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Chapter Fifteen
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Belle Vue Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEENSaturday, 24 July, 1869“Who could have done such a terrible thing?” The Reverend Theodore Croft’s nose quivered with righteous indignation.Bill Callahan stifled a yawn. Normally, he and Croft saw eye-to-eye since the vicar took it as one of his functions to strengthen the arm of authority in the asylum. He did this by persuading inmates to accept confinement in this world on the promise of freedom in the next. On this occasion, however, he was on his high horse about a bit of damage in the chapel where they now stood. And, he told Callahan, holding him as Head Attendant responsible.Croft picked up one of the blood-spattered Bibles. “Such mindless desecration. It only proves my argument that moral turpitude causes insanity.” The Chaplain’s voice rose. “But how did they get in? I locked the door after evening prayers last night, and I unfastened the padlock this morning.”“Is there another entrance, Vicar?” Bill asked, making no effort to keep the mockery out of h
Belle Vue Chapter Seventeen
CHAPTER SEVENTEENMonday, 9 February Lost in thought, Claire sat at the dressing table brushing her hair. The dark smudges under her eyes testified to her continued lack of sleep. The sore on her genitals worried her, and the damned noises were still keeping her awake. But now she knew it wasn’t only Sally who couldn’t hear them. On Saturday afternoon she and Marianne had been in the kitchen chatting over their coffees when the chapel bell tolled. Marianne didn’t seem to notice the sound. In the end, she’d asked if the bell bothered her, but Marianne’s response, “What bell?” said it all.She’d pushed it aside by saying, “Just testing.” but Marianne had looked at her in an odd way, calculating almost, as though trying to gauge what was going on in her head.Claire glanced at her watch. Swapping her brush for her mobile, she rang the surgery number. Engaged. As usual, getting through would be a long slog. She shifted on the padded stool and tried to ignore the twinge of discomfort.
Belle Vue Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEENThursday, 12 August, 1869Of the high temperatures endured during the past few weeks, today seemed to be the hottest yet. Ellen, bored and slightly nauseous, lay on her cot. Her skin, a mass of red marks from her rough shift and continual itching, caused her intense discomfort.Harriet, on the other bed, lay curled toward the window. A couple of the small panes in each window of the asylum could be opened but by only a few inches. As an unfortunate consequence, the cramped dormitories and rooms were stifling and smellier than rotting fish at Billingsgate.Hardly any staff had shown up this morning, so straw plaiting had been cancelled for the day. Mrs. Craven, cranky to the extreme, had told them to stay in their room.Their door was open in the vain hope of some circulating air, but the stench from the crowded halls far from any windows, almost overpowered the instinctive impulse to draw breath. Ellen stared at the ceiling. For what must have been the hundredth t
Belle Vue Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEENFriday, 13 February Gary nudged Alex, who was still half-asleep on the sofa. “Get up, mate. You look like a shagged-out sloth.”Persistent fingers dug into Alex’s shoulders. He let out an irritated mumble. “I wish.”He opened his eyes, groaned, and closed them again. The last thing he wanted was the pale gurning face of Gary breathing on him at such close proximity. “Piss off. I’m awake now.”Gary, dressed in a tracksuit, opened his mouth and tipped back his head in a full yawn.“Just got up myself. Overslept. Again.” He grimaced at the leaden sky beyond the window. “No wonder. Still dark out and it’s gone eleven. I hate this weather.”“Me too.” Alex sat up. He lowered his bare feet to the carpet.“Fancy a bevie?” Gary asked as he padded toward the kitchen.Clatters and bangs sounded from the other room. Soon the smell of coffee filtered through to the lounge.“Looks like Paul’s up and gone. Fancy not waking us.”Alex shrugged, thankful for small mercies. H
Belle Vue Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTYTuesday, 17 August, 1869 After Mary’s visit and the letter of refusal from Doctor Fishburn she’d received this morning, Ellen felt increasingly despondent. Not just about the failure of their escape plan, but because of an ominous worsening in their treatment. Attendants, who she had never worried about, now seemed to target her. She first noticed it a few days ago at comb out.Fifty or so women, two attendants, and four combs. There were no mirrors for the patients in the asylum. They were not allowed any hairpins or combs, and the rules prescribed one style for all, a single plait, covered by a headscarf. Ellen had sat on the bench waiting her turn, thankful she had no sores on her head like some who’d scream as the comb raked over the scabs. Her own hair was still matted and damp from the previous night, but nothing prepared her for the rough jerking and pulling through her tangled locks. She bit her lip and endured the pain. Back in their room, she had asked Harr
Belle Vue Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEMonday, 23 February Home alone, Alex switched on his laptop and congratulated himself on getting his dissertation framework and a chapter on the background of asylums handed in to Hamish on time. The Prof had been pleased with his speedy progress and, after a quick scan of the text, with the quality as well. They’d spent a useful half hour discussing the next stages of his work, the timing to submit his Masters’ application then caught up with the details of his meeting with Jez Trent. Hamish had observed Alex seemed a bit tense and warned him not to overdo it.“Easy to get too engrossed in your subject to the detriment of all else,” he’d said, reverting to lecturer mode.If only Hamish knew how difficult he found it to keep focused. All he could think about was Claire and dismissed any notion he was getting obsessed with the whole asylum business. Until last night. He’d returned to the flat and briefly mentioned Belle Vue to Gary and Paul. Admittedly, they were
Belle Vue Chapter Twenty-Two
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOFriday, 20 August, 1869 Harriet stayed in the infirmary for three days. Rose, in the next bed, was discharged after two. During that time, Harriet asked anyone who would listen if they had seen Ellen. The answer was always ‘no’. She hadn’t seen a doctor or the Matron at all, but when Mrs. Trotter came in to her ward on the third morning, Harriet begged her to check Ellen wasn’t in the mortuary.When the Assistant Matron returned saying the only death in the past day had been an old soldier who’d fallen down the stairs and broken his neck, she was at first relieved.“That weasel Lynton Brown brought him in.” Mrs. Trotter’s round face shone with indignation. “Do you know, he wheeled Titus Sproat in on a barrow and tipped him out on the floor like a sack of potatoes? When I told Brown to have more respect for the dead, he said, ‘He’s beyond any pain now, ain’t he, Miss Fusspot,’ snickering in that foul way he has. The nerve of the man.”Harriet swallowed. “You don
Belle Vue Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREESaturday, 7 March Alex drove through the gates of Belle Vue for his showdown with Claire. Though sure he had made the right decision, a part of him still hoped for a rational explanation. One that would turn back time to before it all turned sour.He also hoped she wouldn’t cry and shout. All he wanted was the truth. He didn’t want to hear her protest her innocence, tell him lies—though they wouldn’t be lies if the doctor had made a mistake. The papers were full of such cases. Maybe she’d had another test done and waited for the results. Maybe. Maybe not.And, though angry and hurt, he still loved her.He parked his car then sat motionless, hands still clutching the steering wheel. He listened as one of his favorite songs played on the radio. Delaying tactics. Anything to avoid setting off a chain of events that might be difficult—impossible—to stop.He leaned back against the headrest ignoring the temptation to start the car and drive away.The sound of a
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