She shrugged. ‘Spencer said I’m a lazybones and a nag,’ she replied. ‘Mibbie chaps might find me bonnie, but they won’t want to marry me – not a moneyed gent anyway. Mibbie I’ll end up like the girls at the Mussel Inn. Fine to look at, but not much more than a man’s plaything.’

‘Oh, Joan, where are you getting these notions from? Do you not have your eye on a lad?’

She pulled a face and shook her head. ‘The lads around here are all stocky and stupid. I want a real man.’

Poor Joan. She had spent so much of her life being pleased with her looks that Spencer’s words had truly shocked her.

‘Well, you won’t find many moneyed gents around here,’ I said. ‘Get yourself off to Edinburgh, or London.’ What good had it done me? At least she wasn’t nursing a broken heart.

‘I might well do that,’ she replied, looking serious. ‘I do fancy married life, Maggie. There’s a passion in me.’

I ignored her and eyed the fire. It could do with another log and had Spencer been here, I’d have put one on, but I would rather have an early night than listen to Joan talking twaddle.

‘You stay here and have a rum, if you like,’ I said. ‘I’m off to bed.’

Her eyes lit up at that, and I left her and went into the bedroom. I would have an hour or so to myself before she came in and joined me. An hour to lie still and think, without small-talk or trifles. To let my mind wander, uninterrupted: Where is Spencer now? Has he escaped from his ship yet? Or is he becoming used to life at sea?

I brushed my braids out and put on my nightgown, shivering. The damp seemed worse, the smell of it hanging in the room. Perhaps I was as well giving up the lease when the time came. I could hear Joan singing to herself, a song about creelers and brine, and it gave me a sadness to hear it sung so sweetly by my sister, despite the fact that she wanted nothing to do with creelers or brine. For these were the things she really knew.

I clambered into bed, shivering even more under the cold blankets. I should have put a hot brick in, but I was becoming bad at being organized. Joan had already put her nightgown on Spencer’s side – I could see it under the pillow. It was a nice one too. I lifted the pillow to take a look at it and saw her scrapbook tucked there.