‘Sssh, you need to keep control of yourself,’ her friend said, steering her away towards a corner. ‘It doesn’t have to be forever. Just let things be for a wee while, let the waters settle. I know it’s hard.’

‘Hard? I’ve left my home and seen my dog killed, all so that I could live in a house worse than the one we left? Up a track with only Norman Ferguson for help? Doing a job that’ll kill me within the month?’

‘Why should it kill you?’ Flora frowned. ‘There was nothing ever so dangerous as climbing the cliffs.’

‘The boredom, Flora! I’ll die of being inside! Of wearing these damned boots all day!’

A couple of heads turned at her cuss, watching as she kicked at the ground.

‘Sheesht!’ Flora whispered, eyes glittering with concern that Mrs Buchanan should be called over again. ‘This is no time for starting a revolution.’

Effie glowered at her friend. ‘Since when did you become so docile?’

‘You know I’m not that.’

But her friend’s voice was flat and toneless and she was still pale from the journey. She was struggling too. They were all of them like landed fish, gasping against the shock of air. ‘Flora, why are you still here? I thought you were going straight to the city?’

Flora nodded. ‘And so I will. But I can’t just leave my family behind without a backward glance. I’ll get them settled first before I go.’

Effie watched the shuttles pass across the looms, biting back furious tears. ‘It’s all right for you. You can swallow this when you know James has something better waiting for you. But . . .’ She met her friend’s gaze. ‘I can’t stay here. I have to leave. I have to find somewhere else—’

‘Gillies.’ The bark was a command.

She turned to find Mrs Buchanan standing by the door, her dwarfed figure in silhouette as the sunshine glowed in the courtyard behind her.

‘Sssht. Keep quiet. Don’t make things worse,’ Flora murmured, before bringing a light to her own eyes and smiling brightly. ‘I was just explaining to her about the looms, Mrs Buchanan, as you asked.’

But Mrs Buchanan was in no mood to be appeased by the charm of a beautiful girl. ‘The privy’s blocked,’ the older woman called, raising her voice so that everyone could hear. ‘Deal with it, Gillies, seeing as you’ve already played in the muck today anyway.’

Effie’s body tensed as Flora’s hand on her arm tightened in warning. If there was a time to fight, there was also a time not to. She must pick her battles. They could do nothing on an empty stomach and she needed to put a meal on the table tonight. Everything else – including her pride – would have to wait.

Chapter Seventeen