Fiona heard the voices before she opened the kitchen door: guffaws and raucous shrieks. At the table sat Jamie, hands round a tumbler of orangey-brown juice. He was grinning.

‘Ah, here she is.’ Struan leant back on one of the no-longer-rickety chairs. In his hand was a large tumbler and his eyes were glazed. She sniffed the air. Whisky. God, her father was drunk.

She patted the top of Jamie’s head.

‘Sit down, Fi. You remember Mark, don’t you?’ Beside her father sat a tall, tanned man with a tartan scarf round his neck. He too had a dram in his hand.

‘Yes, I do. Good to see you again, Mark.’

‘Pa’s been telling me some funny stories about when he and Mark were little.’

‘That’s Mr Thomson to you, Jamie!’ said Fiona.

‘Oh, don’t be so Presbyterian. Mark’s fine, isn’t it?’ said Struan. He turned to the other man and slapped him on the back. Some of the whisky in his full glass spilled and he brushed it off his trousers.

‘What did you think about Dad’s Bermuda shorts then, Mark?’ Fiona smiled and looked under the table at them. She noticed that one of his long socks was down at his ankles.

‘Good effort, that’s for sure,’ Mark said, taking a drink.

‘Pa, tell Mum the story about when you two were up the glens with flat tyres on your bikes and…’

‘Your mother doesn’t want to hear those stories,’ Struan said, grinning. ‘Drink up now, lad. What do you think of it?’

‘Well, it’s quite nice but a bit sweet, Pa.’

‘What is it?’ Fiona snatched Jamie’s glass and sniffed. ‘Dad, what the hell are you giving him cider for? He’s only ten.’ She picked up the glass and tipped the contents down the sink.

‘Good God, she gets so uppity,’ Struan shook his head. ‘My grandfather was giving me cider when I was half his age.’

‘Yes, well, from what you tell me, he wasn’t exactly the most conventional of men, maybe not a role model.’

‘Certainly wasn’t,’ Mark chuckled. ‘I used to love coming here; Stru’s grandpa was so different, so unusual. And his parents were far more easy-going than other parents in those days. There was never any strict bedtime and it’s true, Fiona, he was allowed to have cider with his meals.’ He took another drink. ‘Stru’s grandpa told us some great stories. The best one was about a member of the family involved in something terrible, wasn’t it a murder?’

‘Murder, Pa?’ Jamie’s eyes were wide.