Jack woke up at six the following morning to the sun streaming in through the window.

He got out of bed, pulled on a pair of shorts, a sweatshirt and some trainers, and went for a four mile walk in the fresh Fife morning sunshine with Kiki. It was a massive contrast from the miserable rain and wind of Lancaster, and for a time he forgot all about his predicament. He returned to find Philip setting out the breakfast table with bacon, eggs and Aberdeen butteries, and Lucy-Ann spoon feeding Kirsty with some baby food.

"You couldn't put on something a bit smarter could you, Freckles?" said Philip.

"What, like my suit?" asked Jack. "I'd really rather not. Not after yesterday."

"No, nothing like that. Jeans and a polo shirt should be fine. We'll be going to the golf course for lunch. They have a smart casual dress code."

Jack went upstairs and changed into a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, then returned to find Kiki perched on the breakfast table, munching her way through an Aberdeen buttery with a look of exquisite pleasure on her face. His wife too was sitting at the table, enjoying the butteries as much as Kiki. A strange feeling came over him. Somehow, he felt that he had come home in a way that he never had before.

They set off for St Andrews at nine o'clock in Philip's car. It was a Land Rover, ten years old but rugged, dependable and spacious. The journey took a little over half an hour, and when they arrived, they parked up at the beach and spent the morning seeing the sights of the town—the castle, the ruined cathedral, the university, the Botanic Gardens. Then at one o'clock they made their way to the golf course for lunch.

At the golf course, they were met by a man in his thirties with a neatly trimmed goatee.

"Alex!" said Philip.

"Philip! Lucy-Ann! Kirsty! Good to see you," replied the man. He turned to Jack. "And you must be Jack Trent. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Alex Mercer."

"Thank you," replied Jack. He was still a little puzzled at who the man was. "This is my wife Melissa and my pet cockatoo Kiki."

"How do you do," said Kiki. "Wipe your feet."

"Dr Mercer was my Adviser of Studies here in St Andrews," explained Philip. "He's an ornithologist. Specialises in Atlantic sea birds."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Jack.

"No, on the contrary, the pleasure is mine," replied Dr Mercer. "Philip has been telling me all about you. I've also been following your column in Nature's Greatest with quite some interest, and I regularly refer to it in lectures. You must have quite an interesting life, travelling the world as much as you do."

"Yes," replied Jack. "I'd like to settle down though, now that I'm married with a baby on the way. It's not fair on Melissa for me to be away for months at a time. I've been asked to do a six month commission in Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia at the end of the year and it's going to mean missing the birth of my first child. I was hoping to start a PhD at Lancaster instead. I had the interview yesterday, but I didn't get it unfortunately."

"Who was the interviewer?" asked Dr Mercer. "Was it Horace Tripaloony by any chance?"

"Do you know him?" asked Jack, suppressing the urge to join Lucy-Ann and Philip in sniggering at this new variation on the man's name.

"He and I were PhD students together," replied Dr Mercer. "Let me tell you that you really do not want him as a supervisor, or even as a fellow team member for that matter. The man is quite frankly so incompetent that he would be better off flipping burgers in McDonald's. He is lazy, clueless, petulant, stubborn, forgetful, cowardly, and bad tempered. He refuses to do any fieldwork, preferring to stay back in the lab. He says it's because his area of expertise is in genetics and computational biology, but everyone knows that by 'computational biology,' he means playing games and chatting in Dungeons and Dragons forums on the lab computers, when he is supposed to be working. Dr Johns has been trying to get rid of him for years, but he can't because HR won't let him, because reasons. He's got to where he is almost entirely by taking credit for other people's work. Including mine."

"It's like I said, Jack," said Lucy-Ann. "You've dodged a bullet there."

"You should hear the kind of excuses he makes up to wriggle out of fieldwork," went on Dr Mercer. "About eight months into his PhD—it was round about this time of year—Dr Johns read him the riot act, said that either he start doing his fair share of fieldwork or else he find himself a new supervisor, and sent him off to the Outer Hebrides to collect some DNA samples from the sea birds there. Puffins, cormorants, kittiwakes, gulls, guillemots, and so on and so forth. At the time he didn't know the difference between a guillemot and his elbow. What does he do? He ends up in hospital, is off sick for six months, then when he gets back, he starts spinning these tall tales about how he was accosted by a gang of four children on the island he landed on who beat him up, made off with his boat, and left him stranded. None of us believed a word of it of course, after all, one does not simply find children hanging out on uninhabited islands in the outer Hebrides in the middle of May when they're supposed to be in school doing their exams. But he's been using it as an excuse ever since to stay back in the lab playing computer games and havering online about Dungeons and Dragons, and now any time Dr Johns tries to challenge him on it, he goes whining to HR."

Jack, Philip and Lucy-Ann looked at each other and smiled. If only Dr Mercer knew what they knew.

For the next hour, Jack and Philip talked to Dr Mercer about his research with Atlantic sea birds, asking questions, making suggestions, and discussing the latest research in the subject. Meanwhile, Lucy-Ann and Melissa spoke about parenthood, how life in Glenrothes compared to life in Basingstoke, and their respective careers—Melissa in customer services and Lucy-Ann working with children and teenagers with autism.

"So," said Dr Mercer at length. "What do you think of Scotland?"

"It's funny," replied Jack. "Just this morning, I came down for breakfast, and there was Melissa and Kiki at the table, both of them tucking into these rolls you've got here—the round toasted salty croissant-like ones."

"Oh yes, Aberdeen butteries," said Lucy-Ann. "Also known as morning rolls or rowies."

"They're absolutely gorgeous," said Melissa. "I never knew Scottish cuisine could be so delicious." She laughed. "And there was me thinking it was all haggis and deep fried Mars bars."

"They taste even nicer when you eat them outside," said Lucy-Ann. "Everything tastes nicer when you eat it outside. Even more so up here in Scotland. You haven't lived until you've tucked into a fish supper on the beach at Stonehaven or Anstruther."

"I'd just been for a four mile walk in the hills," said Jack. "It seemed that all my cares and worries about yesterday had somehow melted away. Then when I saw Melissa and Kiki tucking into their butteries at the breakfast table, somehow I felt as if I'd come home in a way that I'd never come home before."

"Would you like to move to Scotland?" asked Dr Mercer.

"Rather," said Jack. "Of course I'd have to persuade Melissa to come too."

"You wouldn't need to do much persuading," replied Melissa. "I'd be able to apply for a promotion once I get back from maternity leave. Our head office is in Dunfermline."

"Are you still interested in doing a PhD?" asked Dr Mercer.

"Would be nice if I could," said Jack. "Of course, I couldn't see it being in the de-extinction of the Great Auk. The team in Lancaster is the only place researching that that I'm aware of."

"You never know," replied Dr Mercer. "There are ways of making these things happen. In any case, if anyone does bring back the Great Auk from extinction, I can pretty much guarantee that it isn't going to be a team that has Horace Tipperloony on it. The man is leading the Lancaster group round and round in circles, up one blind alley after another."

He leaned forward.

"Here's the deal, Jack. I'm looking for a PhD student with your skills and experience. I want you on my team here in St Andrews in September. Are you up for it?"

Jack looked at Melissa. Melissa looked at Jack. They took hold of each other's hands then looked at Dr Mercer.

"Rather," they both said enthusiastically in unison.

"Rather," echoed Kiki.

"Let's go and look at those estate agents," said Melissa.