Jamie sat on the floor with his legs apart and ripped off the newspaper wrappings. ‘Wow, look at these, Mum!’ He pulled out a pair of binoculars and ran to the window. ‘I can see the bridge really well. I’ll be able to time all the trains coming across.’

‘Maybe not all of them, Jamie,’ Dorothy laughed. ‘Pa said the binoculars aren’t new, but they’re the ones you always used to play with when you were little. He thought you might like them up here.’

‘They’re great, Granny. I can’t wait to show Jack.’

* * *

‘So what are you going to do about a job, Fi?’ Struan walked over to the kitchen window and opened it a fraction before pulling his pipe out of his jacket pocket. He began to pack it with tobacco then tamped it down and lit it, sucking in and blowing out great puffs of smoke.

‘I’m going to see Martha on Monday, she’s at the Museum in Albert Square now, says she’s going to put feelers out. They’re planning a new exhibition on the Tay Bridge disaster, so they might need help with that. Then I need to speak to the V&A people about getting an interview set up sometime in the next few months.’ Fiona took a sip of her wine. ‘Dad, you’re not going to smoke inside when Jamie’s around, are you?’

‘No, Miss Prim, I am not,’ he said, puffing as he threw the match into a bin. ‘My grandson will see only the clean, fit me, not the old wreck who has taken residence inside me of late.’

Dorothy shook her head. ‘Ignore him, Fi, he keeps pestering the GP with his imaginary ailments, but he just needs to give up that pipe.’

Fiona scraped some risotto to one side and put her fork in the middle of the plate. ‘That was delicious, Mum, thanks. Good to be home.’

‘Good to have you, sweetheart.’ Dorothy looked at her plate. ‘But why d’you always leave a tiny amount of food on your plate? That’s not the way you were brought up.’

‘Sorry, I’ll revert to the inner child soon.’ Fiona grinned. ‘Be swapping my jeans for dungarees next.’

‘Nothing wrong with dungarees, I still wear mine around the house, so comfy.’ Dorothy looked down at her thick black tights and poked her finger through a hole at the knee. ‘Hand me the sewing basket, Stru,’ she said, pointing to a corner cupboard.

Struan walked over to the cupboard, lifting an empty Coke can from the counter and throwing it in the bin. Dorothy stood up and opened the bin, extracting the can. ‘Recycling, Stru, how many times do I have to tell you!’ She shook her head and headed for the outhouse.