‘We’re at the end of the salt packet,’ she said. ‘And the grocery boy is not due. We can’t do a stew without salt. Can you go and find some? There’s usually a salt-seller on the south corner of the market.’

Off I went, drying my hands on my skirts. I could not carry on like this, though. I ached. I longed for a confinement. Imagine it, lounging on a bed all day.

I dragged myself up the street towards the salt-seller. But I did not make it that far. For just a few feet from the market square, as I was passing the dark mouth of an alleyway, a hand reached out and grabbed my arm.

Chapter Sixteen

We stood facing each other. It had been almost half a year and so much had happened, and it had changed us both. Joan wore her hair scraped tight under her bonnet. There were dark circles under her eyes and her dress sleeves were grubby. Her skin was rough. She was thinner. She was not the old, proud Joan that I knew.

‘I should never have written to you,’ I said. ‘It was not an invitation for you to come and find me.’

‘Sister, I am sorry,’ she replied, the words rushing out. ‘I know I’m the last person you want to see, but I had to come. Much has happened.’

Something bad. I could tell by the way she spoke, rapid and breathless. Was it Spencer? Had he returned? Or had Da hurt Ma? I should never have left.

‘Tell me now,’ I urged her.

‘You have ruined our mother and father with your disappearing act,’ she said, tears springing to her eyes. ‘We are the talk of the tea men. There were rumours you’d run off to find Spencer and stolen some money from Da’s stash. Folk were calling on Da at all times of the day and night to check nothing had been taken. Now they are saying Ma and Da are not to be trusted, if they can’t keep their own daughter in check. Marrying out of fishing, to a rogue like Spencer, then both of you disappearing altogether. Smuggling is all about trust, Maggie. They don’t trust us any more. Da’s getting the cold shoulder from everyone in the Mussel Inn, and now he’s either out on that boat or sitting in his chair, drinking. Ma thinks he’ll come a cropper at sea if he doesn’t stop and she will end up having to work at Eskmills. I came to find you, in desperation.’ Joan pulled a kerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes and nose. The kerchief was as grubby as her sleeves, and I felt the most terrible pity for her. And the most terrible guilt.

‘I ran away because of you,’ I told her.