‘Better now, thanks to you.’ Janet tugged the blankets inside, then pressed her face to the iron, trying to see past Sorcha. ‘How are you, Nettie love? Carrying some extra weight, I see.’ She winked at Sorcha.

‘Pity they haven’t beaten that poor sense of humour out of you,’ grumbled Nettie.

‘Aye, well,’ said Janet hesitantly when Sorcha relayed Nettie’s words to her. ‘Hasn’t stopped them trying.’

Though it was dark, lights from the houses at the top of the High Street cast enough of a glow for Sorcha to see Janet had a swollen cheek and lip.

‘What have they done?’ she cried and grabbed Janet’s wrist as she thrust the shirt and package of food into her hands.

‘Nothing I couldn’t cope with, lass. Don’t worry. I might be auld, but they breed us tough here in the Weem. Fishwives tougher than most.’

Blinking back tears at the bold words, the courage it took for Janet to utter them, Sorcha could see the welts on Janet’s arms now her sleeve had ridden up. She squeezed Janet’s wrist gently, conveying with that slight pressure all the love and confidence that she could.

‘You’ll be out of there in no time. We’re writing to the Privy Council and to Mr Kippilaw and Mr Cooke — the lawyers you spoke to. When they learn what Cowper’s done, they’ll order your release.’

Janet gave her a wistful smile. Sorcha wanted to caress her battered face, reassure her, but wasn’t sure how. Not when her safety and her freedom were at the mercy of others.

‘I wouldn’t hold my breath, lassie,’ said Janet finally. ‘But thank you all the same. I don’t ken what I’d do without you.’ Releasing Sorcha, she flapped her hands. ‘Now, you best be going before anyone catches you. Or you break Nettie’s spine. You don’t want to be giving the reverend an excuse to lock you up again, much as I’d appreciate your company.’

Sorcha slid off Nettie’s back onto the ground. Nettie tried to reach Janet’s hand, but failed to bridge the distance. ‘There be anything else you need, Janet?’

‘Cowper’s head on a platter would be nice,’ she replied.

Nettie chuckled and nudged Sorcha. ‘Told you if anyone’d be all right, it would be this woman.’ She cupped her mouth. ‘And if we can’t supply you with that, how about some whisky?’

‘I wouldn’t say nae.’

Voices drifted from the High Street.

‘Be gone, quickly.’ Janet began to withdraw into the darkness of the Tolbooth. ‘Fare thee well and God look after you both and the others; you be as dear to me as if you were my own daughters.’