When Marcie had locked up again and rung Shona’s bell, they only had to wait a moment before they heard her footsteps. She opened the door with Fiona on her hip, giving them both a beaming smile. Marcie leant forwards over the baby to peck both her cheeks, then as she squeezed past to lead the way up the stairs, to Ben’s surprise, Shona held out her free hand and offered up a cheek to let Ben kiss her too. Ben gave her single peck, then she ushered him inside and closed the door.

“Come on up,” Shona said as she followed Marcie herself whilst Ben slipped his shoes off, then calling out to both of them, “It’s okay to pop up the back stairs to see us, anytime, so long as yous don’t mind how you find us.” Ben wondered at this, thinking of how she’d found them yesterday, but he sternly reminded himself that as he wasn’t supposed to know what Shona had witnessed them doing. He resolved to not give himself away and just react innocently to that invitation, or any other suggestive remarks.

So he simply said, “Thank you,” adding in an ambiguous way, “We’ll remember another time.”

Marcie was already in the living room, crouched on one knee to give Zain a hug and ruffle Cal’s hair. When Cal saw Ben, he eagerly shouted out, “I’ll get the Lego!” and Ben realised that this would be his role now in Cal’s mind, at least for the time being. He also wondered with some shyness if Marcie recognised the similarities between the boy and himself, in the way that she’d perhaps felt some duty to admire his model ships. She’d now straightened up to follow Shona into the kitchen though as Cal charged off to get his aeroplane, which Ben saw had more imaginative accretions when he returned with it. But as he squatted down to appreciate it, taking it carefully from Cal’s small hands, he saw Marcie turn, then smile and wink at him, which Ben took to mean that she understood exactly how much like the five-year-old boy he was himself.

Ben let Cal rush off again to get his box of Lego, then tried to make peace between the boys by getting Zain to agree to not snatch pieces, diverting his attention by suggesting he try making his own tower of bricks. Shona called through to confirm that he wanted coffee, then came through with a mug for him as well as her own. Marcie followed, carrying Fiona on her hip now. She carefully put her own mug down before settling slowly and gingerly onto the sofa, sighing as she took the weight off her feet.

Shona saw this as she sat down herself, taking Fiona back. She asked with a smirk, “Have you been overdoing it, hen? Is it a wee bit tender down there? Would you like me to get you an extra cushion, maybe a bag of frozen peas to sit on? I remember how keen Ali was when I first started letting him have a go with mine. I think he wanted to synchronise it to his salah, his prayers, five times a day! And I wondered if he was trying to start a fire down there, there was so much rubbing. But you wait until you use it the other way around, lassie. It smarts a wee bit more then, I can tell you!” Marcie had modestly denied Shona’s first question, but then she had started giggling, and Shona had begun cackling along with her as she’d gone on. Now they were both shaking with laughter, clasping each other’s hands, tears rolling down their cheeks.

“What’s they saying? What’s so funny?” Zain wailed.

“It’s girls’ things, I think,” Ben tried to explain, feeling his own cheeks glow, “We’re not meant to understand.”

“Huh, girls!” Cal sighed in an exaggerated way, as if he knew all about them and the trouble they were.

As their laughter calmed down, Marcie began telling Shona what they’d actually done that morning, and then some of what they’d got up on their night out, by way of explaining why she genuinely ached a bit. Shona was eager to hear about Ben’s friends, whom he was able to tell her about, though Marcie gave a more direct and colourful description of her first impressions. That lead her onto an account of Sofie’s reactions to the eager attention of Jack and Patch, so to address Shona’s curiosity, she also vividly described them. Ben was surprised at just how much she’d obviously taken in, and just how interested Shona seemed to be. Then he remembered Marcie telling him about the way she’d been with girlfriends at school, even making things up to entertain themselves if the reality was too dull. As he kept playing with the boys and their Lego, sipping his coffee, he wondered if the two of them had crossed over into a version of those teenage fantasies that they must both have known.

Fiona, still cuddled up to Shona on the sofa, seemed to be getting increasingly fractious and vocal though, and Ben guessed what might be coming next. Indeed, moments later Marcie asked directly if she needed a feed and Shona agreed. She asked Marcie to pick up a muslin cloth, then Ben saw her manoeuvring the baby around in her lap and start to unbutton her blouse. Still feeling quite self-conscious, he dropped his eyes to the boys’ activities.

