“Oh, do you? And how do you know?”

“I don’t. We exchange medical notes.”

“You’re practically having a relationship. I’m surprised your mum hasn’t been over.”

“I’m not,” said Cormac.

“Is she still in a mood with you?”

“She is.”

“Highland women,” said Jake, not for the first time.

“What . . . what does she look like?” asked Cormac tentatively, not even entirely sure why he was asking.

“Oi oi,” said Jake, and Cormac instantly cursed.

“Not like that!” he said quickly. “It’s just a bit weird not to know who’s living in your house.”

“Well, get on Facebook then, like normals.”

Cormac screwed up his face. “I am on it, remember? It’s just my mum sending me pictures of armadillos and my old army pals sharing really, really dodgy stuff. Ugh.”

“Well then. You’ll never know if she’s a frog monster or not.”

“Don’t say frog monster,” said Cormac. “Also, is she a frog monster?”

Jake’s voice went quiet for a while. Then he started up again, and it had an uncharacteristically dreamy tone to it Cormac hadn’t heard before and certainly not when he was talking about Ginty MacGuire.

“Well,” Jake said eventually, “you know Meghan Markle.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Nothing at all like her,” clarified Jake. “I mean, not really. I mean, she’s curvier, aye, and, well, no she doesn’t look . . . but she’s got these freckles. And they’re . . . they’re dead cute. And all this hair! She’s just got loads and loads of hair and it’s all ringletty and it’s everywhere and . . . anyway . . . Anyway. No, I havenae seen her.”

“Jake Inglis! You think she’s cute!”

“I do not.”

“Well, there you go! She’s lonely. You can ask her out and thank me later.”

“No!”

“That proves it then,” said Cormac. “I know how you work. You ask everyone out and run the laws of statistics. If you’re not doing it it’s because you’re sweet.”

“I don’t,” said Jake, although he did and had never seen anything wrong with it. Jake liked women in the abstract and found something attractive in practically every woman he’d ever met. Holding back was very uncharacteristic.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re not harassing her.”

“I don’t harass anyone!” protested Jake. “I’m charming!”

“That is very much a matter of opinion,” said Cormac, although several hours later he would be sitting in an overpriced club full of weird squawking beautiful people, wishing he had just a touch of the old Jake charm.

MEANWHILE, JAKE WAS standing in the middle of the village square, tongue-tied for once in his life.

“The what?” Lissa asked.

“The shows?” He shrugged.

“Like, rides and stuff?” She still looked confused.

“And, like, a fun house, and you can win teddy bears on shooting ranges and stuff?”

“Oh, you mean a fair?”