Dilys sniffed back a tear. ‘Eventually I had a beautiful baby boy. He was the image of his father and perfect in every way. But they took him away from me within hours of his birth and I never saw him again.’ She glanced around to make sure they couldn’t be heard by any of the staff before going on in a hushed voice, ‘I’ve heard the nurses, the decent ones that is, saying that the matron who runs this place, Dr Pearse and Nurse Keen are as crooked as they come. It seems that the babies born here are sold to childless couples for extortionate sums of money. And that isn’t the only racket they have going on, apparently. Genuine patients should not have to pay to be in here, but unfortunates like you and me are usually hidden away by people who can afford to pay to keep us locked up. There’s also what I’ve heard referred to as the luxury wing where well-off people hide their old folk when they become an embarrassment to them, or daughters who have got themselves into trouble before they’re wed. Once the babies are born the matron finds a new home for them and the girls return to their families.’

‘But that’s so unfair!’ Ruby was incensed. ‘Why hasn’t anyone spoken out?’

‘Because they’re too afraid to. They need their jobs,’ Dilys confided. ‘And anyway, who could they tell? The matron runs the place and she and the doctor are hand in glove.’

When they’d finished eating, a nurse approached them to collect the dirty dishes and glancing at Dilys she told her, ‘You can be on washing-up duty tonight, Beresford.’ Nurse Downes had disappeared and this one seemed none too friendly, much like the majority of the nurses there who didn’t seem to give a fig for the patients.

‘Can Ruby help me?’

The nurse eyed Ruby up and down before shrugging. ‘I suppose so. It’ll save me from havin’ to help. Wait there while we get the rest of the patients back to their rooms and then I’ll take you both through to the kitchen.’

As she walked away Dilys grinned at Ruby. ‘At least it will give you a bit longer out of your cell. Even if we are only washing dishes and cleaning.’

‘I’m not afraid of hard work,’ Ruby told her, thinking back to the life she had led in the bakery. ‘And you’re quite right; I’d scrub and clean all night if it meant not being shut up.’

Very soon they were led into a cavernous kitchen where a slovenly-looking woman who was introduced as the cook sat smoking a pipe and sipping at a glass of ale at the side of a roaring fire. The woman looked dirty and unkempt and the room was so hot that Ruby started to sweat.