Shona obviously spotted this once Fiona had started feeding, as when her encouraging coos of baby-talk had finished, she said more loudly, “Don’t worry, Ben. You needn’t turn your back on us.”

“He’s embarrassed,” Marcie said with a girlish giggle.

“His mam probably started him on the bottle too soon,” Shona chuckled, making Marcie laugh more.

“Do you know, I hope Ben won’t mind me saying, but maybe that fits. He grew up on a dairy farm,” Marcie managed to say, then both women were howling with laughter again, Shona cackling even as Fiona stayed latched on, making her rhythmic slurping noises unawares.

Zain noticed though, asking with plaintive frustration, “What’s so funny now?”

“It’s about cows, in the dairy,” Ben quickly thought to say, even though he was again flushed with embarrassment, “Cows are funny, aren’t they? They make you laugh. Moo, Moo-oo!”

He went on making childish noises, sticking his jaw out like a bellowing cow calling for her calf, as Zain started laughing too and joined in, “Moo! Moo-moo!”

Marcie and Shona were still rolling with laughter, gasping for air. Shona dabbed her eyes with one hand while she kept Fiona at her breast with the other. “A dairy farm! No wonder, the poor man. We’ll never compete with that, hen!” She erupted in another gale of laughter as Marcie shook soundlessly beside her, gripping her arm, tears rolling down her cheeks as well.

“Ah, I’m sorry Ben,” Shona managed to say eventually as they both calmed down to mere sniggering, “I shouldn’t tease. But Marcie, hen, I’ve not laughed like that since I don’t know when. You’re a tonic, girl, a wee sunbeam.”

“It’s because of Ben, Shona,” she replied, suddenly serious again, “He’s made me happy. There’s all sorts going on, so much is up in the air, but we’re happy we found each other.”

“Aye, I see that now. You’re a lovely couple. Keep reminding yourselves of that, whatever else. You’re making your own destiny now, your shared story, together.”

“Well, it felt as if we kind of came out and made that official last night,” Marcie said, “We decided yesterday that we really were living together, and in the bar Sofie got everyone to raise a glass as a toast to us. I don’t know about you, Ben, but it felt a bit as if we’d declared something significant in public and before witnesses.”

“Aye,” Ben agreed, making deliberate eye contact with Shona, “And moving some of that stuff over this morning, I guess that was part of it.”

“Well, congratulations then,” Shona said, reaching over with her free arm to give an awkward hug to Marcie beside her before smiling broadly back at Ben, even whilst Fiona kept feeding, “I’d raise a glass to yous both myself if I were still a drinker. So you feel like you’ve moved in properly now, eh Ben?”

“Aye, I’ve not given notice on my old flat yet, but having things like my passport downstairs now, it makes it feel more real, doesn’t it? Oh, and my bike. I was going to ask, would you and Ali be okay with a shed? I mean, I could put a shed up in the yard, for my bike, but other things too, and you could use it. I said I could help cheer up the backyard, didn’t I?”

“Thank you Ben, I’m sure that would be lovely, and I’m sure Ali would love to help if he can,” Shona said as she unselfconsciously finished Fiona’s feed, “But what were your thoughts about those other things? We cannae get rid of the concrete, can we?”

“No, well, maybe, with a jackhammer, a pneumatic drill, but that would be noisy and messy. And then we’d need a load of topsoil too. We could make raised beds instead though, from railway sleepers or scaffold boards maybe, as long as they got sawn up safely for me. I’m not sure what we’d plant, though. You know I’m more into trees, right? But we couldn’t fit much in,” Ben paused, but even the boys seemed to be listening attentively, so he went on, “The right kind of maple or a rowan might stay small, perhaps a heavily coppiced silver birch, or a hawthorn, and they’re tough, or maybe a few dwarf apples would be nice. I bet the boys would like something to climb though, and nothing’ll ever get that big.”

