Roddie was too intrigued not to turn around.

She opened wide and grinned. She always won him over that way, by being entertaining.

He suppressed a laugh, then frowned. ‘I am so sorry. Oh my God, Mary. Sorry and guilty. Can you forgive me?’

‘Of course.’ She pressed her forehead on his, but it didn’t feel as good as it usually did, and she separated before it became a thing.

‘Listen, Jack just phoned,’ Adeela said. ‘Said he might be a few minutes late. He had to pass by Holly’s dad’s cos he left—’

The wigged guy had entered.

‘ALL STAND.’

Perhaps she bowed too fast? Her chair caught her when she fell back. She kept her head between her legs as the fiscal and Adeela muttered their cases. In for four, hold for seven. Sweat was dripping down her neck. She lifted her head slowly and tapped Adeela on the shoulder: ‘What did Jack leave? Why isn’t he here?’

‘Quiet, please.’ Sheriff Mackay had always hated Mary. (What does “criminogenic need” mean?’ he’d demanded a few years back. Mary despised the jargon too, but she did know what it meant – ‘What Rab needs to stop slitting relatives’ throats,’ she’d said. ‘And what exactly does “sex as coping” mean?’ Sheriff Mackay had demanded to know a year or so ago. ‘Ejaculating to cheer up,’ she’d said. ‘Which is usually fine in my opinion.’)

‘How do you plead, Mr Lawson?’ said today’s Sheriff Mackay.

‘Guilty, your honour.’

Mary wondered if he’d pled thus due to the five-syllable thing; surely not.

Sheriff Mackay raised his eyebrows at Roddie. ‘Your lawyer has outlined significant mitigating circumstances…’

‘I hit my wife, your honour. I’m guilty.’

Sheriff Mackay looked like he was having intrusive thoughts involving hitting Mary.

She tried to relax: there was a seventy percent chance this would not turn to action.

The sheriff sighed – another lost cause, this Roderick Lawson – and Mary could almost see him fantasy-hammer her skull into the mahogany desk. ‘One hundred hours unpaid work, to be completed within six months.’

The next moment was a good one. She held Roddie, and everything was okay.

That was it, over. Two seconds at most, it was, her head in his chest, his arms sticking her back together.

They had to clear the court room in preparation for the likes of John Paul O’Donnell, whose overdose Mary had financed.

Only three protestors remained outside, and they were packing to head off too. Adeela walked them to the car, and Mary wondered the entire time if it was to see if she could walk straight. She so could.

‘Why was Jack going to Macdowall’s this morning?’ she asked Adeela when they reached the car.

‘Oh, to get his laptop.’

‘What?’

‘He said he left it at her dad’s last week.’

‘Jack did? Where?’

‘Liam Macdowall’s.’

‘His laptop?’

‘Tablet, I don’t know.’

‘What colour? Silver?’ Fight mode: on.