Ann was aware her mouth was wide open. How could he lie so? She swallowed. ‘What a terrible time you have had, Robert. We have been so worried that you were at the bottom of the Tay. You should have communicated with us, any word at all would have helped alleviate our pain.’ She must overplay the grieving widow.

‘I am sorry for the children’s sake. They must have missed their Pappa. I missed them too, but I look forward to taking them to Australia soon.’

‘That will not be possible, Robert.’

‘Why ever not? I am their father, you have no rights to them.’

Ann took a deep breath and began to smile as a thought occurred. ‘Robert, let us not argue. Whatever you desire is of course your command. But first, let me tell you about how things have been here in your absence. Everyone else is well. Your cousin Caroline was distressed about the news of the bridge but she is resting, all is well with her lying-in.’ Ann glanced over at Robert. ‘Aunt Euphemia came to visit us one day. She informed me that you had been for luncheon that day of the tragedy as usual and so I had presumed you would be on your regular train, the six fifty from Ladybank. We watched the train go over the bridge and then fall, tumbling into the depths.’

Robert removed his pocket watch from his waistcoat and peered at it in the dim light as she continued.

‘But Robert, this is not the time to talk about the future. I would prefer if we do not inform the children until everything is settled.’

‘And you will not tell anyone of my visit until I return from Glasgow, where I plan to go tomorrow to set about securing passages for us all on the next boat to Tasmania.’

Oh, the deceit of the man. Why would he insist on keeping his return a secret unless his intentions were dubious? She knew fine that his plan was to snatch her children from her and set up in Australia, where he would no doubt find someone else he could call a wife.

‘And I have many things to attend to in the next two days before we can sail.’

‘As you wish.’ She nodded then breathed deeply. She needed time to think, to plan. She would not let him see the children, ever. They were hers. She looked directly into his dull eyes and forced herself to continue calmly. ‘Then why do we not meet somewhere to discuss further, once you are returned. Does three nights hence suit you? You cannot return here, in case the children waken and see you. I suggest we meet down at the shore, you remember our favourite place, where we used to sit on that bench above the river. Is midnight suitable?’

‘That seems rather late.’