it all yourself. And now I must go. ’
    I knew better than to try and keep him here. He expected more from me.
    ‘It was good to see you again, Thomas. And thank you again for bringing Russell home.’
    ‘ We shall see each other again … ’
    ‘Will we? When?’
    But he was already fading. I could see the outline of the chest of drawers behind him. There was a last lingering of ginger biscuits and then he was gone.
    Thomas was right. She was an angel. A happy angel. She was Russell’s daughter, with all of his charm and erratic behaviour, but slightly less messy eating habits.
    Russell adored her and she him and yes; he turned out to be an unorthodox but effective father. He spent hours beside her