‘A little gift from all of us at Vey,’ she’d said (even though it was really just a little gift from her) and watched the delight in Clio’s face, her beaming insistence that it had to hang on the wall, and felt totally fulfilled in that second. She’d noticed Donald watching her, with what she thought was a tiny smile of approval or something like it, on his face.

The reviews, when they’d come in, had been more or less brutal. Ben had called Ruth through to the meeting room on the second one.

‘It all seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it? I genuinely don’t think it’s as bad an album as all that. I mean, of course, there are places where the experiment doesn’t, maybe, work, but this –’ he held up a copy of the Scotsman ‘– this is pure vitriol here.’

It’s because she’s a woman, Ruth wanted to point out to his big, well-meaning, confused face. Clio would call up every time a new blow hit now, needing Ruth to tell her the same thing over and over.

‘They can’t handle this much divergence from the norm, Clio. That’s all it is. The Scottish ones are taking it personally because they think their precious Burns is sacred, the English ones are making fun of it because they find any sort of Scottish culture funny these days. That’s all it is. You’re caught in the middle, but I have faith that once we get you on the road, get people actually hearing it, things will pick up. Your average member of the public hasn’t got time for this sort of tribalism. They just want to hear good music and—’

Ruth had the speech down rote. ‘Just stop taking the calls. She’ll learn to deal,’ Linda said. Ruth didn’t feel she could. It did seem unjust. Sure, the album was rough around the edges in places, but this, this seemed to be a needless, jeering pile-on. The tour was proving even harder to organize; not only trying to arrange times for the various guest musicians to make it up, but even just booking slots and finding venues seemed to be difficult. Clio caught the overnight bus up from London for interviews, stayed on Ruth’s sofa (after Linda suggested their original marketing fund for the album might be better distributed towards covering the various guest fees), and Ruth ran through the various refusals she’d had while they finished a takeaway and a second bottle of wine.

‘The Big Rock Festival – that one was a surprise; actually all the Mansfield Music venues as well.’

Clio laughed, harshly, showily.