Fiona went back upstairs to the bedroom and pulled open the curtains to let the daylight in. As she looked around, she noticed that his drawers were pulled open and half-empty. She rushed to the wardrobe – an overnight bag had been taken. How could she not have heard him open the creaky wardrobe door? Then she remembered that she was taking antihistamines for her hay fever and had slept heavily, as if drugged. She glanced at the packet of Piriton on her bedside table and then noticed the envelope.

She eased herself onto the bed to sit down, put on her glasses and ripped it open.

Fi, like I said, I love you, always will. But I’ve got to move on. Give Jamie a hug and tell him to keep up the drawing. He’ll be an architect one day like his dad. xx

Fiona stared at the note, then pulled open Pete’s bedside table drawer. She rifled through letters and bills then let out a long breath. His passport was missing. She ran downstairs and opened the front door. His car was gone. Fiona staggered back inside to the kitchen table and sat down, her hands at her head. He’s bloody well done a runner, she thought, as she heard the noise of the toilet flushing next door. How the hell would she tell Jamie?

CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3

Sunday 28 December 1879

7.30 p.m.

Ann Craig yanked her cape from the coat stand and threw it over her lilac gown. With clumsy fingers, she buttoned it up in front of the mirror. Her face looked paler than usual, framed by her dark hair. Usually this was where she preened, tilting her head from right to left, pinching her cheeks to add colour; at this moment though, grooming was far from her mind. She fastened the hook at the collar and strode towards the door.

‘Wait, Mrs Craig,’ said Mrs Baxter, heaving her bulky frame as fast as she could along the corridor. ‘Donald will go with you.’

Donald Baxter emerged behind his wife. Normally smart with his hair neatly combed, tonight he looked windswept. He pulled his cap from his pocket and said, ‘I’ll come too, Mrs Craig. I’m just in. There’s a commotion down by the shore, no one’s sure what’s happened.’

Ann pulled her hat firmly onto her head and opened the door. As the wind whirled around them, her hat blew off and she ran to fetch it. It was caught in a rose bush so she ripped it from the thorns and rammed it once again onto her head, holding it in place with her hand.

‘Will you not let me go down myself, Mrs Craig, and find out what’s going on? This isn’t a night for a lady to be out.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Baxter. I am perfectly capable. Here, take my arm.’