She heard a whistle. The men released their grip, began to run away. Dora lost her balance, tumbled to the ground. Her dress lay in rags on the tarmac, coils of her shorn hair trampled in the dirt. She pushed herself onto all fours, tried to crawl, hide, felt someone pick her up, put a jacket around her naked shoulders. The crowd were disappearing in the distance.

‘Come along, miss. I’ll take you back.’ It was the sergeant. He’d lifted her up, turned to the man with the Irish accent. ‘Thank you, sir.’

Dora wanted to go home. Leave this hated place and its spiteful, mocking memories. Never visit them again. Ever.

Chapter Nineteen: Dora

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DORA

Jersey: June 1985

There were some public conveniences up the road on the left. Dora stepped out of the car, walked towards them. Her arm was throbbing, the bruising visible. Her mouth was dry and she could still taste the sick. She went into one of the cubicles, locked the door. Her stomach began to spasm and she sat down, groaning. Despite the weather, she felt shivery, as if she had a temperature, as if the stomach cramps and the throbbing arm were exorcising demons, salving a deeper pain within.

There were stickers on the back of the lavatory door, graffiti on the walls. It will all end in tears. Dora sat staring at the notice in front. Now wash your hands. As if handwashing would scrub away the filth. There was a knock on the door.

‘Are you going to be much longer in there?’ The voice was coarse, threatening.

Dora cleaned herself, tidied her dress and opened the door. A large woman was outside, scowling.

‘Sorry,’ Dora said. She went to the basin, turned the tap hard so it splashed her dress and the floor. She washed her hands and face, gargled with the water, spat it out, dabbed herself dry with a paper towel. She was empty, purged. Inside and out. She fished in her handbag for her lipstick, dabbed some on, took out her powder and brushed it over her nose. She ran her finger inside the shoulders of her dress and flapped it, cooling the sweat.

Took a deep breath, stepped outside. A wasp buzzed around her. Dora lifted up her hand, waved the insect away. Hitting out would make it angrier, but it was a sound she couldn’t bear right now. That angry drone, like an aeroplane.

Dora had lost track of time back then. She had thought it was March when Hoffmann left. But it must have been the day she gave birth.