Jenny looked away. It was embarrassing how open Liam was. Maybe because of his creative side he was in touch with stuff that Jenny and most of her generation kept hidden. She was raised to shrug and say ‘whatever’, hated direct emotional engagement. That’s what made her bad at the funeral business. She should be helping Mum right now, but she found it difficult to handle the emotions that spilled over at funerals. And anyway, Dorothy and Archie would have everything under control.

Liam took her hand and she resisted the urge to pull away. Ever since Craig, she struggled with this. Maybe she should go to therapy like Hannah, to help her cope. But therapy wasn’t in her DNA, the idea of talking to a stranger about the fucked-up things in her head made her teeth itch.

‘How’s Hannah?’ Liam said, as if reading her mind. Maybe it was obvious she was constantly worried about her daughter. Fuck, who wouldn’t be? Hannah’s dad had killed one of her best friends, and tried to kill Jenny and Dorothy too. When Larkin said your mum and dad fuck you up, did he have that crazy shit in mind?

Jenny sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘She’ll be OK.’

‘I wish I had your confidence.’

‘I have plenty of confidence in your family, less in myself.’

‘God, I’m fed up telling you.’

‘It’s fine,’ Liam said, smiling. ‘We have confidence in each other, just not ourselves. That’s Gen X, right?’

He was so honest it was painful. How had the world not crushed this man already? Six months after finding out his marriage was a sham, he was here in the pub smiling and joking. When Jenny’s divorce came through ten years ago, she curled up in a ball at home for years afterwards. Craig moved on to a new woman, new family, new life. How do you square that shit away?

Liam took a drink and narrowed his eyes. He knew her already, what her moods were, when she was shrinking into herself.

‘Hannah and Dorothy will be fine,’ he said. ‘You’re the strongest women I’ve ever met. If anyone can handle things, it’s the Skelfs.’

Jenny drank and shook her head, felt the burn of the extra gin in her tonic. She needed that edge to hold on to. Hannah was seeing a counsellor, Dorothy seemed to have found peace in the funeral work. But where did that leave Jenny? A dead dad, a murderous ex-husband, no home of her own, working two jobs she couldn’t do very well. She looked around the pub and out of the window. It was a beautiful spring day and the Water of Leith was shimmering in the sun. She had a handsome, smart man with her, and she had her family.