Fear, slithering and sliding relentlessly. It swam up the Tweed like a water snake. I dared not try to stop the baby coming. It would be too dangerous. I must let nature take its course. I must get to London. Then, once it was born, I would decide what to do. I would know what to do for the best.

The next morning I rose early and drank half a cup of water. I dabbed Mrs Rose’s leftover rouge onto my cheeks for a spot of brightness. I tied my apron loosely and went downstairs to the kitchen. Cook was stirring a batch of porridge over the fire and she handed me the ladle, so that she could get on with the bread rolls.

‘It’s a relief to see you,’ she said. ‘But you look like you’ve barely slept. Pull your cap down over your hair – it’s everywhere this morning.’

I tucked my hair into my cap. I would get through the next few weeks. Then I would be on my way south.

Chapter Fourteen

Kelso
May 1724

Mrs Baxter decided I needed much more fresh air and exercise after my spell in my sickbed and took to sending me out on errands and walks. I was thankful of the break and the time alone, so that I could think.

I would walk the length of Kelso, past the blooming gardens and apple orchards and the rush of the rivers. I walked and I planned. I ventured as far as the outskirts of the town and came upon a secretive-looking place with high walls all around. I knew at once it must be the House of Correction, for there were locked gates.

I did not go back there again. It gave me the shudders to think of who might be kept behind those gates. How easy it was to slip from the civilized world to the dark corners of a prison. All it takes is one bad move.

On weekday mornings I was amongst the first at market, with a list in my head of all the items the grocery boy had forgotten, and whatever fresh fish we needed. On Sundays I had to go with the Baxters to kirk. We had to look respectable. The parish officials were always there, in their black capes and with their silver-topped canes, and would glower at us as if they were looking for a reason to throw us out. Mrs Baxter held her head high and listened intently to the sermon and would nudge me to do the same if she could tell my mind was wandering by my stifled yawns. I would not go so far as to say that she was overly kind, rather that she saw me as her charge.