‘Course. I’ve come to a bit of a standstill in my exhibition work, so got a bit of free time. I thought I’d start looking up that Craig family story in the archives for you. If you want?’

‘That’d be brilliant, thanks, M. I’m even more keen to find out what it was all about, now Dad’s gone.’ Fiona smiled and walked on.

She headed for Mark’s table next. He was sitting beside a small elegant woman with cropped white hair and they were face to face, engrossed in each other’s conversation. She tapped his back. ‘Hi, Mark, how’re you doing?’

‘Oh, Fiona, dear girl.’ He gave her a kiss on both cheeks. ‘This is Bunty Mackenzie, your Dad and I went to school with her. Not seen each other for, what did we say, forty-five years?’

‘Something like that, but if you hadn’t gone off to work in Bermuda, then, what might have been, Mark!’ The woman smirked then reached out to pat Fiona’s arm. ‘How are you doing? We met outside the church, but not properly. Mark’s been filling me in on what you’re up to and that gorgeous son of yours. And I’m so sorry about your husband. What an untimely death.’

If another person mentioned Iain, thought Fiona, she would scream. Today was about her dad, not her husband who had died several years before.

‘Thanks, Bunty.’

Another woman arrived at the table and shrieked loudly, ‘Bunty Mackenzie, you’ve not changed a bit!’

‘Yes, well apart from the colour of the hair,’ said Bunty, getting up from her seat to speak to the other woman.

Fiona sat down next to Mark and watched him finish off a dram. Not his first, Fiona presumed, judging by the alcoholic fumes around.

He turned round at the sight of a waitress passing. ‘Another whisky, please. And, Fiona, a sherry? Wine?’

‘Just a Diet Coke please.’ She had been persuaded at Iain’s funeral to have a stiff drink and found herself unable to control the tears. So today she decided to stick to Coke.

‘I always loved visiting Struan’s house, when we were growing up. His family were all such fun, especially for me, being brought up by such strict parents. My mother was from Lewis and was a Wee Free and she ran a tight ship. Going to Magdalen Yard Road was an escape for me.’

‘Dad always said it was a happy house.’