“Ali and I aren’t really gardeners either,” Shona admitted, “And I can see little fingers getting into great tubs of mud and just making a mess. Maybe a feature like a rockery might be better, but then a bunch of expensive plants might just get squashed really quickly as the boys scrambled over it. I’m not sure if we could even get someone to deliver large rocks over the back wall anyway.”

“Oh, that would be no trouble for the right crew. I’ve not really checked, but the back alley doesn’t look so tight,” Ben reassured her, then dropped his eyes in embarrassment as he realised his words might be taken as a double entendre. He quickly blundered on, “We sometimes have to get big logs out of tight spots, on jobs for the Trust, or had to, past tense, I guess.”

“Hey, it’s okay, remember?” Marcie reminded him calmly, with no trace of a snigger, “New things will work out.”

“Aye, you’re so right,” Ben agreed, smiling warmly back at her, realising he wasn’t that sad or worried at all really, “But we need to see Roland, don’t we? He might know how others have bounced back from this.”

“Ah well, don’t let me keep yous from your important appointment,” Shona said, gently jigging Fiona against her shoulder, “You folks are so good at moving things along quickly. It’s like you’ve got fair winds behind yous.”

“You’re exactly right!” Marcie confirmed, as they all rose to their feet, “We’ve kind of been saying the same thing. Did you know Ben could sail ships too?”

Ben hadn’t told Shona that, and she seemed genuinely keen to hear more, but they agreed it would have to wait for another time as they headed towards the front stairs to leave. The boys dutifully followed them down too, so it was quite a crowd in the little space at the bottom of the stairs as they all tried to give each other quick goodbye hugs. Ben promised the boys he’d be back soon for more help with the Lego, maybe tomorrow or the day after, and then he and Marcie got away.

“Do you feel better for that?” Ben asked her in a light-hearted way as they got into their own flat.

“Oh yes, thank you Ben,” she said, lifting her arms to put them around his neck, pecking his lips before she pulled away and went on, “We were having a bit of a laugh at your expense, weren’t we? And your departed mum too. I’m sorry, my mouth ran away with me again, didn’t it? But I hope you didn’t mind. It just felt easy and fun, like I’m free to share cheeky things with Shona now. Did you feel more comfortable around there this time too? You didn’t seem embarrassed about the breastfeeding at all.”

Ben’s hand lingered on her hip as he smiled warmly down at her, then he slipped it into hers as she led him around the bike toward the living room. “No, and no apology is needed. I know how sincere you really are, in your sympathy, how we both feel that, living around the gaps our lost parents left. But it was easier with Shona this time, maybe because you were there, or maybe because she seemed happier. I knew what to expect too, perhaps. I got ahead of my default impulse and reaction, so I didn’t look directly at her nursing.”

“Or maybe deep down you felt more confident you had another pair, closer to home, that you can stare at and fondle whenever you wanted to now!” she said teasingly, breathing in twisting her chest towards him, pushing the round plaid-covered mounds of her breasts forward provocatively. He tried to lean forwards to kiss her, but she danced away, saying, “Maybe not right now though. Sorry!”

“You’re right,” Ben admitted with exaggerated stoicism, “Look, shall I get that work contract, and my hospital notes and ID stuff too?”

“Yes,” Marcie agreed, dropping his hand, “Go ahead and do that while I go for a wee. You can stick it in an envelope or something to put in your kit bag, if you’re still up for going straight on to the gym after a bite of lunch?”

Ben gathered his things together in the spare room, feeling a little odd about packing the same little rucksack that he’d used the last time he’d been to the gym. He’d not even known Marcie when he’d taken it on that fateful trip, and then she’d claimed it on his behalf before their ambulance ride to the hospital, perhaps just as she’d somehow inadvertently made claim on his heart at the same time. He was reminded of his gratitude and debt to her that was at the foundation of their relationship, but that only reenforced his own deep commitment to the breakneck-paced ride that they were still on.

He found Marcie lingering in the bathroom and could not resist reaching out to give her a small kiss as they moved past each other, him to gather his towel and shower gel once he’d relieved his bladder, her to get her own sports bag and a document wallet of Ben’s paperwork. Whilst Ben waited in the living room for Marcie to finish gathering her gym things, he started folding the last of the dried laundry, which she helped him finish off when she returned, taking the pile that he’d made on the sofa to put away. Ben put the airer away in the hallway, taking their bags as well. Then with Marcie, he made a final check that they had everything, before they set off to catch the Metro to Haymarket, just as they’d planned that over breakfast.

