A sense of aloneness came over me. I had lost my best friends. There was no one now. Perhaps that was why I was so ready to welcome Jamie into my life.

I found a great pleasure in walking. In the old days I should not have been going out alone, but now there was no one who could stop me. In the absence of my stepmother I was the mistress of the house. I was on the way to becoming eighteen years old … an age, I supposed, when one could, in some circumstances, take charge. Mrs. Kirkwell had made it clear that she would rather take orders from me than from the new Mrs. Glentyre.

It will be different when they return, I reminded myself.

There was comfort in exploring the city, and the more I saw of it, the more captivated I became by its inimitable charm.

I was struck by the Gothic buildings which had been infiltrated with a touch of the classic Greek which gave an added dignity. In the first place, the situation was impressive. From one point it was possible to overlook the estuary of the Forth flowing into the ocean, and away to the west were the mountains. Such a superb position must be paid for, and the toll demanded was the bitter east wind and the snow from the mountains. But we had grown accustomed to that and it made our warm houses the more luxurious.

The coming of spring was particularly welcome and it was during that delightful season when I was able to indulge in my explorations. How beautiful it was then, with the sun shining on the tall grey buildings lighting them to silver. Sometimes I would sit in the gardens looking up to the castle or along Princes Street; and at others I would wander into the old town and listen for the bell of the university which rang out every hour.

It was a revelation to discover what a great divide there was in our city between the comfortably situated and the wretchedly poor. I suppose it is so in all big cities, but in ours it seemed more marked, I think, because the two were so close together. A few minutes’ walk could take one from the affluent to the needy. One could be in Princes Street where the carriages rolled by carrying the well-dressed and well-fed, and very soon be in the wynds, where dwellings huddled together, where many lived in one small room, where the lines of pitiful garments hung out to dry and bare-footed, ragged children played in the gutters.

It was called the old town; and that was where I met Jamie.

Of course, if I had been wise I should not have been there. A well-dressed young woman could only be visiting such a neighbourhood out of curiosity. But I had become fascinated by my discoveries, and, contemplating on what I saw, I forgot my own dilemma, for my discoveries broke into my brooding on what the future might bring.

When I went out on my walks I carried a small purse with a chain handle which hung on my arm. In it I carried a little money. Since I had visited the poorer parts of the city I liked to have something with me to give to people. There were quite a number of beggars to be encountered and I was very moved to see children in such circumstances.

I knew that I should not venture deep into these streets. For one thing, there was such a maze of them that it was easy to lose one’s way.

I had come to a street which was full of people. There was a man with a barrow selling old clothes, children squatting on the pavement and several people standing at their doors gossiping.

I turned away and started to go back as I thought the way I had come, but I soon realised how unwise I had been to enter these streets. I came to a small alley. At the end of it was a young man; he was just about to turn the corner. He looked respectable, out of place in these streets and I thought I might ask him the way back to Princes Street.

I started after him and just at that moment two young boys darted out of a side alley and approached me. They barred my way. They were poorly clad and obviously undernourished and they said something in an accent so broad that I could not understand them, but I knew they were asking me for money. I took the purse from my arm and opened it. One of them immediately snatched it and ran towards the young man who was about to turn the corner.

“Come back,” I called. The young man turned. He must have guessed what had happened. No doubt it was a common occurrence. He caught the boy with the purse. His companion darted away and disappeared.

The young man came towards me, dragging the boy with him.

He smiled at me. He was young … not much older than I, I guessed. He had light blue eyes and fair hair with a reddish tint; he looked clean and healthy, which struck me as it was such a contrast to the boy he was dragging with him. He smiled; he had very white teeth.

“He has taken your purse, I believe,” he said.

“Yes. I was going to give him some money.”

The boy let out a stream of words, some of which I understood. He was terrified.

“Give the lady her purse,” commanded the young man.

Meekly the boy did so.

“Why did you do it?” I said. “I would have given you something.”

He did not answer.

“Poor little devil,” said the young man.

“Yes,” I said. And to the boy: “You shouldn’t steal, you know. You’ll get into trouble. My mother gave me this purse. It would have hurt me to lose it and it wouldn’t have been worth much to you.”

The boy stared at me. He was beginning to realise that I was not going to be harsh. I saw hope flicker in his eyes. Poor child, I thought.

I said: “You’re hungry, are you?”

He nodded.

I took all the money in the purse and gave it to him. “Don’t steal again,” I said. “You could get caught and someone might not let you go. You know what that would mean, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“Let him go,” I said to the young man.

He lifted his shoulders and smiled at me. Then he released the boy, who darted off.

“So,” said the young man. “You’ve let a thief loose among the people of Edinburgh. It’s only just postponed his stay in jail, you know.”

“At least I shall not be responsible for it.”

“Does it matter who is? He’ll be there, sure enough.”

“Perhaps he’s learned his lesson. He was hungry, poor child. I felt so desperately sorry for them.”

“But … may I ask what a young lady like you is doing in this part of the city?”

“Exploring. I’ve lived in Edinburgh all my life and I have never seen this part before.”

“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves. I’m James North … known as Jamie.”

“I’m Davina Glentyre.”

“Should I escort you back to a more salubrious part of the town?”

“I wish you would. I’m lost.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Please do.”

“If I were you I would not venture into these parts alone again.”

“I shall certainly be more careful in future.”

“Then our young vagrant has done some good in his criminal life.”

“Do you live in Edinburgh?”

“I have rooms. I’m at the University.”

“A student?”

“Yes.”

“How interesting. What do you study?”

“Law. But at the moment I’m doing a thesis on this city. I find it the most fascinating project I have ever undertaken.”

“Were you researching in the wynds when you rescued me?”

“Yes. I want to see all aspects of the city—its glories and its horrors. This place reeks of history. You can feel it everywhere you go.”

“Is that why it is called Old Reekie?”

He laughed.

“Why did they?” I asked.

“I am not sure. Perhaps it is because it is set on a hill. It may have started when someone saw the city from a distance with the smoke from chimneys rising over the buildings. That’s the sort of thing I probe for. I want to recreate not only the city as it is today but as it was throughout its history.”

“That must be exciting work. I’m only just starting to know it.”

“Yet you say you have lived here all your life.”

We had come to the end of the narrow streets.

“You know where you are now,” he said.

I was disappointed because I thought he was implying that now he had safely delivered me, he was going to say goodbye.

“It was very kind of you to come to my rescue,” I said.

“Oh aye,” he replied with a laugh. “I did not exactly have to face a fire-breathing dragon, you know. You could hardly call it a rescue.”

“I should have hated to lose my purse.”

“Because your mother gave it to you. And she is dead now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

We had come to the gardens. “If you are not in a hurry …” he began.

“I’m not in a hurry,” I replied eagerly.

“Shall we sit down for a while?”

“I’d like that.”

So we sat and talked and an hour slipped by. It was the most stimulating hour I had spent for a long time.

I learned that his father was a minister and he had lived all his life in the manse north of Edinburgh—a small place which I had never heard of before—Everloch. Great sacrifices had been made to send him to the University and he was determined to make a success and repay his parents for all they had done for him.

I liked him more every moment. It was so pleasant to talk to someone near one’s own age. I told him about my mother’s death and what a shock it had been. “I had had a governess who was a great friend of mine, but she … left. And now my father has married again.”

“And you are not happy about that?”

“I don’t know. It all happened so quickly.”

“And your stepmother …”