Chapters (90)
- PROLOGUE
- 1849
- ONE
- TWO
- EDINBURGH
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EPILOGUE
- HISTORICAL NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Extract from A Corruption of Blood
- 1850
- ONE
Raven decided not to pursue this, although he sensed that there was more to be said. He would find out soon enough, no doubt.
‘And Sarah,’ Raven continued, swallowing to clear his throat. ‘I understand that she has married.’
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Simpson. ‘To a doctor, would you believe.’
‘A doctor?’
Raven struggled to keep the incredulity from his voice.
‘Yes. Dr Archibald Banks. A truly charming man. From a very good family.’
Raven did not know how to respond. His recently consumed dinner suddenly felt heavy in his stomach. How could she have married a doctor? Given his own history with Sarah this added a new and perplexing dimension to the whole thing. He noticed Dr Simpson was still frowning, his mind on undisclosed matters.
‘They have taken some rooms on Albany Street,’ Mrs Simpson continued. ‘They wanted to remain close by.’
‘Sarah is indispensable,’ Dr Simpson said, brightening a little. ‘She has become quite skilful in administering chloroform.’
Presumably with a handkerchief, thought Raven.
At that moment there was the sound of running feet and the dining-room door burst open. Jarvis entered looking as rattled as Raven had ever seen him.
‘Come down, Dr Simpson. For God’s sake, come down. I think I’ve killed the cook.’
TEN
am the equal of any man, as you will come to know, though it took me a long time to understand the truth of this. For there were those who drove it into me that I was a lesser being. Who beat it into me that I was worthless.
Worth less.
My mother seldom had time or money, but my most treasured memory is of her taking me to the theatre when I was a child. It was a realm of artifice and illusion, a respite from reality. Perhaps that is why, when I look back upon certain times in my life, it is as though I remember watching those events played out upon the stage, rather than happening to me. It appears my mind will not permit me to recreate the view from behind my own eyes, and instead places me without, watching: sometimes staring up from the stalls, other times gazing down from the grand circle.
Look, there I am now, see? Emerging between the painted flats. Emerging from the interstices between what everyone else notices.
The set is small, requiring only a fraction of the stage to recreate the cramped room in Cumberland Street in the Gorbals, where Murdo MacDonald and his family lived in a tenement single-end.