The book said there would’ve been more children on the train but there’s no record of them

Ann continued, “Do you mind if I ask you something rather strange. James was telling me Robert knew some people who had emigrated to Australia. Who could that have been?” “I have no knowledge of anyone departing to the dominions, apart from one of my patients, rather a scoundrel.

“He went to Australia, but not through his own volition.”

Archibald went behind his desk and removed a tiny key from his mustard-coloured waistcoat pocket.

Keeping his dark eyes on her, he opened his drawer. “How are you sleeping, Ann?”

“I must admit that I am not sleeping as well as usual, though I am fine for the present,” said Ann, standing up as she heard noises on the stairs.

Archibald too heard the noise of voices approaching and slammed the drawer shut, turning the key in the lock and returning it to his pocket.

He moved to open the door, passing close to Ann and breathing in deeply. Her heady perfume hung in the air.

As he inhaled, he thought of Margaret’s disapproval of her friend’s use of perfume.

“Not for ladies,” she had said, commanding him to open the windows wide after Ann and Robert had left a dinner at their house.

Ann swept past in a rustle of silk and the hint of bergamot and jasmine floated after her.

2015

“Remind me, what number are you in Magdalen Yard Road again?”

Fiona turned to her friend Martha, who had just pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves. “Seventy-three. Why?’”

Martha turned a page in the old document she was examining.

“Did you know that one of the passengers who died in 1879 lived along in number thirty-two?”

“Those are the tenements at the other end, I think,” said Fiona as she finished putting on her own gloves. “Can I see?”

Mill workers

Martha pointed to a name and address in the yellowed document. “Janette Ness, weaver, aged twenty-two. I suppose she worked in one of the jute mills.”

Fiona nodded and pored over the names. “There’s another weaver here, and a spinner, presumably mill workers too. All so young.”

“I know, I read that a fifth of all jute mill workers were under fifteen.”

Fiona looked up. “And the kids on that train, horrible. Look, one aged four, another five. The book said there would’ve been more children on the train but there’s no record of them as they didn’t need tickets.”

“I know, it’s awful.” Martha pointed again to Janette Ness’ address.

“Does number thirty-two still exist on your road?” “Think so. I’m pretty sure it’s the first tenement when you turn left onto our road from the green.

“And I must ask dad, but I’m sure one of his ancestors in our house was a mill owner in the 19th Century. In fact, I think he might have been the one who had our house built.

“Wonder if he was there in 1879?”

“I thought you’d like this project. I’m glad the boss wants you to carry on researching for the exhibition.” “God, yeah. I’m so pleased the interview went well.” “I was speaking to her earlier, she said that you’d opted for four mornings a week instead of two full days?”

“Yeah, that’ll be brilliant when Jamie starts school. Thanks for putting a word in, M, you’re a star!”

“We can work together on some things – public outreach, papers, online and fliers – and I’ll get in touch with other museums to see what they’ve got.”

Cheers!

Fiona nodded, grinning.

“Great, so I’m going to concentrate on details of the train, events on the actual day and so on, and at this stage you can look into Sir Thomas Bouch, the designer?”

“Deal.”

“He lived in Edinburgh, so you might have to nip down there.”

Martha looked up at the clock on the wall. “Only a couple of hours till home time. D’you have to dash back to Jamie or do you fancy a quick drink?”

“Mum’s giving him an early tea then they’re taking him to the cinema to see that new Disney film. Dad’s more excited about it than Jamie, big child that he is.” “Aw, your dad’s great, he’s so, well, different.” “I know, he’s a one off. Still, he kept Jamie up till midnight playing on his ancient Scalextric set, way past bedtime. Think Jamie’s just doing it to amuse the old man, to be honest.”

“Another bottle?” Fiona stood up and lifted the empty bottle from the bucket.

Martha glanced at her watch. “Yeah, I’ll text Allie to say I’ll be late home.”

Fiona weaved her way through the tables to the bar and ordered another bottle.

“I love a sauv blanc, don’t you?” she said, unscrewing the cap as she returned.

“Remember it was always gut-rot chardonnay we guzzled at college?

“Then I kind of got into Pinot Grigio with Pete, but this is delicious.”

“Gooseberries and elderflower!” Martha gave an exaggerated sniff over her glass. “Cheers!”

“Cheers.” Fiona clinked glasses and sat back on the sofa. “So, where was I?”

Stolen car

“Well, he did a runner, stole a car and wiped out all your combined savings. B ***** hell, there can’t be more, Fi?”

“Oh, just you wait.” Fiona took a gulp of her wine and sat forward.

“Then I want to hear all about you and Allie. How’re the parents taking it?

“Were her mum and dad not really weird about it all when you moved in together?”

Martha nodded. “Yeah, more anon. Come on, spill.” “So, Doug from Glenisla – remember the nice guy who owns the hotel, short, balding – well, he phoned me one day last week,” said Fiona, before telling Martha about the Australian woman who had been trying to track Pete down.

“Bloody hell, that’s not good.” She frowned. “Without wishing to sound like Allie with her psychotherapist hat on, “How does that make you feel?”

“You really want to know?” There was a tremor in her voice. “Completely used, that’s what. Used, abused, on the rubbish heap.”

She took a swig from her glass. “After all that time getting over Iain, at last I find my life’s companion and then this. Don’t think I’ll ever trust a man again.”

Martha took her friend’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“There might be some explanation. What could that call have been about, Fi? You think she was his mother?”

“Who knows? Don’t even know if he’s even got a mother, looks now like he made everything up.

“I mean, he must’ve been from Australia, but Ross at the Old Chain Pier said he was from Tasmania, not Melbourne.”

More on Monday