For quite a while, Mary thought she might have something to say, and Margaret was patient. It was a relief when a team arrived to take the woman home. Before heading off, she leaned down and whispered in Mary’s ear: ‘A lot of people kill themselves. Some of them are good, others are arseholes.’

‘I can escort you out now,’ the police officer said to Mary. ‘Where’s your car?’

‘It’s, um over in Stockbridge, but—’ She had to walk and talk: past the courtyard, which was flickering with fluorescent jackets, and across the boardwalk to a small gate on the now-quiet side of the square.

‘You okay if I leave you here?’ The officer said, having kindly walked her at least a block away from the festival.

‘Yeah, but the thing is, I had whisky, in the tent, cos of nerves. Do you have a breathalyser?’

The police officer did not, and suggested Mary get the train.

Mary tested herself as she walked to Stockbridge. Post hurl she had downed three whiskies with her probably legendary BFF. To assess the gravity of the situation, she leaned on Dean Bridge, closed her eyes, and counted from one. Inebriation score: ten. That was, her head was spinning by the time she got to ten.

There was only one way out of this: sambuca. Mary had never managed the fingers-down-the-throat thing. She’d tried very hard, Roddie or Lil often encouraging from behind: ‘Don’t bring ’em out yet, work through, hold, hold!’ She couldn’t do it, unless she had a sambuca first. It gave her that extra gag factor. She phoned Jack as she walked. No answer, so she texted:

Pls let me know you’re okay. I’m heading back to Glasgow soon if you want a lift.

He texted back straight away: Wtf have you done?

Had someone ignited her face? Mary fanned herself:

What do you mean?

She grabbed the Cuck PR itinerary from her bag. Derek McLaverty’s mobile number was listed on the front page, and she rang it immediately.

‘Derek, it’s Mary Shields. Please don’t hang up. I’m ringing to see if you’re okay.’

‘Mary Shields.’ He must have been on the train. Mary could hear the Glasgow Central announcement and lots of loud talking. Was that Jack in the background?

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ he said.

‘I wanted to say how sorry I am about Liam. I know how much you meant to each other.’

This wasn’t true. She just wanted to diffuse the situation, get him on side, and she wanted to find Jack. Was that his voice? She could hear him. ‘Is Jack there with you, by any chance?’ she asked. ‘Can you put him on?’

Derek muffled the handset. A moment later: ‘He doesn’t want to talk, Mary.’

‘Put him on,’ she said.