She sat on a bench on the promenade by the riverbank and thought of all the times she had been there before, with her husband, her children, her neighbours. It was the ideal place to see the river, the sun sparkling on the water during summer. The children would run the length of the promenade with their hoops and watch the boats bob on the water. Now, though, the water was black and still and there were no other people to be seen. Ann looked to her left and saw a figure approaching in the light from the lamppost. He wore a top hat and walked briskly, his tall walking cane tapping in rhythm. It was Robert and he was shivering; he always felt the cold, having been brought up in large houses with roaring fires and swaddled in warm clothes. She continued to sit on the dark bench as he drew nearer.

He tipped his hat and sat down. ‘As ever, you do not even shiver, sitting here in the freezing cold.’

‘I am not cold, Robert.’ She turned to look at him and smiled.

‘How are the children?’

‘They are well, as ever. How blessed we are.’

She delved into her pocket and brought out a little flask with a small tumbler on top. ‘I have brought you a little drink, Robert. I had anticipated you might be cold and brought you a warming dram.’ She poured some dark liquid from the flask into the tumbler and handed it to him. He tipped it all down in one then shook his head. ‘My, that was strong. Where in God’s name did Baxter buy that whisky from?’

‘I believe it was a New Year’s gift, Robert.’ She took the tumbler from him and put it on the bench, then peeled off her gloves and took her husband’s cold hands in her own warm ones.

‘Tell me your plans, my dear. How was your journey?’ She attempted affection, though all she felt was rage.

‘First of all I must tell you the truth, unpalatable though it is. I do feel I owe that to you before what I am soon to do.’

She bit her lip.

‘There was someone I was to take to Australia with me. A woman I planned to spend the rest of my life with.’ He swallowed. ‘It was Janet Clark, that poor girl Aunt Euphemia had to identify.’

Ann gasped out loud; she must feign shock. ‘How could you do this to me?’

He cleared his throat and continued, speaking quietly. ‘We were perfect together, Ann. Not like us, a marriage of convenience for you, and for me a foolish youthful error, out of which the only good things to come were our two children.’

Ann began fumbling in her pocket, but said nothing.