‘Yeah,’ Duncan said. ‘It’s shite. She’s mad as a sack of snakes, and fair enough.’

‘Tell me she’s not twenty.’

‘She’s not twenty.’

‘Is she twenty?’

Duncan sighed. ‘Thirty-two.’

‘Christ, Duncan, I thought you’d finally become the original Steady Eddie.’

‘Turns out there’s life in the old dog yet.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘In the fucking doghouse, where else would the old dog be?’

Dan laughed, glad – oh, beyond glad – that Katelin wasn’t party to this conversation.

‘Go on then,’ he said.

‘She played a gig in Dundee a year or so ago, and I watched her and we got chatting afterwards, and it was like: Oh hello, here you are at last.’

‘Fucking hell, a year ago?’

‘No, no, nothing happened, and I never would’ve chased her. But then I saw her again in a bar in Glasgow three weeks ago, and she recognised me, grabbed my arse and kissed me hard.’

‘Bloody hell, she came on to you?’

‘Cheers, pal.’

‘So you can’t be that involved if it was only three weeks ago.’

‘It doesn’t feel that way to me right now.’

‘Oh God, Duncan, I hope you know what you’re doing.’

‘Course I fucking don’t,’ Duncan said. ‘Course I don’t.’ His voice cracked, and for one appalling moment Dan thought his friend was going to cry. But when he spoke again, he sounded almost cheerful. ‘Hey, but look,’ he said, ‘she’s someone you should meet.’

‘Who is?’

‘Lindsay.’

‘Christ, Duncan, Katelin thinks I colluded in all this as it is.’

‘She’s magic,’ Duncan said.

‘You said that to me ten years ago, when you met Rose-Ann.’

‘Shit, did I?’

‘Where are you now?’

‘Sat on the steps of Mick’s building.’

‘Christ, what you doing there? Look, come down to London tomorrow, you can have the boat for a while if you need some space.’

‘Ah no,’ Duncan said. ‘I need to be up here.’

‘Mick’s a tosser, Duncan. Why’d you go there?’

‘Lindsay’s here.’

‘Where, at Mick’s?’

‘In Glasgow. She’s in Laurieston.’

Dan sighed, already nostalgic for the simple life. ‘When I saw your missed calls,’ he said, ‘I thought it was just about money, or your singers.’

‘Yeah,’ Duncan said. ‘I’d like to talk about that. Could do with clawing back some normality.’

‘Yeah.’

‘When you back?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Dan said.

‘Who’ve you seen?’

‘Lionize.’

‘Oh yeah, any good?’

‘Sure, very.’

There was a pause, a kind of short, respectful silence to honour the old days, then Duncan said, ‘Come and see me, Dan. Mick’s a cretin, and when I ring Rose-Ann, she either cries or spits venom. I need some sanity.’ He sounded sad now, as sad as Dan had ever heard him.

‘You bet, I’ll come on the way home, tomorrow. Meet me on Gordon Street though, I’m not coming to Mick’s. I’ll be there by two.’