There was no argument to counter that irrefutable truth. She was silent for a moment then asked, “What’re you going to do with them all when you leave?”

“No idea. Crate them up I suppose and put them in storage until my father can send them on to the States.”

“Send them to Edward, he can use the diplomatic bag to get them into England quickly. Stephen can forward them on.”

“I’ll ring Edward now, where is he?”

“Should be at the embassy by now.”

Dathan waited whilst he made the call and arranged with a gallery to collect and pack the paintings later that afternoon. Rudi’s urgency to act immediately impressed her, he obviously believed he was a likely target of the regime. She browsed through the canvasses until he returned.

“When I look at your efforts I realise how much more work I have to do,” she said, “one day you’ll have exhibitions all over the world.”

“I’m never sure if you’re laughing at me,” he said putting a fresh sheet of cartridge paper on his easel, “will you sit for me, until the van arrives?”

Dathan took off her hat, let down her hair and perched on a stool in front of him, “This do?”

“Turn your face to the window, I need the light,” he frowned at her.

She turned her head.

The only noise came from the scratching of charcoal as Rudi quickly sketched an outline. After the first furious moments he slowed and asked, “Have you decided when you’re leaving?”

“Yes, can you be ready in four more days?” She turned to look at him.