Donald gripped Eileen’s hand for a second, felt her nails dig his palm, imprinting on him even after she’d been bustled away. Sitting up there with her silly hat still pinned on, nodding at Mrs Mansfield, staring at the table, she looked like she was drowning, her usual hard-as-nails armour failing her. He felt overwhelmed himself, as he squeezed into the tacked-on corner seat. The menu was in French with an English translation in tiny print, and there was far too much cutlery in front of him. Cliodhna still seemed to be in her own wee world, sharing jokes with her husband and smiling politely at his father to her left, but mostly absent. It wasn’t that she looked unhappy to be married, exactly, more as though it was happening to somebody else and she was watching it all from a comfortable seat in a cinema. It was an expression he’d become familiar with over the years, had seen it on her even as a child in her quieter moments. The unknowability of Miss Cliodhna Campbell. Well, the girl was what she was, and who could blame her if she wanted to hold a bit of herself back?

He ordered soup and beef when the waiter came around, had no idea what would show up. A girl put a hard bread roll on his plate with tongs and he picked it up and bit into it, caught Mansfield’s brother looking at him across the table with a smirk that must run in the family. He put the roll back down. The sister at his side turned to him.

‘That was really lovely, that piece you played at the ceremony. Was it something you wrote?’

There were crumbs in his beard, he was sure of it.

‘Oh, eh. No, no. That’s a Burns song that one. No, I couldn’t write something like that.’

‘But you are a musician, aren’t you? Professionally, I mean.’

‘I am. I am that. Yup.’

‘Runs in the family then?’

‘Well, yes. Yes. Cliodhna’s daddy is a singer too.’

‘Lovely. And that’s quite some accent you’ve got there. Is it from the Highlands?’

She was talking to him like a child, this woman thirty years or so younger than him. He tried to stay pleasant, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever been more uncomfortable.

‘Western Isles, yes, yes, that’s right.’

‘Such a beautiful part of the country.’ She had a very smooth voice. He couldn’t place it. There was a pause, and he realized he was supposed to be continuing this conversation, possibly for as long as the meal lasted, and they hadn’t even had their first course yet.

‘So, you’re Danny’s sister, then?’

‘One of them, that’s right. The baby of the family!’

‘Ah.’