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I was completely caught up, helping and watching the kids do their wee craft project together. We laughed at some of the snowflake shapes, comparing how different they all were, until everyone was finished and the table was covered in a dusting of random little shapes.

*

Eventually, I turned and noticed half the hall had emptied. Jamie was standing across the room, watching me. Arms folded. I wondered what the Ham Hock Hitler was about to say now.

I quickly packed the scissors away, grabbed the bin bag, and started collecting rubbish from the tables again.

Lucy wandered over before leaving. ‘You’re a total natural with kids,’ she said, grinning.

‘No!’ I said immediately, shaking my head. ‘But I admit that they seemed to be the easiest people I’d spoken to since coming back to Glasgow.’

She laughed. ‘Did you and Rupert ever—’

‘Nope.’ I intercepted, glad that Lucy was off the grid and didn’t seem to have a clue what was happening in my shitshow of a life.

‘Who’s Rupert?’ Skye asked.

I grinned at Lucy, and she shook her head, tugging her daughter’s hand slightly.

I bent down and pressed Skye’s snotty nose. ‘Rupert’s my husband.’

‘Will I see you before you go back to London?’ Lucy asked. ‘We need a proper catch-up!’

I straightened up. ‘I’d love that. I’m staying with Mum, and I’m here most days, so . . .’

‘Mum, can we come back tomorrow and make more decorations with Harri?’ Skye asked.

Lucy laughed. ‘We’ll see, toots.’

‘If you’re done flirting with the arts and crafts,’ Jamie said, walking past, ‘can you take the bin outside? I don’t have time to take yours too.’

‘Is that your husband?’ Rory asked loudly.

‘No!’ I said.

‘Absolutely not,’ Jamie said at the exact same time.

Dick.

I squinted my eyes. He fucking wishes, Rory, I thought. Then I lifted the bin bag. ‘I’d better get on,’ I said, sticking out my tongue behind Jamie’s back.

Skye and Rory burst into giggles.

Lucy smiled. ‘It’s really good to see you, Harri.’ She scooped Rory up into her arms and he cuddled in. ‘I’d better get these two sorted for bed.’

I waved off my friend, feeling an ache I wasn’t sure I had felt before. I wanted to help her, I just didn’t know how. Like everyone else who’d come here for a hot meal and a cup of tea, Lucy was just a normal person. These were all everyday, normal people. Children. The elderly. The old woman who used to serve me sweets in the post office. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. They shouldn’t have to come here. They should be able to live, to feed their families.

I finished chucking the last of the napkins in the bins, wiped the tables, then escaped out the fire exit, grabbing Mum’s scarf and flinging it round my neck on the way out. The door slammed behind me and, finally, fresh air. Cold, sharp, glorious. My flushed face cooled instantly.

I hauled the bin lid open and lobbed the bag in. Then a voice behind me, far too calm, said, ‘You sure that’s not a dead body in there?’

I froze, recognising Jamie’s voice. Then I slowly turned, hand on hip, getting ready for another square go.

‘Yep, I’m sure,’ I sighed, not having the energy for this.

Jamie stepped out of the shadows like some kind of Binman Batman.

‘I’d be first on your hit list though, aye?’