As they waited on the platform, they rehearsed some of the things they expected to discuss with the solicitor. Marcie warned Ben that there might be some quite formal terms of service that he’d need to sign, with some eye-watering hourly rates, but that was quite normal, and she still absolutely trusted Trish McDonald’s recommendation. They were quieter on the train and their short walk across town, but Ben felt less anxious by keeping Marcie’s hand in his.

Once they’d climbed the stairs to the law firm’s offices, they gave their names to the receptionist, then only had to wait a moment before a well dressed but portly gentleman strode into the modest lobby, clutching a slim folder. He gave them warm greetings as he vigorously shook their hands, politely introducing himself as Roland Michaels. Then he ushered them into a small but well-lit room that looked out onto the street below, evidently set up for meetings rather than being Roland’s own office. He asked if they’d like tea or coffee, then confidently used the room’s phone to place their orders. If he’d noticed how eager Ben was for another coffee, he gave no outward sign of it. Marcie thanked him earnestly, for his time as well as the refreshments, whilst also apologising for their casual appearance, and Ben wondered if she’d also been feeling the need for a caffeine top-up.

“It is a cliche, I am afraid Miss Tabone, but we do have interns here and they do like to be useful. And also, you are very welcome to call me Roland. You may find me a bit old fashioned, and old habits die hard, so please forgive me if I fall back into using your surnames. That may explain my tie and so on too, when even here the office dress code seems to be becoming more relaxed. But I am the only one in this room for whom that code applies today, so don’t worry, I just want you to feel at ease. Now, Mister Osborne, Ben, why don’t you tell me in your own words what has brought you here today?”

Ben found that the older man had indeed set him more at ease as he began to recount his story, which was only briefly interrupted by the arrival of coffee and biscuits. He started with his collapse in the gym and his trip to hospital on oxygen, before describing the diagnosis by the doctors there, as later confirmed by his GP. As well as the pneumoconiosis, Ben remembered to mention the asthma and the possible allergic reaction, also saying that he’d had an x-ray. Roland noted down his GP’s name and the surgery’s details, and Ben was impressed that Marcie could also provide the name of the doctor who’d first diagnosed him, confidently stating that she’d been Sally Norman. With Roland’s gentle prompts, Ben confirmed that he was otherwise fit and healthy, as was pretty much essential for his active and physically demanding work. He confessed that he had tried smoking when he was much younger, but swore truthfully that it had never become a habit. He also confirmed that he’d not yet spoken to the HR services team that the Trust used, but had notified his employer of his condition via the Trust’s office manager. Roland said that all sounded clear, and assured Ben that he could pass his professional contact details on to the Trust’s people directly.

Then Roland quizzed him about his workplace and the safety equipment in the workshop especially. Ben explained that there were no dust control measures apart from his disposable masks and the building’s natural ventilation. Roland asked about any training or guidance that he’d been given by the Trust, also determining that they hadn’t performed periodic safety inspections, nor reviewed Ben’s workplace protection. Then he was very interested to learn that Ben’s flat was directly over the workshop, and that the doctors had informally endorsed Marcie’s first impression that there may be a dust risk there too.

“So you have not spent a night in your own flat since you left the hospital?” Roland asked.

“No,” Ben confirmed, adding, “I’ve only been back once, this morning with Marcie, for less than an hour, to pick up some more of my stuff. You’ve helped so much,” he felt the need to explain, turning towards Marcie, “Going around to get things for me on your own, dusting stuff down.”

“Now, I’d like to ask a couple of personal questions, and I hope you don’t mind. However, because this seems wrapped up with your living arrangements, I think such questions may come up if your case ever gets as far as the civil court, and it is best if I am clear about the facts now. So, can you confirm that you and Miss Tabone are cohabiting now?” Ben and Marcie both immediately agreed, then Roland ask, “And Mister Osborne, how often would you stay overnight at Miss Tabone’s flat before you became aware of your condition, before your hospital admission?”

