Fiona shook her head. ‘We’ve no money, we can’t do that. In fact.’ She stroked her son’s cheek. ‘I’ve been thinking, we’ll need to leave here. Doug’ll let us live here for a bit but, when they get a new chef, we’ll have to leave the cottage.’

Jamie wandered over to the drawer and returned with paper and pencils. ‘But where will we go?’

‘We might need to go and live with Granny and Pa in Dundee.’

‘I don’t want to live in Dundee. I want to live here.’

‘But their house is big and… Oh, remember how you can see the Tay Bridge from Granny’s bedroom window? Well, they’re making a room in the attic above there; she might let you have that room as your bedroom.’

Jamie started to draw a picture of an aeroplane with lots of tiny windows. Fiona took the dishes over to the sink then came back to peer at the picture. Jamie had just completed all the windows and began to draw a head in one at the front.

‘Is that Pete?’

‘No, that’s the pilot. I’ve forgotten what Pete’s face looks like.’

CHAPTER 7

Chapter 7

Monday 29 December 1879

Ann Craig sat in her armchair, gazing out of the drawing room window on the first floor. Dressed in dark grey crêpe, her face was ashen, her eyes red-rimmed. It was late morning and for the past hour she had sat there alone, contemplating the tranquil vista, taking deep breaths. She was trying not to panic at the thought of what might lie ahead for her and the children. She looked at the river, calm now, the water scarcely lapping against the esplanade. The storm had eased the night before, around midnight. It was as if the howling wind and lashing rain had been a dream, or rather a nightmare – until she looked over again to the far end of the bridge. Ann took up the field glasses on the table and peered into them, once more focusing on the broken piers.

There was a soft knock on the door. ‘Mrs Craig,’ said the maid. ‘Mrs Donaldson is here to see you.’

‘Thank you, Jessie. Bring us in some tea.’

Margaret Donaldson, dressed in a dark grey gown and black redingote, bustled across the room and embraced her friend. They were an incongruous pair, Ann tall and statuesque, Margaret reaching only up to her shoulders.

‘My dear, it is too terrible. What’s to be done?’

Ann sighed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, indicating that Margaret take the seat opposite. ‘Thank you for taking the children this morning. They are distraught but also do not fully understand.’

‘They were playing nicely with the twins when I left just now. James already had the paper and colouring pencils out in the nursery. They may stay for luncheon, and indeed the afternoon, if you wish.’

‘Thank you.’