Irene thought for a moment. ‘One might be tempted to say that not much has changed,’ she said. ‘But that’s a large subject, Bertie.’

‘I felt very sorry for Mr Darnley,’ said Bertie. ‘He was much taller than most people in those days and they were all plotting against him. There was a man called Bothwell.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Irene. ‘And I suspect that he might have had something to do with Darnley’s unfortunate end. But then Darnley was rather wicked too, Bertie. You must remember that. Mary had a secretary called Rizzio who was stabbed to death by some of these noble hooligans. Darnley was pretty clearly implicated in that.’

Bertie listened carefully. He was trying to picture Darnley, and he decided that he was probably a little bit like Tofu. In fact, the more he thought about it, the closer the similarity seemed. And as for Mary, Queen of Scots, she must have been rather like Olive in many ways – and Olive should perhaps take note of the fate that befell Mary, just as Tofu should perhaps contemplate what happened to Darnley.

They continued their walk. Bertie suggested that rather than turn down into Dundas Street they should continue to Valvona & Crolla with a view to buying some panforte di Siena, but Irene vetoed this. ‘Daddy is looking after Ulysses, Bertie,’ she said, ‘and he has to get into the office.’

Stuart, who was busy writing a report, was able to work at home from time to time, and this enabled Irene to attend various meetings of groups with which she was involved. There was the Melanie Klein Reading Group, which met every three weeks; there was the New Town Community Council, to which Irene had been elected unopposed; and there was her charitable enthusiasm, Assistance for Romania, which specialised in the collection of second-hand clothing and items of furniture which were then sent out to Romania in large containers. It was this cause that she suddenly remembered as they turned off Dundas Street and began to walk along Great King Street.

‘My goodness, Bertie,’ Irene said. ‘I quite forgot! Today’s the day that we’re sending the containers off to Romania. They’re bringing them to the Scotland Street playground and sending them from there. The Lord Provost is coming.’

‘Can we go?’ asked Bertie.

‘Of course we can go,’ said Irene, looking at her watch. ‘Not only that – we must go. I’m on the committee, you see, and they expect me to be there.’

‘And Ulysses?’

‘Yes. We’ll go back to Scotland Street and let Daddy get into the office. Ulysses will come with you and me. I’m sure that they’ll have a piper to play at the send-off. He’ll love that.’