There was a sudden noise as the cat flap rattled and a large black and white cat appeared, leapt onto Kate’s lap, and glared at the newcomers.

“This is Boethius,” Kate said.

“Ancient queen of Britain?” Rebus guessed.

“That was Boudicca,” Siobhan corrected him.

“Boethius,” Kate explained, “was a Roman philosopher.” She stroked the cat’s head. Its markings, Rebus couldn’t help thinking, made it look like it was wearing a Batman mask.

“A hero of yours, was he?” Siobhan guessed.

“He was tortured for his beliefs,” Kate went on. “Afterwards, he wrote a treatise, trying to explain why good men suffer -” She broke off, glancing towards her father. But he appeared not to have heard.

“While evil men prosper?” Siobhan guessed. Kate nodded.

“Interesting,” Rebus commented.

Siobhan handed out the tea and sat down. Rebus ignored the mug in front of him, perhaps unwilling to draw attention to his bandages. Allan Renshaw had tight hold of the handle of his own mug but seemed in no hurry to try lifting it.

“I had a phone call from Alice,” Renshaw was saying. “You remember Alice?” Rebus shook his head. “Wasn’t she a cousin on… Christ, whose side was it?”

“Doesn’t matter, Dad,” Kate said softly.

“It matters, Kate,” he argued. “Time like this, family’s all there is.”

“Didn’t you have a sister, Allan?” Rebus asked.

“Aunt Elspeth,” Kate answered. “She’s in New Zealand.”

“Has anyone told her?”

Kate nodded.

“What about your mother?”

“She was here earlier,” Renshaw interrupted, gaze fixed on the table.

“She walked out on us a year ago,” Kate explained. “She lives with -” She broke off. “She lives back in Fife.”