The nose was the giveaway. There was no doubt about it. This must be Pete’s son

Debs was concentrating intently on her soup bowl. She sniffed loudly. “Oh, and he loved you. That was never in question.” Fiona sipped her water. “So, what do you want to tell me?” “The thing is, Pete and I had a thing, not a big deal at all. But we slept together and...” “What?” Fiona’s heart was racing. “When?” “Well, it was before I left the pub and went down south for a couple of years, so maybe early on while you were up in Glenesk.”

“Glenisla,” Fiona snapped.

“Oh, right. Anyway, he’d come down to do something in Edinburgh – see the Australian Embassy about his passport or something?” “You mean the consulate?”

Debs shrugged. “Dunno, he told me embassy. Anyway, we met up after and had a drink. Then more drinks and, well, things got kind of out of hand and I asked him back to my place and...”

Bad ending

“Here we go, now who’s having the sweet potato?” The smiling waitress placed down the bowls and Fiona leant back, gazing over the table at Debs as she did.

What the hell did Pete see in her?

She opened her mouth to speak then picked up her spoon instead.

This must have happened in the first year they were living up in Glenisla.

She remembered Pete getting the train down and staying overnight in Edinburgh, said he had to meet a mate from home.

When she queried him about it the next day, he said it had gone okay, they had got drunk then crashed at some room in the Premier Inn in the Grassmarket. She’d had no reason not to believe him.

“The thing is, Fiona, it all ended badly.”

Debs glanced at her then looked down at her soup. “In the morning, I realised I didn’t have any money for the bus so, when he was in the shower, I shouted through to ask if I could borrow money for the fare.

“He said yes so I took out his wallet and got out £1.50.

“That’s all I took, it’s what I needed to get to work.” She lifted her spoon and dipped into the large bowl. She looked at Fiona, her eyes moist.

“So then I don’t know why I did it but I looked in the back flap thing in the wallet where he had his passport.

“I love having a laugh at folk’s passport photos.

“Anyway, I pulled it out and a photo fell out.” She paused to take a swig from her can. “That was when he came back into the bedroom. He was smiling, happy – well, you know guys after a night of rampant sex...”

Dark anger

Fiona glowered at her. Was she really so stupid? Could this slut really not be aware of her feelings? “Sorry, it’s all coming out wrong,” Debs muttered. “Anyway, he was smiling, then when he saw me with his passport his face changed immediately.

“Suddenly he had this dark angry look, his eyes were full of, well, hate. He came towards me and ripped it out of my hands.

“Then he swung at me with his fist but I just jumped backwards and fell on the bed.

“Then he called me a f ***** g whore and other stuff I couldn’t even begin to tell you.

“He started ramming his clothes on and I just kept saying sorry. Then he was gone, out of my flat in two minutes.

“Slammed the door so hard I thought it was going to splinter.”

She swallowed. “I tell you, I was actually terrified, thought he was going to kill me. That look on his face was so scary.”

“Did you see him again?” Fiona’s pursed her lips tight together.

“No, never heard a thing. Well, till you came in last month.”

Hidden photo

She tore a hunk of bread off her roll and started slathering it with butter.

“Sorry, Fiona, the whole sex thing meant nothing. But I thought I should tell you, as I was really, really scared.”

She delved into her bag.

“Thought you might like to have this though.” “What is it?”

“The photo that dropped out of his passport.” Fiona took it from Debs and noticed her sore, bitten nails.

She gazed down at it.

A little boy smiled out at her. She felt her stomach tighten.

His blond curls framed a freckled face with the same shape of eyes as ...

And the nose, hell, the nose was the giveaway. There was no doubt about it.

This must be Pete’s son. She slumped back in her chair.

“Did he know you had this?”

Debs shrugged. “Must’ve worked it out, but I never heard from him again.

“Never mentioned a thing to Ross either.”

She leant across the table.

“Fiona, I was so scared that night, I thought he was going to kill me.”

“Can I keep this, please?” Fiona tried to stem the tremor in her voice.

“Sure, no good to me.”

She looked at her phone and sniffed again.

Arson attack

“Got to get back, I said I’d only be half an hour. She stood up and rummaged in her bag for her purse, slapping a fiver down on the table.

“Sorry to have to tell you all that, but I reckoned you needed to know.

“He was a grade-one b ***** d so if I were you I’d just forget him.

“I think he was one of those people you could never really get to know.”

She pulled her coat on.

“Oh, and when there was the fire, when the pub burned down, I thought of him.

“Obviously impossible really as he was up in Glen Whatever with you but...”

“What are you talking about?”

Fiona stood up, her legs trembling.

“It was arson, Fiona.

“They never found out who did it.”

Saturday 3 January 1880

The horses’ hooves clattered up the cobbles of Roseangle and turned right along Perth Road. Ann Craig pulled her cape tight round her.

The wind had got up and she shivered inside the hackney carriage.

She pulled back the curtain and saw people rushing along the street, heads down against the biting wind.

As the carriage passed tall tenement blocks, she thought of the hovels inside, housing large families in one filthy room.

Since women outnumbered men three to one in the jute mills, many men stayed at home.

Kettle-boilers they were called; they brought up the kids and took their turn to clean the stairheid cludgie, the communal toilet on the landing.

She shuddered at the thought.

More tomorrow