‘About three days, Bertie. They go by ferry to Belgium and then drive all the way across Western Europe to Romania. Can you tell me the countries they’ll cross?’

‘Belgium, Germany, Austria, Hungary and then Romania,’ rattled off Bertie.

Irene thought for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘That sounds about right. They are very hardy men, those drivers. They sleep in little beds in the backs of their cabs, you know, Bertie.’

They negotiated their way down the steps to the yard. One or two other members of the committee greeted Irene, who shook hands with one of the drivers. A piper who was standing nearby was given a signal, and started to tune his drones. Soon the familiar skirl, so spine-tingling, so stirring in its effect, filled the air. And at that point, a large official car drew up and a tall, rather dignified man stepped out.

‘That’s the Lord Provost,’ Irene whispered to Bertie.

The Lord Provost shook hands with several people and was shown the containers before he made a short speech wishing the convoy a safe and uneventful journey. There was applause and the piper, who fortunately had stopped for the speech, resumed playing.

‘I shall just go and take a look at the containers,’ said Irene. ‘You stay here with Ulysses, Bertie. I won’t be a minute.’

Bertie stood beside Ulysses’s pushchair and watched the crowd milling about the open rear doors of the containers, inspecting the contents stacked within. ‘They’re going to be very pleased at the other end, Ulysses,’ Bertie said.

Ulysses gurgled his agreement.

Engines started and there were cries from several members of the crowd. ‘Bon voyage!’ shouted somebody. And another shouted, ‘Good luck!’ The piper, on cue, struck up with that most poignant of farewells, ‘Will ye no come back again?’

Slowly the container lorries moved off. Bertie waved, and continued to wave until they had turned onto the road and disappeared from sight. Then he looked around for his mother. The crowd was thinning out now, and Bertie began to feel a bit anxious. His mother had said that she would only be a minute or so, and that was already about ten minutes ago.

He waited patiently with Ulysses. Now there was virtually nobody there – just a few teenagers who were standing gossiping and giggling by the fence. Bertie was not sure what to do. His mother must have gone home. Perhaps she had forgotten she had them with her; or perhaps she needed to go to the bathroom urgently and had rushed back to the flat.