In the Upper Room, Aggie welcomed Peter as her brother, Algie, had – they were twins, and were as like two peas in a pod as Peter had ever met: small, round, full of interest and treated him with compassion; while Aggie finished the broth to her satisfaction, Algie found the hamper she had told him he would find the right things to suit their visitor, and returned with an armful of clothes: an old-style, blue Sailor Suit, Guernsey jersey, underwear, socks and boots – everything fitted perfectly and the boots, while old and scuffed, had been well-cared for, with steel tackets and leather that was supple and comfortable: "we're going to follow Cuthbert in a couple of days, to Lindisfarne, ye ken, Holy Island, and ye're welcome to come along, Pete laddie," and Peter – or Pete laddie – asked if Cuthbert wouldn't mind a stranger tagging along, at which the twins had a good laugh and then Aggie explained that St Cuthbert's Way was a fairly recent Long-Distance Route from Melrose to Lindisfarne Abbey, named in honour of the saint, who in the 7th Century had been Prior at Melrose Abbey and later, Lindisfarne; the Edinburgh lawyer apologised for his lack of historical knowledge and, forgetting all about his family at home, agreed at once, feeing that was, for him, some kind of re-birth; he asked them about the house they were in and Algie explained that Toc H in Melrose had bought the whole building in the 1930s and named it Talbot House after the original in France: "oh, there were guest rooms for anyone needing a bed for the night, meeting rooms, games rooms, quiet rooms, a small Hall which could hold about 100 for lectures or concerts, a library, just about everything that was needed, including the Chapel; we joined, me and Aggie, in the 1980's, and even then there was a rota for the Overnight Welcome, and you only did it about once every four or five weeks, but mind, we all get older and folk move away, for work or family reasons, lose their health, even die! so now there's just us here – the House has been subdivided and rented out, so it still has an income and though we can't do all the things that used to be done, we support other charities that do," and Peter asked: "and you sit up every night, waiting in case someone needs you?" at which Algie said: "well, we give it from dusk till midnight, but there's a bell-pull and if someone's desperate, we never turn them away, no matter what time they rouse us," which impressed Pete no end: "what brought you here?" he asked, sensing that their accents weren't local, and Aggie took up the tale: "well. I was a GP in Broughty Ferry and Algie had the Tupperwear Chair in Theological Philosophy at St Andrews and when we retired we wanted a change of scene and had distant relatives living down here so moved to Melrose in '85 and it was soon after that we became involved with Toc H; but just a couple of years ago, when we were the last active members, we sold our bungalow and moved in here," she lowered her voice, "the alley is the only downside," she said, in a near whisper, as though afraid of being heard by passers by, "some vulgarians use it as a shortcut from The Ship to Melrose Abby, a few slimeballs regard it as a handy pissoir, we get snatches of Billingsgate from the Fishmongers, naturally, but as neighbours they give us a discount, so we can't complain, and with the Undertakers' Chapel of Rest just round the corner, there are always a few apocalypticians knocking about, but it's the ones who think they can use it for a bit of the other," and she gave him a look which clearly conveyed what other she was referring to, then laughed, "but once they've had the contents of a chamber-pot emptied over them from upstairs, they soon beat a retreat and you never get them back," and after a brief pause, Pete asked: "and do you get many people coming in, like me?" and this time Algie answered: "on average, a couple or so most weeks, more in the dead of winter when it's cold enough outside to give a brass monkey the croup, but you'd be surprised at the summers, too, that's when we get most of the foreigners, either holidaymakers who've had a major falling-out with their companions and roughed-it for a few nights, maybe even a week or so, and are too embarrassed to go back and try to make up, or workers who've come over to earn better money than back home, and find themselves lonely and exploited and soon learn there is no easy way to make good money anywhere, or what are now called modern slaves, who've been people-trafficked from Eastern Europe or further afield, either to work on the land, crop-picking or the like, or tending marijuana farms for nothing but bare subsistence diet, or as prostitutes or sex-slaves; it's funny how our visitors have changed so much in 100 years – from mainly ex-services lads who had suffered physical or mental injuries and were left suffering from what is now recognised as PTSD but then was called shell-shock, to economic victims of exploitation – though hardly a month goes by without someone who served in Iraq or Afghanistan coming through the door, with exactly the same issues as the lads who went to the original Talbot House in France after the First War; but then, used, abused and cast aside can describe ex-squaddies or escaped agricultural or sex slaves equally; and we welcome anyone, regardless of rank, race, religion, social status, or any of the other means society has to divide one group from another," which was when Pete said: "we're all Jock Tamson's Bairns," and Algie gave his sister a knowing look, so she asked their guest: "and is there anything you want to talk about, Pete?"