“After the war”—Kim-Ange nodded—“when the world got ripped apart. After Hiroshima, it got torn up again. You couldn’t look at life the way people had looked at it before.”

Now Cormac couldn’t see enough of it. He wandered through the galleries of Picassos, Dalís, mouth open.

“They’re all soldiers.”

“We’re all soldiers,” observed Kim-Ange, eventually pulling him away. “Art is amazing,” she added perkily. “And you get a slice of cake at the end of it. Shall we?”

And Cormac was just about to enthusiastically agree, and concede that, okay, London maybe did have a bit more to offer than he’d originally thought . . . but his phone buzzed, and he took it out and stared at it, disconsolately, reading a message.

“Oh, bugger,” he said.

Chapter 42

“Why didn’t you call me?” he almost yelled down the phone.

“It’s just a broken wrist,” said his mother, equally crossly. “I called a taxi. Honestly, don’t worry about it.”

“What were you doing?”

“I was on the trapeze.”

“Mu-um.”

“My stupid bicycle. How’s London?”

“So who set it for you?”

“Some nine-year-old up at the hospital.”

“I’ll pop up,” said Cormac.

“You won’t ‘pop up,’” said Bridie. “I am perfectly fine and Yasmeena is coming over.”

Yasmeena lived in Inverness with Lewis, the middle son.

Cormac sighed. “I can get a flight.”

“You can do nothing of the sort! You’ve got a job to do. I am totally fine.”

Cormac took stock. After his father had died, his mother’s default was “totally fine,” and she took any insinuation to the contrary as a total insult.

“Okay,” he said. “Well, at least there’ll be someone to check it for you. I wouldn’t have been allowed.”

“It’s fine!”

“I mean, I would anyway . . .”

“It’s fine! I’m busy anyway.”

“Which wrist is it?”

“My right,” admitted Bridie.

“Mum!” Cormac tsked. “It’s okay, I’m going to get the new girl who’s standing in for me to pop in.”

“I’ve seen her,” said Bridie. “She has hair all over the place.”

“So I hear,” said Cormac.

“And she’s a bit standoffish.”

“You think everyone who doesn’t come from Kirrinfief is standoffish! Remember what you said about that woman with the book bus?”

“Aye, she’s all right, Nina.”

“She is!” said Cormac. “So is Alyssa. I’m pretty sure.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Bridie.

Which is how Cormac found himself writing a note on Monday morning asking, as politely as he knew how, if Lissa could possibly go and visit his mother.