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Back Sisters of Gold Save as PDF
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. A Week’s Work in Birmingham
  5. I
  6. One
  7. Two
  8. Three
  9. Four
  10. Five
  11. Six
  12. Seven
  13. Eight
  14. Nine
  15. Ten
  16. Eleven
  17. Twelve
  18. Thirteen
  19. Fourteen
  20. Fifteen
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-One
  27. Twenty-Two
  28. Twenty-Three
  29. Twenty-Four
  30. II
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. III
  47. Forty
  48. Forty-One
  49. Forty-Two
  50. Forty-Three
  51. Forty-Four
  52. Forty-Five
  53. Forty-Six
  54. Forty-Seven
  55. Forty-Eight
  56. Forty-Nine
  57. Fifty
  58. Fifty-One
  59. Fifty-Two
  60. Fifty-Three
  61. Acknowledgements
  62. Further Reading
  63. About the Author
  64. By the Same Author

She sat back in the chair, her mind utterly awake and on alert. Dear God, sweet Jesus, help me, please! Help me get out of here! Seldom had prayer felt so heartfelt.

The most obvious thing was somehow to break the window and escape along the street. But if she was to do that, he would hear, long before she had succeeded. If she waited until much later, that might be possible, she thought. Surely he must sleep? But then she would be faced with the dark, unfamiliar streets of a town she did not know – and where could she go?

Panic rose in her. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself. If she waited until the next day, mustn’t this be resolved? Charles could not just keep her here for ever, and the daylight would surely bring him to his senses? Or she would find some way out? She could see that his grandmother was no use to her – she was frail and Charles would easily overpower and intimidate her. She owed Margaret no loyalty, in any case.

Hugging herself, she gathered her freezing feet up under her and crouched in the chair, alert in every sense and to any sound which might mean he was coming back. She said the Lord’s Prayer over and over again, longing for sleep, to escape this night lying ahead.

Fifty

Fifty

There was a clock out in the hall which struck the half-hours. Sometimes the minutes between each strike felt aeons long; at others they raced. Seven, half past seven, eight.

She became aware of the need to relieve herself, which grew into a humiliating, insistent pressure in the lower part of her body. Every so often, Charles made a visit to the door. He would turn the key but the door would open only half an inch before jamming against the back of her chair.

‘Margaret?’ He said nothing else, just called her name several times, as if he needed to know she was there. She did not answer.

But now, she wondered, should she call out? She had no need of food – it would have sickened her. But the thought of calling out for a chamber pot was too awful to contemplate. She waited, the cold making the problem more acute. I’m not asking him, she thought.

It had struck nine when she gave in. Stiff and frozen, she got to her feet.

There’s nothing for it, she thought, energized by her rage. Why should I sit here in all this discomfort? She felt her way to the coal scuttle and with fumbling and difficulty, managed to relieve herself into it. For some reason, as well as the immediate relief it gave her, this felt rather satisfactory, as if she had struck a small blow of revenge.