The warmth of her dream faded, replaced by the chill of Scottish autumn. She hated dreams of California, they made her miss her childhood home in a visceral way. And now she hated dreams of Jim too, a reminder of what she’d lost.

Men will be men.

But what if he didn’t just look at other women?

She sat in the body van and looked at Rebecca’s house. Archie needed the van for a pick-up later this morning so she had to be quick. It was obviously better to bring the anonymous white van rather than the silver hearse. Park a hearse anywhere and people will start talking. She breathed deeply, reciting a simple mantra in her head to stay calm. She wasn’t sure why she was here but she had to speak to Rebecca again. Her car was in the drive, so she wasn’t at work yet.

Dorothy got out and walked across the road. It was dreich today, a good Scots word for it, low cloud and cold mizzle hanging in the air, Arthur’s Seat vanished in the mist. She pulled her collar up against it, went up the path and rang the doorbell. Waited. Breathed in and out.

She heard the clumping footsteps of the girl inside, then Natalie opened the door. She was in a white polo shirt and black leggings, bare feet. The smell of burnt toast lingered and she had a smudge of chocolate spread at the corner of her mouth.

‘Hi, Natalie,’ Dorothy said. ‘Remember me?’

Natalie nodded but didn’t speak.

‘Is your mum around?’121

Natalie looked nervous. ‘She’s upstairs.’

Dorothy nodded, leaning forwards. ‘Could you get her, please? Tell her Dorothy Skelf is here to see her.’

She could hear the sound of the shower running as Natalie thudded up the stairs with flat feet.

‘Mum?’

She heard Natalie walking across the upstairs landing. There was a muffled reply through a door.