Fiona sat down on the floor to empty out the bag of drawings. She looked through them, laying them out in front of her. There was Broughty Castle and the beach, there was Glenisla Hotel and the hills behind. There were drawings from years ago, when Jamie was little; these were pretty basic, but he always had some sort of solid baseline, whether it was the sea or a road to give some sort of perspective. Fiona had some twenty laid out and was smiling at the memory of each when she noticed two that were smaller than the others.

She picked them up. One was of their little cottage in Glenisla, the other of sheep up the glen. Both sheets were creased in the middle and, as Fiona turned them over, she saw they were bank statements.

‘Jamie, why did you draw on the back of these bank statements?’

And as she peered at one, she realised it was not hers, it was Pete’s.

Jamie looked round from his binoculars. ‘Must’ve been paper I found in the bin.’

‘What bin?’

‘Dunno, waste paper bin. I’d run out of paper so I used that.’ He turned back to seal watch. ‘Still can’t see any babies, but a lot of those seals are really fat.’

‘Doesn’t necessarily mean they’re about to have a baby, but who knows. Pa’s usually right.’ Fiona stood up. ‘I’m just nipping down to get my specs, back in a minute.’

She ran down the stairs to her room, grabbed the glasses on her bedside table and scampered back upstairs. By the time she reached the top she was panting. God, she was unfit, she really had to get running again.

Now seeing clearly, she looked at the first statement, which was dated May 2011, carefully inspecting each transaction. There was his salary, some cash taken out, nothing unusual. Then she saw a withdrawal of three hundred pounds. The note beside it read D/D: Direct Debit. The recipient was Swansea.

She grabbed the other statement and turned it over. June 2011. Most transactions were the same but again there was this direct debit to Swansea for three hundred pounds. That was a lot of money, about a quarter of his salary in those days. What the hell was going on in Swansea? She couldn’t recall Pete ever talking about having been in Wales. In fact, she remembered only recently a conversation in which they both decided they’d like to visit Wales, as neither had been before. Fiona peered at the two pieces of paper again as her mind raced. Pete had switched to online banking after they moved to Glenisla, and so presumably no longer received paper statements. He must have been clearing out his statements and presumed that no one in the house would rake in the bins. No one but a budding artist in desperate need of paper.