FIFTEEN

or all Raven had told Henry that it would take some adjustment in getting used to his new accommodations, he could not deny he felt a sense of sanctuary as he crossed the threshold. He hoped the Simpson family appreciated how privileged they were to live in this place, safe not only from cold and hunger, but from the world of danger, anxiety and suspicion that he had grown used to. Here on Queen Street, he no longer had to be in a state of constant alertness, concerned for his possessions, his safety, or, in the cramped confines of Ma Cherry’s, his privacy.

He remained conscious of being a guest in another family’s home, but equally he was aware of their efforts to make him feel welcome. It was true Jarvis still regarded him with less respect than Glen the dog, and of course there was Sarah, who did not accord him as much as that, but on the whole, he was beginning to feel comfortable at No. 52.

He walked quickly towards the stairs with the intention of warming himself before he got cleaned up for dinner. A fire was always lit in one of the large public rooms on the first floor at this time of day, particularly welcome after the cold breeze that had chilled him on his walk back from Effie Peake’s place.

As he began to ascend, something shot past his head, an improvised missile that served as warning that Walter and David were on the loose. Raven heard the roar of a war cry as David chased his younger brother down the stairs, excited giggles and screams accompanying their progress as usual. They disappeared into a room below with the inevitable slam of a door, after which the ensuing moment of silence seemed all the more pronounced by contrast.

It was broken by voices from his intended destination, Mrs Simpson and Mina continuing what sounded like a fraught conversation. The door was ajar and from the unguarded nature of their discussion, he deduced they were heedless of his approach because his tread upon the stairs had been masked by the noise of the children.

It was Mina he heard first, her tone soft but adamant, as though concerned about being overheard. He felt trapped, conscious that were he to continue his progress, he would be heard and his eavesdropping discovered. Even if it was by accident, people did not readily forgive it when they knew you had happened upon their secrets.

‘I think you have become so used to the status Dr Simpson’s good name confers, that you forget how precarious reputations can be when there is scandal in the offing.’

‘It is blethers, Mina. Nothing more.’

‘You should consider that it’s not just his reputation that is at stake. It’s yours too. He is paying out twelve pounds a year to another woman. Isn’t the obvious question: why?’

‘It is an act of charity. Surely no one can cast aspersions over something so noble.’

‘In my experience people are happy to cast aspersions over anything when the morality of an action can be called into question. You would be naive if you didn’t anticipate the conclusions that are likely to be drawn. In your interpretation, it is an act of charity. To someone else, it might infer a guilty conscience.’

‘That is absurd, Mina. There is nothing of any substance for rumours to attach to.’

‘Jessie, James is a man much admired by the ladies of this town, and you shut away in mourning all this time. They rain upon him compliments and affection. Is it so difficult to imagine where that might lead?’

‘I have no control over gossip. What is important is that I know the truth of it.’

‘Do you?’

‘I would warn you, Mina, to remember beneath whose roof you reside.’

A door flew open downstairs and the boys exploded from it once again. Raven seized the opportunity to proceed unnoticed to his bedroom. They were joyfully oblivious of the complex ways of adults, and he had been almost as naive. Cut beneath the epidermis in any household and you would surely find that life there was not as harmonious as it appeared on the surface.

He had only heard a brief exchange, but he recognised what was going on. Mina was trying to gently coax her sister into seeing what was obvious to her and therefore to others. Raven was only too familiar with the spectacle of a wife seeking every possible interpretation that might allow her to escape the most painful of conclusions. He recalled his own mother, a bright and intelligent woman, making herself seem foolish in her desperation to elude the inevitable truth. Her husband had been a drunk and a philanderer. She couldn’t deny the former, for she was confronted with the fact of it in her household almost every night. But it was the nights on which she was spared by his absence about which she had persistently deluded herself.

Could Raven believe this of Dr Simpson? Unlike his own father, he seemed the perfectly contented family man, available and affectionate around his children where so many others were aloof and distant. But Raven had always to remember that this was Edinburgh, the city whose crest ought to be the head of the Janus: one face for polite society, another behind closed doors.