They drove out of town in the Pollocks’ old Volvo, the same Volvo that had been so often mislaid and on one occasion had even been left in Glasgow by mistake. Or not quite the same, perhaps: a Volvo had been left in Glasgow and one had been returned to Edinburgh at the instance of the late Lard O’Connor (RIP), but while the car that Stuart had thoughtlessly left in Glasgow had five gears, the vehicle that had been returned to Edinburgh had only four. Stuart had felt uneasy about this, but had left the matter where it lay; a gear either way made no real difference in this life, he felt; most people got by with four, and only the self-indulgent or indeed the unashamedly selfish would insist on five. Bertie, however, remarked on the difference; this was not really their car, he thought, but again expedience triumphed and he made no further mention of his suspicions.

Now, sitting beside his father, strapped into the passenger seat, he watched the well-set Edinburgh landscape go past. As they reached Holy Corner, he pointed to the Episcopal church where the First Morningside Cub Scout Troop met weekly under the watchful eye of their Akela, Mrs Rosemary Gold.

‘That’s cub headquarters,’ he said to his father. ‘We have so much fun.’

‘I’m sure you do, Bertie,’ said Stuart. ‘I had fun when I was in the scouts.’ He paused. ‘A long time ago now.’

Bertie looked at his father with admiration. ‘You were a scout, Daddy?’

‘Yes,’ said Stuart. ‘I was, as it happens.’

‘And did you go camping with the other boys and girls?’ asked Bertie. He wanted his father to answer yes; he wanted his father to have had camping experience, as it meant that it was possible – just possible – that he might take him camping one day. Just the two of them.

Stuart shook his head. ‘I went camping, but it was just boys,’ he said. ‘Not boys and girls in those days, Bertie.’

Bertie turned in his seat and stared at his father with wide, solemn eyes. ‘You mean … you mean that there were no girls?’

Stuart nodded. ‘The scouts were for boys, Bertie. Girls had brownies and guides. That was the way things were.’

Bertie was silent for a few moments. In those days, then, Olive would not have been allowed to be a cub; she would have had to go to brownies. He closed his eyes and imagined cub scouts without Olive; it would be wonderful, he thought.

‘Why did they start letting girls join cub scouts?’ he asked. ‘Especially since boys aren’t allowed to join the brownies?’

Stuart looked thoughtful. No boy in his right mind would want to be a brownie, he thought, but he could not say that, not these days. ‘Perhaps they thought that it would be better for boys to have girls in the cub scouts, Bertie.’

‘It isn’t,’ said Bertie quickly.