Then Tray yipped, and the door opened, and Joseph Anning stood in the entrance. It could have been worse. It could have been Molly Anning, whose initial suspicion of me would have been revived. Of course it could have been Mary, and I would never have been able to justify such an intrusion to her.

It was still terrible, however. People do not enter others’ homes unless they are thieves. Not even a harmless spinster can do such a thing. “Joseph, I-I-I am so sorry,” I stammered. “I wanted to see what Mary found. I knew I could not come when she was here-it would be too awkward for us both. But I should never have let myself in. It is unforgivable, and I am sorry.” I would have rushed out, but he was blocking the doorway, the light behind him throwing his face in shadow so that I could not see his expression-if he had one. Joseph Anning was not known for showing emotion.

He stood very still for a time. When he finally stepped forward he was not frowning or scowling, as one might have expected. Nor was he smiling. However, he was polite. “I’ve come back for another shawl for Mam. ‘Tis cold at Chapel.” How strange that Joseph should feel he owed me an explanation for being there. “What do you think of it, then, Miss Philpot?” he added, nodding at the plesiosaurus.

I had not expected him to be so reasonable. “It is truly extraordinary.”

“I hate it. It’s not natural. I’ll be glad when it’s gone.” That was Joseph through and through.

“Mr Buckland told me he has been in touch with the Duke of Buckingham, who wants to buy it.”

“Maybe. Mary has other ideas.”

I cleared my throat. “Not-Colonel Birch?” I couldn’t bear the answer.

But Joseph surprised me. “No, not him. Mary’s let that go- she knows he’ll never marry her.”

“Oh.” I was so relieved I almost laughed. “Who, then?”

“She won’t say, not even to Mam. Mary’s got a swollen head these days.” Joseph shook his head, clearly disapproving. “She sent off a letter and said we’ve to wait for the answer before we tell Mr Buckland.”

“How odd.”

Joseph shifted from one foot to the other. “I have to get back to Chapel, Miss Philpot. Mam’ll want her shawl.”

“Of course.” I glanced at the plesiosaurus once more, then set the paper Mary had copied back down on the pile of rocks in the crate. As I did so my eyes spied the tail of a fish. Then I saw a fin, and another tail, and realised the entire crate was full of fish fossils. A scrap of paper was stuck amongst them with “EP” in Mary’s hand. She was saving them for me. She must think that one day we would be friends again, that she would forgive me and want me to forgive her. The thought made my eyes brim.

Joseph stood aside so that I could go. I paused as I passed him. “Joseph, I should be very grateful if you didn’t tell Mary or your mother that I have been here. There is no need to upset them, is there?”

Joseph nodded. “I guess I owe you a favour anyway.”

“Why?”

“It were you suggested I become an apprentice after we sold the croc. That were the best thing ever happened to me. I thought once I started I wouldn’t never have to hunt curies again, but always something pulls me back into it. After this is sold-” he nodded at the plesiosaurus “-I’m done with curies for good. It’ll be upholstering and nothing else. I’ll be glad if I never have to go down upon beach again. So I will keep your secret for you, Miss Philpot.” Joseph smiled briefly-the only smile I had ever seen on his face. It brought out a touch of his father’s handsomeness.

“I hope you will be very happy,” I said, using the words I hadn’t been able to say to his sister.

The rapping on our front door interrupted us as we were eating. It was so sudden and loud that we all three jumped, and Margaret upset her watercress soup.

Normally we let Bessy go to the door in her own ponderous fashion, but the knocks were so urgent that Louise sprang up and hurried down the passage to answer it. Margaret and I could not see whom she let in, but we heard low voices in the passage. Then Louise put her head around the door. “Molly Anning is here to see us,” she said. “She has said she will wait until we have finished eating. I’ve left her to warm by the fire and will get Bessy to build it up.”

Margaret jumped up. “I’ll just get Mrs Anning some soup.”

I looked down at my own soup. I could not sit and eat it while an Anning waited in the other room. I got up as well, but stood uncertain in the doorway of the parlour.

Louise saved me, as she often does. “Brandy, perhaps,” she said as she brushed past with a grumbling Bessy in tow.

“Yes, yes.” I went and fetched the bottle and a glass.

Molly Anning was sitting motionless by the fire, the centre of all the activity around her, much as she had been when she came to see us with her letter to Colonel Birch. Bessy was poking the fire and glaring at our visitor’s legs, which she perceived to be in the way. Margaret was setting up a small table at her side for the soup, while Louise moved the coal scuttle. I hovered with the brandy bottle, but Molly Anning shook her head when I offered it. She said nothing while she ate her soup, sucking at it as if she didn’t like watercress and was eating it only to please us.

As she mopped her bowl with a chunk of bread, I felt my sisters’ eyes on me. They had played their parts with the visitor, and were now expecting me to play mine. My mouth felt glued shut, however. It had been a very long time since I had spoken either to Mary or to her mother.

I cleared my throat. “Is something wrong, Molly?” I managed at last. “Are Joseph and Mary all right?”

Molly Anning swallowed the last of her bread and ran her tongue around her mouth. “Mary’s taken to her bed,” she declared.

“Oh dear, is she ill?” Margaret asked.

“No, she’s just a fool, is all. Here.” Pulling a crumpled letter from her pocket, Molly Anning handed it to me. I opened it and smoothed it out. A glance told me it was from Paris. The words “plesiosaurus” and “Cuvier” popped out at me, but I hesitated to read the contents. However, as Molly seemed to expect me to, I had no choice.

Jardin du Roi

Musée National d’Histoire Naturelle

Paris

Dear Miss Anning,

Thank you for your letter to Baron Cuvier concerning a possible sale to the museum of the specimen you have discovered at Lyme Regis, and believe to be an almost compete skeleton of a plesiosaurus. Baron Cuvier has studied with interest the sketch you enclosed, and is of the opinon that you have joined together two separate individuals, perhaps that of the head of a sea serpent with the body of an ichthyosaurus. The jumbled state of the vertebrae just below the head seems to indicate the disjuncture between the two specimens.

Baron Cuvier holds the view that the structure of the reported plesiosaurus deviates from some of the anatomical laws he has established. In particular, the number of cervical vertebrae is too great for such an individual. Most reptiles have between three and eight neck vertebrae; yet in your sketch the creature appears to have at least thirty.

Given Baron Cuvier’s concerns over the specimen, we will not consider purchasing it. In future, Mademoiselle, perhaps your family might take more care when collecting and presenting specimens.

Yours faithfully,

Joseph Pentland Esq.

Assistant to Baron Cuvier

I threw down the letter. “That is outrageous!”

“What is?” Margaret cried, caught up in the drama.

“Georges Cuvier has seen a drawing of Mary’s plesiosaurus and has accused the Annings of forgery. He thinks the anatomy of the animal is impossible, and says that Mary may have put together two different specimens.”

“The silly girl’s taken it as an insult to her,” Molly Anning said. “Says the Frenchman has ruined her reputation as a hunter. She’s gone to bed over it, says there’s no reason to get up and hunt curies now, as no one’ll buy them. She’s as bad as when she were waiting for Colonel Birch to write.” Molly Anning glanced sideways at me, gauging my reaction. “I come to ask you to help me get her out of bed.”