She felt sweaty, the sheets and her pyjamas were damp. She looked at the clock: six o’clock. Why was it you had such vivid dreams just before you woke up? It was something to do with REM sleep – her mum would know. She’d ask her, though she wouldn’t tell her she’d been dreaming of Pete. Dorothy might think she wasn’t coping well. She wondered if she was coping at all. Sometimes it felt like she kept putting on a brave face for Jamie when all she wanted to do was sob.

Fiona slipped into her flip-flops – thongs, Pete used to call them – and as she headed for the stairs she remembered she had been carrying the same flip-flops in the dream. The house was silent but the early morning light illuminated the wooden stairs as she slapped her way down. Even before she opened the kitchen door, she could smell it. She pushed open the door and shook her head. There at the back door stood her father, in his ancient silk dressing gown, pipe in hand. He was looking out towards the Green and the river beyond.

‘Dad, what are you doing? You promised.’

Struan spun round and grinned. ‘Cup of tea, Fi?’

‘You’re a big cheat, Dad. I’ve given up my cans of the fizzy stuff.’ Fiona muttered, flicking on the kettle.

‘My house, my rules.’ He continued to puff out wisps of smoke. ‘I thought if I did it now, there’s a good two hours till Jamie’s up so he won’t smell it.’

‘Bit extreme, but cunning idea, Dad.’

Struan pulled his matches from his pocket and had just begun to relight his pipe when he turned to look at his daughter.

She was pouring boiling water into two mugs, scowling.

Struan put his pipe on the window ledge outside and strolled into the kitchen. He tousled Fiona’s hair and sat down on the rickety chair. ‘Your mum’s right, these chairs are falling to bits. That’s today’s job. What are you up to?’

Fiona sipped her tea then sniffed. ‘I can still smell the smoke in here, Dad.’

‘That’s why I had a smoke now and not later when the Little Prince will descend from the high turret of his stately castle and breath only fresh Dundee air.’

Fiona grinned. ‘I’m off to Edinburgh today, got some folk to see.’

‘Wouldn’t be anything to do with Bruce’s sudden exit, would it?’

‘He used to hate when you called him that.’ She leant over the table, both hands round the mug. ‘Might be.’

‘Can’t you just let him go? A disastrous part of your life but one that’s over now?’

‘Dad, I can’t just shrug off three years, the things we did as a family. Jamie adored him.’

‘Not what he said to me on Sunday when we were out with the kite.’