I was able to utilise not only some fabulous academic work (which I will mention shortly), but also the Annals of Pittenweem 1526–1793, and the Annals of Anstruther, which cover the council minutes of these towns, including the events I write about. I also managed to purchase copies of the letters from the anonymous Gentleman of Fife, which record a version of what happened in Pittenweem over that time, and the rebuff to those two letters, A Just Reproof, which offers a vehement and, frankly rather hollow defence of the reverend and the bailies. The quotes at the beginning of various chapters are often taken from these documents as are some direct quotes, which I place in characters’ mouths.

Apart from Sorcha McIntyre and her family, Aidan Ross and Sergeant Thatcher and various shopkeepers, neighbours and merchants, everyone mentioned in the novel existed and mostly — with some tweaking and artistic licence including imagined conversations, motivation and thoughts — acted as described. Sorcha and Aidan became my vehicles for exploring the people and events and, as you now know, I attributed the letters from A Gentleman of Fife mainly to Aidan (one to Sorcha), imagining that many might have been written, but only two have survived intact. These letters gave me the basis for Aidan’s character, just as learning about the tenacity of the fishwives gave me the basis for not only Sorcha’s character, but also for many of the other women in the book.

Fishwives were both loved and loathed. Independent, strong, in control of their lives and, when married, of their husband’s lives and the family finances, they were robust, capable women who didn’t suffer fools and broke with the traditional idea of a woman’s role. They were often regarded as a necessary threat to social order. You can see how the term ‘fishwife’, used in a derogatory sense, comes down to us now. I like to think of these women as life-affirming and bold; the courage it took to do what they did, particularly in the early 1700s (and before and since), labouring in a man’s world, given the losses they would have experienced is remarkable. They worked long hours at a range of tasks, many raising families, and from what I can gather, took pride in their work. I wanted to examine the women before fishing became an ‘industry’ (for want of a better word) and they became known as ‘Herring Lasses’, and instead look at the lives of fishwives during a time when Scotland was at war and Pittenweem itself was reeling from the loss of many men in earlier conflicts as well as a poor harvest and drave and was, indeed, in grave financial straits.