‘My uncle is a doctor, Dr McTavish. He is often up north, in Edinburgh, as he has a medical practice there, but he lives the rest of the time in his little cottage further up this road,’ she went on. ‘I join him for lunch, and I usually stay a while. We play dominoes actually, and then I am back here for supper.’

The tale sounded tall, and a cover story for something far saucier going on between the two of them, especially given her rouge collection. She had the decency to blush as she told it, but I took in her beautifully tailored gown, the moody blue of a stormy sea, and her fine boots, polished to a squeak, and I thought there was clearly money to be made playing dominoes in Kelso.

‘I love dominoes,’ I declared. ‘Do you have a set here?’

She looked a little horrified at that.

‘Sadly and, unfortunately, no. Dr McTavish keeps his dominoes in a brass tin at his home,’ she declared.

Of course there were whores at the Mussel Inn, but I never really saw them and, from what anyone said, they hung around the bar and would do anything for a penny or two. This whore had the air of a real lady, aged around five-and-twenty, I would guess, so a little older and a great deal edgier than me. I wondered how many customers she had, or if she was solely mistress to this Dr McTavish.

‘Are you in Kelso long?’ I enquired.

‘I’m here for the foreseeable,’ she said. ‘Dr McTavish visits Edinburgh every six weeks or so, to see his patients, and he is only just back.’

He must be keeping her well, but I am sure she would prefer to be in her own rooms, which was mibbie why she was so put out at my arrival. Well, that was hardly my fault, was it? So I told her I was heading out on an errand and I would leave her to rest and she seemed appeased at that, settling herself down on her bed and seizing upon her little brown bottle with a sniff of anticipation, which I was now sure contained something potent, given to her by her doctor friend.