That awkwardness, it was because they thought I could not have children. And even though their pity always made me squirm, I had no intention of saying otherwise, because it was what I’d told Management. See, when I first applied at the factory, I was turned away: We don’t employ married women. Curt. No argument. But they were desperate for staff, and I tried again later, and this time the office manager gave me a second look.

Why d’ya want to work for, when you’re married? Surely your husband wouldn’t have a bar of that.

Where I come from, isn’t any shame in married women workin’, I told him. Everyone does. Everyone has to.

He’d looked at me sceptically, then down at my application form. Says here you’re nineteen. Ah. Well. You’ll have a family on the way before you know it. What’s the point in starting you?

I took a huge breath and out came Lie Number One.

I won’t. I canna have babies.

Shocking, but I told myself that there was some truth in it.

He blinked at me in consternation, clearly afraid of what embarrassing details I might be about to offer.

So, ye see, it’s different for me.

He looked doubtful and I sensed a moment of chance. Look, Mr Prentice, I didn’t come all the way from the Shetlands to idle around on the beach. You need workers an’ I need to work. An’ I’m a good worker. Ye’d not be sorry if ye took me on.

And ya reckon your husband will give his permission?

Permission. It summoned up memories I did not want in my head, and not one of them involved Magnus Tulloch. I looked at Mr Prentice and spoke firmly: Aye. I mean, yes.

Two years later, I was still the only married woman in the Mills & Ware factory, except for the widows, who were another kind of married. There were a few of them.

~

I was glad to take my break early and ran back to Martha Street.

Stivvy wasn’t there—he’d gone for a look around—but I stood at the door of the cottage, panting, and took in the sight of the impatient, irascible Mrs Clementina Slater Ratter humming over two nearly-sleeping bairns. The look of tenderness on her face made me turn away with a wound in my breathing.

When finally she glanced up, she turned on me the full light of that tenderness, and in it I saw my mother and my sister and my best friend.

And something in me broke.

~

The problem with the oven was fixed by one-thirty, but we were behind schedule and would have to stay until the day’s tally was done.

Any overtime? Ollie ventured hopefully.

Vi quashed the idea with a short laugh. Y’ve had extra break time, haven’t ya? That’s what Management said.