“Aye, look at yon bairn,” he said, a half smile revealing his rotten teeth, and Lissa made a mental note to get him on a dentist’s list. Little John beamed and waved in response. “Oh, he is bonny,” said Robbie, moving closer.

He put out a yellowing finger, and John grabbed it tightly, grinning at the game. Then Robbie nodded.

“Aye,” he said, and followed Lennox out into the sunny farmyard, scattering chickens as they went, and Lissa watched them both go and crossed her fingers.

STILL VERY THOUGHTFUL, Lissa went back to the cottage. She had an hour before her next appointment. Looking for something to listen to while she made lunch, she pulled out Cormac’s CDs and, smiling when she remembered how cross he’d been, slid in the Proclaimers.

She had been expecting the bouncy song she half remembered. Instead a piano was starting a slow waltz. A soft, lamenting voice started to sing, joined by another.

“My heart was broken . . . my heart was broken.”

Then it simply repeated,

“Sorrow. Sorrow. Sorrow. Sorrow.”

Lissa turned around, frozen. It sounded . . . it sounded exactly like someone voicing what she’d been feeling for so long.

“My tears are drying . . . my tears are drying.”

By the time she got to the bursting, heartfelt, hopeful chorus, she was an absolute wreck. It felt as if, in some odd way, the song was a tiny key, unlocking something very important.

Lunch forgotten, she listened to it over and over again. Then she texted Cormac.

I might have been wrong about that band you like, she wrote.

Aye you were, came the response, quick as a wink.

Chapter 49

“You won’t believe this!”

Kim-Ange was gasping down the phone to Lissa, who had woken up to a cool, foggy morning and was warming herself in front of the smoldering peat fire. She couldn’t believe Kim-Ange was actually boiling hot when they inhabited the same landmass. They were busy being jealous of each other’s weather; Kim-Ange did not take to the heat well. It played havoc with her makeup regimen, which was prolonged and highly technical.

“You’d know if you were still on Instagram and Facebook.”

“I explained,” said Lissa patiently. It was true. She had felt more at peace since she’d closed her social media, was amazed at how pleasurable a novel and hot bath could be. Plus, she could always rely on Kim-Ange to let her know what was really happening. Like now, in fact.

“Well, Yazzie’s been all over it. Him. It! After he had a man in too!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your Scottish boy!”

“He’s not ‘my Scottish boy,’” said Lissa, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “I’ve never even met him. I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“You can see half his arse on Yazzie’s Instagram. I think she took the picture while he was asleep,” said Kim-Ange musingly.