Ann Craig was sentenced to hanging by the neck until dead. Given her condition, the timing of her hanging is deferred until her child is born and weaned. In summing up, Judge Kennedy said he had never known such a vicious and wicked crime, and certainly not one conducted by a woman.

‘Bloody hell, M! So she killed her own husband. And just over there on the Green.’

‘Some genes you’ve got, Fiona Craig!’

‘Wonder if Mum knows all this. Mum! Come and see this.’

‘Be there in a minute,’ called Dorothy. ‘I’ve just found something.’

‘So this Craig woman was what relation to your dad and you?’

‘Well, this took place in 1880 so let’s assume that baby was born that year. God, it must’ve been born in prison. So, if Dad was born in 1944, then his dad was born some twenty-five to thirty years before that… So, looks like that baby could have been Dad’s grandpa maybe? Or his great-aunt or uncle?’

‘Wait till you see what I’ve found, Fi!’ Dorothy stood at the door in an old pair of dungarees. ‘Hello, Martha, love. How’re you doing?’

‘Grand thanks. More importantly, how are you?’

‘Okay, keeping busy, it’s the best way. Now, look at these, girls.’ She spread three certificates on the table. ‘I found them fastened together with an old wooden clothes peg, hidden away. Here’s Struan’s birth certificate. So he was born in 1944, Fi, I don’t know why I was worrying about that. Then here’s his dad’s certificate. William Craig, he was born in 1910. And here’s Stru’s wonderful grandpa, the one Mark was going on about.’

‘Grandpa Archie?’

‘Yes, look, here he is, Archibald Craig, born on the ninth of September, 1880.’ She pointed at the place of birth column on the certificate and her eyes gleamed. ‘Look where he was born, girls. Dundee Prison!’

‘Of course, this is the baby from The Courier article.’ Fiona peered closely at the birth certificate. ‘It says his mother was Ann Craig, née Robertson, formerly of 73 Magdalen Yard Road, Dundee and his father was Archibald Edward Donaldson, formerly of 75 Magdalen Yard Road, Dundee.’

‘A fling with the next-door neighbour!’ Dorothy sat down.

‘So Grandpa Archie was born in prison but presumably brought up here in the house. Mark said he’d lived here all his life, brought up by some aunt. How strange is that.’

‘Look, Mum, read this article,’ Fiona said, pouring her mum a glass of wine and pushing the photocopy in front of her.

Dorothy peered through her glasses at the piece, her mouth opening wider with each paragraph.