I took the tapestry purse from where it was tucked in the bottom of my creel and off I went to Kelso square. The shops and the market were almost closing for the day, but I managed to find a small hat shop that sold very fine bonnets and, after much deliberation, I settled on a navy one with a delicately frilled edge. I’m sure it’s something I could have sewn myself, but I did not have the time nor the inclination. I spent a while browsing the baskets in the market to see if there was something less like a fishwife’s creel, but although there were plenty, none were as sturdy, and I needed mine for the journey. When I got to London I might find something and, at this thought, my heart fluttered a bit with nerves. I was almost out of Scotland now. I was about to cross the great divide.

I knew absolutely no one in London. I knew nothing about it except what I’d heard from Spencer and the tea men. I knew it was a place where you could make your fortune, but I also feared it could be a place of grave danger. Of rogues and thieves, and worse. Mibbie it was full of Spencers. I shuddered at that. I now felt guilty at the fact that I’d just bought the bonnet and nearly took it back there and then. Spencer had left a fair bit of money, but what if I couldn’t get an apprenticeship? I fancied learning something frivolous, like how to add feathers to caps or how to sew frills on bodices, but what if these seamstresses looked at me the same way Mrs Rose did and declared me too broad-shouldered to sit in their elegant workshops? I vowed there and then not to spend another penny, except on food and ale, until I was safely in lodgings and had employment, even if I had to start off my London life as a Thames fishergirl.

I returned to the River Inn in time for supper and, after I had freshened up and put my bonnet in my creel, I sat at a dining table opposite Mrs Rose, who was eyed heartily by the two gents I was travelling with. But she paid no heed to them and must have been well used to men measuring her up all the time, for she tucked into her fried trout quite hungrily.

How did she manage it? To eat calmly whilst all were agog; and to sell herself for fine gowns. When I had lain with Spencer I had loved him with my body and soul. Mibbie Joan had too. Had Mrs Rose decided to become a whore for fur cloaks and the best leather boots? Or had she no choice?

I did not dare ask her. She sipped a straw-coloured liquor from a thin glass and regarded me.