Suddenly her future seemed set. She would go and live in Scotland. She knew she had enough money to keep herself, but she also knew the house was quite large. She’d ask Betsy and Bill to go with her, and there’d be plenty of room for the children. They could all start their lives afresh, away from the evil that was Harold.

With these thoughts, it was as if a light had been turned on, and the darkness that had encased Mags began to lift. How this could be, when she’d just found out about her beloved daddy’s death, she did not know, but maybe she was doing what Flora always did – looking for something positive in the bleakness that clothed her.

Thinking of Flora brought another idea to her. She would visit Flora in France. Yes, that would be wonderful. Oh, Daddy, please don’t worry about me – everything in my life is going to come right. Please rest easily with my beloved mummy. Nothing you did brought this on me. You never wanted me to marry Harold. And you teaching me how to run a business will stand me in good stead. I thank you for that, and for Mummy’s foresight in letting me have the freedom that no other young woman of my age was ever afforded. I love you, Daddy, and I will make you proud of me yet.

With this thought, the tears started to flow. Gentle, sad and yet healing tears, because Mags felt in charge of her emotions, of her life and of her future; and she could make a difference to the future of her dear friend Betsy, too. Make up to her for what Harold had done to her.

Something of her old self seeped into Mags. That this should happen at a time when her life was crumbling around her, she couldn’t understand; she only knew that the inner strength that she used to possess was rebuilding itself and giving her all that she needed to move forward.

Betsy gave off an air of being all right, but inside she was crumbling.

She looked across at Bill, and his smile of encouragement helped her. But when she looked over at the jury, she felt her courage desert her.

There was far more going on in her life than this – her ma being laid to rest tomorrow, in a pauper’s grave, for one. The notice that was served on her to quit the mill cottage they had lived in since their marriage, granted to her by Mags and her father, for another. Oh, God, what are we to do?

With all this weighing her down, she couldn’t give any thought to all the other terrible things that had happened.

Her eyes travelled around the room, where it felt as if the very walls were condemning her. The high ceiling had a domed window in the centre of it, and through this came the pitter-patter sound of rain, as if the heavens themselves were crying for her plight. The walls were clad in oak, which shone as if polished daily. The benches and the stand for the accused, where she stood, and the one for giving testimony, as well as the judge’s bench and the jury’s seating, were all in matching wood. But none of it produced an air of dullness; instead, a feeling of grandeur was the overall impression.