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Standing at the top of the steps that led down to the promenade, Curtis stared to the sliver of beach beyond. Not a particularly attractive looking beach: grey sand, grey water, grey people walking, huddled up in overcoats. Cold. Behind them, the inspiring backdrop of the great city of Liverpool, its impressive waterfront spread out across the far side. And in between, the river Mersey, where once the black ships had plied their wares, taking cheap goods to the coast of West Africa in exchange for slaves. Human cargo. The Triangular Trade. The scourge on a nation’s history.
He shivered, but not because of the cold. He looked back at the large, gloomy house once again. A house built from the profits of human misery. Families wrenched apart, taken to a distant, unknown world, the loss o
