“I wish one of us was dead. I don’t care which.”

“You mustn’t think like that. Is there no one who can help you with looking after her?”

An idiotic question, Jean knew, because it was the sort of thing people said to her, as if she wouldn’t have already considered the idea, if such a person existed.

Once vertical, however, the woman seemed to master herself, straightening her clothes, now streaked with grubby water from the pavement, and mopping her face with a balled-up handkerchief.

“I’m quite all right now, thank you,” she said, looking anywhere but at Jean. “I’m sorry to have been a nuisance.”

“Won’t you let me get you a cup of tea or something stronger?”

“No, thank you. I must go and see to Mother. She’ll be wondering where I am.”

Wincing, she straightened up and proceeded into the hotel.

21

Dear Miss Swinney,

Thank you for your letter, which has just reached me after a considerable delay. It went to my old address and I’m afraid the new tenants have only now got around to sending it on. It was not the only piece of mail they had been sitting on. Most annoying. Anyway, it made interesting reading and stirred up plenty of memories—not all of them good.

I do remember Gretchen. She was rather quiet but very pleasant. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to know her all that well because there was another girl—Martha—in the bed between ours who was a bit of a bully and very possessive. She used to get quite sulky if Gretchen tried to be friendly to anyone else but her. I had to wait until the nurse was giving Martha a bed bath with the curtains drawn and then I would creep round to have a chat with Gretchen, because I was the only one who was well enough to get out of bed.

The two of them were as thick as thieves. You could hear them whispering at night—not especially quietly—when they couldn’t sleep. I had to put cotton wool soaked in olive oil in my ears! Martha got into terrible trouble at one point for persuading Gretchen they should take triple the dose of sleeping pills. One of the nuns accused her of attempting a suicide pact, but of course it had been going on for weeks, so it was nothing of the kind. I think it was just attention-seeking myself.

I must admit to being a bit taken aback by your suggestion that Gretchen fell pregnant while at St. Cecilia’s. Under the noses of Matron and the nuns, not to mention the rest of us on the ward? I can’t see how it could possibly have happened. I didn’t keep in touch with Gretchen after she left, but I used to get a Christmas card from Kitty, the fourth girl on the ward. She was stuck in an iron lung for her polio and we got quite friendly because I could get up and chat to her. I think she appreciated the company. No doubt you have already tracked her down as she’s in your part of the world, but in case you haven’t here is her address: