She looked at his trousers, at the frayed collar of his shirt, at the scuffed moccasins. A man’s clothes were no impediment; look at what Elspeth had done for Matthew’s wardrobe. His crushed-strawberry corduroy trousers, the distressed-oatmeal sweater, were either dealt with already, Domenica believed, or soon would be.

‘Oh, Angus,’ she said. ‘You’re perfect as you are. You. Your clothing. Even your dog. All perfect.’ She paused, noticing his astonishment. ‘And as for your question, the answer is: of course. I’d love to marry you.’

He gave a cry, and reached out for her hands, gripping them tightly in his.

‘I didn’t think you’d say yes,’ he said. ‘I thought …’

‘But of course I’d say yes,’ said Domenica. ‘We’ve been friends for years, haven’t we? And we look on the world with much the same eyes, don’t we?’

Angus nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yes, we do. Certainly we do.’ He paused. ‘Of course, there is the question of …’ He looked over towards the place where Cyril was stretched out in the shade.

Domenica followed his gaze. ‘Cyril? I don’t see an issue there, frankly. I’ve rather come to like him recently, as you may have noticed. And he’ll be happy living in …’

A shadow crossed Angus’s face. They had not begun to discuss that arrangement. His flat in Drummond Place was larger than Domenica’s flat in Scotland Street, and he thought it would have made sense for them to establish their common home there. But now he remembered that Domenica had been born in Scotland Street, and might be reluctant to move.

‘We can discuss all that later,’ he said. ‘There’ll be plenty of time for details.’

They sat for a moment, neither saying anything, both savouring this moment, which would, they knew, define the rest of their lives. And they were only nudged out of this state by the sound of a motorcycle making its way up the track to the villa.

Angus got up and went to greet their visitor.

‘James!’ he exclaimed, as the motorcyclist removed his helmet and laid it on the petrol tank of the dusty silver Ducati.

James Holloway raised a hand in greeting. ‘I heard you were here,’ he said. ‘And I just had to pop in. I’ve been in Siena, inspecting a painting. A possible portrait of James V has turned up – I looked at it yesterday. And now, duty done, I thought that I might take a few days to ride around these hills. And what do I find? Half of Edinburgh tucked away in various villas. Quite extraordinary.’

Angus laughed. ‘Actually, we have some news,’ he said. ‘Very important news.’

‘Tell all!’ said James.

85. The Timetable of Happiness

Rapidly abandoning his motorbike, James Holloway rushed to congratulate Domenica.