“Erm, never,” Ben admitted, “We’ve only just started our relationship. I didn’t even know Marcie before. We met because she saved me at the gym.”

Roland gave a short laugh of surprise, then immediately apologised, “I am so sorry. But that is wonderfully romantic. Well, congratulations to you both on your new arrangement, and may I offer my sincere best wishes to you both for your shared future. I admit, I had assumed that you had been a couple for much longer, and I guess that is a credit to your confidence with each other and your manifest compatibility. I know that one is more impulsive in one’s youth, and that young people today don’t stand on ceremony, but the two of you have both surprised and impressed me. Well, congratulations again, and thank you for your honesty.”

“Will it make a difference, to the possible claim I mean?” Ben asked anxiously.

“No, not at all,” Roland immediately reassured him, “From what I have heard so far, you have a very clear and strong case. Though I think you are the youngest client that I have seen with pneumoconiosis, I have had many successful settlements on significantly weaker grounds, and I have every confidence that yours will go through smoothly. I will contact the Armstrong Trust directly to start the ball rolling formally, though I will confirm the details in my draft letter to them with you before I send it. Once they have that, I imagine they will agree to an independent safety audit, and with your permission, I would like to recommend that that includes your former living space. I also expect that I will gather statements from the doctors whom you have mentioned, and perhaps the consultant, once you have got around to seeing him, or her. But at the end of the day, we know that the dust from your work has got onto your lungs and already done its worst there. Please rest assured that the law stipulates you are owed fair compensation for that. May I ask about your immediate plans, and if you had any expectations about the value of a payout of this kind?”

Ben explained that he’d been signed off work on the doctor’s sick note, and Roland checked the employment contract that Ben had brought to see if the Trust offered more than the minimum statutory sick pay. He confirmed what Marcie had said about them having a duty to adjust Ben’s role as he could no longer do the work that he had done previously. However, he thought they might offer Ben redundancy, and if so, he should consider two months pay to be fair as he’d worked there for five years, reassuring him that this would not affect his claim. As Ben explained his vague plans to retrain and find another profession, Roland confirmed that he was thinking along exactly the right lines as a return to his old profession was unlikely, and that the potential financial compensation should be seen as his means of support whilst he did that.

Roland concluded, “So though the courts recognise a well-established scale of payouts according to the nature of the injury, you might hope for a figure that’s equivalent to something like two years of your current income. It’s not like winning the lottery, I’m afraid, and this isn’t your pension that will support you for the rest of your natural life, but I hope you can see that it is meant to tide you over until your earning potential has risen back to something like its current level.”

Ben said he understood, gripping Marcie’s hand and looking into her eyes, which seemed to offer her encouraging warmth even as they gave away her anxious sympathy.

Once Roland was confident that they didn’t have more questions at this stage, he went on to describe what else might happen. It seemed he’d already investigated the Armstrong Trust’s status as a charity, so he expected that a relatively large cash settlement would need to be authorised by the board of trustees as well as the management council. However he explained that he still expected them to agree to award the compensation out of court, especially as this would keep their legal fees down. He confirmed that Ben’s costs would have to be paid once the settlement was reached, but that this was a legally stipulated fixed amount.

That led him into a brief discussion of his formal recommendation to take insurance to cover those fees in case of a loss, and then the wider discussion of his firm’s terms of service. He pulled two copies of a contract from the folder that he’d brought for Ben and Marcie to look at, then he asked Ben to confirm that he still wished to engage his services, before asking him to sign both copies. As he gathered his copy back up, he confirmed that Ben had brought in some photo ID and an appropriate letter with his old address too. Then, once he’d checked Ben’s passport and council tax bill, he asked if could also take copies of all the paperwork that he’d brought in, before making another call to the intern, who popped in a moment later to take Ben’s documents to the photocopier.

As the young man closed the door behind himself, Roland made a gesture to his own tie and remarked, “See what I mean? An open shirt collar! I would never have dreamt of such a thing when I started, forty-odd years ago. But if we are done with the official business for the time being, may I ask, Miss Tabone, did Ms McDonald say you’d dipped your toes in the waters of this profession yourself?”

