I thought him handsome. I liked the sound of his voice, the stories he told. His accent was unusual. I suspected it had been altered by living in all manner of different places. He was from Orkney originally, and told us his family had always had an association with the sea. Through his job with the shipping company he had travelled many times to London, to Dublin, to Amsterdam and even to New York. He was a man shaped by travel and by many and varied experiences. Calm and knowledgeable, gentle and wise: the opposite of my father in so many ways. He was ten years older than Martha, a man who had seen his fill of the world and was now ready to take a wife and start a family. Marriage was proposed, and Mrs Dempster was beside herself with joy. One could say all her ships were coming in.

He came to the house on a cold Sunday afternoon in January, after church. He had recently returned from the port of Hamburg and he talked fondly of the beer he drank there, so I served him some local ale with his meal. Mrs Dempster objected, saying he might prefer wine as that was what she and Mr Dempster were drinking. However, he assured her that the ale was most welcome and delighted everyone by thanking me in German.

He began to feel ill that afternoon, and by early evening it was clear he was in no condition to return home. Mrs Dempster insisted he lie down in the guest-room, a large chamber she had never seen fit to offer me, despite me ‘paying my way’.

There was some concern that Colin’s illness was the result of his recent travels, as nobody else was showing any ill effects after eating the same meal. It was suggested that a doctor be summoned, but being a nurse, I convinced them that such a measure was premature, and that Colin would most likely improve after a good night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, sleep proved impossible for him. As he lay there, as restless and disoriented as any storm-tossed sailor, he complained of being stricken by a fierce thirst. I prepared a drink for him, and bade Martha serve it to him.

‘You will look after him in sickness when you are his wife,’ I told her. ‘Best that you begin now.’

This notion seemed to please her, and she swept off with urgent purpose, the glass clutched between her hands. Thus, though she would never know it, Martha administered a large dose of poison to her betrothed.

I recall sending Mrs Dempster to fetch me some towels soaked in cold water for Colin’s growing fever, and it pleased me to reverse our places, to be the one commanding her. She did as she was told because she was afraid for Colin, though mostly for her daughter and for her own grand vision. More than her obedience, though, I enjoyed her distress.