Elspeth sighed. ‘Do I have to come too?’ she asked. She suddenly felt heavy, as happened quite frequently now. And she was hungry too, although she had just finished a plate of mozzarella and tomato salad, with no fewer than five small pieces of bread. Again this was something that seemed to happen rather regularly now – a meal would no sooner be finished than she would feel incipient pangs of hunger. It was the triplets, of course, and if they were demanding at this stage of the pregnancy, then she could imagine what they would be like when nine months was almost over. And after that? She had already experienced a disturbing dream in which she found herself in the kitchen surrounded by piles of cans of baby food – hundreds of them, some open and disgorging porridge-like substances. She had awoken hungrier than ever.

Matthew reached forward and laid his hand on her forearm. ‘Of course not, my darling. You don’t have to bother about surveyors. I’ll go.’

She smiled at him fondly. Dear, considerate Matthew. ‘But you will ask him about the kitchen, won’t you? Ask him about changing the position of the sink.’

Matthew shook his head. ‘That’s not what surveyors do, my darling. That’s what architects are for. That chap I played squash with – Alex Philip – I’ll ask him. He’s an architect – and a pretty good one.’ He paused. ‘Surveyors look at terribly dull things. Rot. Subsidence. That sort of thing.’

Elspeth looked concerned. ‘Subsidence?’

It was a word to strike terror into any Edinburgh heart. The subsidence of parts of the New Town meant that building societies might be reluctant to advance money on certain streets, with the result that prices could be depressed.

‘There’s no subsidence in Moray Place,’ said Matthew calmly. ‘Moray Place is rock solid. It’s the east end of the New Town that has the problem.’

‘One of the lecturers at Moray House lived in Gayfield Square,’ said Elspeth. ‘He invited all his students round for a drinks party once. He showed us how if you put an orange on the floor at one end of his living room it would roll to the other end under its own steam.’

Matthew nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I knew people who ended up living on one side of their flat because everything rolled in that direction. It was very strange – half of each room was very cluttered and half was very empty.’

She looked at him; there were times when she was uncertain whether to take him seriously; times when he made absurd suggestions – flights of fancy – and would then wait for her to tumble to the conceit. He had once told her that in Japan precedence at road intersections was based on age, with older drivers giving way to younger ones, and she had for a few moments believed him. But now?

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘No?’

‘No.’