“Like as not that’s down to Glen being there. Stabilizing influence, he must be. A saint, really, given all those kids of his have put him through.” It’s taking a remarkably long time to ring through three packets of biscuits, a bottle of apple juice, a carton of milk and a newspaper. “Can you imagine being a widower with a small child and then having another bairn dumped on your doorstep?” I can see why Carrie took such a strong aversion to her. If I were a better person I wouldn’t listen. “There’s many who would have demanded a DNA test—and maybe he should have. Jamie looks nothing like Glen.” Her lips purse in a way that tells me what she takes from that. “He’s a right charmer now, but back then he was an angry wee thing.” She nods for effect, the bottle of apple juice in one hand, all pretense of operating the till abandoned. “But that was nothing compared to Fiona as a teenager.” She shakes her head. “The drugs, the police, och, the things I could tell you—and it didnae stop after she had Callum. It’s a wonder they’ve allowed her to keep that wee boy at all—”

The bell on the shop door jangles abruptly. “Morning, John,” she calls out to the elderly gentleman who has just entered. “I’ve got your paper here; I’ll be right with you.” And my purchases are rung through in no time at all.

But now, Callum is here. For a moment after we were left alone in the house, after Ben dropped him off, I felt the onset of panic again: What should I do with him? Won’t he be bored? But then he asked very seriously if I wanted to see the Transformers toys he’d brought and the panic cleared before it really had a chance to get started.

Later, when we are on our hands and knees creating an obstacle course out of household items in the living room for the Transformers to navigate, Callum asks, “Do you have a job?”

“Yes, but I’m on a break right now.” I can’t think when I last watched the news. I’ve been essentially mainlining it for over a decade, reporting stories, following other stories, never unaware. How is it that I’ve stepped away so easily?

“A holiday? Here?” He looks around, brow furrowed.

I suppress a smile. “Sort of. Something like that. Where do you go on holidays?”