Elspeth moved over to the counter. She looked at the shortbread again. ‘I really need a piece of that shortbread, Lou. I’m …’

She swayed slightly, reaching out to steady herself by holding on to the counter.

Big Lou reacted quickly. Dropping the cloth she had been using to clean the coffee machine, she moved round the counter to Elspeth’s side. Then, putting an arm round her, she led her to a chair.

‘You sit down, hen,’ Big Lou said. ‘You need something to eat. And a glass of water?’

Elspeth nodded weakly. ‘Sorry. I just felt a bit weak there. I’m fine now.’

Big Lou gave her two pieces of shortbread, with a glass of milk for good measure. ‘Did you eat your breakfast?’ she asked. ‘Folk forget about breakfast. You need it.’

Elspeth nodded. ‘I had oatcakes. And coffee.’

Big Lou shook her head. ‘Not enough. Remember that you’re eating for two. Matthew told me, by the way, and I was very pleased for you. That’s good news.’

‘Four,’ said Elspeth. ‘I’m eating for four. I’ve just been told.’

Big Lou sat down. ‘Four? Four bairns?’

‘No, three. Four including myself.’

‘Oh …’

‘Yes.’

For a few moments, Big Lou said nothing. She was remembering a woman in Arbroath. ‘There was a girl at home,’ she said. ‘Prinny Mackenzie. I was at school with her. She had a brother called Billy, I think, who fell into the Tay once on a school expedition and travelled a mile downstream before he was fished out – unharmed. Anyway, this girl had triplets. Three boys.’

Elspeth looked at Big Lou weakly. ‘That’s what I’m having. Three boys.’

‘Very nice,’ said Big Lou. ‘Keep you busy, of course.’

‘I think so.’

‘Mind you,’ Big Lou went on. ‘I’ll tell you one thing about Prinny Mackenzie. She was the happiest girl you ever saw. After the triplets and all. Happy as they come. And the wee boys were real bonny. Everybody loved them. One was called Billy, after his uncle, and another was … Tom, I think. I forget the name of the third. No, he was called Mike, after his dad. Such a nice man.’

Elspeth tackled the shortbread; Big Lou had given her generous slices. ‘They were all happy?’

‘Yes,’ said Big Lou. ‘Very.’ She paused. ‘And that’s the important thing, isn’t it?’

Elspeth looked at her. ‘Happiness?’

‘Yes. If you’ve got your health, and you’re happy, what else is there?’

Elspeth thought about this. Was life quite that simple? Surely not, but then she looked at Big Lou, who was smiling, and who had taken her hand in a gesture of comfort and friendliness. She felt the roughness of Big Lou’s hand; work, all that work, had taken its toll. How vulnerable was a human hand, she thought, and how precious. With her free hand she took the last fragment of shortbread and ate it.