She strode into the drawing room, the letter in her hand, thinking of what she might say

Fiona frowned. “How come all those football exercises you taught Jamie were from Sam? I thought Sam was a boy.” “Sam was always a bit of a tomboy. She’s coach of a women’s footie side out there. She’s ace.” He smiled, but Fiona was still scowling. “I’m sorry, Fi. I let you down. A lot.” “Who d’you reckon the woman was who phoned Doug and said to him you were always leaving people in the lurch like that? Was that Sam?”

“Yeah, that was Sam.”

They sat looking out at the water, side by side, until Fiona said, “D’you want to come back to the house for a cup of tea? I think Mum would like to see you.”

She looked at her watch. “And Jamie’ll be home from school soon. He’ll be so excited.”

“Of course. But, Fi, can you ever forgive me? I’m so sorry I did this, to hurt you so much – and Jamie. I’ve been awful, really useless. But I’m going to make it up to you.”

“What are you going to do, Prince Charming?” Fiona smirked.

“Wait and see!”

They walked together over the green towards Magdalen Yard Road. Though inside she felt a flicker of hope, Fiona warned herself to stay calm.

Even though Pete was back, she couldn’t just forget the months of hurt he’d caused her and Jamie. It would take time, probably a very long time, to get over what he’d done.

But, she loved him. Wasn’t that enough? They reached the top of the green and Pete stopped and stamped his foot.

“Christ, I bring it all the way from bloody Aus then I leave it on a park bench,” he said, laughing. He ran toward the bench where the cricket bat lay.

Fiona watched him go, remembering that long slow stride, when she heard her phone ping. It was a text from Martha.

Fiona hit reply and tapped out a quick message.

Wednesday January 14 1880

“Jessie, go and call Mr and Mrs Baxter and Miss Graham into the drawing room.”

Jessie bobbed and headed upstairs. Ann heard her taking the stairs two at a time. She strode into the drawing room, the letter in her hand, thinking of what she might say. This would not be easy. She reached for the decanter on the table and then paused. No, she must keep a clear head.

It was a cold winter’s day; frost lay thick along the branches of the magnolia tree and on the ground. She gazed at the summer house and sighed. Damn those interfering servants and their chatter.

She stood up straight and looked out beyond, to the river. It was calm, there was a stillness upon the water that was unusual.

On most days, the Tay flowed gently from the hills in the west, through Perth, then at Dundee it began churning up as it approached the sea.

Downstream of the bridge the waves were beginning to roll down towards the North Sea.

As she watched the little fishing boats bob about, she thought of Janet Clark’s father who fished for mussels at the other side of the river. What would become of him now?

What did he think he would gain by blaming Robert for his daughter’s death?

The simple sister must have told him about Robert’s visit and this was his attempt to deflect any blame.

But now it would backfire as he would no doubt be arrested and his family would bear the shame of both the affair and the murder.

Shift the blame

Should she feel sorry for him? Perhaps. He had tried in vain to shift the blame for a crime he had done onto someone else.

She felt her heart race as she thought of how she had done the same with Alfred Johnston.

She hoped he’d already given Mattie back the needle so that, even if the police visited the morgue and insisted on a re-examination, there would be no evidence with which he – or she – could be implicated. No one would suspect an old blind melodeon player.

There was a tap on the door and in walked the Baxters and Jessie.

Ann nodded at them. “Please, take a seat. Is Miss Graham coming, Jessie?”

“Aye, said she was on her way, just settling the bairns.”

The three servants shuffled and looked at their feet while Ann sat down in the wing chair before them. There was a flurry of movement at the door and in rushed Miss Graham, her skirts flapping.

Ann cleared her throat. “I have news that you must all hear. Just before breakfast, I received this letter from the morgue.

“It tells me that my husband’s body was washed ashore with the other poor passengers from that fated train that went over the bridge last month. He was found on Broughty Ferry beach late on Monday night.

“He was identified by the doctors and his body will lie there until the funeral.”

She glanced up at the faces. The Baxters were glowering at her.

Jessie snivelled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. Miss Graham was shaking her head.

“So, once the funeral is over, you are all free to continue working for me in your present roles.

“Or, should you wish to leave, I shall arrange a small sum of money and excellent references. It will be your choice.”

She smiled graciously, every bit the munificent employer.

“After we have finished in here, I need you, Jessie, to take this letter to the police station in Union Street and hand it to the police.

“Wait for them to copy down the details and bring it back here. Do you understand?”

“Aye, I’m to take it to the police then wait and bring it back.”

“Precisely. It is an important document.” “Whatever decision you reach on your futures here, I should be grateful to know soon please.

“I intend to begin to make funeral arrangements today.” She looked at each of them in turn.

Peaceful

“Condolences, Mrs Craig,” mumbled Mr Baxter. “Our condolences.”

“Thank you, Baxter. You have been particularly helpful to me, especially in those early hours after the disaster. I shall not forget that.”

She heard a low growling noise from Mrs Baxter and looked towards her, expectant, but the older woman remained silent.

“Mrs Craig, may I also pass on my sincerest condolences for your loss.” Miss Graham was blinking, as if stemming back tears.

“Thank you. There is just one more thing: I want the house to remain as it is, calm and peaceful for the sake of the children. Is that understood?”

They all nodded. “Jessie, take this letter. Go and do as I’ve bid.”

She handed Jessie the envelope and turned away as they filed out.

Mrs Baxter’s hand locked onto Jessie’s arm as she guided her out the door with a tight grip.

More tomorrow.