Olivia pointed out other landmarks. The steeple of St Giles’ Cathedral visible high above the Royal Mile. The Gothic tower of the Scott Monument, commemorating author Sir Walter Scott. She offered Eliza the loan of her car whenever she wanted to go sightseeing herself. Eliza had to remind her that she still hadn’t learned to drive. Her mother had started teaching her the year she died. Afterwards, Eliza had never tried again.

‘I’ll teach you,’ Olivia said. ‘Another reason for you to stay as long as possible.’

Olivia knew exactly what she wanted to get Maxie and Hazel and where to get it. Fine Scottish linen from a small store off the Royal Mile. Eliza described the gift she’d brought from Australia, safely packed in her bag. A handblown glass vase. Olivia was sure Maxie and Hazel would love it.

‘And now, we’re going shopping for you,’ Olivia said. ‘No objections. You’ve escaped from Gillian’s clutches. You can escape from her wardrobe now too.’

Olivia took her to her favourite department store. Eliza felt as if she was in a film, as her godmother asked the personal shopper to bring a range of items to the dressing room.

‘I can’t afford this, Olivia. I don’t have a job.’

‘I can afford it. These are all the gifts I’d have given you if you’d visited me before now. I’ve saved them up. It only feels excessive because it’s arriving in one fell swoop.’

They left the counter with three bags of new clothing and footwear. Shift dresses. Tailored trousers. Wool and cashmere jumpers. None in neutral colours.

Afterwards, Olivia took her to a bistro. Over late lunch, they spoke about Maxie and Hazel’s wedding. They’d drive to Gretna Green the next afternoon. The plan was to arrive just before the six p.m. ceremony, to give Maxie the biggest surprise.

As they had coffee, Olivia told stories about Celine. Eliza knew her godmother was trying to make the tales amusing, but her tension and exhaustion were obvious.

‘Olivia, is there anything I can do to help? I’m a fast typist. I’m organised. I love sorting out messes. What if I stepped in even for a few hours or —’

‘Yes, Eliza, of course. After finally prising you out of Gillian’s bossy jaws, I’m going to throw you into a brand new wolf’s lair, if you’ll excuse all my metaphors. The answer is no. Thank you, but no.’