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‘A real heroine,’ Domenica said.

‘Yes,’ said Dilly. ‘But I can’t help but feel that she’s fighting a losing battle. The other day I saw an article about grammatical mistakes that had two grammatical mistakes in it. And these weren’t the examples – they were in the text itself.’

‘Of course, language changes,’ said Domenica. ‘And how do we decide what’s correct? What did Professor Pinker say about the songs of the whales?’

‘Oh, I think I remember that,’ said Dilly. ‘Didn’t he say that it would be nonsensical to point out that the whales made mistakes in their songs? That whale songs were what whales sang?’

‘Something like that,’ said Domenica. ‘He implied that grammatical rules should merely reflect the language that people used, because that’s where they came from in the first place.’

Dilly smiled. ‘So they weren’t handed down on tablets of stone? No Académie Française?’

‘No. So if you were to ask me how I was, I suppose I could now reply either “Fine”, which is what I’d actually say, as would you, or “Good”, which is what lots of other people now say. They say: “I’m good.”’ Domenica paused before continuing. ‘And I always think: how immodest! Because good is a moral quality when used without a noun.’

‘There are some battles which are destined to be lost,’ said Dilly.

Domenica lifted up her biscuit, examined it, and popped it into her mouth. ‘You’re right. And I suppose that if we don’t have an Académie Française to authorise words we must rely on what happens in the street, so to speak. Mind you, not all new words come into existence like that. Some new words are really very clever. Somebody must have made them up.’

Dilly thought for a moment. ‘Like “Robinsonade”. Do you know what that is? No? It’s a word for a book which deals with people being taken out of their normal surroundings and dumped somewhere where they have to struggle to survive. It comes from Robinson Crusoe. So Lord of the Flies is a Robinsonade.’

They sipped at their coffee. ‘Well, words aren’t the only things that change,’ Domenica went on. ‘Look at Edinburgh. What used to be a prim, maiden aunt of a city is now something quite different. Should we embrace these changes?’

‘If they’re for the better,’ said Dilly. ‘And lots of them are, surely?’

Domenica looked wistful. ‘Yes, some are. But I’m not sure if all of them are. I’m not sure if I think that crudity of language and attitude are things that we should embrace with enthusiasm. You know, I went to a Burns Supper a couple of years ago and I had to sit through a tirade against men from one of the speakers– a very aggressive performance. The speaker thought it appropriate to speak like that at a celebration of Burns’s birthday. But I found myself wondering: why is it considered smart to be crude and combative?’

‘There are quite a lot of people like that,’ said Dilly.

They were both silent for a while. The sun came in through a high window, slanting. There was the smell of olive oil, of freshly baked bread; there was the murmur of conversation at a nearby table. For a brief moment, Domenica closed her eyes and imagined a parallel Scotland, one of kindness and courtesy, where the vulgarity of our age had no place, other than a shameful one. Was it wrong to dream of such a thing? Or was it just ‘uncool’?

95. At Last

Matthew knew that he was moving too quickly, but he was like a man driving a car down a very steep hill; there were brakes, of course, but the car itself wanted to go faster and faster. He knew that what he should do with Elspeth Harmony was to get to know her better and then, if he was still sure that she was the right person, he could suggest whatever it was that he wanted to suggest. And what he wanted to suggest was marriage – just that. Matthew was now over twenty-eight. In fact, he was twenty-nine and would be thirty on his next birthday. Thirty!

People, or some people, would begin to look at him with something approaching pity. He would begin to get better insurance rates and he could start going on those over-thirty holidays that he