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side of the urn.
    George started removing the wrapping paper, helped by a small pair of hands that had appeared, like magic, from under the coffee table.
    ‘It’s a very big pot, Grandpa,’ announced Fred as the urn was unveiled. ‘Do you like it?’
    George smiled. ‘It’s wonderful. Thank you, Alicia, and thank you, kids.’ He looked up at his daughter. ‘Did you say you got this from Wharton Park?’
    ‘Yes.’ She looked at Julia. ‘Are you going to give Dad your present now?’
    ‘Of course.’ Julia indicated the package on the coffee table. ‘Why don’t you open it?’
    Julia couldn’t help but look expectantly as her father opened the present. The framers she had taken the paintings to had done an excellent job, mounting them with a fawn-coloured border and advising Julia to use a simple black wooden frame around their edges.
    ‘Well, well, well …’ George’s voice tailed off as he looked at each one. Eventually he said, ‘These were from Wharton Park too?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He sat silently, trying to work out something that was puzzling him. The whole family was watching him. Finally Alicia broke the silence. ‘Don’t you like them?’
    George looked up at Julia, not Alicia. ‘Julia, I … love them, because you see …’ he smiled and surreptitiously wiped a tear away from his eye, ‘I’m positive that these were painted by your mother.’
    The conversation over the lunch table was full of ideas as to how Jasmine’s paintings could have ended up at the Wharton Park Sale of Contents.
    ‘Are you absolutely sure they were Mummy’s paintings?’ asked Alicia.
    ‘Darling,’ George said as he tucked into the perfect roast beef Alicia had cooked, ‘I’m convinced of it. The first time I clapped eyes on your mother, she was sitting in a corner of your grandfather’s hothouse with her sketchbook and her tin of watercolours. And later, when we travelled together, and we’d find a species of interest, I’d take down the notes and she would paint the flowers. I’d recognise her style anywhere. When I get home I’ll study them again and compare them to some of your mother’s other paintings. But, Julia,’ he smiled warmly at his daughter across the table, ‘you really couldn’t have given me anything better.’
    After coffee back in the drawing room, Julia stood up.
    ‘I’m off, Dad.’
    George looked up. ‘So soon?’
    Julia nodded. ‘Yes.’
    George reached for her hand. ‘Come and visit me some day, will you? I’d love to see you and have a chat.’
    ‘Okay,’ agreed Julia, but they both knew that she wouldn’t.
    ‘Thank you so much for those paintings, darling. They really do mean the world to me,’ he added.
    ‘I think we’d better thank serendipity, because I’d no idea,’ said Julia. ‘Bye, kids, see you soon,’ she waved.
    ‘Bye, Auntie Julia,’ they chorused.
    Alicia caught her hand just as she was walking out of the door. ‘Coffee next week?’ she offered.
    ‘I’ll give you a call. And thank you very much for lunch.’ Julia kissed her sister on the cheek. ‘Bye.’
    Alicia shut the door behind her sister and sighed. A pair of arms snaked round her waist from behind and held her tight.
    ‘I know, Lissy. She’s still in a pretty bad way,’ sighed Max.
    ‘She is,’ Alicia agreed. ‘But she doesn’t help herself, sitting in that miserable cottage alone all day long. It’s been over seven months now.’
    ‘Well, you can’t force her,’ Max sighed. ‘At least she uttered a few words today. Anyway, Grandpa’s staying on for tea and I’m in charge of the washing-up. Go and put your feet up, darling, and talk to your father.’
    Alicia went back into the drawing room and sat down, content to watch her father bond with her two sons over a jigsaw. Rose had snuck off upstairs to her bedroom and she could hear Kate in the kitchen helping Max. She stared into the fire, thinking about the newly discovered orchid paintings, and Julia.
    When their mother had