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Chapter Seventeen
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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
Belle Vue Chapter Twenty-Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURSaturday, 21 August, 1869When Harriet woke the next morning, her mouth was parched and her tongue still slightly swollen. But with her first priority clear in her mind, she was ready for the new day. Breakfast passed without incident. She sat silently through the meal and once again played through the events of the day of the cake delivery. Her memory was a jumble. All she could remember was the confusion around them when she and Ellen had staggered out of their room. That, and the fact that before she was taken to the infirmary by Mrs. Craven, Bill Callahan had been there.Should she report Ellen’s disappearance to Mrs. Fishburn? The Matron would first ask what she had done to find Ellen, so she would wait until she had exhausted all other possibilities.Excused from straw plaiting until Monday, she decided to speak to Mrs. Trotter again. Ask her if she had seen Bill Callahan or heard any information that might connect to Ellen’s whereabouts. Harriet made her
Belle Vue Chapter Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVEMonday, 23 March Alex shuffled out of Hamish’s office and checked his watch. Eleven fifty-five. Paul was meeting him here at twelve. He scratched at the stubble on his chin and sat down on the hard plastic chair.He distracted himself by contemplating the woman at the cluttered desk opposite him. Hamish’s new secretary. Zena Theodorou. A female version of Paul without the bald patch. His mind flicked to Paul hugging Claire before the Greek Food and Wine party, while he’d stood back and found fault with her hair and face. His stomach churned. Christ, he’d been a smug shit. And now it was too late to—“Hi, Alex. Sorry I’m late.”The clock above Zena’s head read 12:03. Alex stood so he was level with Paul’s eyes and the concern in them.“You okay?” Paul asked. “I heard you moving around early this morning but by the time I was up, you’d gone.”“I’m still not sleeping much.”“Let’s go somewhere quiet, get a drink and some lunch.” Paul glanced at Zena. She gave
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