‘Is it true what they say about London?’ I asked. ‘That it grows bigger and bigger by the day?’

He nodded, fiddling with his mug and crossing one leg over the other, then settling into a story. ‘Every time I go back there, something has changed,’ he said. ‘Something new has been built or opened. There are great brick town houses five storeys high. The Thames is crowded with ships’ masts and sails and rowing boats. We are no longer England and Scotland, two separate nations, now. We are truly Great Britain, with London as our beating heart. There is a fortune to be made there, which is why I have returned for my package. I trust you have kept it safe.’

‘We have, sir,’ says Joan. ‘Shall I fetch it?’

‘There’s a good girl, Joan,’ commented Ma, for she was always praising Joan for trifles and never praised me for anything.

Joan bustled around fetching the package. Ma tidied away her darning. Spencer caught my eye and smiled. I could have died on the spot again. Joan gave the package to Spencer, who stood up and gave more money to Ma.

‘I shall be off then,’ he said, brushing his fingers through his unruly hair. ‘But I shall be down the Mussel Inn for the next two days, having meetings with a couple of my acquaintances about a thing or two before I head back down south, should Mr Dickson fancy joining me for an ale.’ He said this to Ma, but he glanced at me as he said it. He wanted me to know where he would be – I knew it. He was giving me his whereabouts on the off-chance I might want to skip out and meet him for an ale, or a walk or a talk. Mibbie find out more about the fortunes that can be made by girls in London Town. Or mibbie even get to know him better.

I skipped out first thing the next day, when Joan was still in bed and Da was off on the boat, so no chance of him going to meet Spencer – not that I thought he ever would, for Ma had said, ‘He’s a fast one’ as soon as Spencer had left, and the door was locked behind him.

‘What do you think was in that package?’ I’d overheard Joan ask our ma that night.

‘Well, I never speculate, Joan,’ Ma had replied, a tone of pride in her voice, for Ma and Da’s lack of curiosity about the things that came and went from our house was the entire reason they had such a trusted job in keeping things safe.

‘The parcel had a peculiar scent to it,’ said Joan, ‘a scent I could not place. And it seemed overly small for the big, enormous fuss he was making about it.’