‘I ain’t, mate – she’s lying. I ain’t took no money for nowt.’

Mags turned her head. She could see the other orderly, a much bigger man than Michael, coming towards her bed. His movement was slow, and his face showed anger. ‘So that’s how you got that motorbike and all the other stuff. And you kept it all to yourself. You never shared nowt with me, and we’ve been working together this good while and watching each other’s backs.’

‘Aye, well, I were sworn to secrecy. I – I—’

‘Secrecy? So you have me down as someone who’d tell on you then. Have I told before, when I’ve caught you raping a couple of them? Naw, and I wouldn’t, even though I thought you the lowest of the low, as I wouldn’t touch the dirty toerags in that way if I were paid.’

Michael didn’t speak. His look was one of fear.

‘I can pay you both, if you help me. And well, too.’ Mags held her breath, for she was taking a massive risk. She was giving them the knowledge that she had funds. If that got back to Harold, then she would have them no longer.

‘Bring her through to our office.’

Michael pulled her roughly off the bed. Pain zinged through her, but Mags kept her dignity and held her head up high. Once in the office, she saw a clock on the wall. Eight a.m. She knew Iris would be here at nine, but would that be too late to help her?

Her eyes took in the very neat office. A desk, two chairs and three wooden filing cabinets were all it contained, besides a wood stove in one corner. A high window let in light.

‘Right, Lady Muck, what’s all this about your husband, then?’

Mags knew she was cornered. Whatever the outcome, she had no choice but to tell them.

‘By, that’s a tale and a half. Sounds like sommat out of a fiction novel. Your husband wanting you out of the way, so that he can take all you have?’

‘Aye, well it’s true, John. That’s why he pays me to put in bad reports about her. He never wants her to leave this place.’

‘And you’ve been doing that, even though she’s given us no trouble?’

Mags felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the orderly called John had a spark of goodness in him, when he considered things unfair.

‘Well, you would, if you had the handouts I’ve been having.’

The sound of the chair scraping on the stone floor, as John rose from where he had sat, grated on Mags’s fraught nerves. The situation was volatile, and she felt like a pawn in the middle of it.

‘You dirty rotten tyke, you. If I’d been in on this, I’d have not agreed with it. Of all the low things you’ve done, this one takes the biscuit. I wondered why she was still here, when anyone can see she’s as sane as the next one. That’s vile – vile. How would you like to be cooped up here, eh? With all these mental cases, dribbling and spitting and stinking to high heaven, eh? She’s a lady, for Christ’s sake. You’re scum. Scum!’