“Well, in a way,” Marcie said, turning to Ben to give him a quick smile as she released his hand and sat back, as if checking with him that it was okay to relax into small talk, “I studied law at Manchester, but then I ended up sort of sliding sideways into academia, with a computer science master’s and now an information science PhD.”

“But I believe I remember Ms McDonald saying you currently have a supervisor in the university’s law school?” Roland probed.

“Had, I’m somewhat relieved to say,” Marcie corrected, “You know that it doesn’t always work out between a PhD student and their supervisor? Well, it had become completely dysfunctional between Professor Richard York and me. I have a second supervisor on the library staff who supports me on behalf of the School of Computing, but she’s been much less involved with my studies. You see, I had been working on an ontology for criminal cases, correlated against legislation.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me,” Roland admitted, having briefly thanked the intern for returning Ben’s paperwork while Marcie had been talking.

“In information science, an ontology is just a description of the way things relate to each other. A taxonomy is a specific example, where each thing is organised in a hierarchy, classified as a type of something else. For an ontology, there might be other relationships that aren’t just like ‘an X is a Y’. So for example, one piece of legislation may supersede another, or one case may include indictments against multiple laws. Once you’ve laid down the rules for those relationships and so on, the software programs can use the ontology to analyse the data in a more intelligent way, to help search it or maybe to answer natural language, or plain English, questions about it.”

“I think I see,” Roland said, picking up on this quicker than Ben had managed, “It sounds as if you are trying to find a way to map out what every law student learns, and what every barrister should carry around in their heads, in a way that a computer can understand.”

“Yes, that’s pretty much what I’d been hoping for,” Marcie agreed, “But now that I’m unable to use what my supervisor was carrying around in his head, I’m not too sure how to complete my work.”

“Well if criminal law was his specialism, maybe your work would actually be enhanced by looking into another area. I’m biased of course, but there are lots of other interesting curiosities in contract, employment and tort law, for example. It’s not always as black and white as criminal prosecutions. It sounds as if your ontology might include a taxonomic classification schema, and my specialist areas certainly have a whole zoo of legislation to marvel at, or get lost in, with new species popping up or quietly going extinct all the time.”

“Yes, you’re right of course! I should be thinking sideways, not just blindly sticking to plan A. But maybe you’ve hit on something,” Marcie said with rising enthusiasm, “Maybe I could go right back to that original exemplar of a taxonomy and compare the structures in the field of law to the natural organisation of species in the fields of zoology or botany. I’d need to look for a supervisor from the natural sciences rather than the law school, but maybe I could consult an expert who’s closer to home.” Ben realised that she was beaming across at him, “You know lots about different species of trees with their Latin names and their families, don’t you?”

Ben laughed, then realised that she was serious. “Aye, I could help with that,” he agreed.

“Well thank you, Roland,” Marcie said, smiling back at the old lawyer, “It seems you’re able to offer great advisory services to struggling research students as well as those seeking workers’ compensation!”

“You are most welcome, my dear,” he replied with a light laugh, “I’m only sorry now that I cannot pretend it was on the clock! But it does sound like a fascinating area. It seems as if you are at the forefront of something that might transform my profession within this new century, digitising it and automating it, just as computers have done for all those other old trades like publishing, draftsmanship and all that bookkeeping that accountancy clerks used to do. I am not sure if I am sorry that I won’t see it come to pass or glad that I will be getting out just in time!”

“Oh, there will always be a demand for professional lawyers,” Marcie reassured him, “My hope is that computers and something like my ontologies will just be like a prosthetic aid to help you all work more efficiently and effectively. After all, professional accountants haven’t gone away just because everyone can use a spreadsheet now.”

“Too true. Well, I wish you the very best of luck with that, along with everything else,” Roland added. Ben recognised he was finally wrapping up their meeting as he went on, “Though I am sure that no luck is required for either Mr Osborne’s case or your new shared home life. I must say it has been a delight to meet you both, and I am most glad that Ms McDonald pointed you in my direction. I will be preparing a correspondence for the attention of the Armstrong Trust straight away, and I expect I will have that draft letter ready for you to check early next week.”