‘Right-o. I can go down to Blackburn to see the doctor. I asked Betsy to tell him that if I had an answer for him, I’d come down on Saturday evening, when my old man goes to the pub.’

Settling down to sleep that night, Mags felt exhausted. Her mind had gone round and round the subject of Susan’s honesty and why she should do this, but mostly she’d pondered over Montel saying that he loved her. Was it possible? Yes, she knew it was. Hadn’t Flors fallen in love with Cyrus the moment she’d set eyes on him?

Despite her doubts, her dreams were full of Montel.

Waking to the sound of a ruckus going on, Mags couldn’t believe that she’d had such a good night’s sleep. Looking over towards Aggie’s bed, she saw that she wasn’t the culprit this time, as she was still snoring away. Sometimes Aggie did sleep for hours, even during the day, and when she did, peace reigned.

There was no peace now, and Mags could see the cause was that all the other women in the ward wanted to use the lavatory at the same time. Fights and scuffles had broken out. Screams assaulted her ears.

When the door opened and the orderlies came in, Mags wanted to scream herself as they began hitting out at the poor defenceless women, but although it went against all that she was, she didn’t go to the aid of any of them, but slid back under her covers and lay still and quiet.

The rough yanking of the blanket from her grasp had her gasping in horror as she looked up into the evil face of Michael. Before she could react, he pulled up her shift and exposed her naked body. His hand rose and yielded a cutting blow to her face. Cringing away from him, she tried to fight him off as he turned her over, but he was too strong for her. With one knee in the middle of her back, he rained stinging slaps onto her buttocks, which had her gasping for breath and begging him to stop.

‘You caused this – you always cause these upsets. Well, this will be your last one, Lady Muck, as I am having you taken to the solitary room and will have that straitjacket put back on you.’

‘No, please.’ Her teeth gritted with the pain as Michael’s slapping didn’t cease, but through them she growled, ‘I know you are being paid by my husband. I’ll pay you more. I can, and I promise. Speak to Iris – she will tell you.’

The slapping stopped. Her body was jerked over to face him. ‘What’re you saying, bitch! I ain’t in no one’s pay.’

‘You are, I know. And I can get evidence.’ In her mind, Mags wondered if Susan knew, and if she would speak up for her, if she asked.

‘What evidence?’

Around them the mayhem had calmed to a sobbing mass. Michael looked up, as if it had only just dawned on him that his fellow orderly had stopped beating the women.