Signor Pietro's Pigeon

They say the first heartbreaks are the worst. Whenever I find myself tempted to despair at life’s disappointments, I take myself back to the New Year of 1779, the day the new Piece Hall opened.

I was eleven years old, recently begun at the grammar school through the patronage of Mr Ingram, who thought me a bright lad and likely to go far. My father had high hopes for me, and my mother already saw me settled as a banker’s clerk, with rooms overlooking the Wool Shops and a worsted suit for...