‘No watching over the business until all hours,’ he admonished. ‘She should have at least eight hours’ sleep each night and a long rest in the afternoons. And she needs to eat well. Regularity is important too. Meals at the same time each day. And plenty of nutrition. I understand you have a good cook, so get her to put up food that’s restorative but easily digestible . . . stews, chicken, fresh vegetables and fruit.’

Lafeyre’s driver, Scollan, displayed a surprising gentleness in assisting Maria from the hospital doorway to the carriage, taking one arm as Swallow took the other. She stood for a moment at the door, taking in the strange sights and sounds of the outside world after the quiet confinement of the recovery ward. At first, the thin January light was hard on her eyes. Swallow saw faint, dark half-circles above her fine cheekbones.

Scollan took them home to Thomas Street at a gentle pace, along Capel Street, up Ormond Quay and across the river to Winetavern Street. Swallow had told him to avoid the route that would take them past the Castle and Exchange Court. Anything or any place that could be associated with his work and the events of the past week was best avoided.

A pale sun was setting to the west, bringing the city’s short day to a close. For a brief minute as they made their way past Cornmarket it threw a weak, yellow light across the roofs of the houses.

Swallow squeezed Maria’s hand gently as they turned into Thomas Street.

‘You know, we’re nearly halfway through January. A couple of weeks and it’ll be February, the first month of spring.’

She smiled for the first time since they had left the Rotunda.

‘Ah, go on. That’s only an idea. Spring is a long way off.’

‘No,’ he countered, ‘St Brigid’s Day is the 1st of February. That’s the day the birds start looking for mates to build their nests with. They know the winter’s over.’

‘They make a fresh start, I suppose,’ she said. ‘There’s new life isn’t there? It’s well for them,’ she added after a moment.

Scollan drew the carriage to a halt at the side door of M & M Grant’s. Carrie, the housekeeper, was out to greet them, followed by Tess the maid and Tom, the head man from the bar.

‘You’re welcome home, ma’am. A thousand times welcome,’ Carrie called out.

Tess could find no words. She clutched her apron to her face in silent emotion.

‘God bless you, missus,’ said Tom quietly.

When Scollan had departed and the others had gone back to their work, Swallow and Maria settled into their usual places in the parlour over the public house. Tess had left a strong turf fire going in the grate and the lamps had been lit. Outside on the street, darkness had overtaken the failing day.