Fiona glared at him. ‘What do you mean?’

Struan shrugged. ‘Just that he said he was sometimes scared of Pete.’

Fiona stared at her father. ‘What did he say?’

‘Mentioned something about tying shoelaces together and putting salt in his tea?’

Fiona’s shoulders dropped. ‘Oh, is that all? Of course he was mad, who wouldn’t be? Jamie was just being a pain in the neck. Pete was great with him.’

‘If you say so, sweetheart.’

‘Do you know any different?’

Struan put down his mug and looked out towards the river. ‘One weekend when you were down staying here, you were out with Mum. Pete was on his laptop on the table here and Jamie was drawing one of his pictures beside him. I was in the hall, unbeknownst to them. I was trying to figure out where I’d put my wallet or keys or something. Anyway, I suddenly heard Pete bellow at the lad, can’t remember what he said but it was loud, so I opened the door. Jamie looked terrified. Pete laughed when he saw me and made light of it, said something like Jamie had nearly ruined something he was doing on his Facebook page.’

Fiona sat back onto her chair. ‘Pete wasn’t on Facebook. Everyone used to take the piss out of him for living in the last century.’

Struan shrugged. ‘Just repeating what he said.’ He leant over to pat his daughter’s shoulder.

‘Why’d you not tell me?’

‘You and Mum came back full of the joys of spring, didn’t want to ruin the weekend. Then it was only after Bruce buggered off that I remembered.’

Fiona shivered. ‘If I got my hands on him, I could actually kill him.’

* * *

Fiona sat back in her seat and looked out the window as the train drew to a halt: Leuchars station, she’d just read about that. She delved into her bag for the book that Martha had given her, remembering that this was the station where, in 1879, the last passenger had disembarked from the ill-fated train. The exhibition the museum was planning on the Tay Bridge disaster was to tie in with the memorial erected on Riverside Drive. Martha was putting it all together and had recommended Fiona to the museum for an assistant position. She was so grateful to her friend, thought Fiona. What would she do without her?

Fiona flicked through the book to the section about Leuchars. As the train pulled out, she turned to look back down the platform towards the main road to St Andrews, trying to imagine the scene that night in 1879.