Rebus nodded. ‘That most of all.’

‘There are other ways, John.’

‘Is this where you try to sell me the Juice Church?’

‘You’re a big boy, make up your own mind.’ Jack got to his feet, pulled Rebus to his.

‘I bet we look like a couple of dossers.’

‘Well, you do. I don’t know about me.’

‘Elegant, Jack, you look cool and elegant.’

Jack touched a hand to Rebus’s shoulder. ‘OK now?’

Rebus nodded. ‘It’s daft, but I feel better than for ages. Come on, let’s go for a walk.’

They turned and headed back towards the Infirmary. Jack didn’t ask where they were going. But Rebus had a destination in mind: the university library in George Square. It was just closing as they walked in, the departing students, folders huddled to chests, giving them plenty of room as they walked up to the main desk.

‘Can I help you?’ a man asked, looking them up and down. But Rebus was walking around the desk to where a young woman was bowed over a pile of books.

‘Hello, Nell.’

She looked up, couldn’t place him at first. Then the blood left her face.

‘What’s happened?’

Rebus held up a hand. ‘Brian’s fine. Jack here and me … well, we …’

‘Tripped and fell,’ Jack said.

‘You shouldn’t drink in pubs with stairs.’ Now she knew Brian was all right, she was regaining her composure fast, and with it her wariness. ‘What do you want?’

‘A word,’ Rebus said. ‘Maybe outside?’

‘I’ll be finished here in five minutes.’

Rebus nodded. ‘We’ll wait.’

They went outside. Rebus went to light a cigarette but found the packet crushed, its contents useless.

‘Christ, just when I could do with one.’

‘Now you know how it feels to give up.’

They sat on the steps and stared at George Square Gardens and the buildings surrounding it, a mishmash of old and new.

‘You can almost feel all that brain power in the air,’ Jack commented.

‘Half the force has been to university these days.’

‘And I bet they don’t go swinging punches at their friends.’

‘I’ve said I’m sorry.’

‘Did Sammy ever go to uni?’

‘College. I think she did something secretarial. She works for a charity now.’

‘Which one?’

‘SWEEP.’

‘Working with ex-cons?’

‘That’s it’

‘Did she do it to have a dig at you?’

Rebus had asked himself the same question many times. He shrugged.

‘Fathers and daughters, eh?’

The door swung open behind them. It was Nell Stapleton. She was tall, with short dark hair and a defiant face. No earrings or jewellery.

‘You can walk me to the bus stop,’ she told them.

‘Look, Nell,’ Rebus started, realising that he should have thought this through, should have rehearsed, ‘all I want to say is, I’m sorry about you and Brian.’

‘Thanks.’ She was walking quickly. Rebus’s knee hurt as he kept up.

‘I know I’m unlikely material as marriage guidance, but there’s something you have to know: Brian’s a born copper. He doesn’t want to lose you – it’s killing him – but leaving the force would be a slow death in itself. He can’t make himself leave, so instead he’s trying to get into trouble, so the high hiedyins will have no alternative but to boot him out. That’s no way to sort a problem.’