‘They are delighted to be so near to the primary school. I think they intend to stay until the children are quite grown up. It will be good to have some stability, don’t you agree? There is nothing worse than new tenants moving in and out all the time.’ She paused. ‘I’ll be leaving behind most of my furniture, so at least you won’t have the disruption of a removal company carrying wardrobes and tables up and down the stairs.’

A man’s voice came from within the flat, impatient and demanding. ‘Margaret!’

‘Yes, Father, I will be with you in a moment.’ Miss Gibb seemed suddenly weary.

‘Come here! Come here right now. I need my dinner cut up and it’s going cold.’

Miss Gibb melted back into the flat without so much as a goodbye.

As Ursula climbed the last flight of stairs, she chided herself for being uncharitable. The new family would inevitably make noise, and Mr Gibb would moan endlessly to his daughter because he was housebound and there was no one else to complain to. And Miss Gibb, who had never said ‘please just call me Margaret’, and who rarely left the flat because of her responsibilities, would have to cope with it all.

Ursula thought about how different her own life was going to be, and how fortunate she was to be loved by a good man. She knew it would not make Miss Gibb any happier to be told about Library Terrace, nor the people who lived there. It might even have the opposite effect.

Chapter 5

Early December 1910

It was Sunday morning when the mystery began. As usual Isobel had made breakfast and set it out in the dining room before returning to the kitchen to get on with the rest of her chores. Bacon, square sliced sausage and scrambled eggs were on offer in warmed dishes, and the silver toast rack was full of neatly cut triangles.

Ann daydreamed her way through most of the meal, not paying much attention to a rather boring discussion between Father and Finlay about some engineering difficulty at the printing works. The two of them moved on to talking about something that Finlay found entertaining, and without warning, the atmosphere suddenly changed.

‘It’s time you realised that these are serious matters,’ Father almost exploded with frustration.

Ann didn’t properly understand what the problem was and scrabbled backwards through the half-heard conversation, trying to work out what had caused such annoyance. She didn’t dare ask, and took tiny nibbles off the crust of a piece of toast as she tried to make it last as long as possible without it looking as though she was messing with her food.

‘It really wasn’t like that, Father,’ Finlay protested. ‘They were barely holding hands. That’s what was so amusing.’