‘I’m so nervous about this,’ he said, perhaps oblivious to how staringly apparent this was.

‘There’s nothing to worry about. I met her a couple of days ago. She’s lovely.’

‘I’ve met her too,’ he retorted, ‘about a dozen times. Prosecuted her clients back when she was in criminal law. That’s what’s so freaky. This is very different.’

‘You spoke to her on the phone, though, didn’t you?’

‘For about an hour.’

‘Well, there you go.’

‘I know, I know. It’s just, face to face … I’m excited. This will be good,’ he coached himself. ‘I’ve got a niece and a nephew, did you know that? Got aunts and uncles too; cousins. My family was so small, so enclosed.’

He reached for the door handle: finally, she thought, plucking up the courage to open it, but he stopped and looked at her again.

‘Did I tell you it turns out I’m a Catholic?’ he asked.

She shook her head.

‘I was christened, apparently, at three weeks. Irony is, I’ve got a season ticket for Parkhead.’

‘What’s ironic about that?’

‘I decided I was a Celtic fan when I was about twelve just to annoy my dad, because he was such a Rangers man. A very prominent Rangers man, in fact: all brown brogues and dignity. Turns out the whole time I was actually Tim to the brim.’

‘Enough procrastinating,’ Catherine told him. ‘On you go.’

The front door swung open even as they were walking down the garden path. It was Jasmine Sharp who opened it, performing the counterpart chaperoning role on behalf of her client.

Jasmine ushered Catherine and Dominic into the living room, where Anne Ramsay was standing, clasping and unclasping her hands. She looked just as anxious as Dominic, but expectantly so rather than apprehensive. Catherine noticed the kids’ toys scattered about the place but an absence of actual kids. Must have been parcelled off to Granny’s, as this would have been a confusing moment for them to witness.

Anne didn’t say anything. She almost did, opening her mouth for a second or two, but words didn’t come; words couldn’t deal with this. Then she took a couple of steps towards Dominic and pulled him to her, the tears flowing before they’d even touched. His body was shaking with her sobs as she clung on to him, his own arms visibly tightening around her as something inside him let go.

Catherine looked silently at Jasmine and gestured towards the door. Anne’s husband, Neil Caldwell, read it too, and joined them in the hall, where Laura was waiting.

‘Is she okay in there?’ Jasmine asked.

‘Absolutely,’ said Neil, his own eyes a little watery. ‘Absolutely. She’s been like a kid on Christmas Eve the past few days, waiting for this moment, but happy, you know? At peace.’