Catherine gave a small laugh as she spoke, trying to sound reassuring, but it was as much to cover her resentment at the implication that she might not be free in time to pick up Duncan and Fraser from school. Drew was going through to Edinburgh for a project meeting and then dinner with his colleagues. As he mostly worked at home and it was usually down to him to cover the school run, he could get anxious when it was left to Catherine, allied to a certain prickliness over the fact that though such instances were few, they were often nonetheless fraught with complications. He didn’t spell it out, but she knew it pissed him off. In Drew’s mind, given that he constantly and invaluably accommodated the unpredictability of Catherine’s schedule, it was only fair that on the rare occasions when he needed her to reciprocate, he should be able to ride off relaxed in the knowledge that there weren’t several variables in play that could potentially screw the whole thing up.

Catherine understood why it annoyed him, but she still considered it unfair. Admittedly there had been a few mad dashes and some last-minute contingencies worked out, but neither of the boys had ever been left standing at the school gates, and nor would she ever have allowed that to happen.

Drew knew that, and he wasn’t really implying that there might be a problem, either. He was angry with her about something else, but there wasn’t time to talk about it, far less do anything about it (which was itself the rub).

‘Okay. I’ll phone around teatime,’ he said, opening the passenger-side door. The rain chose that moment to progress from heavy to torrential, yet he seemed in a hurry to get out into it.

‘Enjoy yourself. Give me a kiss.’

She feared for a moment he was going to say no, maybe use the rain and the fact that he was halfway out the car as an acceptable reason to just hurry off. Instead he leaned in and gave her a rather cursory peck on the lips, pulling away even as she was trying to prolong it.

‘I’ll see you about ten-ish.’

‘Don’t rush. Late as you like. Love you.’

He didn’t reply: simply gave her a weak smile and then hurried off across the pavement, holding his wee man-bag over his head as cover against the downpour.

Catherine watched him disappear inside the station, her auto-responsive windscreen wipers thrashing like a pair of turbo-charged metronomes. She gave a sigh and indicated to rejoin the traffic, heavy and slow because of the rain.