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share your whisky with me.”
    “No. You shouldn’t drink at all. The book suggested sticking to water.”
    “Water? I don’t think so. Women have been drinking ale and wine for centuries. The human race still exists. Just because you have read a fancy book in this fancy new world doesn’t make it right.”
    “I hear you, Corran, but many a woman and child have been lost over those centuries.” His tone was serious and his eyes grave as he turned his head to look at me. “Have a care, lass. I just want you and the baby to be safe,” he said, moving his hand to rest on mine.
    “I love you,” I whispered, softening at his words and lifting his hand to kiss it gently, “If it makes you happy, I won’t drink.”
    “This is our baby, Corran. If you drink nothing but water then nor will I. What is good for the mother is good for the father.”
    ******

CHAPTER 3
     
    Leaving the house the following morning, I again had the feeling that we were being watched and instinctively grabbed Simon’s hand.
    “You alright, lass?”
    “I don’t know,” I said, shifting my eyes nervously from one side of the street to the other. “I feel as though we are being watched.”
    “No one’s watching us, Corran. The man is gone. It’s over. We have no reason to fear him anymore.”
    I knew my husband’s words to be true, only I couldn’t shake the thought that we were not alone on Skeldergate Bridge, nor at the top of Ouse Bridge or as the city came into view. My mind toyed with the Stag’s warning that killing Angus hadn’t been the end.
    “I’ve told you, Corran. He is not here,” Simon barked, growing impatient with my paranoia. “Come, let’s get in,” he said, taking my arm and ushering me into the shop.
    Common sense prevailed, and in the end Simon’s reassurances rose above my fears and I relaxed in the company of my family.
     
    Duncan and Rose were dusting off old trinkets to be stored away for later sale. As we entered the room they both stopped what they were doing and smiled up at us.
    “Is there anywhere we can get a cordless electric kettle?” I asked, thinking that it would be rather nice to have such a modern device at hand.
    “The kettle’s there,” Rose explained, nodding in the direction of a small shelf.
    One mug, a kettle, a small jar of coffee, some creamer, a box of cubed sugar and a spoon were untidily abandoned on a narrow lop-sided shelf. A small sink caked in lime-scale hung precariously on the wall to the left of the shelf. I lifted the mug and peered inside, wrinkling my nose in disgust at the thick layer of mould at the bottom.
    “I usually grab a coffee from Costa or Starbucks. There’s a loo through there,” Rose said, pointing at a battered door. “But I wouldn’t use that either. If you’re desperate try a pub, but I’d keep a wide berth of that one,” she said, nodding her head in disgust at the toilet door.
    My eyes caught a glimpse of a box, just visible under a small table.
    “What are these?” I asked, dragging the heavy weight into view.
    “They’re records. People used to use them to listen to music. They’re popular with pensioners.”
    “Pensioners?” Duncan asked.
    “Oh man, I keep forgetting you guys aren’t from around here. Yeah, a pensioner is an old person, someone who has finished working. You know, retired.”
    I nodded, thinking I’d like to see how the round disks worked, but there would be time enough for that.
    “See here, this is a gramophone. Turn the handle, put the record here and then lower the arm onto the disk - and hey presto you have sound,” Rose said, pointing at the relevant parts on a large machine with a flower-shaped horn coming off it.
    “And this?” I asked, pointing to a rectangular shaped item with mesh covering on one side and intriguing knobs along the top.
    “That’s a wireless. It’s like an old-fashioned TV, without the pictures.”
    “Old fashioned to you, perhaps,” Simon smirked.
    “I keep forgetting.