She was blinking uneasily. “Ann, have you heard a diver is going down this afternoon?”

Sue Lawrence is a popular novelist as well as a cookery book author. The Night He Left is published by Freight. Down to the Sea, her first historical mystery, was published by Contraband in 2019. Sue’s latest book, The Unreliable Death of Lady Grange, was published in March by Saraband.

Margaret Donaldson, dressed in a dark grey gown and black redingote, bustled across the room and embraced her friend. They were an incongruous pair, Ann tall and statuesque, Margaret reaching only up to her shoulders. “My dear, it is too terrible. What’s to be done?” Ann sighed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, indicating that Margaret take the seat opposite.

“Thank you for taking the children this morning. They are distraught but also do not fully understand.”

“They were playing nicely with the twins when I left just now. James already had the paper and colouring pencils out in the nursery.

“They may stay for luncheon, and indeed the afternoon, if you wish.”

“Thank you.”

Margaret sat down and glanced out the window. “You are sure that Robert was aboard that train?”

Ann gave her a weary look. “If he was not, why is he not home, Margaret? Or why have we not heard from him?”

There was a tap at the door and Jessie came in, carrying a broad tray, which she set on the table beside them.

“Scuse me, ladies, but Mrs Baxter says she’s put out some of her yellow cake for you.”

Survivors

She began clanging with the silver teapot and china cups and saucers as Ann stood up and went over to inspect the tray.

“Have some of Mrs Baxter’s cake, Margaret. It’s always excellent.” She put her hand to her throat and swallowed. “I for one cannot eat a thing.”

She turned to the maid and gestured to the decanter of Madeira on the cabinet. Jessie scuttled over and poured two glasses.

Margaret lifted her glass to her lips. Over the rim, her beady grey eyes were just visible.

She was blinking uneasily. “Ann, have you heard a diver is going down this afternoon?”

Ann’s blue eyes widened. “I hadn’t. Do they still think there might be survivors?”

Margaret shook her head. “They do not, but the diver might find some clue about the bod . . . the passengers, Ann.”

“I simply cannot understand how this ghastly accident can have happened, said Ann, ringing the bell on the table.

“Jessie, have Baxter come here at once.”

“There’s talk the structure of the bridge was weakened by the wind,” continued Margaret. “I don’t recall such a storm, ever. Certainly not in my lifetime.

“Archibald’s mother reminded us of the terrible gale in the winter of 1853, when the Tay was almost frozen over for weeks.

“But she said even that was nothing compared to last night’s wind.” Margaret put down her glass.

“It’s remarkable how her memory fails her on day-to-day matters but events years ago she never forgets.”

“And yet consider the change today, the river is like a millpond.”

“Ann, might it be worth sending a telegram to Robert’s aunt to confirm that he left the house at the usual time for that train? To eliminate all doubt?”

Sorrow

Ann nodded. “A good idea. Why did I not think of that? She too will be worrying, as the news is bound to have travelled far and wide.”

“Yes, I heard that Her Majesty the Queen had even sent a message to Sir Henry, expressing her sorrow at the calamity.”

“Sir Henry could never have imagined his work as provost of this great city would cause him to encounter such sadness.”

She looked up. “Enter!”

Baxter stood at the door, overcoat on, cloth cap in hand. “Mrs Craig?”

“Baxter, I want you to go and find out what news there might be after the diver has been in the river.” Ann took a sip of her Madeira.

“Also, I need you to send a telegram for me, asking Lady Cruickshank if my husband did indeed leave her at the allotted time to catch the usual train at Ladybank station.

“Shall I write down the address or can I leave it to you?”

“There’s no need, Mrs Craig, I can do that fine, I ken her address from Mr Craig’s letters. Kirkmichael House, Ladybank, Fife. I’ll do that first then go from the post office to the harbour and find out anything more.”

“Thank you Baxter.”

That afternoon, Ann was still up in the drawing room, striding back and forth, stopping occasionally to straighten an ornament or move the curtain.

Margaret had agreed to keep the children till teatime to give Ann time to consider her options. Ann decided that she would go to the station first thing the next morning and speak to Mr Smith herself.

She had had enough with hearsay and rumour; she needed to speak to someone in authority.

Alec Smith would have information, surely. She had been acquainted with him for some years – he would help her. The way he looked at her, admiring her, he would definitely be of use.

She picked up the field glasses again, as there was a knock on the door.

Baxter walked in, still with his overcoat on. He had his hat in one hand and as he removed his coat, Ann noticed his black armband.

“What news do you bring?”

“Well, Mrs Craig, the Fairweather – the tug that took the diver out there – set sail at two o’clock. The diver went down at the far end there.”

Collapsed

He went to the window and pointed to the south end of the bridge, now barely visible in the dying light of the late afternoon.

“Twice he went down. First time he came back up he said he found the first-class carriage.” Donald stopped as Ann Craig gasped and collapsed into her chair. That was where her husband would have been sitting.

“It was lying on its side, about 50 feet east from the fifth broken pier.”

Ann lifted her fan from the table and began to fan herself with wide sweeping movements.

“Shall I continue, Mrs Craig?”

She nodded.

“Then he went down again and this time found the engine. Same eastern side, just further along. They say the train’s lying there along the river bed, from the fourth to the fifth pier.”

He pointed out the window. “The diver found nothing more. No bodies.” He bowed his head and stood still, absorbing the silence of the room.

Eventually Ann put down her fan. “I want you to come with me tomorrow morning to the station. I wish to see Mr Smith in person for a full assessment of the situation.

“We shall leave after early breakfast, once you have taken the children next door to the Donaldsons.” “Very well.”

“And Baxter,” Ann said, her fingers upon the jet brooch at her neck. “Remove the armband, if you please.”

She sighed and continued, “I appreciate the sentiment but until we have confirmation, we shall not attend to the etiquette of full mourning. I do not wish to upset the children until we know more.”

More tomorrow.