I do not tell either of them that he is living in Edinburgh and that I saw him on Hanging Day, and that he runs a perfume shop now.

I do not tell either of them that I was planning to walk into that perfume shop, for I do not want to hear their questions about it. I don’t know myself what I would say to Spencer, or how that conversation might go.

We go to bed around ten of the clock, as tomorrow we must gather bait.

Ma snores almost as soon as her head hits the pillow and, by the rattling depth of her snores, she is in a deep and well-deserved sleep.

Joan folds into herself and I know that she lies awake a long while, as I do too.

Finally, I sleep.

I dream of snakes, and Mrs Rose and Dr McTavish. Today has been a good day, in the end.

But as my dream-snake uncoils itself in the grass and stretches its scales and flicks its tongue and feels a hunger, an insatiable hunger, that can only be satisfied with a kill, I feel Dr McTavish sit in his plush apartment, aching for his beloved Mrs Rose and growing angrier and angrier that I have not brought her to him.

Dr McTavish will come for me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

They say Da is having a fine time down at the Mussel Inn. He keeps himself to himself and drinks in the lushery, and goes out in his boat as usual, and we do the bait and the lines, for nothing has changed in that regard.

‘We have only just got the trust of the tea men back. If your da stays out at the inn long enough, folk might stop coming here and giving us things to look after,’ worries Ma. ‘They might not think their tea is safe, being looked after by women, with no man about the place.’

‘Well, mibbie it’s time to put an end to all that,’ I say. ‘Take it from me, you don’t want to keep hoarding illicit things. You don’t want to get caught and have to spend time in jail.’

‘What if your da runs up a big bill at the inn?’ Ma looks better now that he has gone, but she has a habit of disappearing into herself, rubbing at her chin or her bonnet or the table top and gazing into the mid-distance.

‘I will settle his bills,’ I tell her. ‘I have enough saved.’

I have not gone hawking my half-death here in Fisherrow or Musselburgh yet, but I will if I must. Instead I would rather get a proper trade, so I dress well for the next Friday fish-market, which is always the biggest of the week.