‘Goodness gracious me, I never knew all that. So she was the woman who brought the Craig family to shame. It’s all so incredible.’ Dorothy sipped her wine. ‘I wonder if Stru knew. Maybe that’s why the certificates were hidden at the bottom of his desk drawers. But why would he be ashamed of it, all these years later?’

‘So that’s my big surprise, Fi,’ said Martha, leaning back on her chair. ‘What’s yours?’

‘Don’t say a thing, Mum, she doesn’t know yet.’ Fiona beamed. ‘Let’s all head down to the Green and see Jamie. I’ll take the red kite down. In fact, Mum, why don’t we take a bottle of that bubbly in the fridge and we can toast Dad on the Green overlooking the river?’

Dorothy smiled. ‘Why not, I’ll get four glasses.’

Martha looked around. ‘Wow, a glass for Jamie? You guys are pretty liberal with that boy. Allie and I think giving him Irn Bru’s a bit risqué!’

The three of them began to walk over the Green towards the shore, the water shimmering in the fading light. Fiona’s phone rang.

‘You guys carry on. Look, there’s Jamie trying to bowl, down by that bench.’ She tucked the bottle under her arm as she put her phone to her ear. She could hardly hear the voice at the other end.

‘Sorry, can you speak up? Who is this? Sam who?’

She turned round and bent down against the wind, trying to hear better. ‘Sorry, what? What on earth are you talking about?’

Fiona jerked her head round to look over the Green. In the dying light she could make out Dorothy, standing with her hands raised. Martha was bolting over the grass towards the two figures down by the river. There was Pete, slowly swinging the cricket bat high above his head as if he was about to hit something hard. Fuck, there was Jamie, standing beside him, turned the other way, pointing out a train on the bridge. Sam was right, Pete was…

She flung the champagne to the ground and broke into a sprint.

‘Jamie!’ she howled into the wind.

CHAPTER 57

Chapter 57

Thursday 9 June 1881

‘Get up, Annie, she’s here, the Countess is on her way.’ The jailer stood at her cell door and rattled his large ring of keys.

An elegant figure stopped at the door and waited as he pushed the key in.

‘Lady Camperdown, can I get you anything?’

‘No, thank you, Wallace. I shall call when I am ready.’

Ann Craig rose from her bed, slowly, ensuring that the bundle nestling in her arm was not disturbed. The dank room was lit by only one tiny window but today there was a beam of bright summer sun. She looked over to her benefactor and, as usual, admired her choice of clothes.

‘Good morning, Isabella.’

‘Good morning, Ann, how are you today?’