“Not at all,” she said. In fact, whatever the opposite of minding was, that was pretty much how she felt. The idea of spending a day with him was much too appealing. A thought struck her. “I don’t have to go inside the Tate, do I? Because crowds and enclosed spaces are a combination I don’t partake in if I can help it. I’d prefer to wait in the car. With a book. And snacks. Many snacks.”

A faint, crooked smile replaced the scowl on Jamie’s face. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Jamie was in a mess of a mood as he clattered his way into Ian and Ken’s cottage the following morning, shutting the front door behind him and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet for a moment to shake off the cold. Mika still had his coat, and it was only a minute’s jog across from the house to the cottage, but Christ, it was freezing out there.

“I see your feathers are ruffled,” came Ken’s deep, amused voice from the tiny, firelit front room.

They were ruffled. Not that he would ever admit it to Ian, but he was genuinely questioning his judgement in agreeing to go see his mother and brothers. On top of that, he was aggravated and exasperated and a number of other synonyms besides.

“Ian’s feathers, on the other hand,” Ken went on, as Jamie threw himself into an armchair, “are about as thrilled as any feathers can be.”

“Colour me surprised,” said Jamie irritably. “Where is he, anyway? I came to have words.”

“I think he suspected you might,” said Ken, sipping his morning coffee in an unsubtle attempt to hide his smile. “He nipped out to the wool shop just a few minutes ago, so I’m afraid, sweet boy, that you’ll have to make do with me.”

Ken was the only person in the entire world who used the term sweet boy to refer to Jamie, completely without irony, and it made Jamie love him all the more. While also questioning his judgement because Jamie was many things, but he was quite sure sweet was not one of them.

“Jamie.” Ken prodded gently. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to go.”

“I think I need to.”

Ken’s face was full of understanding and compassion. “As long as you remember that they have absolutely no power over you anymore.”

“I know.” Jamie didn’t want to think about it any more than was necessary. “Anyway, I didn’t come to talk about them. I came to talk about Ian’s godforsaken pigheadedness.” He glowered at the empty spot on the sofa where Ian usually sat. “This thing with Mika. You know this is a terrible idea, don’t you?”