The man stared at Ann, his dark eyes narrowing. His expression was difficult to determine

Ann nodded acknowledgement and continued on towards the main steps. Inside the station the broken glass was gone. Someone had at least attempted to clear some of the debris from the storm; it would be a long, slow process.

There were people waiting on the platform, some sitting and some standing, all eerily silent, as if they had been struck dumb.

The door to the third-class waiting room was open. Ann peered inside and saw a dozen or so persons, all dressed in black, most staring at the floor. One man lifted his head and as she glanced at him she saw his expression; it was one of long-suffering supplication.

Ann pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed her nose. She was appalled at the sight of these poor people, waiting and wondering. Could nothing be done?

And then she saw a man on his knees, consoling an old woman in the corner. It was Alec Smith.

Ann waved her hankie in the air and he came towards the door.

“Mrs Craig,” he said, wringing his hands together. “I was just telling the relatives the Fairweather has been out on the river again, with the diver.” “Yes, I heard.”

“Will you come to my office? I have a few minutes before I must leave.” He gestured the way and beckoned for Baxter to follow.

Silent

Inside the little office it was cold and empty, the telegraph machine silent. “Mrs Craig, have you heard there is a body?”

She nodded. “Baxter here told me, but I have no details, only that it was a woman.”

“Last night, just before sunset, a mussel dredger was out on the river, about three miles from the bridge, north-east of Newport.

“One of the men on board noticed something drifting between sandbanks. He rowed over to it and saw it was a body.”

He opened his mouth to continue then looked down at the floor. “Mr Smith, I am not so feeble that I cannot hear the unpalatable truth.”

Ann removed her gloves and flicked them impatiently between her hands.

Alec Smith gazed at her soft, pale hands. “He saw it was a woman, her poke bonnet was still tied beneath her chin and her black skirts floated around her. He managed to fish her out with a hook.”

Ann pressed her lips together and grimaced. “The body was brought here. It is yet to be identified. We have made the refreshment room into a mortuary. Now there is one body, we expect many more.”

Ann nodded. “Has anything else come ashore?” “Yes, I was along at the harbour earlier and the master told me there’s all sorts come ashore a couple of miles away at Broughty Ferry beach. Items are being washed up on the sand at low tide.” “What sort of items?”

“Gentleman’s vests in a package, a woman’s handbag containing a bible. A pair of spectacles, shoes, several full mailbags.” He paused. “A child’s handkerchief.”

Ann began to tremble but forced herself to sit up tall. She took a deep breath. “What is to be done next?”

“My staff will lay out all the flotsam in the refreshment room so that relatives might lay claim to them and then, eventually, identify their loved ones.”

Information

There was a tap on the door and they turned to see a tall, ginger-whiskered man, wrapped in a thick woollen overcoat. He removed his hat on seeing Ann.

“Excuse me for interrupting, Mr Smith, but as I indicated this morning, I need to return to Aberdeen today and you said you might have information on when trains northbound shall return to regular timetable.”

“Of course, Mr Fletcher, come away in.” He gestured for the man to enter. “This is Mrs Craig, her husband was on board the train. One of only two passengers in first class, we believe.”

The man stared at Ann, his dark eyes narrowing. His expression was difficult to determine but as he inclined his head and held out his hand to her, she realised it was not the usual admiration, but pity.

“Mrs Craig, this is Edward Fletcher, the diver who went down yesterday.”

Ann stood up and faced him. “Can you tell me what you saw? Please.”

“I’ve done many dives in my long career. The Tay has always been a challenge as it is so fast flowing, and from the bridge it is also tidal. I was taken out in the boat and then I descended.”

“Excuse me asking, Mr Fletcher,” interrupted Donald, “but I’ve aye been curious about divers. How d’you keep out the cold, what d’you wear?”

“Leather suit with brass helmet bolted on and weighted boots.”

“How do you breathe?”

“The air is pumped down by a manual pump on board.”

“I read something in the newspaper recently about diving bells,” Ann asked. “Do you use those?”

“No, they’d have been no use at those depths, so I just went down myself and communicated with the men on board by standard procedures.

“Four tugs on my rope means I need to come back up. I managed to stay down there for six to seven minutes each time. On the second dive, I found the coach.”

“What could you see?” Donald leant closer to hear the softly spoken man.

“Nothing, it was dark and murky. All I managed to bring up was some of the upholstery, a piece of cloth from the seating in the first class carriage.”

Ann sighed and sat down with a thump. “Mr Fletcher, do you think bodies will be recovered soon?”

“I cannot say, I am sorry.” He turned to address Alec Smith. “Mr Smith, is there an Aberdeen train soon?”

“My apologies, sir, of course. Normal timetables are not yet resumed for northbound trains but we are planning on having one leave on the hour.” He glanced up at the clock.

“You have plenty of time. Platform four.” “Thank you.” Fletcher nodded at Ann and headed for the door, where he pulled the stationmaster aside.

Drifted

“I talked with some whalers last night at my lodgings. They say a drowned body wouldn’t rise to the surface till after seven days, because of the trapped gases.

“Usually it would be three to four days but at this time of year, in the cold, it would take longer.”

“But that woman?” Alec Smith tilted his head towards the mortuary along the platform.

“Her body must have drifted into the shallow waters. If the others are lying on the river bed, it could be a long wait.”

Alec Smith watched the diver stride along the platform then turned back towards Ann.

“I heard that, Mr Smith. So we must truly wait a week for news? What will you do with all the relatives?”

He looked out at them. “Unless the provost or harbourmaster have any other ideas, I intend to call in the minister. All we can do is pray. There is nothing more to be done.”

More tomorrow.

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.