The governess looked up and picked up her vast carpetbag from the floor. “Mrs Craig, I have news. Such news!

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.

Ann stood by the chill of the window and resolved that, whatever had happened to her husband, she would not suffer. She knew that she would not put James and Lizzie through what she had gone through as a child, the deprivation and hardship. The three of them would survive. She was proud, but also pragmatic; perhaps she might need to call in some favours.

She must ensure the money from the mill continued to come to her, whatever happened. She went back to bed and rang the bell for tea. “Mrs Craig, there is more news this morning,” Mrs Baxter said, as she served her luncheon in the dining room.

Ann had just placed her fish knife at the head end of the sole, ready to fillet it with a deft hand.

She loved doing this task in front of her housekeeper – who evidently believed she had had such exquisite table manners all her life.

Ann placed her cutlery down and looked up, expectant.

“First of all, you might ken this from the newspaper, but there is a court of inquiry beginning today.”

Ann nodded.

Intact

“But the other thing is, you ken how Jessie’s pa has that wee job at the post office?

“Well, she says that her pa told her that they found a bag with bank notes.

“Completely intact, you’d never even ken they’d been in the water. How’s that possible?”

Ann shook her head. “Some things are too much to comprehend.”

“So, they’re saying at the post office that yon mailbags they found on the shore might have letters that can still be sent out. Imagine that!”

Ann nodded. “Did you hear how many bodies have been recovered today?”

“Donald is away the now. We heard another dozen or so. He’ll let us know later.”

Ann dabbed at her lips delicately with her napkin, lifted up her cutlery and began to fillet the fish on her plate.

“That will be all.”

Ann looked into the cheval glass, tilting the mirror so she could see her face at its best angle in the dim late afternoon light.

She leant forward and pouted, her full lips soft and pink.

She fixed the tortoiseshell comb into her hair at the back then admired her dark grey taffeta gown, shot through with a silver thread.

It was perfect for this evening. She had invited the Donaldsons for their New Year drink.

Although they had remonstrated that it was unnecessary this year, she had insisted.

She had persuaded them by saying that things must continue as usual, if only for the children’s sake.

James and Lizzie had been in the kitchen all afternoon helping Mrs Baxter prepare special shortbread for the guests.

Ann turned a little and smiled as her skirt caught the light and the metallic threads sparkled.

Her smile broadened as she thought of Margaret, who would no doubt be wearing her usual heavily brocaded gown in dark colours that did nothing for her pale skin.

A knock at the door.

“Enter!” she commanded, turning away from the mirror.

“Might I have a wee word please, Mrs Craig?” Baxter stood at the door, cap in hand.

“As you know, I was down at the station this morning and went to the morgue, checking everything for you.

“It’s not a pleasant task, that’s for sure.”

Ann swallowed and looked at him, expectant. “There were 10 men’s bodies there, none of them Mr Craig.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes, none of them was a gentleman.”

She nodded and touched Baxter’s arm. “Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

“They’re moving the morgue to the main hospital tonight. Did you ken?”

“No, I did not, but it makes sense.”

Clumsy

There was a crashing noise downstairs and they both ran out of the room and looked down from the balcony.

There was Miss Graham, pulling the little hall table upright; she had evidently knocked it over as she flung open the front door.

She is so clumsy, thought Ann. The governess looked up and picked up her vast carpetbag from the floor.

“Mrs Craig, I have news. Such news!”

Ann and Baxter watched as Miss Graham bounded up the stairs.

She dumped the bag on the floor and bent down to prise its shiny clasps open.

She took out a package, tipped it up at one end then carefully pulled out a letter.

“As you know I had many errands to do this afternoon, one of which was to visit the post office.

“While there, I heard talk of the mailbags that had been on the train last Sunday.

“Even though the bags were in the water for several days, they were tightly sealed, so some of the addresses were legible.

“I enquired if there was anything for Magdalen Yard Road and the postmaster returned with this package.

“It feels heavy, from having been in the water. He said it might still be damp inside so to dry it out fully, but the address is fully legible.

“Look, Mrs Craig, it’s for you.”

Ann took the letter and stared at it. It was Robert’s writing. She turned it over and looked at the sender’s name.

She bit her lip; it was from her husband.

2015

“Want to come and give me a hand with this stuff, Fi?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Bit gruesome,” said Martha. “Working on the postmortems today. Need to rake through all the records and see if anything’s suitable for the exhibition.”

Martha and Fiona sat down in front of piles of folders on the table and put on their white gloves. “Where did they take place?” asked Fiona. “Well, at first they had a makeshift mortuary in the station, in one of the waiting rooms.”

“Wow, that must have been weird.”

“Yes, but that was just for the first few days when Dundee was a city in shock.

“No one was using trains at first, then they moved everything to the Dundee Royal Infirmary in Barrack Road.”

More tomorrow.