Ulysses was delighted to wake up and find Bertie looking over the edge of his cot. He cooed with delight as his brother lifted him out of bed and set him carefully on the changing table. Bertie was quite familiar with the routine, as he had observed and helped with every step; so Ulysses was soon dry and comfortable and Bertie began to rummage in the cupboard for suitable clothes for him. He quickly dismissed the small dungarees that his mother favoured, and found, to his great delight, a completely unused baby’s sailor suit at the back of a drawer. This had been a present to Ulysses from Stuart’s cousin in Troon, but had been consigned to oblivion by Irene, who had remarked that she thought there were quite enough uniforms in this world without babies being dressed in sailor suits.

With Ulysses in his sailor suit, Bertie sponged his face, combed his few wisps of hair, and carried him to his pushchair. He would give him something to eat in the bus, he thought – a piece of cake, perhaps, and the yellow plastic cup from which he liked to drink milk. But for now everything was ready, and all he had to do was slip out of the flat without waking his mother.

Ulysses continued to beam, especially when he realised that Irene did not appear to be coming. That caused him to chuckle with pleasure and to clap his little hands together.

‘Shh, Ulysses,’ said Bertie. ‘Mummy loves her lie-ins. We mustn’t wake her.’

Getting Ulysses down the stairs in the pushchair was not easy, and there was a dreadful moment when Bertie thought that he would lose control, but that passed, and soon they were out on Scotland Street, walking confidently up to Drummond Place. At the top of the street they turned right and made their way in the direction of Dundas Street and the 23 bus. Bertie felt extremely adult and responsible as he pushed his brother along, and if one or two heads turned in surprise at the sight of a small boy in evident charge of an even smaller one, his manifest self-assurance made them conclude that all was well.

Once they had boarded the bus, the magnitude of the adventure on which he had embarked came home to Bertie. Not only was this the first time he had been on a bus by himself, which was in itself a major milestone, but also it was the first time that he had been in sole charge of Ulysses.

‘I hope that you’re going to be good,’ whispered Bertie, as he balanced Ulysses on his knee. ‘And you mustn’t be sick, understand?’

Ulysses seemed to grasp the gravity of the request, as he stared solemnly at his older brother and began to nod his head in apparent agreement.

‘Good,’ said Bertie. ‘Good boy.’