Mrs Quinton changed topic at this point, preferring to discuss the difficulties of child-rearing, how demanding it all was. As the conversation continued – Mrs Quinton seeming in no hurry to be elsewhere – Sarah wondered if the woman lacked acquaintances in Edinburgh. Perhaps she had yet to make many friends. Sarah could empathise if this was the case. She herself belonged precisely nowhere, which made establishing and maintaining friendships difficult, if not impossible. Who could she confide in? Who could she share her innermost thoughts with? Only Archie. And, of course, Will Raven. In fact, she was confiding in Will more now as Archie was becoming increasingly unwell. There was a connection growing between them again. Given the circumstances, she was unsure whether this was a good thing.

Sarah became aware that she was being less than attentive, having lost the thread of the conversation. Mrs Quinton was expounding upon the subject of wet nurses, nursery nurses and the expense associated with finding the right help. Sarah’s distraction had gone unnoticed as she was not expected to respond, merely to listen. She thought that she should perhaps feel sorry for this woman but could not bring herself to do so. There were so many women who managed so much more, with so much less. She decided she could not sit and listen to this any longer and wondered at her lack of patience. A lack of sleep, perhaps.

‘I’m afraid that I must be going,’ she said, standing up. ‘Duty calls.’

Mrs Quinton looked a little put out that their conversation had been so suddenly terminated, but Sarah was adamant that she could not stay.

Mrs Quinton walked her to the front door. She paused before opening it, a thin smile on her face.

‘Please thank Mrs Simpson for the letter and for the package,’ she said. Her smile faded. ‘Also tell her I expect the next payment to arrive on time.’

FORTY-FOUR

t was dark when Raven was once again shown into the room where Alec lay. He remained by the window, but no light shone through it. The room was lit now only by candles and a single lamp.

A vast shape moved in the gloom, and once he got over his shock he saw that the giant was keeping vigil, seated by the wall. It seemed an odd sight, and it was only in that moment that Raven saw that Gargantua and the Weasel were friends. He had not imagined that there was anything to connect them beyond their common circumstances, comrades in criminality.

Alec was writhing, and doubtless would be writhing all the more had he the strength to do so. He was making a pitiable and unsettling keening sound, a combination of moaning and weeping. The man was in agony.