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Chapters (63)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. PRAISE
  3. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  4. DEDICATION
  5. CHAPTER 1
  6. CHAPTER 2
  7. CHAPTER 3
  8. CHAPTER 4
  9. CHAPTER 5
  10. CHAPTER 6
  11. CHAPTER 7
  12. CHAPTER 8
  13. CHAPTER 9
  14. CHAPTER 10
  15. CHAPTER 11
  16. CHAPTER 12
  17. CHAPTER 13
  18. CHAPTER 14
  19. CHAPTER 15
  20. CHAPTER 16
  21. CHAPTER 17
  22. CHAPTER 18
  23. CHAPTER 19
  24. CHAPTER 20
  25. CHAPTER 21
  26. CHAPTER 22
  27. CHAPTER 23
  28. CHAPTER 24
  29. CHAPTER 25
  30. CHAPTER 26
  31. CHAPTER 27
  32. CHAPTER 28
  33. CHAPTER 29
  34. CHAPTER 30
  35. CHAPTER 31
  36. CHAPTER 32
  37. CHAPTER 33
  38. CHAPTER 34
  39. CHAPTER 35
  40. CHAPTER 36
  41. CHAPTER 37
  42. CHAPTER 38
  43. CHAPTER 39
  44. CHAPTER 40
  45. CHAPTER 41
  46. CHAPTER 42
  47. CHAPTER 43
  48. CHAPTER 44
  49. CHAPTER 45
  50. CHAPTER 46
  51. CHAPTER 47
  52. CHAPTER 48
  53. CHAPTER 49
  54. CHAPTER 50
  55. CHAPTER 51
  56. CHAPTER 52
  57. CHAPTER 53
  58. CHAPTER 54
  59. CHAPTER 55
  60. CHAPTER 56
  61. CHAPTER 57
  62. CHAPTER 58
  63. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

‘Aye, they said they are going to use grappling irons to fetch any more up.’

‘It is simply too awful. But now there is an errand I must attend to this afternoon. Call me a carriage, will you, as soon as possible. And Mrs Baxter, ask Miss Graham to keep the children occupied until I return.’

‘Do you need to be accompanied? You’re not usually out on a Sunday afternoon.’

‘No, Baxter, I shall be fine alone.’ Ann saw Mrs Baxter raise an eyebrow at her husband as she turned and headed for the stairs.

* * *

‘Lochee? Where about?’ The driver stood at the carriage door, his cap in hand.

‘Just drive towards Lochee Road. I shall tell you when to stop.’

‘Are you sure it’s Lochee you want to go? Not a usual place for a lady.’

‘That is where I wish you to take me. Now drive on!’

Ann sat back and arranged her moss-green cloak. She wore a modest black felt hat; nothing fancy was required for this outing. Pulling back the curtain, she peered out through the frosted glass. They turned left onto Perth Road then right along the Hawkhill. Though a mere ten minutes’ drive from her splendid house, the tenement buildings here were some of the worst in the city. Those with two storeys still had rickety outside stairs leading to the top floor. The newer tenements were taller, with dark inner staircases and dingy passages that were filthy.

The carriage turned a corner and trundled along West Henderson Wynd. On the right was a jute mill, then another, and then Ann could see her husband’s mill. Built in creamy grey stone from the Angus quarries, there was a hint of red in it when the sun shone. The snow-capped roofs were peaked and the windows long and rectangular. She shivered as she passed it, thinking of the last time she had been up this road, only a couple of months ago, when that poor mill worker was killed. Robert had insisted she accompany him to inform the girl’s parents. When she protested, he had told her that his manager, Alfred Johnston, was off that day burying his mother and that he expected her, as his wife, to attend to her charitable duties.