Fiona glances at her watch. ‘I don’t have much time. Can we do this at my place later?’

‘As long as the kids aren’t within earshot.’

‘How urgent is it?’

‘Fairly urgent. Today. This evening. Tomorrow. It can’t really wait any longer than that.’

‘Tonight then, about eight? They go to their dad’s at seven, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.’ She studies Tess. ‘You can’t give me some idea?’

Tess can feel her throat tightening. ‘I’ll explain tonight, but the short version is that I need somewhere to live, and that means Baxter as well.’

Fiona knows exactly what is required. ‘I’ll order pizza.’

*

Back in her office, Fiona picks up her phone and scrolls to the very bottom of her contacts list. She taps the screen.

The call is answered on the fourth ring.

‘Twenty-five.’

‘Hello, Georgia. It’s Fiona. I’m sorry to call you out of the blue, but I think I may have someone for you.’

‘I’m seventy-one, Fiona. I spend my days reading. I help my friend with his allotment and I write angry letters to politicians. I’m not sure I have either the time or the energy for anyone new. Not after the last time.’

‘I do understand, but our agreement is that I let you know as soon as possible, and make sure you’ve got all the information you need. I’ll see what else I can find out, and if you decide to go ahead, it’ll be Alasdair who deals with the arrangements, as usual.’

‘I’ll think about it over the weekend.’

‘Thank you. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

‘I know.’

The call ends.

Fiona sits at her desk for a few minutes, remembering.

1908

Chapter 3

March 1908

The yell could be heard from the street outside the house.

John Black stopped stroking his moustache and screwed up his eyes, trying to see past the piles of masonry and lead pipes lying in what would eventually be his front garden. The yell had become a scream of pain and it was heading in his direction.

A man covered in pale plaster dust appeared at the rectangular opening where the front door would soon hang, dragging a lad behind him. ‘Hurry!’ he shouted, and headed towards a standpipe in the street where he turned the tap on and let water flow out across the not-yet cobbled ground. Despite the noisy protests, he pushed the lad’s head under the gush.

‘Keep still! The water has to get into your eye.’ The screaming stopped as the scrawny lad spluttered and coughed. Every so often there was a gasp and a shout, but the man was determined to keep the lad’s head under the flow of water. A second boy of about the same age appeared.

‘Get a pail!’ the man demanded. ‘And make sure it’s empty.’