As promised, some more information. Sadly it is not good news. My colleague says there was a Hilary Gibson who worked in Woolworths in the town for some time, but she has sadly died. He says he thought there was something in the local press about the death, but cannot recall what. However, since the graveyard is only next door, he took a picture for you, which might be of help. I am so sorry that this news is not what you had hoped for.

Yours sincerely,

Joanna Coles

Fiona opened the attachment and looked at a photo of a gravestone. She zoomed in and stared. It was a simple black stone, with two names engraved on it and picked out in gold. It read, In memory of Hilary Jean Gibson, 24/6/1952–3/5/2004.

Below this was, And her son Peter Gibson. But there was no date.

Fiona leant back in her chair and let out a long sigh. What the hell did that mean?

CHAPTER 25

Chapter 25

Sunday 4 January 1880

James and Lizzie ran to the window and jumped up onto the seat.

‘Mamma, come and see, snow!’

Ann crossed the room and joined her children on the window seat. The snow was falling steadily, thick flakes descending in great flurries. The branches on the magnolia tree were bending under the weight of the heavy snow lying along their length. The lawn was covered in a blanket of pure white, dotted by tiny black holes where birds had landed.

‘Can we go out, Mamma?’

‘No, James, you cannot, I’m sorry. It is Sunday and we must all go to church. But you can sit here and look out, while I go and complete my toilette. Miss Graham needs you in the nursery shortly for your Bible lessons then we’ll all leave at half past nine. In the meantime, I intend to find those boots you both had last winter although I fear yours will be too tight, Lizzie.’

‘And the toboggan!’ James said. ‘Pappa put it in the summer house after the last snow. I could go with Mr Baxter and get it?’

‘As I said, Sundays are not for playing, even after church, but perhaps, if we see the Donaldson children out on the Green this afternoon, you might join them briefly.’

‘Pappa would have let us out,’ James muttered, scowling.

‘Pappa would most certainly not have let you children out.’ Ann scolded. ‘He is the one who obsesses about Sunday rules.’ She stood up. ‘And now I must attend to things upstairs.’ She ruffled her daughter’s hair then swept out of the room.

At half past nine, the family left the house for the walk up to Roseangle and to St John’s Kirk on Perth Road. The snow had stopped but there was a thick slushy layer on the ground. Ann Craig walked with her two children by her side. James started to run ahead then slid and fell onto his bottom.