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Jenkins had taken several photographs there with David alongside him. David turned his head and glanced down Tin Ghaut. He’d return to visit it alone later that day. He needed the quiet and solitude.
    At the end of Grape Lane, they turned right along the bank by the River Esk. A few people stood huddled below, wadding in the waters in search of cockles or mussels, or even flatfish. A cursing fisherman strained to lift buckets containing his bumper catch to take to the jetty.
    They walked north down Church Street, where the crowds of people became denser. Approaching William Hoggath’s jet workshop, they could hear the monotonous grating sound of grinding wheels shaping and polishing jet. From an open window came a faint smell like that of burning iron. Opposite the jet workshop was The Black Horse Tavern. Noisy laughter emanated from within, even though it was only afternoon.
    Several yards later, pleasant smells of the fresh meat pies at Verrill’s Pie Shop greeted them. Four leaning towers of pies sat in the shop’s large bay window.
    Meat oozed out of one of the pies. David noticed John give an envious glance. As they neared the shop, it masked the smell of the fish from the harbour. David placed his hand in his pocket. He needed to be careful with his money now he was out of work and resisted the urge to buy a pie for John. Soon, they met the pungent smell of cheeses on a market stall. John inhaled deeply.
    Quickening their pace, they came to Hawthorn’s Animal Supplies. The shop had a green-tiled front, and the entrance had a colourful mosaic of tiles with the name of the shop in italics.
    David stopped and glanced at a prominent sign in the window for Izal Disinfectant proclaiming to be stronger than pure carbolic acid and used regularly by the proprietor on the tiled entrance due to its pleasant smell. David thought it had a sickly odour and preferred the smell of carbolic acid. Next to the sign was another, which he read aloud, “‘Do you know that Hawthorn’s Pig Powders are a reliable preventative against diseases of pigs such as cold, indigestion, rheumatism and everything?’”
    “I’m hungry,” said John, “but I’ll let you have those powders all to yourself.”
    “If it could act as a preventative to keep us out of the workhouse, I’d gladly swallow a tablespoon of the powders.”
    “I’d be willing to swallow a bucket full,” added John.
    David chuckled and wished he wasn’t so serious and stern at times; he enjoyed John’s sense of humour. They resumed walking.
    At the end of the street, they reached the church steps. Locals referred to the stairway as the 199 Steps.
    Pausing briefly, they looked up at the steep gradient before mounting the first few steps. Dark clouds circled in the afternoon sky and they bent their heads down against the biting wind blowing in from the sea.
    “As always, summer is over before the end of August on this stretch of the Yorkshire coast,” moaned John.
    “Only 195 more steps to climb.”
    “Thanks for reminding me.”
    David managed a weak smile. He often teased John for his lack of stamina, particularly when they had to carry heavy cameras and equipment on their assignments. Today, David wasn’t the perfect picture of health and vitality either. He wiped his eyes with his fingers and then placed them tightly against his temples to ease the throbbing pain.
    He remembered how very thin John was when he first arrived in Whitby. John had done strenuous physical work as a labourer for a waterworks company in Eden, but since arriving in Whitby and gaining employment as an apprentice photographer, food had become a major source of comfort to him. David wondered if John ate so much to compensate for the misery of his former life.
    Two young women, one dressed in elegant lilac with a purple bonnet and the other in a light-brown dress with a black bonnet, descended the steps as David and John continued their ascent. The women quickened their pace and avoided eye