She couldn’t remember any of the other numbers she’d once had, apart from the home landline number and Joanna’s mobile. All the others—mostly friends from school, a few bad dates, and a handful of ex-pupils—had been lost along with her phone. Gregor’s gift made her feel pressure to get in touch with some of those people and ask for their numbers again. Then she had another thought. Does it really matter that much? The only people apart from Jo to ring regularly were Barbara at work and Marianne, neither of whom she particularly wanted to talk to. She supposed she could put Mrs. Stefanidis in there. And then there was Sam, who didn’t even have a phone—his address had been stored in the other phone, but she still had it written down on a sheet of paper back at the flat. So, with Gregor, Sarah Stefanidis and Joanna, that made a grand total of three contacts, four if you counted Sam. Was that beyond pathetic? When did my world get so small, she wondered.

Maybe it was fine. Maybe she didn’t need anyone else anyway.

“Come through,” said Gregor, leading the way further into the apartment. “Leonie’s asleep, I’m afraid. But Constance is here.”

He opened the door to the sitting room. “We haven’t had the best day today, unfortunately.”

Constance was reclining, catlike, on the same couch as always. There were dark circles under her eyes; her gaze was dull, her hair loose and tangled.

“Is she okay?” asked Ruby.

“She will be. She’s had a sedative. Sometimes things get a bit … too much.” He raised his voice. “How are you feeling, Connie? Any better?”

There was no response apart from a flicker of the dull eyes in Ruby’s direction.

“Should I go?” asked Ruby.

“No, no. It’ll help her to see you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “She might not show it, but I think it was really therapeutic for her to hear you play last week.”

Ruby was unsure, but Gregor smiled encouragingly.

“Hey, Constance. I found you some songs,” she said, taking out her instrument, and the book she’d borrowed. “Hebridean Ballads, Jigs and Reels. Yes?” She started to play. It was a folk song, beautiful, ancient, and solid, sounding very Scottish to Ruby, reminding her of the folk bar she and Sam went to whenever he was in town. When she got to the end of the first chorus, she fell silent. Constance hadn’t moved or made a sound.

“Maybe I should come back another time,” said Ruby.

“No, stay,” said Constance at last. There was a creak to her voice, as if she hadn’t spoken for a long time. “I know that one. It has words, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know them. It’s just the tune in the book.”

“Play, please.”