Peg shook her head, backing away in alarm at the sound of such ravings. She was never coming back to this madhouse with its smell of drugs and despair. Angus could do his own visiting.

The sister escorted her back to the outer door. ‘Not to worry, Mrs Nichol. First visits are always a shock. It won’t be long until Mrs Hunter’s restored, wait and see.’

Peg was not listening to her. There was one thought only in her mind and that was how to escape from this gilded prison and get the first train home.

*

Netta searched and searched but couldn’t find her baby anywhere. She knew there was once one inside her for there were loose folds on her stomach and pains in her leaking breasts. He must be under the bed. Bump was hiding, she thought, pacing around the tiny room. ‘Nurse! Where’s my baby? He was here a minute ago in the cot by the bed.’ Who was that woman who had disturbed her searching?

Braeside had changed. The fiery curtains were gone and the seaview so she banged her head on the walls, flung herself on the floor and battered the tiles. The nurses went about their business calmly, peering in from time to time, ignoring her demands. The thick walls kept the noise insulated from the rest of the ward. Why were they hiding her baby? All night Netta paced the room, screaming and crying, terrible curses and foul oaths pouring out of her mouth like bile. That was the only ammunition she had left to hurl at these cruel women, these kidnappers who had stolen her baby. She wanted to kill them all.

After the ravings came black nights of tears when she cried for Rae to take her home. When her wildness was out of control a jacket was tied around her and she was strapped into bed but Netta couldn’t understand why this was happening to her and the fear overwhelmed her. Nobody visited after that first week and she felt utterly abandoned with only Peg’s accusations ringing in her ears.

‘How they stomach this sort of job is beyond my ken, your nurses must be saints to put up with such carryings ons! Poor lost souls wandering up and down like ghosts in a kirkyard. You’re in the best place so pull yersel together and hurry home to yer bairn… Oh, dearie me! We didn’t deserve this shame. What would have become of the bairn? Just think if we had not come to yer aid what might have happened to the laddie, stuck in some home for waifs and strays or sent out to strangers. He’s better off with his family. Ma hand tae God so he is!’

*